It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (9 page)

His eyes tracked her movements. Another
slight nod.

On the way to her van she neared Angus and
Frank who stood on the sidewalk. Angus winked and gave her thumbs up. “Jem,”
Frank whispered. “You ever think about changing jobs? You shrink heads real
good.”

“Well, I fixed you two, didn’t I?”

Frank took one of her hands and kissed the
back of it. “That you did, sweet lady. That you did.”

nod and smile

Jem set her jaw and pressed the talk button.
“Hello, Mother Wolfe.”

Heavy breathing on the line. “Jemima.”

“Althea, are you crying?”

“He’s home. Thank you. Thank you for
sending him.”

Finn did that. “You’re welcome. It’s where
he belongs, with you and his father.”

“Yes, I agree. The funeral is a week from Saturday.
At the Christ Church Cathedral on Burrard. Will you come?”

Would she come? Stupid woman. “I’ll be
there Friday night.”

There was a long pause and then Althea cleared
her phlegm-filled throat. “Do you want to stay here? Shall I prepare Gerald’s
old room for you?”

Jem’s stomach churned. “I don’t want to
impose. You’ll have so much going on. And I’m not sure I could handle that, in
his room. I’ll stay at the Georgia.”

Althea
tsked
her. “A little out of
your price range, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t been anywhere in four years. One
night of luxury at one of the most difficult times in my life can’t do me any
harm.”

“I suppose not. Perhaps that’s best. My
sister will be staying with me anyway so it may be a bit cramped.”

Yes, two old ladies inside a twenty-eight-hundred-square-foot
house would leave so little room for Jem. “What can I do? Do you need any help
with the arrangements?”

“I’m sure I can handle this task on my own.
Gerald’s not the first man I’ve buried.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest you couldn’t
handle it. I’m only offering my support.”

“You’ve done quite enough thank you.”

The hair on Jem's neck stood on end. “I’m
sorry? What does that mean?” It never failed. Any conversation with this woman
on any topic, even the hardest topic of all time, ended up with Jem on the
defensive and Althea on the attack.

“Do you think it’s a coincidence that he
got…. That his illness, if that’s what it was, didn’t start until he met you?”

Jem’s right foot tapped the floor at a
frenetic pace. Where the hell were her cigarettes?

“Again, Althea, paranoid schizophrenic.
That was the diagnosis. You don’t catch it like a cold. You aren’t driven to
it, and certainly not by someone who loves and supports you as much as I did
him.”

“Yes, support. With all those hours you
worked helping other people, all those hours away from him.”

“He worked as many hours as I did. More in
fact. If anything, he didn’t support me or my career.” Her blood boiled. It was
the same thing over and over, the same insane rants and complete ignorance of
the facts. Of the clinical diagnosis. “The truth of it  is that schizophrenia
runs in the blood. It is a genetic disorder that is passed down from parent to
child." Jem smirked. "Maybe you gave it to him.”

A sharp intake of gravel breath scratched
through the receiver. “How dare you? My family has no mental illness. None. And
neither did Gerald.”

Althea had an old fashioned phone. The
crack of her slamming it a thousand kilometers away rung in Jem’s ear.

Way to go Jemima. When will you learn to
nod and smile?

it
isn’t cheating if he’s dead

Jem jolted awake. The remnants of a bizarre
dream of Gerald and Finn, both dressed in shining armour and jousting to win
her love, flashed through her mind before disappearing in the dim night. She
groped for the clock and pulled it towards her. Twelve-forty. She'd managed
another twenty minutes of sleep.

She lay back down and rubbed her palms down
her legs until they calmed under the duvet cover. She took a deep breath and
closed her eyes. A moment later she was shocked out of temporary comfort by another
restless leg jolt and a vision of Gerald’s face slowly morphing into Joseph.

“What the hell?” She groaned and turned on
her side, punched her pillow, and stuffed it under her neck. She shifted and
twitched and bounced her head against the pillow again and again.

Enough of that crap.

She felt her way downstairs in the dark. By
the glow of the under-counter lights she poured a full tumbler of wine, grabbed
a chocolate chunk cookie from the pantry, and sank into the sofa. She turned on
the television and scanned the program guide. Even with three hundred channels
of digital cable there was nothing but shit on after midnight.

A thousand thoughts battled for attention
in her muddled brain. Gerald’s mangled body. Joseph’s sunken cheeks and
haunting stare. Finn’s lips on hers, the smell of his cologne and his sweat.

She found little more comfort than she had in
her bed, still restless, her body twitchy. Her tank top shifted and bunched up
around her braless breasts. She tugged it down and lay back.

Maybe she’d fall asleep right there in the
living room. Numb her mind with reruns and bad shows. For the rest of her damn life.

There was a quiet knock at the door. She
sat up fast. Blood rushed to her head. She hit the wine glass with one flailing
hand and grabbed it before it tipped over. A few red drops hit the oak coffee
table, like blood spatter on an alley floor.

At the entry, she flipped on the porch
light. Finn’s fine form was illuminated on the other side of the sheer curtain.
The joy of the night before returned and hastened her heartbeat. She swung the
inner door open and leered at him, one eyebrow raised. “You’re six days early.”

He pulled open the screen, swept her into his
arms and consumed her in a ravenous kiss. Her feet didn’t even touch the ground.

When he set her down and let go of her lips,
he rested his forehead against hers. “Yeah. I think that weekly thing is out
the window.”

He picked her up and carried her up the
stairs, her head resting on his shoulder. He hesitated on the last step.

He’d never been anywhere but the main floor
in all these years. She nuzzled her nose into his neck and inhaled his cologne
and the musk of his sweat. “Door on the left,” she whispered in his ear.

He went left through the open door and laid
her atop her overstuffed down quilt, still askew from her fitful attempts at
sleep. With one knee on the bed and one foot on the floor he took off his suit
jacket and hung it on the bedpost, loosened his tie and pulled it over his
head. He stared at her while he unbuttoned his shirt.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. At the
edge of her peripheral vision was a familiar frame. Its presence was a spectre observing
her, witnessing her about to have sex with this beautiful man. It held a posed
picture of her and Gerald. Their engagement picture taken a month before they
bought the house. She was so young. So in love. So naïve.

She should turn it to face the wall. Shove
it in a drawer. Hide it in the closet. But she didn’t want to do anything to
break the spell of that moment. Of Finn’s consuming stare.

She should feel guilty. Feel some kind of
remorse for having Finn in Gerald’s bed. But she didn’t. Was that terrible?
Good thing she didn’t believe in heaven or hell. She’d be damned for eternity
if she did.

Her heart hammered, blood pulsated in her
neck. She licked her lips and swallowed. Finn was muscle on lean muscle. Broad
shoulders and trim waistline. Like no man she’d ever been with. The reality of him
underneath his clothes was as good as her fantasies.

What the hell did he see in her? No, she
would not question, would not self-deprecate. Not now.

He tossed his shirt on the floor, bent over
her and planted tender, slow kisses from the fingertips of one arm up to her
shoulder.

Shivers ran through her, goose bumps
tingled over her entire body.

He lifted her tank top, licking and kissing
her stomach and ribs, even her appendix scar, as he exposed her lily white flesh
inch by inch. He glanced up at her and then slid her top over her breasts and
peeled her shirt off. It joined his on the floor. With both hands, he ran his
fingers from her collarbone to her nipples and down the sides of her torso.

Laughter caught in her throat. He smiled at
her, then kissed, licked and sucked one nipple and then the other. Adrenaline
burned in her abdomen and seared down her legs.

She pulled him closer and kissed him,
pressing his chest to hers. She reached back, turned off the lamp beside the
bed, and placed the picture face down on the table.

He reached over her and turned the lamp
back on, bathing the bed in soft light. He smiled at her and flashed his
eyebrows up and down.

She reached out and unbuckled his belt,
then pulled his zipper down. He stood up and dropped his pants and boxers,
kicking them aside. He tucked his fingertips into the waist of her yoga pants
and slid them off.

“Going commando?”

She laughed. “I wasn’t exactly expecting
company.” She pulled the bed sheet over her body.

He put one hand on her arm, wrested the
sheet from her fingers and slid it away.

“Jem, what are you afraid of?”

She swallowed. “I’m not sure.” She was
afraid he'd see her. All of her.

He tossed her pants over his shoulder and
dove onto the bed, landing with his elbows on either side of her. She
anticipated her breath being knocked from her, but he rested delicately on top
of her. Total control.

They kissed for minutes on end, his lips as
strong as the rest of him, tongue hot in her mouth, his erection hard against
her thigh.

He wrapped his arms around her and rolled
onto his back, bringing her along for the ride.

She sat up and straddled his hips, lowering
herself onto him. He reached up and caressed her breasts, ran his hands over
her belly and down her thighs.

Her breath came in short puffs. She was so
exposed and he was so scrutinous. What was he thinking? What did he see?

He pulled himself up, took her shins in his
hands and wrapped her legs around his back. He kissed her neck and reached his
arms under hers, held her shoulders with both hands.

She let go of her inhibitions and let her
head drop back, closed her eyes and allowed herself to live in that moment.

His lips and tongue roamed the curves of
her neck and chest. Then nothing but the cool air drying the trails of his
saliva.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at
her.

“Do you have any condoms? I think I’m going
to burst.”

Laughter shook her breasts. She pushed on
his chest until he lay back down, reached across and opened the drawer on the
night table. While she pulled a box from the drawer, he took one nipple in his
mouth and rolled his tongue around it. She closed her eyes and swallowed. Warmth
flooded her legs.

She pulled a packet from the box and tossed
the box back in the drawer. He took it from her and eyed it.

“How old are these?”

“Well, to tell the truth.” She grinned. “I
bought them today.”

“And you said you weren’t expecting
company.” He ran one finger between her breasts, past her navel, and slid it
between her legs.

She gasped and bit her lower lip. “You’re
one to talk mister rubber-in-the-wallet.”

He grinned, licked his finger, ripped open
the foil packet and handed her the condom.

She slid back, sat on his thighs and rolled
it onto him.

He sat up to meet her, grabbed both of her
butt cheeks and lifted her, bringing her back down on top of his erection. His
body rocked and she undulated with him, his face buried in her neck.

She held his head and let him push her to
the edge. But like the night before, he pulled away before she went over.

He shifted their bodies until he was lying
behind her, her back and legs and ass all nestled against him. Then he found
her again and filled her with gentle thrusts. He nibbled her neck and reached
one hand around, pressing his fingers against her clitoris.

Her body spasmed and jerked. He held her
tight and kept pressing, rubbing, fucking, kissing. She yelled out, unable to
hold back her voice, unable to do anything but what her body insisted on doing,
with or without her permission. Just when she didn’t think she could take any
more, he stiffened and groaned. Then he relaxed, pulled her into him and
wrapped his legs around her.

She swallowed and blinked. “Wow.”

He laughed. “Yeah. You could say that.”

She turned in his arms and kissed him, staring
into his eyes. It was like a dream. She was overwhelmed by the sudden
realization that she’d been so lonely. So alone. For so long.

He kissed her forehead and slid from the
bed, and stepped into the bathroom. He was back beside her in less than a minute,
condom free. He pulled the covers over them. “I have to go soon. Got an early
day.”