Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (23 page)

He put down his pricing gun and pulled his apron up over his head.

“I’ll be gone for about an hour,” he yelled to the store manager. Pulling on his coat, he ran out to his truck and took off for Pam’s. Nothing much had changed when he got to her house. The car was still in the driveway, and it didn’t look like anyone was home. He pulled in behind the car and ran up to the door. He knocked lightly, and could hear Pam’s light step on the slate in the entry foyer. She opened the door and looked surprised.

“Oh Dave! Hi,” she said, stepping aside so he could pass through. It was an amazing day; the fast-moving clouds hadn’t reached land, so although it was bright and sunny in her front yard, it was dark and foreboding over the water. The contrast was both unsettling and beautiful.

He reached for her and hugged her. She felt a bit unyielding in his arms.

“How are you?” he said, kissing the top of her head. She relaxed a little. “I guessed something pretty dramatic was taking place for you to cancel after all the money you spent on dinner.”

She laughed out loud. But she wanted to get something else out of the way first. “I’m still uncomfortable about the way you responded to Jeff Babcock helping me out this week. It made me wonder if I can trust you. There was a lot of drama here yesterday, and now I’m not so sure that I can share this aspect of my life with you.”

Dave was taken aback, but she had a point.

“Sorry, I guess I was jealous of Jeff,” he admitted.

“Well, get over it. He’s not a threat to you. It’s impossible. And furthermore, if you really knew me, you would understand that I don’t let
anyone
see me without my makeup on. No one. My husband didn’t, my kids don’t, my mother doesn’t. So I really have to relinquish control to allow anyone access to my house. I’m not a well woman; you know that. So I have to have someone who can get into my house with a key if I am ill. And it’s not going to be you! Maybe in a year, but not now,” Pam said. “I think we have a decision to make. You can either accept it or not. If you can’t, there’s no point in spending one more second together.”

He had never heard so many words from her at one time. He tried to imagine what it would be like if he’d never been involved with her. He would have to get used to loneliness all over again. She was definitely a trophy; he’d never had that before. She was straight forward and easy to talk to. She was wealthy and wouldn’t be a drain on him financially. She didn’t expect much from him but privacy and space. He was nuts if he didn’t at least try to give her what she wanted, which would appear to be nothing much at all.

“I accept it! I’m sorry I was jealous of Jeff. It’s not easy having someone you care about have a close friend of the opposite sex, but I will try to get used to it,” Dave said.

Pam didn’t tell him that Jeff was gay because it wasn’t her place to out him in the community. He could let Dave know when it suited him. As he spoke, Pam was losing hope that she would ever feel the same about him. Jealousy was so small-minded that she didn’t know how to deal with it. But as was her way, she offered him lunch, keeping it simple. There would be plenty of time to deal with the difficult issues.

“Are you turkey’d out? I have a twenty-pounder that no one ate much of. It ended up being just me and my kids,” she said.

Dave shook his head no. “Turkey sounds nice. I made a steak for my dinner, steak that I ate all by myself, alone with my dogs,” he said.

Pam laughed out loud as she went into the kitchen and started pulling things out of the refrigerator. “You didn’t call me until Wednesday night for an invite. What you would you have eaten if I’d said no to you?” Pam teased.

“Steak. I don’t cook anything else,” he admitted. “It’s too easy to grab something from the deli.” They made plates of food and heated them in the microwave. Pam made fresh coffee. They took their lunches to the den, setting plates on TV trays in front of the window like they always did. The clouds continued rolling in from the south, black clouds that looked frightening enough without the prospect of snow.

“We might get snow again this weekend,” Pam said. She was trying to decide whether to mention that Lisa had left for Hawaii already. No. It would mean too much explanation and she really didn’t want to hear his opinion. “I’m afraid the winter is coming whether we want it to or not. They say this one will be a doozy because last year was so mild.” She was talking about the weather? They ate in silence, Pam glad for it. It was a mystery that her feelings for Dave had changed so radically. Why did he have to have expectations that she was unable to meet? It just baffled her. Of course, he was comfortable again, but she was on edge; she didn’t trust him now. She got up to clear their plates and told her first lie in memory. “I have an appointment this afternoon. I need to leave here in a few minutes.”

He reluctantly followed her out to the kitchen. “Okay, I’ll get back to work. Call me later?” he asked.

She nodded as they walked to the door. She let him kiss her on the cheek.
The poor man walked into a mess here,
she thought.
Maybe I should give him a break.
Pam didn’t know if she was being unreasonable or not. Maybe some time alone would help her once Brent left. When did reason become so difficult?

“Bye for now,” Pam said, hugging him. She watched as he walked down the path to his car, waving as he got in. When he was out of sight, she closed and locked her door. The food was still out from lunch. Anything left after dinner that night was going in the garbage. She cleaned up and went back to the den. Was she wasting Dave’s time because it was still too early after Jack’s death to try to be in a relationship? He’d rescued her from his disrespectful employees, but that didn’t really mean she owed him a future, did it? Her immaturity in matters of dating slapped her in the face. Maybe she was the one whose expectations were too high.
Dummy, that’s why you shouldn’t date so soon after your husband dies.
Thinking about Dave was preferable to thinking about her daughter, however. That hurt. So Pam had a choice. She could get back into bed and pull the covers over her head, or go to the gym. The gym won.

.

32

S
andra Benson had to check on her apartment that weekend. On Sunday, Tom’s mother invited him to come over to eat leftovers one last time, which presented a perfect opportunity for her to go uptown. She bundled up against the wind and started walking toward the train into Manhattan. The bright blue sky had high white clouds blowing quickly to the north. The smell of the subway, its dank pungent aroma, and the screeching of the train coming into the station brought back a rush of memories. She’d taken the train alone since she was ten years old. It was part of life. The ride uptown wasn’t unpleasant or sad, as she thought it might be. When she stepped off the train and started walking to the next station, there was a tang of wood smoke in the air. Someone had a fire in his fireplace. Her neighborhood was different on Sunday. More locals out; fewer tourists. For some reason, she remembered a story that Pam had told her about living here early in her marriage, a melancholy story about loneliness and heartbreak.
Asking another human being to fill the gaps in our lives really isn’t fair
, she thought. She’d sort of asked that of Tom without either of them knowing it. She had no one but him.

Speed walking up Broadway, she saw her old haunts, her drug store and grocery, the Korean store she liked, and they seemed unfamiliar and unimportant. In a few, short weeks, she’d forgotten about her old life. When she came to her street, nothing familiar about it brought any positive feelings. Maybe she would let the place go after all. She’d been reluctant to give her landlord notice, just in case things didn’t work out with Tom.

The key was giving her a hard time, but she finally got the front door to her building opened. The familiar smell of the hallway made her smile. Her door was at the end of a hall so dark she could barely see the keyhole. When she opened the door, the light-filled space hit her right away. It really was a great apartment. There were a few stray pieces of mail that someone had slipped under her door; probably delivered to the wrong mailbox. She’d look through it later. She took her layers off, throwing them down on the couch. Everything looked fine. She went into the bedroom and a little scene in the corner took her breath away. It was the baby’s crib. She couldn’t deal with it at first, but today it seemed okay. She was feeling strong and removed from it. The crib was beautiful; she’d splurged on it. It would work out fine for any babies she and Tom would have together, unless he felt weird about using it. She took the folding screen and put it out of the way. The crib was full of baby clothes and folded baby linens. She’d need a container of some type to store them. She ran down to the lower level. There was a big plastic box that held a few stray Christmas decorations from her childhood that needed to be tossed. She hadn’t had the strength to do it before, but it wasn’t a problem now.

All of the baby things fit in the plastic box. She hauled it back downstairs. The mattress was easy to move, too. But the crib might need taking apart and she didn’t feel like doing that now. Later she would talk to Tom about it, enlist his help. All traces of preparation for Ellin were gone. She hadn’t had much time to buy more, or it could have been a problem. She went around checking windows and doors, flushed the toilets, and made sure there wasn’t anything left in the refrigerator. There was rarely anything in it when she lived there. It was time to leave.
It’s still my apartment
, she thought. Nothing needed to be done about it until after the first of the year. She’d make up her mind by then. As she prepared to leave, her phone rang. It startled her. She reluctantly answered it; it was her sister, the same one she hadn’t talked to for almost a year.

“Oh my God! I was beginning to think we’d need to get a private investigator to find you!” Sylvia shouted. “Where have you been?”

Why’d I answer the phone?
“Why didn’t you call my cell phone?” Sandra asked.

“I lost mine and all the numbers that went with it! I’d never written your number down. It just went from phone to phone, you know how it is. But where have you been? We came to your apartment, I wrote letters.” Sylvia seemed sincerely worried. Sandra didn’t know what to say.

“I can’t go into it now, but suffice it to say I have had a rough year. I’ll give you the brief version, and please don’t lecture me afterward if you ever want to speak to me again, okay?” Sandra asked.

Her sister laughed. “I promise. I’m sorry. Tell me what happened.”

“I had a serious boyfriend and he died. Right after he died I found out I was pregnant. The man’s brother tried to kidnap me and the cop who helped me asked me for a date. I lost the baby a few weeks ago. The cop and I are living together already. End of story. I happened to be here today just to check on everything and I was almost out the door when the phone rang.” Sandra took a deep breath. She knew there were a lot of holes in her story, but that was the version she was relegating to her sister. She heard a sniff.
Sylvia crying? No way.

“Oh how sad, Sandra. I’m so sorry for your loss, and that I wasn’t there for you,” she said.

“It was a little girl, and she had red hair like Mom. I named her Ellin,” Sandra said. “It’s been a really rough time.”

“Well, I am truly sorry about little Ellin.” She sniffed again. “I guess it must be pretty serious with the policeman. What’s his name?” Sylvia asked.

Sandra couldn’t believe she hadn’t launched into detailed accounts of how wonderful her own life and kids and husband were. “Tom. Tom Adams. He’s a detective. Anyway, get a pen and paper and let me give you some numbers. I live in Brooklyn now and have to head back home soon,” she said. She gave her sister her cell number and Tom’s address.

“Me, Jersey and you, Brooklyn. Dad wouldn’t have understood,” Sylvia said.

Sandra started laughing. It was good to talk to her. There were some things only a close relative would understand.

“I hope we can stay in touch. I’d like to meet your young man,” Sylvia said. “Also, your nieces have asked after you.”

“How are Lauren and Stephanie?” Sandra asked. “I haven’t seen them since the folks died.” The absurdity of it, that she lived less than an hour from her sister and hadn’t seen her nieces in over two years, hit Sandra. In a rare display of humility, Sylvia apologized for abandoning her younger sister.

“Are you okay? I mean, are you hanging in there? How’s work?” Sylvia asked.

“I’m a partner,” Sandra replied with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“A partner! Wow, good for you. You’re so young, too. Boy, Dad would be proud,” Sylvia said, an intense validation for Sandra, even though secretly she knew she hadn’t earned the partnership. Jack had trusted her with it and that’s all that mattered.

“Thank you for calling, Sylvia, but I really need to get back to Brooklyn. Tell everyone I said hi, okay? And I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Good-bye, Sandra, it was great talking again,” Sylvia said, and she hung up the phone.

Sandra felt light-hearted after the call. She walked around her apartment and made sure the lights were off, scooped up her mail—which ended up being letters from her sister pleading for forgiveness for unknown slights, all with the incorrect apartment number—and after rechecking the lock on her door, she left the building. She walked down Broadway toward the subway entrance and remembered a time not so long ago that she made the same walk with Jack. The events of the day were vivid in her mind’s eye. They’d spent a rare night together, and he had to get to Babylon the next day to help Pam prepare for the big Memorial Day party they hosted. She was wearing a white sundress, and as they walked along that Saturday morning, Jack had his arm draped across her shoulder and he kept running his fingers under the spaghetti strap over her left shoulder. Back and forth he went with his fingers until she told him to stop; it was teasing her!

“Are you purposely trying to arouse me before you leave for home? I’ll be alone all weekend and you won’t be there to take care of me,” she said. Now, the flush spread through her chest and face as she thought of the way she flirted with him, a fifty-five-year-old man, twice her age, and as she later found out, ready to drop dead of a heart attack. Jack had stammered when she said it, not used to her talking provocatively to him.