Riverbend (29 page)

“Will you tell Ben I'm sorry?”

“No,” said Annie, shaking her head. “You have to do that yourself.”

“Don't do this,” said Drake. “Stay here. Build a new life.”

“Think about how you felt two nights ago with Ben,” said Annie. “Remember what you said to me in the garden? So full of possibility with someone new.”

Bella wiped under her eyes. “I'm sorry you don't approve but I have to do this. It's my chance, finally, to be loved.”

“Bella. Stay. Please,” said Drake. “I love you.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “But I have to go with him.”

They watched Bella's car winding down the long driveway until it was once again only the two of them. At the same time, they reached for one another's hands. “Come inside,” he said. “Let's figure out something to say to Alder that'll make him feel better.”

“What about you, Drake? What would make you feel better?”

He smiled, holding one of her unruly curls between his fingers. “Pasta? With roasted zucchini?”

“I can do that.”

“And you're eating some of it.”

“I can do that, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

THE THREE OF THEM SAT TOGETHER
at the dining room table, Bella's spot conspicuously empty. Annie wasn't certain who was the saddest about Bella's departure, but she suspected it was her son. He was quiet at dinner, only cheered somewhat by the batch of chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven, Annie brought him after he finished his pasta.

After he finished his third cookie, Alder rubbed his eyes, just as he once had as a toddler.

“Tired?” she asked him.

“Yeah. And kinda bummed still.”

“Me too, bud,” said Drake. “But she'll come to visit again soon.”

“Drake?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Will you help Mom tuck me in tonight?”

Drake's eyes skirted to Annie. “That all right with Mom?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

Later, after Alder's bath, they each sat on one side of his bed, tucking the covers close to his chin but leaving his arms free so he could read a little before he fell asleep. His big brown eyes darted back and forth between them before coming to rest on Drake. “I wish we never had to leave here.”

Drake shifted, tilting his head and brushing Alder's hair off his forehead. “What makes you say that?”

“Just seems like life's about saying goodbye all the time,” said Alder, his eyes turning glassy with unshed tears.

“You can always come visit me. Anytime. Even after you guys
move home.”

Move home.
The idea of it, which should have been appealing, instead was a painful pinching in her chest. At some point this would all be over and they would have to go back to their own home. Their home, once beloved, would feel like an empty vessel. Not because of the splendor of this house compared to the simple, small pleasures of their own home. No, it was because of the man sitting with them now. They'd both fallen hard for Drake Webber. And Alder was right. They would have to say goodbye.

Drake patted the bedspread over Alder's chest. “We don't have to say goodbye tonight, bud. Just goodnight. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Alder, closing his eyes.

“You want your book?” asked Annie.

“No, I don't feel like it.”

Annie kissed his forehead before they both rose from the bed and went out into the hallway. She leaned against the wall, fighting to keep the despair that threatened to drop her to her knees right there.

Drake took her hand without speaking, leading her into the front room, where he poured them both a glass of wine. They sat in their regular seats on the couches. “I want you to know something,” he said. “I'll never bail on that little boy. He can be a part of my life for as long as he wants to.”

And me? What about me?

Out loud she said, “Thank you. It's very generous of you.”

“I'm not going to be a man that abandons a little boy who loves me.”

She scrutinized him. “You mean like your father did to you?”

“Right.”

They sat, without speaking, sipping wine, watching the stars come out one by one. “Tell me something I don't know,” she said when it was dark.

There was a long pause before he said, “I met my wife playing pool in a dive bar in San Francisco.”

She was right about the sounds coming from the hidden room. It was a pool table. “I hear you playing at night.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“Why do you keep it hidden from us?”

“It's my place I go to remember her.”

She didn't respond. What could she say to that, after all?

“Do you play?” he asked.

“Sometimes. Tommy loves pool and drags Lee and me out to this dive bar at the end of town every so often.”

“My wife was really good.”

Again, she could think of no appropriate response.

“She insisted we have a billiards room.” He poured more wine into his glass, smiling. “Yeah, she called it a billiards room instead of a pool room or game room. Esther was kind of pretentious, actually. Sometimes it got on my nerves. She was raised in wealth and it caused tension between us, mostly because of my chip about being so poor when I was a kid.”

“Do you still have the chip, even now, with all you have?”

He swirled the wine around in the bottom of the glass. “Not anymore. I realize how stupid all that old baggage was. I regret every fight we ever had.” He went to the window, looking out into the darkness. With his back to her, he said, “Not that we fought a lot. I shouldn't give you that impression. We were happy.” He turned to look at her, his face a myriad of emotions: pain, sadness, and a resignation. He moved across the room, motioning for her to follow him. “Come. I want you to see it.”

The room was simple, with the same dark hardwood floor as the rest of the house but without a carpet of any kind. The walls were wide wooden planks that gave a sense of elegance to the room while at the same time giving the impression of warmth. Near the far wall was a graceful pool table, with intricate designs on the legs and sides, certainly not the variety Annie had ever seen. In front of the windows were backless wooden stools, the variety of which you might see in a neighborhood bar along with several sage green easy chairs. The wall opposite the pool table was lined with shelving, packed with books on architecture, art, and design.
Esther's books
.

On a table between the two easy chairs—a vase of red roses.
Esther's roses
.

And on the wall above the pool table—a painting of a beautiful, dark-haired woman with a radiant smile, dressed in a bathing suit,
reclining on a beach towel.
Esther
.

“She was beautiful,” said Annie.

“She was. I had this painting commissioned for our ten-year anniversary from a snapshot I took of her. We were here, on the river.”

“I'm sorry, Drake.”

“I miss her every day.”

For the third time that night, she remained quiet.

“You want to play?” he asked.

“No. I don't think so.”
Given this is your wife's room and I'm terribly in love with you.
“I should go to bed. It's late.”

Which, in fact, wasn't true. It wasn't yet nine. But she couldn't bear one more minute in this room. She must be alone, to cry into her pillow, until sleep came.

The coyote's howl awakened Annie a little after midnight. She sat up in bed, her eyes moving to the window. Then, another howl, slightly different in pitch. Were there two? Shivering, she got out of bed and stood at the window, searching the darkness for a glimpse of yellow eyes. And there in the light thrown off from the back deck were two sets of eyes. Her friend had a friend. A mate, perhaps? She was smaller and less ragged. Where had she come from? He moved his head to the side, peering back at Annie. She put her hand on the window, waiting to see what he would do next. He blinked and then turned, his new mate following closely behind, enveloped in the night moments later.

When had he found her? Why had he come tonight? To show her,
yes, there is love. Do not give up.

Out of nowhere, the idea came to her; Drake must turn off the fence so the coyotes could get out. She would ask him if he would. They could turn it off just long enough for the creatures to escape.

Then, she heard the music. She crossed through her sitting room and into the hallway. Yes, there it was—the unmistakable sound of a piano and the familiar strip of light under the door. Like a bat with only radar to guide her, she moved towards the sound, stopping at the closed door, and then she rapped her knuckles twice. The music stopped. She knocked again. “Drake, are you there?”

She heard footsteps approaching. “Go back to bed,” he said. “Please.”

“I won't. I want to come inside.”

“You're already inside.”

“What?”

“I've let you too far in. It's not right.” There was a long pause on the other side of the door. “I'm not free, Annie, to care about you, to care for you, to love you like you deserve.”

“Let me inside.” She turned the handle of the door, leaving it suspended this way without pushing it open. “Please, Drake. You need to let me in.” Then the door opened, slowly, and he was standing there, his cheeks damp from tears. It was a child's room, everything in pink and white. On the wall over the crib were photos of a beautiful little girl with Drake and Bella's eyes, in various ages, until about age three. Behind Drake was a glider rocking chair, still moving, a stuffed-lamb toy on its side, its button eyes staring blankly into space.

“Annie, please, you have to let this go. You have to let me go.” His voice cracked as he stumbled backwards, leaning against the wall as if it were difficult to remain standing.

“I won't.” She reached for him, taking his hands.

He froze, staring into her eyes like a stunned deer in the forest. His breath was rapid. But he did not turn away, even as she moved closer. “This was supposed to be Chloe's room. My little girl. She'd just turned three.” He pointed at the photos. “Do you see how beautiful she was?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I loved her so much.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I can't,” he whispered.

“You must.”

He dropped her hands, sinking to the floor, wrapping his arms around his legs, his head buried in his knees. “They were murdered.”

Like someone punched her in the chest, she gasped and fell to the floor. She sat cross-legged across from him.

“It was a man Esther worked with.” He raised his head but his
eyes were unfocused. “A man at her office, obsessed with her. He started sending her emails and texts at all hours of the day and night. She told her HR department about it and they did a search on his computer and found all these photos of Esther and Chloe he'd taken from Facebook. And all these love letters he'd written to her and never sent. The company fired him. And that night, as she picked Chloe up at daycare, he gunned them both down in the parking garage.”

She moved closer to him, her thoughts coming jangled and fast.
Gunned them down in the parking garage. His little girl. His wife.

“This house was her dream. She was an architect and designed every square inch, inside and out. We'd come through River Valley five or so years ago on the way to the coast and stopped overnight so we could swim in the river. Esther was from Seattle, you know, where there are no rivers to swim in, and she loved the dry air here. We found a spot on the river by asking some of the locals and swam in that clear cold water all afternoon, me holding onto her, floating and dreaming. And she said to me, ‘Let's have a baby and move here. You can sell the company and we can live a quiet life.’ She said she'd design a house that would blend into the landscape and we'd sit on the deck and watch the stars. And I agreed, even though I was skeptical about living in such a small town. But I would have done anything to make her happy. We got pregnant right away. I loved my little girl. So much. And after they were gone, I built this house as a tribute to them. I came here to fade away, to exist, until death comes to me too.”

Who could blame him? If anything ever happened to Alder she would want to die too. And she'd never had anyone to love as he had loved his Esther but she could imagine what that kind of loss felt like. This was an overwhelming grief, to lose them both, and so violently. No wonder he couldn't move forward. No wonder he didn't want to.

“I understand,” she said. “If anything happened to Alder I wouldn't want to live.”

He looked at her, long and hard. “You're the first person who has ever said that to me. Most people tell me I should start over. That life has to go on. That she would want that for me. Or they're in
heaven. None of that helps. As a matter of fact, it makes me feel worse.” He paused, examining his hands. “I would've killed myself if it weren't for Bella. I came close one night. Had the gun in my hand. Put it to my head. And then, oddly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Bella texting me.”

“What did she say?”

“Just, ‘I love you.’ And it stopped me. I thought of the time when we were kids and she broke her arm falling out of a tree. She said to me, ‘Don't leave me,’ and I told her I would always be there for her, that it was my job to look after her. She's the only reason I chose to remain here, Annie. For her. She has no one to look after her without me. So I put the gun away. I just sat there in the dark for hours, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. The only thing I could come up with was to come here, to build the house Esther always wanted, to swim in the river that she swam in.” His eyes filled with tears. He pushed into them with his fingers.

She scooted next to him against the wall. “I'm sorry. So truly sorry. I would do anything to take your pain away.”

He nodded and whispered, “There's no way to do that.”

She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I understand now why you invited us here.”

“The thought of what happened to my family happening to anyone else is something I can't bear.” He looked at the ceiling. “It gave me another reason to live, I suppose. Helping you.”

They sat like that for several minutes. After a time, she rose to her feet, offering him her hand. “Come on. Tonight I'll put you to bed.”