On Second Thought(12)

Then came Brooke, who was being so brave and kind, though how, I could  not imagine. Chase was solemn, nodding, speaking in a low voice, moving  the line along, putting his arm around Brooke. At the end were Atticus  and Miles in their little navy suits, which just ruined me.

My sister and Eric sat in the front row with Matthias and Esther, Esther  crying quietly, Matt giving me a sad smile when our eyes met. And Mom,  who wore a you should've listened to me look on her face. What was she? A  fucking gypsy? Sean and Kiara were murmuring in the back, shaking  hands, listening sympathetically. They'd left Sadie with a sitter, but  they'd brought a drawing she made for me, smears of pink and green  paint.         

     



 

"Oh, Kate! I'm just so sorry!" Hugging me now was one of Nathan's  workmates, a fellow architect whose name I couldn't summon. Her body  shook with sobs. "I am so, so, so sorry."

Three sos. He deserved them.

"He was so happy with you," she whispered, pulling back to look at me.

"Oh. Yes. Thank you." My throat was so tight, the words croaked out. "He  was-" was? Shit, all this past tense! "-so fond of you." Whoever you  are.

The coworker's mouth trembled, her eyes red. "Anything you need, just call me," she whispered, moving on to Eloise.

"Susannah," my mother-in-law said, never one to forget a name. Her  Boston accent made the name sound like Susahnner. "You're so kind to be  here. I know Kate appreciates it very much, as do we."

Nathan and I would never make fun of his mother again. Oh, he'd loved  her, all right, but he could do a killer imitation of that upper-crust  accent, her soft Rs and long vowels. "Is this hahf-and-hahf?" he'd say.  "Hahven't you any skim, my deah?"

I'd never hear him do that again. How was that possible?

"Hello. Thank you for coming," I said to the next tie, my voice wobbling.

"Kate, these are the Parkersons," Eloise said, her voice trembling slightly. "Our next-door neighbors when Nathan was a boy."

"We can't believe it," Mrs. Parkerson said, tears pouring down her face. "We just can't believe it. He was such a good person!"

"I'm Kate," I said. "Thank you so much for coming."

"We flew in from Arizona. Terrible storms in Chicago."

"Well. We appreciate it."

"He used to rake our leaves," the husband said. "We'd pay him a dollar,  remember, Eloise? Imagine that. Kids today can't drop their iBoxes to do  a damn thing, but Nathan did our whole yard for one dollar."

So you were cheap and took advantage of a kid. Got it.

"At least you don't have children," the woman said. It felt like a punch  in the throat. Before I could answer-and what do you say to that?-they  moved on to Brooke and fell on her like vampires.

Poor Eloise. I had no idea how she could hold it together like this. On  impulse, I reached out to squeeze her hand, but she turned away to say  something to the neighbors before I could, and my hand was left  floating, awkward and alone.

Impressions of people swarmed me like bats after dark. There was  what's-his-name, the guy whose office was next to Nathan's, covering his  face with his hand, crying. They'd worked together for a long time, I  thought. Just inching through the doorway now was one of the shop owners  from downtown-Jenny, who owned the wedding dress shop, and her  boyfriend. Lenny? No. Something cooler. Leo. So nice of them to come. We  were going to have dinner, Jenny and Leo, Nathan and I. Not now. No  more foursomes. Not unless I found another husband, quick.

The thought made me sputter with a laugh, the edge of hysteria that much  closer. I turned it into a cough. I wasn't sure anyone was fooled.

I met Nathan's Boy Scout troop leader; the woman at the post office; the  mayor of Cambry-on-Hudson, who used to babysit him. His cross-country  coach from middle school, his cross-country coach from high school, his  teammates, his classmates, his college mates, his graduate school mates,  his workmates. Everyone knew Nathan. Everyone had a story.

Another person from downtown Cambry-on-Hudson stood in line. Kim from  Cottage Confections, who'd made us a tiny, beautiful wedding cake when  she heard we'd eloped. She and Jenny the wedding dress designer and I  had drinks when I moved into my new studio, all of us linked by the  wedding industry. Kim had gone to school with Nathan. She'd told me a  funny story about him at an eighth-grade social, when he danced right  into a pole and got a bloody nose.

She saw me looking now and gave a little wave, tears in her eyes.

I wasn't sure how I could keep breathing. The spike seemed to be cutting  everything off. Maybe I'd faint. Fainting would be good. I wouldn't  have to be here if I was unconscious.

Ainsley had sent a mass email to my friends, letting them know about  Nathan. But Cambry-on-Hudson was far to come for a wake, I guessed.  Brooklynites were notoriously reluctant to travel past Manhattan. Out of  the entire City of New York? Please. There'd been a lot of emails I  hadn't yet read, and many flower arrangements, some fruit baskets and  donations to charities. Cards had been pouring in.

The only representative from my Brooklyn life was Max, my soft-voiced  assistant, standing in the back with his wife, eyeing the crowd like a  member of the Secret Service. He didn't like most people, which was  ironic, since we were always photographing them. So the fact that he was  here...         

     



 

Ainsley hopped back up like a well-trained service dog and gave me a few  more tissues, assuming I was crying. Nope, still no tears. Panic, yes.  My skin crawled like fire ants had attacked. Adrenaline, shock,  whatever. I took the tissues and balled them in my hand.

Behind me was Nathan's body, post-autopsy.

"You doing okay?" Ainsley asked.

"Nope. Really shitty," I whispered. The carpet sucked at my heels again, and I staggered a little.

My father appeared before me. "Hey, sweetie. I'm so sorry." Then his face crumpled a little.

Sometimes I forgot that Dad had lost a spouse, too.

He composed himself, his face changing back to that jovial how 'bout  them Yankees expression he usually wore. Hugged me hard, the kind of hug  that I hadn't had from him in twenty years or so.

"Thanks, Dad," I whispered. My father had liked Nathan, despite the  Mets. Swore he'd win him over to the dark side by taking him to a  Yankees game.

So that would never happen, either.

Dad let go of me rather abruptly and moved down the line to Eloise. He  hated funerals and wakes. Most people did. I definitely did. I wondered  if I could say, "I hate these things. Who wants to grab a burger  instead?"

Had Nathan been scared? Did he know? Please, please, don't let him have  been scared, I begged the higher power that I've been clinging to these  past four days. Heaven, which I never really believed in, had become  awfully important this week.

Nathan deserved heaven.

Maybe if I could cry, this horrible spike in my throat would disintegrate. But the tears didn't come.

Another man stood in front of me. No tie. Kind of refreshing, really.  Just an unbuttoned gray polo shirt revealing an attractive male throat, a  hint of chest hair. I waited for the I'm so sorry for your loss. It  didn't come. I raised my eyes.

The face was gorgeous. And familiar, but I couldn't place it for a second. Green eyes. Dimples. Mischievous eyebrows.

"Hey, beautiful," he said in a low voice, and he gave me a hug, and then  I knew who he was, and I was suddenly so unexpectedly happy that it  took me by surprise. Someone from my old life was here, someone I would  never have expected to see. His neck was solid and warm.

"God, you smell good," he murmured. "Sorry. Inappropriate?"

"Very," I said, hugging him back. "What the hell are you doing here, Daniel the Hot Firefighter?"

The room went quiet.

Oh, shit. I mean, that was what we called him, but still.

"It's the grief talking," he said to Eloise, releasing me. "Hi, I'm  Daniel Breton, a friend from Brooklyn. I'm so sorry." He looked back at  me. "So. Shitty luck, huh?"

"Yep."

We just looked at each other a second. "How are you?" I asked, not wanting him to go.

"Better than you." He cocked an eyebrow.

"True enough." It was so strange to see him in my new life, in  Westchester County. Aside from a few parties in the apartment he once  shared with Calista, the only time I'd ever seen Daniel the Hot  Firefighter was in bars or riding past in a fire truck.

We'd never been friends, exactly. Calista had been my friend before she  got so spiritual and limber. Daniel was just her man-child ex, fun eye  candy. At most, Paige and I had let him sit with us for a drink while he  was waiting for a False Alarm to wander past.

But here he was. And it probably took him two hours to get here.

"Were you happy together?" Daniel asked.

The question brought the spike flying back. "Yes," I whispered.

"Good. That's good."