In fact, everything about him annoys me. The way he cracks his knuckles. The hair he leaves in the sink after he shaves. The way he puts the cap back on the toothpaste tube so tightly that I can’t use it. All those things annoy the hell out of me.
I know why we’re here. He’s hoping that by coming back to this place where we met, we can rekindle that old flame we once had. But that flame has long since burned out. It’s dead. I had him served with divorce papers two weeks ago, and he asked me to come here, to this place, to help him pack up the cabin so we can sell it before the divorce goes through. There are lots of memories here. But there’s nothing here that can change my mind. I want the divorce. I need it. I need it like I need my next breath. I need it like I once needed him.
“We’re here,” Eli says as he cuts the lights. The little cottage that once held so much life now looks forlorn and wan. It’s old and decrepit, just like our marriage.
“I can see that.” I get out and stretch. “It looks smaller.” And sadder.
“Everything looks bigger when you’re a kid.” He reaches beneath the planter by the steps and removes the key that has been there for as long as I can remember. “It’s still there,” he says, staring down at it in his palm.
“They keep a copy up at the big house, just in case someone needs work done to their house and can’t be here,” I remind him.
All the little cottages are owned by their occupants, but everyone pays lot rent to the Jacobsons, along with a nominal fee that takes care of grass mowing and general upkeep.
I look over and see a van parked in front of the cottage next door. “I wonder if Aaron rented his cottage to someone.”
Eli just hums at me. He has a way of acknowledging me without actually doing so. It’s one of the many things that make me dislike him.
It has been years since we have been here. And I don’t think that the cabin next door has been used either. If it has, Aaron hasn’t mentioned it in his emails and occasional calls. He contacts Eli a lot more than he contacts me. That didn’t use to be the case. There was a time when Aaron and I were thick as thieves. We were together at Lake Fisher every summer for as long as I can remember. Then one day Eli showed up. And things changed.
I jerk myself out of my memories and follow Eli into the dark cottage. He crosses the room and flips a switch. The room floods with light and I look around.
“Looks like Katie and Jake came by.” He picks up the little basket full of goodies and tilts it toward me so I can see inside. “Chocolates. Wine.” He lets out a slow whistle and waggles his eyebrows at me. He hands me a note after reading it really quickly. “They changed the sheets and aired the place out.” He glances around. “That was nice of them.”
“Very,” I reply. I walk into the tiny bedroom and look around. It’s neat and tidy and…small. “Where are you going to sleep?” I ask.
This cabin only has one bedroom. And it has been more than a year since Eli and I have shared a bed.
Eli points to the bed. “Right there.”
I lay my palm on my chest. “Then where am I going to sleep?”
He looks at me, blinks slowly for a moment, and then he says, “Sleep wherever you want.” Then he turns and walks away to start unloading the car. “Do you want me to bring in your stuff?”
“No, I can do it,” I toss at his back.
“Okay, Bess,” he mutters. Then he goes outside to bring in his suitcases. I walk to the window and pull back the curtain, looking toward the little house next door. It’s dark, not a single light on. But I jump back from my window and let the curtain drop when I see the curtain in the opposite window drop back into place.
Someone is there. Surely it’s not Aaron.
4
Aaron
I can relax a little when I see that Eli and Bess have arrived. I let the curtain fall closed and sit back, and I think about what I’m doing here. I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing.
It’s not like I have a lot of choices.
When Lynda died and I knew what I was up against, I’d bared my soul to both Jake and Eli after the funeral, when they’d both showed up to support me and the kids through the toughest time of my life. Bess had come the moment I’d called her about Lynda, and she’d stayed for the first few days, but she’d left after the funeral. She’d left right after Eli arrived.
Even after the funeral, Eli and Jake had stayed. I’d dealt with all the family, cleaned up after all the mourners left our house, and then Jake had brought me a whiskey, neat. He’d sat down across from me, and he lifted a glass to his own lips. Eli sat down with his own glass.
I’d stared into the amber liquid and said, “One of you will need to stay sober, in case one of the kids wakes up.” Then I’d tossed back the whole tumbler and held out the glass for another.
“I’ll take one for the team,” Eli had said. He’d set his glass aside. I poured his whiskey into my glass and downed it quickly, grimacing at the burn of it in my throat.
I’d told them everything. I’d told them about my illness, about how Lynda and I had known my time on earth was limited, even before she’d died. They’d both sat, slack-jawed and wary, and I’d told them everything. Then Jake… Jake had volunteered to take my kids.
He’d said it like it was nothing. Like he was volunteering to take in a stray dog he’d found. Like he was offering to take home a stray kitten.
“Man,” I’d replied. I stopped to clear the emotion that was suddenly clogging my throat. “I love you so much for offering, but you already have a house full of kids.”
“So a few more won’t matter.” He’d shrugged, and I’d known he meant it. He wanted my kids. He would raise them like they were his. I had no doubt he would love them. Katie would too. But they already had so many, and Katie was pregnant again.
That was what I was worried about. That a few more kids wouldn’t matter. That they would be overlooked in the chaos of Jake’s already large family. I wanted my kids to be loved and cared for, and I knew that Jake and Katie would love them, but I had a feeling that Eli and Bess needed my kids as much as my kids needed them.
“I appreciate your offer,” I’d said. And then I stared hard at Eli. He hadn’t drunk anything, and he was the only sober person in the room. “But I want Bess and Eli to take them.”
Eli choked on the water he’d just lifted to his lips. He sputtered and coughed until he could breathe again. “You want us to take them?” He’d pointed at his chest. “Me and Bess?”
I’d nodded. “I want you and Bess to raise them. And I want Jake and Katie to be the backup. In case something else goes wrong.”
“Are you sure?” Jake had asked.
I’d nodded. “I’m positive.”
“But Bess and Eli—” Jake had begun. Then he’d shaken his head and muttered, “I’m sorry, Eli. I’m just worried.”
“Yeah, me too.” Eli had snorted out a laugh. “I’m not exactly Bess’s favorite person.”
“What if I could help you fix that?” I’d asked.