Ex’s and Oh’s Read online

  Caroline had expected Shane to give the eulogy. After all, it was Shane whom Karl had trusted with his final wishes, and with his care in his final months. But Shane didn’t speak, and she realized he preferred it that way.

  She saw him in the distance. He stood to one side near the front with three men she didn’t recognize. He wore a dark suit, white shirt and a tie. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was wearing socks. She couldn’t bring herself to smile. She couldn’t bring herself to cry, either. She remembered how long it had taken her to finally break down after her grandfather’s funeral three months ago.

  Karl Peterson’s funeral was as different from Henry O’Shaughnessy’s as it could be. One had been held in a church and had been attended by judges and businessmen and some of the wealthiest people in Chicago, the other on the grounds of the beloved lighthouse where two young men had once dreamed. Karl had wanted a simple ending. Caroline was of the opinion that there was no easy way to say goodbye.

  It was almost too beautiful a day for such a sad event. Waves lapped the shore lazily, and sailboats with bright orange sails glided in and out of view. There were no flowers. Again, charitable donations were accepted and encouraged instead. Although he’d made Karl’s wishes clear regarding a simple service, Shane had been outvoted. It seemed people needed to give Karl a good send-off.

  As Caroline listened to the stories they told about the man who had been such an integral part of Harbor Woods for so long, she didn’t see how Karl could mind. He’d been well liked and highly respected, although at times he had been a thorn in some people’s sides. Many of the people gathered here this afternoon would probably honestly miss him. She wondered where they’d all been these past nine months while he’d been living at Woodland Country Manor. As far as she knew, few of them had visited Karl then. But such was the way of people.

  Other than Shane and the two nurses who’d cared for Karl, the only person Caroline recognized was Tori. She hadn’t seen her until the sheriff finished saying a few words. Tori’s hair looked gorgeous against her black sheath. Caroline almost smiled to herself, because only Tori Young could look so stunning at a funeral.

  By now Caroline wasn’t surprised to see her friend squeeze in next to Shane. She said something to him, and he tilted his head, positioning his ear close to her mouth in order to hear. Caroline didn’t believe for a minute that Tori hated her former husband. Whatever was wrong between them stemmed from something other than hatred.

  As far as Caroline could tell, Nell, Elaine and Pattie weren’t there. But of course they wouldn’t be. They lived and worked in Charlevoix, and they didn’t know that Karl Peterson had been Caroline’s grandfather. Although she’d spoken to them briefly last night, she’d decided not to share that information, saying simply that her loss was on her mother’s side and that Caroline hadn’t known him well.

  She half expected Tori to put it together. Actually, she wished she would.

  There had been a lovely write-up in this morning’s newspaper. The headline had read Saying Goodbye To One Of Our Own. The article took up most of the front page.

  Shane had asked Caroline if she wanted to be listed in the obituary. After thinking about it, she’d told him no, for her relationship to Karl wasn’t common knowledge. It didn’t sadden her that nobody else knew. It saddened her that Karl hadn’t.

  She sighed. She’d been doing that a lot these past few days.

  The service ended, and everyone stood. The sheriff was shaking Shane’s hand. Caroline didn’t see Tori anywhere.

  While many of the mourners congregated into small groups, Caroline slipped away, alone.

  Caroline didn’t go to Tori’s for girl’s night on Thursday evening. Evidently Tori was feuding with Andy and Shane, and Pattie’s daughter had swimmer’s ear, whatever that was. Nell and Elaine had decided to see a movie. They’d kindly invited Caroline along. She’d declined.

  When she heard the knock on her door at half-past nine, she half expected it to be them. She couldn’t see whoever was on her front stoop from her kitchen window, but she could see the driveway, and she knew of only one person in Harbor Woods who drove an old silver Shelby Mustang.

  “Hi,” she said, opening the door to Shane.

  “Hi.”

  It had been nearly a week since Karl died. She’d stopped by the marina a few days ago to say hello. Shane’s phone had barely stopped ringing long enough to return her greeting. Now that there was no reason to go to the nursing home, they didn’t run into each other. Perhaps she could have taken up the search for Anna’s diary, but it seemed like a moot point now. Anna was gone. Henry was gone. And Karl was gone. What difference would the diary make now?

  “Would you like to come in?” she asked.

  “I can’t.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  A look of discomfort crossed his face. “I just had a hell of a fight with Vickie. After that, I got into it with Andy. Some of the people who rent slips got together and filed a complaint against another boat owner. I had to talk to the guy. Let’s just say he wasn’t happy. Three reamings in one day is a lot to take, even for me.”

  Standing in the doorway on a quiet summer night, listening to Shane complain, she was struck by how good it was to see him. “You’ve had a bad day,” she said. “You stopped by, but you don’t want to come in.”

  “I thought I’d take my boat out. It seems only fitting that you should come.”

  “Fitting, how?”

  “He was your grandfather, Caroline.”

  Understanding dawned. Karl’s final request was to have his ashes scattered across the night waters of Lake Michigan. Shane was about to honor that request. It was all Caroline could do to squeeze one word past the lump in her throat. “When?”

  “What are you doing right now? Karl loved summer nights. The sky is clear. And the moon will be up by the time we get out there.”

  “Do I need to bring anything?”

  “I have everything we’ll need, Caroline.”

  “If it gets too cool for you,” Shane said when they were a few hundred yards from shore, “I can close up the cabin.”

  “No,” Caroline said, peering through the open windows. “I like it.”

  It was fifteen degrees cooler on Lake Michigan than on land, and the breeze felt good on her face. She wore a life jacket, navy slacks and canvas shoes that were comfortable and perfect for boating. The wind was fast undoing her hair, which she’d fastened in a clip at her nape.

  Shane operated the cruiser with the finesse of someone who knew his way around boats and the water. He wore his regular attire of faded blue jeans and sandals. They hadn’t spoken about what he planned to do, but she’d seen him place an urn in a compartment for safekeeping. She remembered all the publicity the Kennedys had received when they’d wanted to spread the ashes of their loved ones over the ocean off the Cape. They’d been granted special permission. Of course, they were the Kennedys.

  “You realize,” she said, “that what you’re proposing is technically illegal.”

  Next to her, Shane said, “Karl knew the rules. He was eighty-five. He lived a long, clean life, and died of old age, not some horrific contagious disease.” He raised his voice in order to be heard over the engine and the wind. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I gave him my word. Don’t think of it as breaking the law. Think of it as bending it.”

  “First I lied to Steven,” she said, “and now I’m about to bend the law.”

  They didn’t speak again for a long time. Caroline didn’t know how Shane kept his bearings, but he checked gauges and instruments, adjusting his course accordingly. After some time had passed, he began to slow down. A few minutes later, he cut the engine. “We’re here.”

  Caroline peered in every direction. There was only water, sky and darkness. She had no idea where “here” was. “Karl chose this exact place?”

  “If it was daylight, and we had binoculars, and you looked straight that way,” he said, pointing, “you would be able
to see Karl’s lighthouse.”

  Shane took the urn from the compartment. And then he reached for her hand, holding it tightly as they stepped up, out of the cabin.

  On deck, he guided her hand to the railing. “Is it okay if I let go?”

  She nodded. “As long as I can hold on to something. I don’t have my sea legs.”

  “Relax your knees. Ride the rocking motion. Don’t fight it.”

  “That’s easier said than done.” But she tried.

  “Ready?” he asked as he opened the urn.

  No, she wasn’t. How could anyone be truly ready to do something so final? But she nodded.

  “Would you like to say something, Caroline?”

  She pictured a red-haired boy taking a trip for supplies with his father, and a red-haired man falling in love with a girl who had no idea she would soon be facing a heartbreaking decision. She pictured him climbing the water tower with his best friend, and later, representing people who couldn’t pay him. She imagined him opening that letter from home. She remembered him sipping Earl Grey, and falling asleep in the middle of something he was telling her.

  She shook her head, for she had nothing to say that would do him justice.

  Shane flung the contents of the urn into the air, scattering the ashes into the darkness, where they fell to the moonlit water before sinking out of sight. “Goodbye, old man,” he said. “Thanks for everything. I’m going to miss you.”

  Emotion welling in her chest, Caroline looked, not at the water, but at the moon. She already missed him. “I’m glad I knew you, Grandfather.”

  She and Shane remained exactly as they were, waves rocking the boat, the night infinitely dark and still. She couldn’t help thinking how vast the universe was, and how small humans were. It occurred to her that it had always been this way. Society changed, but life and death remained the same.

  Feeling Shane looking at her, she waited for him to say something profound.

  “Caroline?”

  “Yes?”

  “Who’s Steven?”

  She glanced at him, surprised. For some reason, she started to laugh. “He’s nobody.”

  “Nobody.”

  She nodded even as she began to tell him about Steven’s visit in Lake Forest. She wound up telling Shane about her grandfather’s funeral three months ago, and Steven’s little bombshell later that day. She told Shane about resigning from Hilliard, Ross and Whitley, and how it had felt to discover that Karl was alive. She talked and talked, the wind in her hair, the moon on the water, her voice quieting to little more than a whisper as she said, “If he’d cared, I might feel differently, but he didn’t. Steven’s nobody to me. Not anymore.”

  “In that case, there’s no sense standing around talking about nobody.”

  He took her hand again, and led her safely inside. She stood out of his way as he closed the windows and prepared for the return trip.

  “Caroline?” he said again.

  She turned around. And honestly, she never saw his kiss coming.

  CHAPTER 14

  Shane and Caroline had been quiet during the drive to her house. It was after midnight, and she hadn’t left the light on over the summerhouse door. The moon lit their way, casting their shadows in intricate detail on the ground, their shoes crunching on crushed shells along the path. He reached for her hand, holding just her fingers in his loose grasp. Caroline closed her eyes at the tenderness the gesture brought to the backs of her eyes and the base of her throat.

  It had been an emotional night, and yet releasing Karl’s ashes over the lake he’d loved had felt right. As unexpected as Shane’s kiss had been, it had felt right, too. That was what worried her, for he’d kissed her as if the touch of his lips on hers was integral to his nature, to the moment, to who he was and what she was to him.

  “You aren’t going to invite me in, are you?” he asked.

  There was no sense wondering how he’d known. She’d given that a great deal of thought during the quiet drive. She’d assumed pregnant women felt maternal. In fact, she could attest to an indescribable depth of maternal love for her child. This desire was a different matter. It was absurd, and yet she felt that if she did ask him in, she would somehow be cheating Tori. “No, Shane, I’m not.”

  He heaved the kind of sigh only men could manage.

  “If it’s any consolation,” she said, recalling how much easier it had been to keep her balance during the boat ride back to the marina. “I think I may have discovered the secret to gaining my sea legs, and I have you to thank for it.”

  Assuming a stance she recognized, feet planted comfortably, hands on his hips, shoulders back slightly, he said, “Now that’s a new term for it.”

  “Good night, Shane.”

  “It didn’t start out that way, but it’s ending well, all things considered. Good night, Caroline.”

  She let herself in. After she prepared for bed, she tried Tori’s cell number. When it went straight to her voice mail, Caroline hung up, for this wasn’t exactly something she could say in a message. One of these days soon, she needed to talk to her in person.

  “Welcome mothers, fathers, sisters, friends, significant others.” The nurse in charge of the expectant parenting class cast a pointed look in Caroline’s direction.

  “We’re just friends,” Tori called.

  Caroline was never one-hundred-percent certain what Tori might do or say. A scamp one minute, a fiercely loyal champion of the underdog the next, she’d agreed to attend the prenatal classes and act as Caroline’s birthing coach.

  The six-week course would cover everything from the third trimester to the postnatal checkup. There was a lot to learn about giving birth, and much of it wasn’t pretty. Tori assured her that experiencing it personally wasn’t as bad as watching it on video. That was good to know, since the woman on the television screen was screaming.

  “Then she’s acting?” Caroline whispered.

  “I doubt it. Can you say epidural? Forget natural childbirth. If they offer you drugs, take them.”

  The couple next to them shushed them. Somehow, Caroline didn’t think she and Tori were going to be teacher’s pets.

  During the break, the mothers and their labor coaches were supposed to practice their relaxation breathing techniques. Looking around the room at all the women lying on their backs, Tori said, “Man, this almost makes me want another baby.”

  “Seriously?” Caroline asked, breathing in, breathing out.

  “Seriously.”

  “Do you have a father in mind?”

  Tori shrugged. “I was seeing someone, but the spark’s gone.”

  “Already?”

  “Like always, it fizzled fast,” Tori said.

  While everyone was getting situated in sitting positions on their mats, Caroline said, “Would you ever consider trying again with Andy’s father?”

  “Trying what? You mean a reconciliation?”

  “Yes,” Caroline said. “Perhaps what you feel for him isn’t hatred.”

  “Of course it isn’t hatred.”

  Caroline held her breath as she waited for the opportunity to casually mention that she knew Shane.

  “But it sure as hell isn’t love, either. What’s all this talk about relationships?” Tori asked. “Are you falling in love with somebody?”

  Love? Caroline wanted to scream, because now there was no way to broach the subject subtly. It had been a week since she and Shane had scattered Karl’s ashes. Caroline would have liked Tori’s blessing. She got the distinct impression that would be a very cold day in hell.

  “Are you?” Tori asked.

  “Love is a strong word.”

  “Are you thinking about having sex?”

  If Caroline had been drinking a soda, she would have sprayed the people in front of her.

  “Women have needs, too,” Tori whispered. “Surely you’ve discovered another use for the handheld shower nozzle. Are you blushing? Good grief, are you innocent or what?”

  Car
oline didn’t feel innocent, exactly. She felt on the brink of discovery. It seemed as though she’d found a kindred spirit in Shane, if such spirits existed. Perhaps it was as he’d said on the lake last week. Maybe she’d simply discovered a partner in crime. Then again, perhaps Tori was right, and she was falling in love.

  Caroline hyperventilated. A dozen people crowded around her to help her breathe through it. Practicing the newly learned technique, she couldn’t help wondering if there had ever been a cold day in hell.

  Shane opened the window in Karl’s old bedroom. It was hotter than blazes in here. It had been more than a week since he and Caroline had scattered Karl’s ashes, and she was helping him sort through Karl’s things. Shane was boxing up the clothes and she was working on the books in the living room. He recognized the tactic for what it was. She was keeping a respectable distance between them.

  Darkness had fallen a while ago. Cicadas and crickets chirruped from their hiding places outdoors. It was amazing how much racket a lone moth could make banging its head against the screen as it tried to get to the light inside. Nobody understood the insect’s futility better than Shane.

  He emptied the last dresser drawer. Hoisting the cardboard box into his arms, he carried it to the dining room and stacked it with the others. Taking a breather, he stretched, rotating a kink or two from the back of his neck. It may have been a ploy, but it was an effective one, for it gave him a reason to linger where Caroline was in plain view.

  She hadn’t made a lot of progress with the packing. Instead of filling a box with books, she’d opened a volume and was reading. She was like that, so thirsty and open to literature and history and folklore, anything old or new.

  She turned slightly, presenting him with a side view. She was more than five-and-a-half months along now. She hadn’t gained a great deal of weight, but she was still obviously a pregnant woman. A beautiful pregnant woman. Her shirt was red, the front dipping to a V that crisscrossed between her breasts and snugged her body below them. Who the hell’s idea it was to make maternity clothes sexy, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t have minded doing a little exploring. Either there was something seriously wrong with him or there was something seriously right about his feelings for her. He didn’t know which possibility bothered him more.