None of that mattered to my ultra conservative family who believed a woman had no business living alone. They didn’t care that I’d spent months on end alone while Lance was on assignment doing good work for the government. Of course, it was all highly secret, and he couldn’t tell me about those missions, not even once they’d ended and Lance had returned safely to my waiting arms again.
None of it mattered to my family, except for how things looked to their judgmental friends. Apparently, a widow needed to either come home to live with her parents or marry someone else right away.
For the sake of propriety.
“Give me a fucking break!” I stomped around my empty living room and said it again. “Give me a goddamn fucking break!”
It felt good to say it out loud, even if there was no one around to hear it. Over the years, speaking my mind was something I struggled with but in the months since I lost Lance, my love, my partner in life, I realized that if I didn’t get my feeling out now, I never would.
Better late than never, sweet cheeks. I couldn’t help but smile whenever Lance’s voice came to me, lifting me up and forcing me to be the strong woman he always saw within me. It was so hard when he was alive. My parents were always a shadow. But now, without him, I had to become that woman for him and for me, and I was determined to do so.
Sooner rather than later.
That started with finding a way to keep myself busy. Between Lance’s military pension, life insurance, and the fact the Ashbys paid off this enormous house, there was no practical reason for me to work. But I wanted to work. No, it was more than that, I needed to. For now, I contented myself with playing nursemaid to Kat Ashby. She seemed to want that from, even though she had more than enough money to hire private help. She seemed to appreciate having me around, and for now, that was enough. I have to say, taking care of Kat after her own brush with death was a relief because I had no clue what I wanted to be when I grew up.
During our marriage, my life had revolved around making life easier for Lance. I loved keeping up our home, whether it was a tiny studio apartment in Libertyville, a slightly larger studio in San Diego, or a nicer two bedroom just outside Coronado. Being a homemaker had been my full time job my whole adult life. Other than flipping burgers and waiting tables as a teenager, I hadn’t ever had a real 9 to 5 job. Ever.
“And it’s beyond time to change that,” I said to the oversized fireplace.
Kat wouldn’t need my help forever, and I might lose my mind trying to find things to do around the house all day.
I needed to decide what would light a fire under me and make a plan. A plan for my own life, my own future. Even the thought of doing that brought tears to my eyes, because it was an impossible thought to entertain without Lance. How could I think of my future as a single, solitary person when I’d spent so much time as part of a twosome?
It felt disloyal to think only of myself when I felt robbed of the future I had planned with the love of my life. A future that included kids and family vacations, a kid-friendly dog. That future was all gone, nothing more than an unrealized dream. It was really fucking hard to move on from that.
But I had to try, I knew that. It would be even more disloyal to Lance’s memory, to our time together, if I let myself fall apart and wasted my life when he’d been robbed of so many years. I couldn’t do that and more importantly, I wouldn’t.
“A list. I’ll make a list.” I was talking to the four walls, but so what, if it got me moving. I grabbed my tablet and started to tap out a list of things I needed to do to get my life back on track. The first item was to find a job. It didn’t matter if it was waiting tables or telemarketing, I had to find a way to fill my days. Maybe I could go back to school and get trained to do something important. Something that mattered.
The sound of my phone ringing was so foreign to me that it wasn’t until the fifth ring that I realized what it was and answered. When I heard Maisie’s voice, I smiled.
“Maisie? Shouldn’t you be in the middle of Sunday dinner with your family?”
“Have you been kidnapped?” she asked with a laugh in her voice. “If so, say rottweiler, and I’ll send the guys for you right away.”
I blinked and looked at the phone, then tapped the speaker button. “What are you talking about? Have you been kidnapped?”
“No, but it’s after nine o’clock, and dinner’s been over for some time. I figured you must be locked up in a dark basement if you don’t know what time it is.”
A quick glance at the oven clock showed that she was right. How could it be nearly nine-thirty? I barked out a laugh and shook my head. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought. What’s up?”
The doorbell rang just as she spoke.
“I guess so. I’ve been ringing the bell for almost five minutes, and I was about to bust down your door to check on you. Ding dong, Vanessa.”
I rushed to the front door and opened it smiling for a change. I was happy to have a visitor who wasn’t trying to sell me something or convert me to their religion. “Come in. Welcome to our, my, home.”
This was Maisie’s first visit. She stepped inside and took a look around, her mouth agape, taking in all the details I’d actually worked on in the front hall. I led her into the large living room space, and she finally said something more coherent that wow.
“Damn, great looking home, Vanessa. Modern and homey but with an upscale rustic look. Did you do this?”
I nodded, proud of the final product, even though I was less impressed with it as each day passed. “It was my attempt at making this our dream home, but I never realized how exhausting decorating could be.”
A look of sadness flashed in her big blue eyes. I wanted to stop her right there. I didn’t want pity; I was really damn tired of seeing pity in everyone’s eyes, so I rushed to change the subject. “What brings you by?”
“Oh, right! Duh.” One of her infectious laughs bubbled up that lifted my mood as she followed me into the kitchen.
“This is where I spend so much of my time lately,” I said, gesturing to a stool at the counter. “Should I open a bottle of wine?” I asked, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard without waiting for her answer.
“Need you ask?” she said, sliding onto a seat.
“I wanted to pick your brain about my wedding,” she said while I opened a chilled white wine I pulled from the fridge, “but I’ll totally understand if it’s too soon to talk about it.”
I smiled, appreciating her for caring and glad to see her happy news had erased all traces of pity. I poured two glasses of the Chablis, and we clicked for a quick toast.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Remembering isn’t the sad part. It’s the future we’ll never have that makes things difficult.”
Realizing my comment probably put a damper on her wedding plans, I flashed a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Ask away.”
Maisie made a frown and said, “I never even thought of it like that, Vanessa. If you ever want to talk about Lance, I’m a good listener, and I love a good romance.” She laughed and shook her head, silky black hair falling gently around her shoulders. “Basically I’m in the weeds when it comes to this wedding stuff. I know what I like, and Sadie said to choose what I wanted. But shouldn’t this be, I don’t know, elegant or sophisticated or something?”