By the look on Lorna’s face, she was definitely eavesdropping. “Hey. Morning. Woo! It's freezing in here!”
I mean, overdoing it a bit, aren’t we, Lorn?
Barry’s wondering, too, if she was listening. He glances between the sisters. “I’m gonna go chop some firewood.”
Standing beside our kitchen table where Lorna takes a seat, Abby exhales with relief, “Oh, thank you! I was wondering how I was going to do that now that…”
She stops.
The room is silent.
Now that Max can’t, goes unsaid.
“The uh,” Barry says, hoping to relieve the tension, “best thing about not drinking? I can swing an ax without the hangover! Woohooo!!”
He strolls out of our front door as Abby joins her sister at the table. At the last possible second Barry shouts, “Balls!”
It even makes me laugh.
You fucking guy.
This is why I loved you.
Lorna calls after him, “That's not the best thing, but it's something!” I flash over to the window to see Barry walking toward where he and I used to compete over how much wood we’d cut for winter.
Behind me, Lorna asks, “How'd you sleep out here? Was it terrible?”
“No, it was fine,” answers my wife, lying. She’s always hated that couch. “How'd you sleep?”
I’m watching Barry pick up the ax, throw it. There’s something to that feeling any man can understand, throwing it over your shoulder, the penetration as it splits a block of wood in two, supplying heat and comfort to the ones you love most. I could do it for hours.
Back then.
“When you were hiking, was Max there?”
I turn around.
Abby is bracing herself. “Yes...why?”
“You fell.”
“What? Do you think he pushed me?”
“No.”
“Give me one good reason why I should move on because I sure as hell can't think of any.”
I’m staring at Lorna. What she just said stung. I know what she meant. I couldn’t help Abby when she fell.
She pushes on, unaware her sister is about to snap. “Don't you want to touch him? Feel his arms around you? Kiss him?”
I close my eyes, pierced.
Furious, Abby whispers, “You're killing me.”
“I just want you to be happy,” Lorna gently says, like a murderer stroking your hair as they slid in the knife. “Truly happy.”
“I am happy! Dammit! No, I can't touch him. But I can see him. I can hear him. I can laugh with him!” She jumps up from the table, trying to keep it together. “I am so very, very sick of you trying to make me feel badly about this!”
Suddenly put out as if she’s the wronged one, Lorna says with sarcasm, “I’m sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you.”
Abby flips around, trying to hold her temper. “Don't take this the wrong way, I just really want the place to myself again. Go worry about me from home. This? This I don't need.” She glares at Lorna and walks away. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
Moments after our bathroom door shuts, Lorna pushes herself from the table, storms into our living room, tightening the robe around her.
I’ve always loved my sister-in-law the way you love a stray cat who claws at you. But now that I’m dead and feel things for what they really are, I can’t fucking stand her.
She freezes, eyes searching the rafters. “Max?”
“Oh this is gonna be good,” I mutter with a roll of my eyes, making myself visible again I’m so pissed.
But she can’t see me.
If she could, she’s be terrified.
“I don't know if you're here or not, but if you are, listen up. Stop being selfish.”
I lean close to her ear, rage fueling my, “You don't know anything.”
She swats at her ear, “Fucking bugs,” and spins around. “She's going to be an old woman living in this drafty cabin all by herself holding onto the man she lost in a freak accident? That's not healthy.”
I stare at her, struck.
“If you love her, you'll do the right thing.”
From outside Barry bangs on the door, voice muffled as he calls in, “Hey, open up! My arms are full.”
Show off.
Kindness and pleading isn’t her style, so Lorna drops the tenderness and digs deeper into my wound. “Good thing someone's here to chop wood. Sure is cold in here. Can you feel it?”
I disappear.
Chapter 27
Abby
Barry, Lorna and I are saying our goodbyes outside the main front door, beside colorful potted flowers while finches bounce around the grass below in search of a meal.
My sister’s overly ambitious suitcase has been stowed in the car after she remarked it was a good thing they’d brought coats, mentioning several times now how cold it is.
We’re East Coasters, our blood is thick. What is she going on about? It’s bait. I’ve left the hook floating in the sweet smelling air around us.
And I’m trying to ignore how tightly she pulls her green and black plaid coat’s belt around her waist, shoulders tense with a brrr.
Lorna, ya need to work on your subtlety.
But the morning has been pretty fantastic, after our argument blew over and Barry scrambled eggs for us, with blackberry jam on toast. Seeing Lorna laugh at all of his antics pulled my layers of skepticism back from their relationship.
They seem well-suited and, oddly, in love. They’re so comfortable together, and I’ve never seen her smile so much. She’s lost the dark eyeliner and the scowl was only aimed at me before my shower. Huge improvement.
I almost — almost — regret her not calling me after their first date so I could’ve gone on this journey with her. I wasn’t ready, but under any other circumstances, I’d have been over the moon listening to stories of their first kiss, and when she knew for sure she was in love.
Because she is.
Lorna loves him.
He gives her shit, and she gives it back. Arthur wouldn’t have done that, too kind. A man like Barry, with his rough edges and brazen humor, can keep Lorna on her toes rather than walking all over him.
I’m the only one without a coat or jacket. Just my black sweatshirt, black jeans, and hair pulled back in a bun since I hurried the blow dry process to avoid cold eggs. Frizzy mess if I don’t control it. I don’t have Lorna’s straight locks, though we share the strawberry blonde inherited from Mom.
She looks more like our mother now that I think about it, as she smiles at Barry while he talks to my absent husband. We stalled long enough, and now it’s time for them to go. “Max, if you're here buddy, I love you, man.” With feeling he ads, “I miss you.”
Lorna again tightens the dang belt around her coat. “And about what I was saying...I'm sorry.”
It’s all I can do not to laugh. Cocking my head I dryly repeat, “You're sorry.”
She loses the facade and rolls her eyes, “Okay, I'm not,” then bursts into a loving smile as I go in for a hug. We squeeze each other extra tight, saying without words how much we want the other to be happy.
Stepping back I glance to Barry who’s got a funny look. He opens his arms with a come-here-you-know-you-want-to smile. I give him a big hug, too.