Rachel considered that. “I’ll be glad when you learn the results so that you can put it behind you. Or deal with it. What will you do if it turns out to be incriminating?”
I cupped my forehead in my hand and closed my eyes. “I’m sure that it won’t be.” Sitting back in the chair, I laid a hand on my belly. “But I have to admit something. Ever since the detectives told me the date that the woman went missing, I started to remember my first few weeks with Dean. Melanie disappeared only days after our cruise up the Hudson River, when things were starting to get serious between us very quickly. Remember when I cooked him spaghetti at our apartment?”
“Yes. That was the first time I met him,” she said.
“And then I didn’t see him for a week because I was finishing my film, and the following weekend I invited him to go to Miami with Mom and me. Do you remember that?”
“I do.”
I took a moment to reflect upon those events. “It was all so romantic because I was completely infatuated. But he was distracted that weekend, and he seemed very . . . I don’t know . . . sad, I guess. Sometimes he would gaze off into space as if he was somewhere else. He told me it was stress from work, and that’s why I encouraged him to leave that career and become a pilot. But he was awfully quick to say yes, even when his boss was grooming him for a partnership. He wanted to leave New York as much as I did, but I was running from something.”
“Your father’s iron fist.”
“Yes. That’s right. I was looking for an escape. But maybe he was too.” I exhaled heavily. “Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m sure he had nothing to do with whatever happened to that woman. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this stuff. It’s like I’m trying to make a connection.”
We were both quiet as we pondered that fact.
“I think you should share those thoughts with Gabriel,” Rachel said. “He would want to hear it.”
“Would he? I’m not so sure.”
“Of course he would. You shouldn’t keep anything from him. He loves you, and he understands what you went through back then. Dean was your husband, and he died in a plane crash. That’s traumatic.”
I sighed with resignation. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t know why I’ve been so cagey about it. Maybe I don’t like the idea of talking about Dean at all, because it shows that I’m still thinking about him, and I don’t want Gabriel to worry that I’m still in love with him. The poor guy knows how obsessed I was, needing to know what caused the crash. But there were no answers, and there never will be.”
“Yes,” Rachel replied. “And you’ve accepted that. You’re over it now. You’ve put it behind you.”
“Have I?” I asked. “I hope so. Part of me still has doubts about so many things.”
I heard heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs and knew it was Gabriel. He opened the door to the basement and poked his head out. “We got the trains running. You should come and see.”
I cupped the mouthpiece with my hand. “I’ll be right there.”
He stared at me for a moment, then went back down.
“I have to go,” I said. “They want me to see the trains in the basement.”
“That sounds like fun,” Rachel replied. “And I should go too. I need to baste the turkey and start peeling potatoes.”
“We’ll talk about this again?” I asked.
“Yes. But promise me you’ll bring it up with Gabriel.”
“I’ll try.” We said goodbye and hung up. Then I went downstairs to watch the trains go round and round.
That night, after a delicious turkey dinner at my mother’s apartment, we returned home and switched on the tree lights. While Gabriel gave Joel a quick bath, I read a story to Rose, who could barely keep her eyes open. When we finished the book, I sat on the edge of her bed and watched her fall asleep.
How beautiful she was, in every way—from the shape of her sweet little nose to her adorable freckles and her crooked smile that contained a charm all its own. There were moments when I looked at her and saw Dean. She had the same full lips and arresting blue eyes.
I never mentioned the resemblance to Gabriel, but he had met Dean once, and he had seen enough pictures. Surely he must see the likeness as well. Yet he loved Rose as his own.
I adored Gabriel for that, and I was grateful to have him in my life. I loved him with all my heart. But it was a quieter love. A more sensible love, perhaps . . .
Gently, I ran the pad of my thumb across Rose’s eyebrows.
Half-asleep, she whispered, “That feels nice.”
I used to stroke Dean’s eyebrows as well, usually when he returned home after a long flight. The memory of those intimate moments we’d shared in bed together—when it felt as if our bodies and souls were connected—was like someone pouring salt on a fresh wound on my heart.
But it wasn’t fresh. It was an old wound that had finally healed over. Or so I’d thought.
Rose fell asleep. I switched off the lamp, kissed her good night, and pushed thoughts of Dean from my mind.
By this time, Gabriel was downstairs watching television, lounging on the sofa with his feet up. Ziggy was stretched out beside him, his head resting on Gabriel’s thigh.
“My two favorite men,” I said wistfully, moving past the Christmas tree. “What are you watching?”
Gabriel lowered the volume. “Die Hard. Come and have a seat.” He gave Ziggy a gentle nudge. “Down you go. That’s a good boy.”
Ziggy plodded to his bed in front of the fire while Gabriel patted the empty sofa cushion beside him. I sank onto it and snuggled close.
“Would you like a foot rub?” Gabriel asked.
“That would be amazing.”
He waited for me to remove my new Christmas slippers and get comfortable with my feet on his lap. Then he began to perform his magic.
“You have the best hands,” I said as he kneaded the arch of my foot.
“And you have the loveliest feet.”
I laughed. “Despite my swollen ankles?”
“Your ankles are perfect.”
We sat in the colored light from the Christmas tree, while Ziggy snored loudly on his doggy bed.
“It started snowing already,” Gabriel said. “Maybe tomorrow we could take a drive out of the city and go tobogganing.”
“That sounds like fun, but I don’t think I should be doing anything that involves speeding down a steep hill and flying into a snowbank. I’d be a beached whale. I wouldn’t be able to get up.”
“You’re right,” he replied. “Krazy Karpets would be unwise.”
“By the sound of things,” I said, “we might be snowed in without power anyway. We might need to stay close to home.”
“Good thing we have a working fireplace.”
“We could roast marshmallows,” I suggested, regarding him with affection.
He continued to rub my feet while he watched the movie.
“I love you,” I said.
He looked down at me with a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. “I hope so.”
My stomach turned over with regret, and I leaned up on my elbows. “What do you mean, you hope so?”