Elissa Ambrose – Journey Of The Heart (страница 2)

She felt the color drain from her face. “What are you talking about? My leaving had nothing to do with him. I never thought—”

“That’s just it, you didn’t think—which is odd, considering how you used to overanalyze everything.” He exhaled slowly. “Look, I didn’t come here to make a scene. No, Cory and I won’t be coming by later. He doesn’t remember you, and I don’t want to resurrect old wounds.” He gave her a curt nod of farewell. “Take care of yourself, Laura.”

Tormented with conflicting emotions, she watched her ex-husband walk away. What exactly had she expected? To find that Jake had changed and wanted to start over? She had made a life for herself without him. She had a fiancé who adored her, and she was happy. She had come back to Connecticut to pay her last respects to her aunt, and that was all.

But that was not all. She still hadn’t decided what to do with the house. The rambling two-story cottage was now hers. Legally it had been hers since the death of her parents, but after she had left home to marry Jake, she had been content to let her aunt stay on. On the one hand, Laura wanted to sell the house and get on with her life. On the other hand, part of her wanted to keep it, reluctant to let go of the past once and for all. Although she had almost no memory of the years before her parents had died, she had a vague sense that she had been happy there, before her aunt had moved in.

“Looks like Jake still has the old charm,” Cassie murmured, breaking into Laura’s thoughts.

Laura reached into her purse for a tissue. “I can’t really blame him. I just thought he’d be over his anger by now. He’s still so…bitter.”

She scanned the pews, telling herself she wasn’t looking for him. She took in the scene around her, noting how quickly the chapel had filled. Who were all these elderly people? Aunt Tess hadn’t exactly been the sociable type. Or the motherly type, either.

Laura closed her eyes, trying to conjure up an image of her parents. If she could only remember one thing, a lingering scent of aftershave, a hairpin left on the bathroom counter, anything at all…. She had been five years old when the driver of the truck lost control and crossed the median, killing himself and her parents. Five years old. The same age as Cory when she’d left Jake. A dull ache centered inside her. Did Cory ever think about her? Or had he completely obliterated her from his mind, as Jake had said?

She opened her eyes and tried to focus on the minister.

“…generosity of spirit,” he was saying. “Elizabeth Armstrong touched the hearts of all those who knew her, and will be sorely missed….”

Cassie leaned over and whispered, “‘Generosity of spirit?’ The only one generous here is the minister.”

“Be good,” Laura admonished. “Try to remember, she took me in. She raised me.”

“Took you in? It was your parents’ house, not hers! That woman got a free ride, living in that house. Not that she was ever there to take care of you. Raised you? I don’t think so. You raised yourself.”

“Shhh!”

But Cassie whispered on. “And while we’re on the subject of who wronged whom, I want you to remember that it was charm-boy here who abandoned you, not the other way around. Sure, technically you left him, but he didn’t try very hard to get you back, and he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most.”

As far as Laura was concerned, the issue regarding who left whom was still off-limits. As if sensing her friend’s discomfort, Cassie relented and leaned back in the pew. But Cassie was Cassie, and couldn’t stay quiet for more than a minute. “Where did you find this guy?” she snickered, motioning to the pulpit. “‘Touched the hearts of all those who knew her’? Is he for real?”

“He’s from Ridgefield,” Laura answered in a low voice. “My mother and Aunt Tess grew up there. Honestly, Cass, can’t you just sit still and listen to the sermon? The woman was my mother’s sister.”

But Cassie remained undaunted. “Remember when she caught me climbing through your bedroom window, trying to sneak you down the old oak tree?” She poked her friend lightly in the ribs. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. But we made it! And Ellen and Cyn were waiting at the bottom, waving flashlights. Ellen was all prepared with swabs and bandages. She was so sure we’d fall. How old were we? Seven? Eight?”

Despite her resolve to keep up a solemn front, Laura smiled at the memory.

“And what a sight your aunt made,” Cassie continued, “flying out the front door, trying to stop us from getting away. I can still see her running down the street, wearing that wretched old bathrobe, her face in that awful mudpack.”

“Will you please stop? People are looking!”

“And what about the time she ran outside, screaming like a banshee after finding a snake in the toilet? Did you ever tell her it was Jake who put it there?”

“Cass, I’m warning you!” But it was too late. Laura had doubled over in a fit of giggles. Cassie could always make her laugh, in any place or situation, even a funeral.

What’s wrong with me? she thought. This is a funeral. My aunt’s funeral. It doesn’t matter that she left me all day with baby-sitters. It doesn’t matter that she was always so critical, scolding me for the least little thing. Control yourself! What kind of person behaves this way at a funeral? “Stop it, Cass! What will people think?”

“You mean what will Jake think, don’t you?” Cassie’s face turned sober. “Okay, take it easy, kiddo,” she said. “Put your head on my shoulder. They’ll all think you’re crying.”

Except that Laura was crying, somewhere deep inside.

From her pew in the front row, she could feel Jake’s eyes on her back. Who was he to judge her? What did he know about her life? When they were growing up, he’d been her ally and her foe, her friend and her tormentor and, always, her secret love. But throughout their three-year marriage, he’d remained distant, as if he’d never really known her.

She turned in her seat and looked in his direction. Their eyes met, and for a moment she felt dizzy. He needs to keep a safe distance, she thought sadly, noting that he’d chosen to sit in the last pew.

She looked back at the minister, who was now saying, “…a beautiful soul who will be mourned by her dearly beloved niece and friends…”

One glimpse at Cassie and she fell into another fit of giggles.

Laura’s feet were aching. After the service, people had been dropping by the house all afternoon and evening. Laura had been standing for hours, acting as hostess to a stream of strangers, and now she was in the hallway, bidding her guests farewell.

“What a caring, lovely person she was,” Reverend Barnes was saying. Except for Cassie, he was the last to leave. “When I heard that a stroke had taken her from us, I insisted on giving the eulogy.”

Laura was having difficulty concentrating on the minister’s words. Her thoughts kept returning to the scene in the chapel. It had shaken her to discover that Jake was still angry, or that she even cared how he felt. She kept playing his words over in her head like a song on repeat until she was sure she’d lose her mind.

“…great childhood friends,” the minister was saying. “I had a secret crush on her, but she had her eye on some other fellow….”

Angry or not, he should have come to the house. Not that she’d been expecting him. Not that she’d wanted him to come. But they had been married. It would have been the right thing, the decent thing, for him to do.

“…didn’t work out. Poor Tess, bless her heart…”

Every time the doorbell had rung, she’d stiffened, half with anticipation, half with dread. But he hadn’t shown up. This is ridiculous, she rebuked herself, glancing at the front door. What did she care?

“…would always tag along. But we never minded. Your mother was such an adorable little thing. Just like you at that age.”

Laura’s attention was riveted back to the minister. “You knew my mother?”

“Of course I did! Even though she was six years younger, Elizabeth used to take her everywhere. I can still picture little Caroline, her golden-brown pigtails, those shining turquoise eyes. And those freckles! She couldn’t say the word ‘sun’ without twenty new dots popping up all over her face. And she had a cute little bump on her nose, just like yours.”

Automatically Laura raised her hand to the bridge of her nose. As a teenager, she’d wanted to have it fixed, but all her friends had been against it. “It gives you character,” Jake had said, “not that you lack any.” Later, she decided that the bump she had inherited from her mother was too small for her to even consider having it removed.

Why can’t I remember what my mother looked like? Laura thought now. I wasn’t that young when she died. I should be able to remember something. For years after the crash Laura had searched for her mother in the park, at school, at the doctor’s office. Even to this day she still caught herself looking around corners in department stores, in the supermarket, in the library. It’s no wonder, she told herself, considering I’ve never seen pictures of my parents. Where are the mementos of our lives? Where are the family albums? These were questions Aunt Tess had never answered.