“Of course she has. Gracie’s wonderful.”
“That’s for sure.”
We walked out into the area by the fence and both of us leaned against the structure without talking. The snow continued to fall around us, a thick and fluffy blanket. I brushed a small clump off my face with my new glove.
“Are you angry with me?”
“No, I’m just confused. That last conversation we had, well, you were pretty brusque.”
“Sorry about that. It was frustrating that we couldn’t bring Gambrowski in. Frustrating about Michelle, too. When you called, I was in a meeting and I didn’t know what to say.”
I nodded.
I couldn’t take the silence, so I continued, “I understand and respect the fact you are married. I appreciate you are trying to work things out with Brenda. But, life’s short and I want to move on. I’m not asking you to leave your wife. I … I just don’t know what the deal is. You’re married, so I’ve been thinking that … well, I need to make a new plan, Stan.”
That last part was supposed to be a joke. It fell flat. He took me into his arms. I felt a wetness on both our faces. Hard to know whether they were tears or snow. Not that it mattered.
His voice was husky when he said, “I don’t want you to make a new plan. I wake up every day hoping I can find a reason to see you. I tell myself I’m wrong. I tell myself you deserve better. Don’t give up on me, us, yet. Please? Brenda is finishing her master’s degree. She’s been in and out of rehab. I think if she gets this degree, she might straighten up because she’d have too much to lose. She’s talked about moving to Colorado. Can you hang in there until the summer? Is that too much to ask?”
“And then? I mean, what specifically are you asking?” Okay, I put it all on the line. I pushed away and stared straight at him to see his reaction.
He slid his arm around my shoulders. I stiffened and then relaxed into the shelter of his embrace. I buried my face in his coat.
“I’m not moving to Colorado. She knows it. She’s already had a job offer.” His lips brushed the top of my ear. It wasn’t really a kiss, more like a promise.
The surge of electricity made me bold. “What if … what if something happens between you.”
“Something?”
“Like a baby,” I whispered up at him, as I wrapped an arm around his waist. I had to know this, too. Call it a test. How honest would he be? If they were still man and wife, there was still this possibility. I held my breath, waiting.
“That’s not going to happen. At least, not with me.”
There was a tone, a sureness that I’ve never heard from him before. We swayed together, locked in each other’s arms. Two friends. The best of friends.
Or was he?
“What have you told her about me?”
He sighed. “That I love you. How lucky I was to stumble over you. How much I tried to stay away. How no matter what, you’re the world to me. You and Anya.”
I pulled back and studied him.
This was my moment, my dream come true.
Or was it?
But what about Ben?
I mean, Detweiler could have told me this weeks—even days—ago. But he hadn’t. He’d assumed there was no hurry.
I swallowed hard. “You might be too late.”
I found out why Bama had been so generous to me. Turns out, the contract she signed to teach on the cruise included a default clause. If she didn’t go, or send someone qualified in her stead, she owed the events manager money for lost revenue.
I shook my head at Bama’s nerve when Clancy explained that to me. But it didn’t stop me from going and enjoying myself. Especially when I left St. Louis right before a nasty ice storm.
I got off the cruise ship at Cozumel because I vaguely remembered Cindy Gambrowski having said once that there was a cool museum in the city. I thought that stopping in would be a neat way to pay homage to her and to learn about local history.
What happened on my way back to the tender will never be resolved. I’ll always wonder what I should have and could have done differently. You see, I took a cab to the museum and then wandered along the downtown area intending to pick up a few gifts. I was holding a large pink conch shell in my hands when I spotted a woman on crutches.
A woman who looked exactly like Cindy Gambrowski.
I put the shell down. Really, I was being ridiculous.
Or was I?
What was it Michelle Gambrowski said when she examined Gracie’s tail? “Actually, I’ve been doing amputations for the past few weeks.”
I stepped away from the merchant’s stall and started toward the woman on crutches. My watch said the tender would leave for my cruise ship in ten minutes. The loading area was five minutes away, if I walked quickly.
But I kept staring at the back of the blonde a few stalls over.
Cozumel was Cindy’s favorite place. I remembered her talking about it with Bama.
You could give your own blood, couldn’t you? It could be stockpiled. People did it all the time for operations.
What if you knew you’d never be free? That your daughter would never be safe? Trapped animals were known to gnaw off a limb. Couldn’t a human do the same?
I set down the shell. What if it was her? What if Ross had been right? What if she and Michelle staged her whole “death and dismemberment”?
The state of Missouri was sure to execute him.
I broke into a run.
“Cindy! Cindy!” I called.
For a split second, that other woman hesitated. She turned toward me.
I thought I saw a half-smile on her face.
Two tourists stepped between us, blocking my view.
By the time I reached the spot where I’d seen her, “Cindy” was gone.
The End
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Tom Morrow and Judge Bill Hopkins for legal advice. Sharon Hopkins was a brilliant helper with the legalese. My deep appreciation goes to Marjorie Morrison for her invaluable information and insight into domestic violence. Hugs and thanks go to Dana Churovich for information relating to nurses and substance abuse. Jane Campbell and Gus Castellanos provided insight into all things medical. Any mistakes I made in these areas are mine alone.
Susan Lutz has been making her Fool’s Toffee for my husband David and me for years. Much love to you, Suzie. Stacey Caron was kind enough to share her grandmother’s rugelach recipe. Visit her at http://staceysnacksonline.com
“Happy tail” is a real malady, and yes, amputation is an option. Thanks to Dr. Nolan P. Rubin, D.V.M., for his help with my (limited) understanding of the problem.
Dr. D. P. Lyle explained to me how blood could be harvested and stored without breaking down the cell structure so that when defrosted it would seem “fresh.” Doug was also kind enough to assure me that a veterinary student could, indeed, do the surgery Michelle might have performed on her mother.
Jackie Bell of Taylor & Modeen Funeral Home kindly answered my questions about the difference in the feel of embalmed and unembalmed flesh.
Mega thanks to my agent, Paige Wheeler of Folio Literary Management, LLC, for her continued support and wise counsel.
I really appreciate the efforts of my aunt Shirley Helmly who took time to read this book and offer proofreading and suggestions.
Yes, there really are presepios on The Hill in St. Louis. The displays start around December 23 and stay up until January 2. They are lit at night, making them absolutely magical! For more information go to http://www.italystl.com/misc/m041223.htm
There’s also a wonderful restaurant in St. Louis called Trattoria Marcella. When you stop by, order the lobster risotto and tell them Kiki Lowenstein sent you!
Of course, Santa’s Magical Kingdom is real. It’s a total treat. Find out more at http://www.santasmagicalkingdom.com/
Lanetta Holloway won her spot in this book by making a generous donation to the Guardian Angel Settlement Association (www.guardianangelsettlement.com). Thanks t
o my friend Olivia Kormeier for helping me connect with this worthy cause.
As for pet donkeys, Monroe really does exist. Izzy was named for a very special pup who has gone on to heaven. (I’m sure there is one with dogs and cats, otherwise it couldn’t be heaven, could it?)
As for the subject matter of this book, I grew up in an abusive home. I hope that if you are experiencing abuse, you’ll find the courage to talk to someone you trust. If you suspect someone is living in an abusive environment, please have the courage to reach out to them. How prevalent is this problem? According to experts, one in three women will experience domestic abuse in her life.
To all the women who read this: If he’s shaming, blaming, hurting or forcing you … it’s not love. The same goes for guys who keep you isolated. That’s not about jealousy, girlfriend, that’s about control. Good men don’t treat women that way. No one, not one living person on God’s green earth deserves to live in fear.
With all this in mind, I have donated a portion of the proceeds of this book to Lydia’s House, which offers a place of healing and a voice of hope for abused women and their children.
If you are moved to make a contribution as well, please go to their website www.lydiashouse.org.
© Glamour Shots
About the Author
Joanna Campbell Slan is a scrapbooker who has written seven technique books on the hobby. In fact, she loves crafts of all kinds. She is the author of twelve nonfiction books, including a college textbook, and her essays appear in five of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. Joanna divides her time between Washington, DC, and Jupiter Island, Florida. Visit Joanna at: www.JoannaSlan.com.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title_Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Sixty-Five
Sixty-Six
Sixty-Seven
Sixty-Eight
Sixty-Nine
Seventy
Seventy-One
Seventy-Two
Seventy-Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About_the_Author