Love After Dark (2 page)

“Not quite there yet,” he said. “But getting closer.”

“How can you tell?”

“Size and color, my friend. They tell the story. When they’re ready, they’ll be bigger and orange, not yellow.”

“That one there is orange.” Ethan pointed to the one orange pumpkin in a sea of yellow.
 

“Pick it up for your mom.”

“Maybe she’ll let me carve it.”

“Whatever you do, don’t carve it by yourself. That’s how kids end up at the clinic getting stitches.” Paul could speak from experience about that and had the scar across his left palm to prove it. He pointed it out to Ethan.
 

“Wow, you got that carving a pumpkin?”

With Ethan struggling under the weight of the pumpkin he’d picked up for his mom, they started walking back toward the house. “Yep. My dad told me to wait for him, but I was in too much of a rush and sliced my hand wide open. My parents totally freaked out because there’s no hospital out here.”

“Was your dad mad?”

“He was after he knew I’d be okay. I got a hell of a talking-to about the dangers of knives and doing what I was told. Tough lesson learned the hard way.”

“I don’t have a dad anymore.”

Paul tried not to show any reaction to that statement. He’d wondered about the boy’s father, but neither Ethan nor Hope had volunteered any information about the guy, and Paul hadn’t wanted to ask. “Neither do I.”

“Yeah, but yours died. Mine’s in jail.”

Paul felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “Oh.”

“Yeah, it sucks.” Spotting his mother on the porch of the Martinez house, Ethan took off running, calling out to her about the season’s first pumpkin.

Paul followed him, still reeling from what he’d just heard. He had so many questions. Why was Ethan’s father in jail? What had he done? Had he hurt Hope or Ethan? God, Paul hoped it wasn’t that. Why hadn’t Hope disclosed the information when they hired her? Were either of them in any danger? Did he dare broach the subject with her, or did he pretend he didn’t know?

Shit, what a dilemma.
 

Hope was still on the porch when Paul got there a few minutes behind Ethan, who’d gone inside to show the pumpkin to Paul’s mother. Marion adored the boy, and they shared a special bond.

“I hope he’s not driving you crazy,” Hope said, as she did just about every day. She tucked a strand of her reddish-brown hair behind her ear and crossed her arms, the pose almost defensive, as if she were always waiting for disaster to strike. He’d had the thought before, but knowing what he did now, it took on new meaning.

“I enjoy hanging out with him.”

“Still, feel free to tell him to leave you alone if you’re busy.”

“It’s fine, Hope. He’s a great kid.”

“Yeah,” she said, her smile softening her face. “He is.”

“How are things here?”

“Your mom had a tough day. She’s been more confused than usual.”

Paul ran his fingers through his hair as he absorbed that news. “Is that even possible?”

Marion came to the door. “Is that my George home from work? George! Come see what Paul brought home. The first pumpkin of the season!”

Hope sent him a sympathetic smile. After all these weeks of working for them, she certainly knew how difficult it was when his mother regularly mistook him for his late father.

“Hi, Mom, it’s me, Paul.”

Like always, he had to withstand the pain of watching her face fall with disappointment when she realized it was him and not his father. That killed him a little more every day. Sometimes he was tempted to pretend to be his father just to give her a moment’s reprieve, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that to either of them.

“Oh, well, your father will be along soon, then. Come in and get washed up for dinner. You know how hungry Daddy is after working all day. He’ll want to eat as soon as he gets home.”

Paul took the stairs slowly, each step a reminder of the realities of his life.

“George? Is that you?” Marion came back to the door. “Oh, there you are! Dinner is ready! Come in and have a cold beer.”

It took everything Paul had to cross the porch to the front door, to tell his mother once again that he was Paul, not George. They’d stopped telling her that George was dead, because neither he nor Alex could bear to see her relive her painful loss with every new reminder. They’d decided to let her have her illusions if they brought her comfort.
 

But being constantly mistaken for his late father was taking a toll on Paul—and on his brother, too.
 

Wearing a towel around his waist and dripping from the shower, Alex materialized out of the hallway where the bedrooms were located. “Hey, Mom,” Alex said. “Come have a seat. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Your dad just got home. Give him a minute to wash up.”

Alex glanced at Paul. “You okay?”

“Sure,” Paul said with a grim smile, “never better.”

Hope followed him inside and went through the motions of getting Marion to the table and cutting her chicken into tiny bites.
 

Different day, same routine. Sometimes Paul wondered how much more he could take before he’d lose his own mind. But he and his brother had promised their father on his deathbed that they would take care of their mother. And that was exactly what he would do, even if their situation was slowly killing him one painful day at a time.

Chapter 2

After a delicious dinner of roasted chicken, potatoes and stuffing that Hope had made for them, Paul took a cold beer to the back steps that overlooked the cabin where Hope and Ethan lived. With Ethan’s pumpkin successfully carved, Paul’s mother in bed, Alex and Jenny gone to move a few more things into the new house, and with no meetings in town tonight, Paul found himself with a rare moment of idle time.

He liked the stargazing back here. Out front, the security lights from the store and gardens made it tough to see much of anything. But the view from the back of the house was spectacular, especially in the clear September sky.

Hope and Ethan had fallen into the habit of joining them for dinner, which made for a fun gathering at the end of every day. It was so much better to have Alex, Jenny, Hope and Ethan around to help with Marion than it had been at first, when he’d been alone with their mother’s deteriorating condition.
 

Asking Alex to come home had been one of the most difficult phone calls Paul had ever made. But he’d needed his brother’s help and support with their mother and the business he was trying to keep afloat while also trying to care for Marion.
 

It was better now that he had all kinds of great help, but each day was still filled with the despair that came with watching a loved one become someone you don’t recognize—and who doesn’t recognize you.

Now he also had a bunch of questions about what Ethan had let slip earlier. He’d hoped to get a chance to talk to Alex about it, but he hadn’t had a moment alone with his brother. He’d talk to him tomorrow. Not that he thought they had anything to fear from Hope.

She was doing an amazing job with their mom, and for the first time since Marion’s condition had worsened, Paul felt like they had things under control—for the most part anyway. No, he had to play this carefully. If he pried into her life and pissed her off, she might leave them, and that would be the worst thing that could happen.

Paul lived in mortal fear of driving Hope away. The thought of losing her help with their mom was unthinkable. Besides, she and Ethan had begun to seem like part of the family, and he wanted them to feel at home here.

“Beautiful night,” Hope said from the porch of the cabin.

Paul hadn’t realized she was there. With the lights off in the cabin, he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness. “Sure is. Best time of year for stargazing.”

“I love it here. It’s so beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. I was just sitting here thinking that I can’t recall how we ever got by without you.”

“Dementia is such a bitch.”

“It certainly is. Every time she mistakes me for my dad…”

“My heart breaks for you, Paul. It’s got to be so hard.”

The empathy he heard in her voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket. “She and my dad were great together. Still holding hands after thirty years. Sometimes I think his death triggered her dementia. It’s like she needs to forget he’s gone or something.”

“Grief is a complicated emotion, especially when coupled with dementia.”

“Alex and I had to stop correcting her every time she asks for Dad. We can’t stand breaking the news to her over and over again. It’s like she loses him every time.”

“You guys have done such an admirable job of dealing with it for so long.”

“We’ve done the best we could, but we were just getting by until you came along.”

“I’m glad to be able to help. And I have to thank you, as well, for the time you spend with Ethan. He’s really blossomed here, and a lot of that is thanks to you.”

“It’s certainly no hardship to hang out with him. He reminds me a lot of me when I was his age.”

When Hope’s cell phone lit up next to her, he could see her sitting on the porch with half a glass of wine next to her. She picked up the phone to read the text. “Oh damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s from Katie Lawry. Lisa has taken a turn for the worse. They don’t expect her to make it through the night.”

“Oh God.” Lisa Chandler, a single mother, was in the final stages of lung cancer, and Hope had been helping Katie and Mallory Vaughn, both nurses, with Lisa’s hospice care. “That was fast.”

“I know,” she said with a deep sigh. “I hate to say it’s merciful.”

“Her poor kids.”

“Thank God for Seamus and Carolina. They’ve really stepped up for the boys. Dan Torrington was there the other day to set up a custody agreement for them to live with Seamus and Carolina afterward that Lisa signed.”

“Such a tragedy.” Paul took a drink from his beer as the silence stretched between them. “Do you want to go over there?”

“I can’t with Ethan asleep.”

“We could bring him over here. I’d be happy to have him if you want to go.”

After another long pause, Hope said, “Are you sure? I’d like to be there for Lisa, as well as Katie and Mallory.”

“Of course. It’s totally fine.”

“If you’re sure…”

Paul got up and crossed the yard to Hope’s front porch. “I’ll carry him for you.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Paul followed her inside the cozy cabin.
 

Hope turned on a lamp in the living room and then led him to Ethan’s bedroom.

He resisted the temptation to try to see into her room across the hall. By the glow of a Spider-Man night-light, Paul lifted Ethan from his bed and headed for the door.

When they reached the living room in his house, Hope produced Ethan’s pillow, blanket and well-loved teddy bear. They worked together to make Ethan comfortable on the sofa.

“Are you sure about this, Paul?”

“Totally fine. Go be with your friends. I’ll be here with Ethan.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry about Lisa. She’s a good person.” Lisa had worked for them in the retail store for two summers years ago. He’d been profoundly saddened to hear about her illness.

“Yes, she is. You have my number if you need me.”

“We’ll be fine. Go do what you need to.”

She nodded. “Thank you again.”

“No problem.”

After she left, Paul went into his room to change into pajama pants and a T-shirt. He brushed his teeth and then went to the living room to stretch out on the other sofa. If Ethan woke up, he wanted to be there so he wouldn’t be afraid.
 

Paul turned off the light and tried to make himself comfortable on the sofa. He was on his way to sleep when Alex and Jenny came in giggling and whispering. She let out a squeak of laughter when Alex wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, carrying her the rest of the way to their room.

Long after the door closed behind them, Paul was awake, staring into the darkness, wondering how his life had been reduced to nothing more than work and endless responsibility.