Once Upon Another Time (35 page)

He helped me to
bed and dashed downstairs. 

I sat on the edge
of the bed, still lightheaded.  The ballerina inside the snow globe on my
dresser stared back at me relentlessly as if to say--
so what are you going
to do now?

“Objection, Your
Honor, counsel is leading the witness,” I said.

“Overruled,” said
the judge.

I glanced over at
the plaintiff.  Her smug expressions made me want to get up and bitch-slap
her. 
You’re losing them
, I thought as I looked at the working-class
woman in the second row of the jury box.  The one with the short silvery hair,
the conservative A-line cowl neck dress in the color of city smog and the
Harrisville address, Mrs. Marie something.  She didn’t want to hear that
affluent men like my client Ray Peters were prime targets for sexual harassment
lawsuits.  Or that the soft-spoken plaintiff camouflaged in a Victorian
collared buttoned up blouse, black slacks and non-designer shoes was lying
about being sexually harassed by a multimillionaire.  

After
cross-examination, I circled back to the counsel’s table trying to psych myself
back into the trial.  However, my concentration kept breaking off into personal
areas of my life.  Like whether my boyfriend was for sure my dead husband.

Bizarre as it
sounded, it actually made sense.  Matt’s spirit wasn’t born into Gavin, it just
leapt into him!  It explained the abrupt halt of paranormal activity of Matt
trying to contact me once I’d met Gavin.  It explained why Matt had left me all
those clues in that novel directing me toward Gavin.  In a not so subtle way,
Matt was trying to tell me that the man of my dreams was actually…

The sudden
pounding of the gavel, pulled me from my thoughts.  The expressions on the
faces of the jurors told me my ship had taken on lots of water, especially with
Judge Trudy Lopez at the helm.  It was a well-known fact she subscribed to the
Loraine Bobbit fan club.  And with testimony from two eyewitnesses who
testified to seeing my client openly flirt with the plaintiff, I felt doomed.

As I turned to
consult with my client, Melanie entered the back of the courtroom and made a
beeline toward me.  She was beaming, and I knew it wasn’t because of her
freshly Botox-injected lips, which by the way were so large I had imagined one
deep inhale could suck in her entire face.

“How’s it going?”
she whispered cheerfully in my ear.

“Not well.”

“This might
help.”  She handed me a file folder.

I pulled out the
documents and scanned the paperwork.  The information stated that the plaintiff
who claimed my client had forcibly put his hand up her skirt and fondled her
vagina, was actually a transgender who hadn’t completed
his
final surgery. 
Hence, my client would have been fondling a penis. 

“Are you sure
about this?”  I glanced at the plaintiff’s attorney, hoping I hadn’t whispered
too loudly.

“One hundred
percent.”  Melanie smiled from ear to ear--literally. 

“Great job! 
Remind me to tell Fendworth you need a raise.  Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. 
See you back at the office,” Melanie whispered, as she walked away.

The woman was
remarkable.  She was like an inexorable computer virus, worming her way through
tons of public records on the plaintiff to find the hidden treasure I held in
my hand. 

As tension melted
away, I said a little prayer.

Dear God, by
some bizarre heavenly intervention did Matt’s spirit get stuck in Gavin on the
way up to see you?  Was Matt’s theory correct?  Was he here all these years? 
I’m so confused.  I just need a sign from you and I don’t expect something
huge, just something small to let me know if what I’m thinking is true.

A hard slam of the
gavel startled me from my thoughts, as the witness made a scene and the judge
stated, “Order in the court!”

My eyes shifted
toward the ceiling. 
Was that a yes?

Tendrils of hair
fluttered around my face in the salty September breeze, as I stood by the open
patio doors in my kitchen listening to the seagulls call to one another, while
they glided on eddying currents against a periwinkle blue sky.  The rhythmic,
melodic washing of waves against the shore, brought to mind hermit crabs
hustling sideways across the sandy beach, while flashing slivery minnows washed
to shore in a froth of waves. 

I jerked as all of
a sudden I heard the high-pitched beeping of the oven timer.  I turned to see
Laura swatting a fly away from the slices of lime sitting on the cutting board
next to the blender and bottles of tequila, triple sec, blue Curacao, and sour
mix.

“You know,” said
Laura, “it's probably not the smartest decision to tell Gavin about all the
crazy things that have happened.  It’s been a week since we saw Mother Paula
and nothing unusual has happened since.”  As Laura poured shots of alcohol into
the blender, I thought about all the times throughout the years we sat in my
kitchen sipping margaritas and hatching a plan for me to find Mr. Right.  Now
that I have found him, my life is still complicated. 

“I want to be
honest,” I said, while slipping my hand into a blue plaid oven mitt.  The
golden crust bubbled over around the edges of the apple pie as I removed it
from the oven and placed it on a metal cooling rack.  The aroma of cinnamon and
caramelized apple wafting through the kitchen reminded me of Thanksgiving at Grandma's
house.

 “So, you really
don’t think I should come clean with Gavin?  You know, like telling him about
Mother Paula, Aunt Millie, and my theory that Matt’s spirit somehow jumped into
his body right after he died?”

 “Aubrey,
explaining it out loud makes it sound even more insane.”

“But you’re my
witness.  You were at the reading with me, and Mother Paula is not wrong about
this.  There’s some kind of bizarre connectivity between Matt and Gavin.” 

“You know, she was
wrong about the birthmark.”

“Yeah, but she was
right about David being dishonest.”

“True, but she was
wrong about Gavin buying an engagement ring for his ex-girlfriend,” said Laura
as she pushed the button on the blender.  

It hadn’t dawned
on me until that evening that Gavin hadn’t even mentioned Vanessa in all the
weeks we’d been dating, not that I minded.  However, it seemed a little odd
since they were such good friends.

The long-stemmed,
wide-rimmed shallow glasses clinked against the granite countertop as Laura
placed them on the kitchen island.  “Cheers,” she said, as she raised her glass
and took a sip of her margarita. 

“Cheers,” I said,
as I took a hefty gulp.  The sweet tangy citrus flavor mingled with the salt on
the rim of the glass, and tingled on my tongue.

Laura tipped her
nose up and sat back on the barstool.  “So, why do you feel compelled to tell
Gavin about all the crazy things that have happened?  Aren’t you afraid he’ll
think you’re a little, you know, cuckoo?”

“I know what
you’re saying.  It does sound crazy and honestly, there’s no way I can prove to
Gavin that any of what I’d say to him really happened.  But the caveat is that
I want to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Laura
moaned as she took another sip of her margarita.

“Never mind, guess
I’ll figure it out,” I said.

Laura’s eyes
wandered around the kitchen looking as if she were trying to find something to
hold her attention.  “This is real exciting,” she said.  “A Friday evening with
nothing better to do than watch you make apple pies for Gavin’s family reunion
tomorrow.  What a waste.”

“A waste?  Might I
remind you that you’re in charge of the blender to keep the margaritas flowing,
which is a very important job.  Besides, who would I have to keep me company
while Gavin and Nicholas are at the pet store checking out the gerbils and
rabbits?”

 “Oh great, I’ve
been reduced to your babysitter.”  Laura rolled her eyes.  “So Nicholas wants
an animal for his birthday?”

“Yeah, another pet
for me to take care of.  I hope he likes gerbils more than rabbits.  At least
they can exercise in a cage.  I don’t like the thought of a rabbit hopping
around the house and leaving disgusting little brown raisins all over the
place.  Besides, I’d be afraid Buster would think it was a snack.”

As I wiped the
flour off the countertop, I noticed the forlorn look on Laura’s face and knew
she hadn’t heard a word I said.  I guessed she was thinking about David.

“Hey, it’s still
early, only six.  Gavin and Nicholas probably won’t get home before seven
thirty.  Especially, since they’re stopping to pick up a pizza for supper. 
After I clean up you want to go sit on the beach for a while?” 

“What I want is to
find a beach where the waves hit so hard they knock the bathing suits right off
the men.  That’s my first choice in things I’d want to do.”

Although Laura was
back to cracking jokes and was already making out a list of Providence’s most
eligible bachelors, she still wasn’t back to her old self.  Something told me
she never was in love with David, as she never even hinted she was.

“So, heard anymore
from David?”

“No, and the
moronic thing is I want to call him.  No, that’s not true.  Oh hell, I want to
have sex with the man.  No, that’s not it either.  I think--maybe…”  She
stopped short of completing the thought to pick at the leftover crumb topping I
had made for the Dutch apple pies. 

“I think the truth
is you just miss having a warm body next to you,” I said.  “Besides, it’s
better to be alone than with someone who lies to you.  The man is an adulterer. 
Being alone is not all that bad.  Remember, I’m an expert in that area.  At
least you can count on the fact that
alone
, for you, means not being in
another serious relationship for a month or so.  Unlike
moi
, whose
tenure of non serious relationships lasted years.”

“I guess,” Laura
muttered, as she gazed down at her margarita glass.  She focused intently into
the glass like a fortuneteller reading tea leaves in the bottom of a cup and
frowned as if she hadn’t liked what she saw.

“Hey,” I said,
“remember our last year in high school when I was dating Kirk and you asked me
why I wanted to be with someone who treated me like dirt?  That’s when you
thought up
true confessions
, remember?”

Laura nodded and
smiled weakly.  “Yeah, stupid jerk, Kirk.  Who knows, you might have married
him if I hadn’t made you write down your true confessions.”

“That’s right. 
Like going steady with him because he was a jock, and that he had the coolest
car of anyone, and that I liked being the envy of the other girls when he’d let
me wear his letterman jacket.  I know we were just kids, but writing down the
truth was pretty eye opening--a paper filled with worthless, stupid,
superficial stuff that I’d somehow felt was a good trade off for allowing him
to treat me poorly.  Hell, I never even
liked
him,” I said, while
washing the countertop with a wet cloth. 

“I know,” Laura
said wryly.

“Okay, true
confessions time about David.”   

Laura’s index
finger slowly rubbed the salt-covered rim of the margarita glass, while she
looked deep in thought.  “Okay,” she said as she licked her finger.  “My true
confession about David is I liked going out with him because he’s rich.  He
bought me things, and took me to expensive places where I could show off my
designer clothes, and he paid lots of attention to me in bed and he has...well,
let’s just say his feet are quite large.” 

We broke into a
wave of giggles.  “See, true confession still works!  Love doesn’t even fit
into the equation with David.”

“You’re right,”
Laura said, as she flipped her hair off her shoulder.  “I’d make you do true
confessions about Gavin, but I know you really love him for who he is.  Because
it certainly isn’t for the truck, and I repeat truck, not BMW, he drives.” 
Laura snickered.  “Hey, that reminds me, I saw Gavin at the mall early this
afternoon.”

“Oh, did you say
hi?”

“No, he didn’t see
me.  I was getting in my car and he was walking in with some redhead.  I
gathered it was his friend you told me about, Vanessa, the one with the
beautiful hair.”

Caught by
surprise, I knocked into the bag of flour.  It tipped and spilled out onto the
clean countertop.  “Yes, well being a hairstylist at Giorgio’s she probably
pampers her hair with those expensive European products they sell.  You know,
she’s the only woman I’d ever really hated.” 

I’d felt a bit
irritated that Gavin never mentioned anything about going to the mall with
Vanessa, and I felt jealous of what they were doing together.

“Hated?”  Laura
repeated.

I hastily wiped
the flour off the kitchen counter.  “Okay, so hate is a strong word, but I
really wish she weren’t in love with Gavin.”

“What!  How do you
know she’s in love with him?”

“Puh-lease.  The
way she acted the night I’d met her at the restaurant, she might as well have
screamed, I’m in love with Gavin Donnelly, hands off!” 

“Hmm, I guess that
explains why she was leaning into him with her arm laced through his.”  Laura’s
eyebrow shot up as she looked at me. 

“Well, they were
friends long before I came into the picture.  Nothing I can do about that,” I
said, practically throwing the stainless steel mixing bowl into the
dishwasher. 

“Didn’t you tell
me they dated for a long time?”

“Yeah, well what
ever
!” 
I slammed the dishwasher closed and had a sudden urge to plow through a gallon
of Ben & Jerry’s.

* * * *

Over a hundred
people showed up for Gavin’s family reunion, held at his uncle’s sprawling
brick ranch.  While gazing at the great white oaks that served as leafy
umbrellas to shade many people from the unusually hot September sun, I asked
myself why I hadn’t confronted Gavin about being at the mall with Vanessa. Perhaps
I didn’t want to open the door to insecurity, or maybe I didn’t want to shake
the cherry tree and have it topple down on me.