KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (49 page)

That wasn’t what the visit was about. I’d done what I’d came there for. There was no reason to stay the night. I called a cab and waited for it out front, much like I had the night we met.

I sat on the same sofa, making the same damn wish for her.

I didn’t hear from her the next day, but Monday, I learned that Janel had been killed in a car accident. She’d been hit Friday morning, but had just passed a few hours before Nora called me. Not having much family, other than her one sister, Janel was being taken back to Switzerland for burial.

I went to my office and locked the door, threw innocent things and screamed obscenities. The pain of not being able to be there for her enraged me.

I made an attempt to clean up my mess but decided I’d leave it for another day. Then, I locked my door, and said to Claudia, “I’m out for the rest of the day. I’ll call you when I know more.” She didn’t say anything.

I willed Nora to answer the phone as I drove to my apartment, but she didn’t.

When I got home, there was nothing to do but pace, think the worst things imaginable, and pace more.

I wanted a drink, but I’d taken an extra pill on the way to the Lunar.

Why wouldn’t she answer the phone? It wasn’t like I was going to call and scream at her, fight with her. Didn’t she know that?

I’d left her there at the Harbor. Alone.

Damn it, Nora answer the phone.

All I got was the same recording. “This is Nora Koehl. Please leave a message.”

Finally, a few times later, I decided to leave one, but a lump rose before I could speak after the beep.

I cleared my throat. “Nora, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Please call me back. Let me know you’re okay.”

Nothing
.

I looked online to find more information on the accident. Apparently, she’d been hit by a trailer truck after the driver fell asleep at the wheel. He veered into her lane and totaled her car. From the pictures, the semi pretty much ran up on top of the sedan. Reports said she’d sustained life-threatening injuries and never woke up from them at the hospital.

She was one of Nora’s oldest friends.
Damn it.

Her best friend died on her fucking birthday, and I’d just fucked her and left.

I called my dad and, God bless him, he cried with me.

Nora—Tuesday, August 18, 2009

I wept when he sent me a huge bouquet of white freesia, with a card that only said Reagan on it, the day before the funeral.

I cried on the floor until I fell asleep, and Laura woke me up the next morning when she came in and found me. She made me shower and dress, then went to the funeral with me and held my hand.

Ives had the services in his family’s church. That’s what she would have liked. They were married there after all, and unorthodox as their marriage was, she’d said she loved romantic traditions.

I think she just loved the stained glass windows. They were so beautiful I wept.

I smelled the flowers as I brought them up to my room, deciding I’d rather have them where I could see them. Or maybe because they made me sob, and I didn’t want to fall apart in front of the staff any more than I already had.

He sent me a vase full every day that week. Each day a different color. Each only said his name.

I had to reach out to him before he raped the earth of all its freesia.

Knowing he thought about me every day made me better, and after the funeral was over, and after I cried a few more days after that, I sat down and emailed him.

The real him
.

From:
Nora V. Koehl

Subject:
Thank you

Date:
August 21, 2009 15:27 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

The world will stink if you keep sending me all of its beautiful flowers. Save some for the brides.

They were a little color in the painfully grey days this week. Thank you for that.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what had happened when I saw you. I was just too sad. And thank you for coming to see me. I’m sorry it was so random and rude to you.

I never do the right thing, but I’m pretty sure I warned you about that in the beginning, so you should have seen it coming.

I know I flaked on your sister’s wedding. I apologize. Maybe I’d hoped by then you’d have found someone who was better for you, and I was lonely when you asked me.

I wish we could have parted more like friends, but it would have been too difficult. Right?

I still care about you, but that doesn’t change much. Then again, didn’t it change everything?

I hope we can keep in touch. I could use a laugh, even a weak one, every now and then.

Nora

From:
Reagan Warren

Subject:
re: Thank you (You’re welcome)

Date:
August 21, 2009 18:42 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

They can grow more fucking freesia.

I’m glad you called me that night, regardless of your reasons. I shouldn’t have left like I did. I was ruder than you were.

It was a long shot you coming to my sister’s wedding. I’m still not sure why I asked you, it was very out of the blue. Even I know that.

I still care about you too, but you’re right, I don’t think it changes much. At least it didn’t change the things we thought it would. Who would have thought you’d have lasted so long with one guy, and I’d have a threesome?
That wasn’t a joke.

We tried like hell though. Didn’t we?

I think you’re where you need to be, Nora. You should enjoy your life. Be who you want. Have whatever you desire and go anywhere you feel on a whim.

You don’t need me for any of that.

If I’m being honest, I never gave the whole
friends
thing a fair shot. I only thought I knew what I wanted in those days.

Maybe I should have settled for friends.

Reagan.

From:
Nora V. Koehl

Subject:
Son of a bitch

Date:
September 8, 2009 14:51 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

I stubbed my fucking toe today and thought about you. Fuck, it hurt. Good thing I still have my ice packs.

Nora, the woman with no functioning big toes left

From:
Reagan Warren

Subject:
re:re:re: (No Subject)

Date:
October 9, 2009 04:12 CET

To:
Nora V. Koehl

They’re all weird. It was much more fun when it was just us on this damn hall. And there is a guy who insists on trying to sell me premium life insurance when I’m working out.

Enjoy your
private
wing
. They’re letting anyone in the Lunar these days.

Reagan

From:
Nora V. Koehl

Subject:
Happy Halloween

Date:
October 31, 2009 22:29 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

Thanks for the wine. I got the case you sent yesterday. I hope you’re having a nice fall. I bet it’s beautiful in the city.

I tried to get everyone here to dress up, but they didn’t get it. So I’m basically some random girl dressed up like a cat for no good reason.

That’s all I have for meow.

(Did you see that? That’s what you call a joke.)

Nora

From:
Reagan Warren

Subject:
My sister

Date:
January 10, 2010 21:03 CET

To:
Nora V. Koehl

My sister is getting a divorce. Maybe you
do
know more about monogamy than I do.

I thought you’d like to know. She ran away to an island with Casey—the guy she met up with the night you met her.

She told my parents she’s in love with him and that she’s leaving the robot.

Just thought you’d find that interesting.

I hope you had a nice holiday.

Reagan

On Janel’s birthday, I was particularly sad, so I text him.

ME: What were those appetizer things at that Italian place I liked so much? All I can remember is that I love them. Help?

REAGAN: Some kind of stuffed shells, I think. I’ll go back and see if I can remember.

The holidays came and went, and they paled in comparison to the ones I had with him the previous year.

Still, I couldn’t complain. The mansion was doing better than it ever had, we were booked nearly every week with some kind of event. From charity fundraisers to bridal showers to luncheons. We’d installed the new lift, and, thankfully, in the middle of a great ski season.

As busy as I was, I didn’t have time to socialize. Besides, I lived over an hour outside of Zurich. It wasn’t worth the drive in, and I’d had no desire to make new friends.

I was content with working, and every once in a while I’d get an email from him. He never mentioned if he was dating, we rarely corresponded like that.

It was too difficult.

Instead, I’d sent him jokes—for reference. He’d sent me business articles he thought were relevant, and links to sites on travel and the hospitality industry. It was enough that I started to feel human.

Whenever I had the impulse to call and talk to Janel, I’d usually message him or reply to one of his emails. Or, if I felt particularly emotional, I’d send one to the other account, which I still did quite a bit.

Reagan was a friend at a time when I really needed one, and when he couldn’t be there for me Jekyll and Hyde were.

It was early one morning when he called me, and his tone chilled me to my core, causing me to sit up straight in bed.

“He almost fucking killed her, Nora.” He didn’t make any sense and was difficult to understand. I didn’t know what he was talking about. “He almost killed my sister.”

His alarm caused my panic. Tangible. Frightening. Terror.