These Three Words (5 page)

“Wills, don’t touch that,” JoAnn shouted, then said, “I’ll take care of everything. You stay with Gray as long as you need to. Don’t worry about a thing. The store’s all mine until . . .”

She let her sentence fade. She asked, “How bad is it?”

“From the looks on their faces, not good.”

“Call me as soon as there’s any word. As soon as he’s out of surgery,” she said.

“I will,” I promised.

“Can I do anything else?” she asked.

Some people asked questions like that by rote, very much like I’d said
thank you
. But with JoAnn, I knew the offer was sincere.

“No, Jo, but thank you for asking.” That sounded too formal for us.

She didn’t seem to notice. “It’s all going to be okay, Addie. You’re not alone.”

“I know.” She was right. I’d lost both my parents, but I’d never been alone. I’d always had Gray and JoAnn.

“Thanks, Jo,” I managed.

She hung up and while I knew she’d meant what she said, it didn’t alter the fact that I felt alone.

Utterly and absolutely alone.

I’d done all I could do. Now all I had left to do was wait.

“You should have let someone come down and sit with you,” the gentleman across the way said. “This is my wife’s seventh trip to the hospital in the last year. It’s easier to wait when you’ve got support.”

Before I could say anything he gave an inelegant snort and offered me a wry smile. “I know, I’m sitting here by myself lecturing you about having support. I had people with me for the first few surgeries. When someone’s got a chronic condition and requires frequent trips to the hospital, it’s hard on family and friends.”

I didn’t ask what his wife’s chronic condition was. That would have been intrusive. I simply said and truly meant, “I hope she’s okay.”

He nodded. “She’s a strong woman. She’s sweet and eternally optimistic, to the point that most people might miss that strength. But it’s there.”

I thought about the last time Gray and I were in this hospital. He’d been strong that time.

I wanted to just sit and not think. I didn’t want to remember what we’d once had and lost.

But the gentleman in question obviously wanted to talk. “I’m James
with an S
. James Patterson.” He smiled again as if it were some private joke.

He must have seen the question in my eyes because he said, “My wife is Anne with an E. Like
Anne of Green Gables
. When she says her name for someone, she always puts it that way.
I’m Anne with an E
. I started saying
I’m James with an S
to tease her.”

He seemed comforted by the memory of their teasing.

“Adeline Grayson. Addie,
with an IE
,” I said and smiled despite my worry.
James with an S
had given me that small smile. Until this moment I don’t think I’d ever really thought about what a gift a smile was. But it was a very big gift.

But as quickly as it had appeared, it faded. I needed a moment to myself. Time to adjust to this new reality. A reality in which Gray was sick. A reality that might include a life without Gray, in a more permanent way than I’d ever intended.

James nodded, as if I’d said those words out loud as well. “I’m sorry that I’m disturbing you. It’s just hard to sit here with nothing to do but worry. Sometimes I forget there was a time I wasn’t worried about Anne.” Softer, he added, “Sometimes I forget there was a time our lives didn’t revolve around the hospital and doctors’ offices. Sometimes I forget that we were once just a carefree, happy, healthy couple.”

“Sometimes I forget my husband and I were . . .” Over the last few months, I’d forgotten so much. “Today, I’ve been reminded that we were once a happy couple.” I didn’t say
just a happy couple
. We’d never been
just
that. But I knew that we were happy once, just as intellectually, I knew I loved Gray once. “There was a time that I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.”

I felt the weight of the papers I was still holding.

The once-pristine envelope was starting to wrinkle from all the fussing I’d done with it. I fingered the small smudge from my coffee drip earlier.

This morning when I’d taken them to Gray’s office, I’d been able to picture my life without him.

I’d picked up the papers yesterday at the lawyer’s office. He’d tried to tell me again that I was entitled to much more than I was asking for in a divorce settlement.

I’d told him not to worry and I’d thanked him before I walked out.

I’d stopped at 6 Mile Winery and bought a bottle of Riesling after meeting with the lawyer. It was one of my favorite new local wineries. The bottle was chilling in the fridge. I hadn’t bought that wine for a celebration, but rather as a way to mark a new beginning.

A beginning of a life without Gray.

I didn’t have a clue what that life would look like.

No, I did. It would look remarkably like the last year.

“When I feel overwhelmed I remember our vacation on a dude ranch in Wyoming,” James was saying. “Turns out I wasn’t much of a
dude
, but more of a
dud
. But Anne didn’t mind. We laughed and spent the whole week together. There was nothing earth-shattering about that vacation, but it was just before she got sick. It was just the two of us and we were happy.”

I could see lingering traces of that happy time in his glazed expression and before I could think better of it, I found myself sharing with him. “I had a studio apartment right out of college. It was little more than a glorified closet. But it was in one of the big, old houses downtown on West Sixth.”

James nodded. Most people in Erie were familiar with that neighborhood west of the courthouse. Some of the historic homes were now businesses and many had been subdivided into apartments.

“I lived in an apartment that used to be the attic,” I said. “It was a three-story walk-up.”

The stairs had creaked, voicing their displeasure every time anyone in the house used them. I remembered that noise and, more than that, the smells as I walked up the flights. The people in the downstairs apartment made Italian food a lot. The entire first floor always smelled of garlic, basil, and oregano. The boys who lived in one of the second-floor units loved to party, and I think that the smell of their liquor had permeated the entire floor with a slightly sour odor.

My tiny apartment on the third floor always seemed to smell a bit musty to me, so I usually had a scented candle burning. I gravitated toward spicy scents more than floral, so I always thought my apartment smelled like fall.

I walked up those stairs in my memory. I could see some of the pocked plaster that was painted an industrial gray.

I remembered one trip up those stairs specifically. I’d carried a heavy grocery bag then. It was a paper bag, not a plastic one, or a reusable one.

“I invited Gray to supper one night,” I told James with an S. “We sat on the couch and ate on the coffee table, because my apartment was too small for an actual dining room table. I made pasta—it didn’t have the same heavy smells as my downstairs neighbors, maybe because it came from a jar. We drank cheap wine and spent the entire night talking about our future. I talked more than him—there’s nothing unusual about that,” I said. That was an understatement if ever there was one.

“I was excited about my new job. It turns out that an art degree is wonderful in theory, but not as good for getting a grown-up job. But I’d just landed a position at Harbor House Furniture and Design. I remember bubbling over with excitement.”

I’d met JoAnn when I was still in school and we’d simply clicked. When she felt she could hire someone, I was thrilled that I’d get to work with her.

“There was nothing monumental about the evening,” I continued. “Gray and I were just two poor, post-college kids fantasizing about a future. But I’ve thought about that night so many times since. I’d put candles all over the room, thinking my shabby-chic décor looked better in the dim flickering light.”

I fell into the memory of that night.

Just me, Gray, and a bottle of wine then, too.

He’d talked about his business with Ash, about what he planned to accomplish. He’d been uncharacteristically an open book that night. Well, maybe just an open novella. But it was wonderful to hear him dream. Maybe that’s why the evening was so easy to remember.

I’d bubbled over about my new job with JoAnn as we sat and drank in the candlelight. I wasn’t exactly tipsy, but I could feel the warmth of the wine. Or maybe it was simply a warmth that came from Gray. When I’d wound down about Harbor House, he’d wound up, talking about Steel, Inc., and shared so freely. Even at that, he wasn’t actually loquacious by others’ standards, but for Gray, he was practically gabby.

He talked about his business plans with Ash. Big plans. Grand plans.

I had no doubt that they’d accomplish all of them.

“Once the business is secure, I’ll ask you to marry me,” he said out of the blue in the midst of his talk of business plans.

“Pardon?” I was pretty sure I’d heard him right, but I couldn’t be positive.

“When the business is on an even keel, I’ll ask you to marry me.”

This time I was ready for the words.

Yes, I had heard him right. I didn’t need to think about the enormity of his statement. I didn’t have to weigh my response. “When you ask me, I’ll say yes,” I’d told him. “Whenever you ask, I’ll say yes.”

I couldn’t stop smiling. Mrs. Graham Grayson.

No, I’d never be that.

Addie Grayson. Yes, that had a ring to it.

“So we’re pre-engaged,” I teased.

Gray nodded, as serious as ever. “Yes.”

I was suddenly caught up in a fantasy of what our lives would look like. “When we get married, we’ll buy a house up in Glenwood. One of those old brick houses where so many generations of other families lived their lives that the house has a soul, if you know what I mean.”

Gray smiled then and shook his head. “I rarely know exactly what you mean, Addie.”

I laughed. “Mystery is just part of my many charms. I’ll decorate the house, now that I’m well on my way to making my name in design.”

“You just got hired,” he said in that logical way of his.

“Every designer starts somewhere. And I’m on my way. I’ll decorate our house and then we’ll fill it with children. Probably five.”

He looked slightly panicked.

“Maybe just three,” I said to reassure him. He still looked skeptical so I said, “Two. One for me, one for you. And we’ll all live happily ever after.”

“I want kids with you. Not right away, but when we’re financially settled. When my business is a success.”

I took his hand in mine and said, “I don’t need you to be a success in order to marry you or build a family with you, you know. That was a lot of
you
s, but you know what I mean.”

He nodded. “But I need me to be a success,” he said with utter certainty.
“I need to be sure I can support you.”

I knew that his father had left his mom when Gray was little. Peggy worked as a waitress to support them both. Sometimes money was tight, but Peggy always managed. But I knew just eking out a living would never suit Gray. He wasn’t mistaken—he didn’t just want to be able to support me. He needed to.

“I can support myself,” I reminded him softly.

He shook his head. “When the business is secure, I’ll ask, and then we’ll find that house and someday think about those kids.”

Knowing that arguing with him was useless I simply smiled and said again, “And I’ll say yes.”

He was still serious.

“This is where you smile with relief and thank me for the reassurance,” I teased him.

That did it. He’d shot me one of his infrequent smiles. “It
is
a relief.” He paused a moment, then he added, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know for a fact you’d never eat ice cream before dinner if I wasn’t around,” I teased.

“I don’t do that even with you around. You do that. And sometimes, you eat ice cream before breakfast.”

“Nope,” I teased. “Sometimes
for
breakfast. I mean, it’s a dairy product, after all. And if it’s strawberry, it’s like eating fruit and cream for breakfast.”

Gray laughed then.