Why Now? (29 page)

You can’t rewrite history; it’s pointless to torture yourself with what-ifs. Still, I regret the years we weren’t together. She was lonely, and I was an idiot for thinking I was doing her a favor by not starting something with her.

She looks up at me, a sleepy expression on her face. “Are you nervous?”

Pressing my lips to her forehead, I reply. “Yep.”

“Anything I can do?” She asks.

Pulling back, I gaze into her eyes. “You’re already doing it.”

Her expression softens, her lips curving up.

There was a part of me that was scared the connection we had would wear off. That being with me would turn into a novelty for Kacey, one that she would tire of.

There’s a difference between being the object loved from afar to the guy sleeping next to her every night. Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek. She still seems to love me so I must be doing something right.

My thoughts are interrupted by an announcement of the train’s next stop.

“That’s us,” I say, my thumb sliding across her cheek before I drop my hand.

We gather up our things and, once the train stops, depart. My gut clenches when I see an older version of Erik waiting for us.

“Wow,” Kacey breathes.

She’s noticed the resemblance as well and it’s uncanny. Sucking in air, it takes a moment to steady my emotions. This trip was going to be intense, I knew that going in. I just wasn’t expecting it to hit me in the gut the moment we got off the train.

“Mr. Sonderveik?” I ask, offering my hand to the man who thirty years ago could have been Erik’s twin.

He takes my hand, his grip strong. “Yes, it’s good to meet you, Jake.”

When we drop our hands, I introduce Kacey and they shake hands as well.

After they let go, he says, “You both traveled a long way and want your rest. Come, I’ll get you to the house.”

He takes her suitcase and with her hand in mine, we follow him to a compact car. The drive to their house from the station isn’t long. All the lights are on, welcoming us when we get there.

The front door is glass, a woman opening it as we approach. Alexander takes her place, holding the door open for us to walk in.

“I am Ingrid,” Erik’s mom says, her hand outstretched and our introductions are made. Her graying brown hair is pulled back in a bun. She doesn’t wear makeup and is wearing a simple sweater and pants. There are lines around her eyes and mouth that you can tell came from smiling.

Erik spoke of his parent’s often. He’d get phone cards to call them since it was long distance. They were close, loving, and seeing his mom in person brings to life the stories he would tell about them.

“Are you hungry?” She asks once we’re all inside.

Alexander answers for us. “I think they’re tired.”

She nods and motions for us to follow her. “You must rest.”

There’s a staircase to the right, leading to a loft area with a boxy looking grey couch and a TV. There are three rooms off the loft.

“This is the bathroom.” She opens the middle door and then closes it. “And this is your room,” she says opening the door to the left of the bathroom.

“We will be downstairs if you need anything,” Alexander says.

Kacey and I watch as they both go downstairs before I close the door to our room. She wheels her suitcase to the corner, shrugs off her jacket, and flops onto the bed.

That proves how tired she is, if she were more awake she’d be unpacking our clothes into the long dresser right now.

Doing the time difference math in my head, I say, “I’m going to set my alarm for three hours from now. That way we will be up for dinner and can try to sleep tonight to get on schedule.”

“Ah huh,” she mumbles, her voice muffled by the pillow she faceplanted into.

Once the alarm is set, I crawl onto the bed behind her. This bed is a double; we upgraded our bed back home from her queen to a king. Curving my body around hers, I don’t miss the extra room of our bigger bed and on that thought promptly pass out.

What feels like five minutes later, the alarm goes off.

“Oh God, make it stop,” Kacey grumbles.

She’s not a morning person. Good thing I think her grumbles are cute. After I turn off the alarm, I cover her body with mine and kiss her.

She drapes her arms around my neck and stretches like a cat against me. She has no clue how sexy she is. Grinding my hips against hers, she sighs.

“Jake.”

“Yeah, baby,” I murmur.

“Do we have to wake up?”

Chuckling against her lips, I reply, “You’re already awake.”

“I know, but we should sleep more.”

Sitting back, I pull her up with me. She’s limp, like a rag doll. Turning to look up at me, she opens one of her eyes.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask.

That prompts her other eye to open and she nods.

“Let’s go downstairs and spend time with Erik’s folks and have some dinner. Then we can come back up here and sleep for nine hours.”

She stretches her arms up over her head. “You know the way to my heart.”

“Food and sleep,” I tease and kiss her again.

She goes to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face and together we head downstairs. The lower level is decorated much like the upstairs.

The walls are white with minimal pictures hung on them. Everything is simple with clean lines and no clutter. Reilly would lose her mind here.

Mrs. Sonderveik must have heard us coming down the stairs.

“Did you have a good rest?” She asks, moving towards us.

Lifting my hand to rest it on Kacey’s shoulder I reply, “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry we were bad guests on our first meeting.”

She shakes her head. “You were tired, do not apologize.”

“You have a beautiful home,” Kacey murmurs, her head turning to take in the room.

“Thank you,” Ingrid replies with a soft smile.

“Are either of you hungry?”

Kacey nods while I reply, “We are, but if it isn’t time for dinner we can wait. We don’t want to put you out.”

Mr. Sonderveik moves into the hallway. “It is no trouble. Come, sit.”

Mrs. Sonderveik motions for us to go ahead of her, after Alexander. We move into the dining room where the table is already set. A grouping of candles on the table adds a nice glow to the room.

“Wine?” Ingrid offers us each some red wine.

Even though Kacey normally sticks to beer, she accepts a glass.

She shifts in her chair to look at Mrs. Sonderveik. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shakes her head in response and moves quickly from the room. When she returns she carries two plates, one she sets in front of Kacey and the other in front of me.

She’s back again with two more plates, one for herself and Alexander.

“This is Flaekesteg,” Mrs. Sonderveik says quietly, as she sits.

“It’s pork with red cabbage,” Mr. Sonderveik explains.

I look towards Erik’s mom. “It smells delicious.”

She dips her head in a silent thanks.

Mr. Sonderveik raises his wine glass. “To our American friends for making such a long journey to come and stay with us.”

We eat, we drink, and we talk. We learn there’s a word in Danish for sharing wine and a meal with friends:
hygge.

It’s low-key and, for this being our first meeting, comfortable, at least for me. Their mannerisms, the way Mr. Sonderveik leans back in his chair with his broad arms crossed over his chest are so familiar. If it weren’t for our bodies protesting, we could easily stay up half the night around the table sharing stories.

Instead, we say our goodnights and make our way back upstairs and to bed. The Sonderveik’s room is on the first level so Kacey and I are alone upstairs. If she weren’t so tired, I’d jump her. I’ll have a better chance in the morning before we go downstairs to breakfast.

Kacey takes the first go at the bathroom and is already passed out once I’ve had my turn. As soon as I crawl into bed, she moves into me. I curve my arm around her and hold her tightly.

Sleep claims me, fast and deep.

A knock on the door to our room, what feels like only moments later, has me blinking open my eyes. Kacey is still out. The knock comes again and she turns over, mumbling something unintelligible under her breath.

Easing out of bed, I pad over to the door.

Mr. Sonderveik is on the other side.

“Get dressed. We’ll go for a walk.”

Too tired to argue, I nod and close the door. Five minutes later, I spare one last longing glance back at a still sleeping Kacey before I go in search of Erik’s dad.

He’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. The house is quiet so I wonder if Mrs. Sonderveik is still sleeping as well.

He opens the front door and I follow him out into the yard. It’s dim, the sun still rising.

He’s quiet as we walk down the street and to a path a patch of trees. The dimness increases despite the rising sun once we’re in the shade. The path is bumpy, with loose rocks. It makes me grateful my hiking sneakers were the ones closest to me when I got dressed this morning.

“Ingrid’s parent’s lived not far from here and we visited them many times when Erik was a little boy.”

He pauses when we reach an opening, the trees thinning out and the path leading us to a clearing. From the clearing, the coast becomes visible though we’re high above it.

“He loved it here,” he says, inhaling deep his chest puffing out after his last word.

The sun made significant progress while we were on the path in the woods. The morning is bright now, the air crisp for now even though it should get close the seventy degrees today.

“He loved the water,” I reply, my eyes drinking in the view. “That was his favorite part of working on the rig. He used to say no matter where you looked as long as you were on the deck you had a dream view.”

Mr. Sonderveik nods. “Yes, I remember him telling us about the beautiful Pacific Ocean.”

His voice is thick.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I murmur, picturing a much younger Erik standing where I am right now.

By the time we return to the house, Mrs. Sonderveik and Kacey are both sitting on the back patio having tea and scones so we join them. Once we’ve finished eating, I excuse myself.

There’s something from the States I brought to give to them. Erik is gone; as much as I hate it, there is no bringing him back. It hurts some days more than others but remembering him and the things that brought him joy help.

He loved the ocean, loved it. It brought him peace. Living and working on that rig was hard but he was happy there. I hope somehow, wherever his spirit is, that he knows he accomplished what he was working for. His dream of his parents having this house came true because of the man he was.

Tucking the wrapped bundle under my arm, I make my way back to the back patio. The sun is higher, the morning chill melting away.

Kacey gives me a small smile when she sees what’s under my arm. Right there, she’s wordlessly supporting me. She might be small but she has this inner strength men twice her size wish they had.

She knows how hard this is for me. What do you give to someone whose son died? He saved my life. If it wasn’t for him, Reilly would be all alone in the world and Kacey wouldn’t know how much I love her. We’re building a life together because I’m still here.

I brought them a piece of him.

If Erik Sonderveik wasn’t in the gym, goofing off or working, he was drawing. His muse was the ocean. He drew in pen which I always thought was crazy because what do you do if you mess up?

The stuff he kept in our room was damaged in the fire. Sadly, they weren’t able to salvage any of it. He might have been trying to impress Reilly, but the last time he came home with me he brought his sketchbook with him and let her keep a couple of his drawings.

We framed the best one for his parents.

My throat suddenly thick, I offer the package to Mrs. Sonderveik. “We thought you’d like to have this.”

Alexander gets out of his chair to come stand behind hers as she carefully unwraps it. As soon as she sees the drawing, she lifts one shaking hand to her mouth.

Mr. Sonderveik puts one hand on her shoulder and leans forward, the fingertips of his other hand tracing Erik’s scrawl at the bottom of the drawing.

In the drawing, the sun is setting. There are blacks that blend into purples that blend into blues then reds and oranges to the bright yellow of the sun. There are white tipped caps of the waves the sun disappears into. Vibrant and full of movement, this drawing seems alive.

He was so talented and conscious of the beauty in the world around him. He never lost that even sharing a room with me. At times, I was so angry, so buried under the pressures I put on myself. He never let me bring him down; instead, he had a way of cheering me up.

Tears stream down Mrs. Sonderveik’s face. When Alexander pulls his hand back, she curls the frame towards her and, looking up at him, hugs it to her chest.

He kisses the top of her head, his hand giving her shoulder a squeeze. There’s something so soothing in the way he doesn’t stop her from crying. He comforts her and allows her to grieve.

After a moment, he reaches for a napkin and offers it to her. Ingrid still clutches the frame to her chest but quietly dries her face. Her pain was so hard in its silence.

“Come, I want to show you both something,” My Sonderveik says.

When I stand, Erik’s mom reaches out and grasps my forearm. With her wet eyes on mine, she nods. Her lips are tightly shut, as though if she were to open them she may sob or scream or . . . so she doesn’t.

When she lets go of my arm, Kacey and I follow Erik’s dad upstairs to the door on the other side of the bathroom. He opens it and motions for us to follow him inside.

The furniture, the drawings on the walls. This room in a new house must have been Erik’s room from their old house.

Alexander walks to the dresser and lifts a framed photo from it. It’s a young Erik, maybe elementary school aged, in a school uniform. His mom and dad stand behind him, a hand on each of his shoulders as he stares proudly at the camera.

That boy, that man, gone.

“He was a good boy,” Alexander says, setting the frame back down.