Tripped Up Love Read online

  “Nope, no outstanding warrants, never been married and I have no random children floating around. I’m sure you were able to find out a lot more about me though.” Peter took a breath and looked over at Heather. “I love that you had no idea who I was. Most people I meet know me and want something from me. You had no idea, and that made you all the more attractive. I can be myself and not worry about you wanting anything from me. Other than a ride to Ortho on Call.”

  “I am even more embarrassed though. I didn’t just fall in front of some Average Joe.”

  “I’m pretty average and pretty boring.” They were stopped at a light which gave him a perfect opportunity to look over and smile right into Heather’s eyes. She blushed brighter than he had ever seen before. He knew he couldn’t wait until the end of the night to kiss her. He leaned over, completely catching her off guard, and kissed her. He heard a little surprised gasp escape from her mouth, and a long sigh when the kiss was over.

  “I’m assuming since this is your first date this was also your first kiss. Now you don’t have to worry about whether or not I will kiss you.”

  It relaxed her even more than the gin and tonic did. It had been more than 14 years since she had kissed someone other than Hank. Her stomach filled with butterflies, and her cheeks stayed pink. But she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Thank you, even if it was a pity kiss.”

  “Trust me. That was not a pity kiss. I wanted to do it when I carried you into your house. I wanted to do it again yesterday when you opened the door in your surprised and frazzled state. I don’t do pity.”

  Heather sat and looked out the window. She spent each day occupied with her kids dreaming about the past. She had never contemplated her ‘romantic’ future. She thought about her financial future and her kids’ future without a dad until she was sick to her stomach. But she never thought about her own future with another man. Maybe that was a good thing. But she wasn’t prepared for what she felt. She had spent the last decade (minus the last year and a half) prepared. Prepared for a kid to throw up, prepared for a kid to poop on someone or something, prepared for hunger or thirst, fevers or cuts. Prepared for everything and anything. But she hadn’t been prepared for the moment Hank died, and she had not been prepared for anything since. This was the first thing she hadn’t been prepared for that was actually pleasant.

  They got to the restaurant and sat at the bar waiting for their table to be ready. Heather was more than ready for another gin and tonic. She found herself waiting for the end of the night and hoping he would kiss her again.

  “So, what made you want to be a writer?” Peter asked.

  “I have wanted to be a writer ever since I was a little girl. I dreamed of being Judy Blume or the author of the Sweet Valley High books. I needed to get a job when I graduated college, so my dream fell by the wayside. Then I got married and had kids. They kept me busy. I wrote some when they were little. Hank was awesome about wanting me to pursue my dream. But when Henry went to preschool, I found myself with some time and without a husband. I just started writing about loving Hank and our life without him.”

  “I’d love to read it sometime.”

  “Mr. Adamson, your table is ready.” The hostess took them to the back corner of the restaurant overlooking the James River. Peter walked with his hand on Heather’s lower back giving her just enough extra support as she followed the hostess. They were surrounded by other tables, but it still felt secluded.

  The waiter brought a bottle of wine over to the table before Heather even opened her menu. He poured a bit in Peter's glass. Peter tasted it and nodded his head. The waiter poured some in Heather's glass and then Peter's. Heather took a minute to look at the menu. She realized Peter was looking at her.

  "I took the liberty of ordering for us. I remembered you only ate a bit of meat, so I stuck to fish and vegetables. Hope that's ok."

  "Yes. I guess. That's fine." No one had ordered for Heather - ever. Hank would never have ordered for her. He was a meat and potatoes kind of guy, and he knew how fickle Heather was with her food. Vegetarian today, vegan tomorrow, cheeseburger lover the next day. Heather knew Hank found decisions about food fraught with danger.

  Heather's phone chimed. It was too early to be the check up text from Jenny. She got kind of nervous as she grabbed her phone.

  7:17 Jenny: You've been spotted. Elizabeth wrote on your Facebook wall and asked who the hot guy is that you’re with at The Boathouse.

  Heather took a deep breath and looked at Peter.

  "Sorry. It's my friend Jenny. She's watching the kids. I was worried something was wrong."

  "Is everything ok?"

  "Yeah, with the kids at least. Someone saw me here and already wrote on my Facebook wall," Heather said with a sigh.

  Peter laughed. "My sister tells me stories like that all the time. Just ignore it. Must feel like you're back in high school again."

  "It does. This town is small for me because I did go to high school here."

  "Ugh. You can't escape it, can you?"

  "Never. Which is always good and bad. I get a lot of support. But I also get a lot of unwanted support." Heather didn’t want to call attention to the fact she had kept him, and this date, a secret from virtually everyone in her life. She didn’t know where anything would go anyway, so she thought it was better to keep it on the down low. But in a small town like Richmond, and in an era of e-communication, secrets were few and far between.

  The waiter placed a salad in front of each of them before refilling both glasses of wine.

  "What kind of book are you working on now?" asked Heather as she took a sip of wine. She decided to ignore the rest of the world for a few minutes.

  "Another crime novel. Same as the rest. My last book just came out in paperback. I flew to New York on Tuesday to do a little press and a book signing. I don't have to travel for the next few weeks, so I can actually get some writing done."

  "Is this what you always dreamed of doing?"

  "No. It wasn't my passion. I didn't have a job after college much to the dismay of my parents, and I was working at the marina at their place in Maine. I had been reading a really crappy book and dared myself to write something better. The rest is history. I’ve been lucky though, my writing has allowed me to follow my real passion - sailing.”

  "I probably could have read that in some interview on the Internet. You’ve probably said that a thousand times.”

  “Hmm…I guess I have. It’s the kind of thing that pisses other writers off, that I had such random early and continued success. But the bottom-line is, I work hard doing what I do.”

  Heather knew enough about the writing world to know he was right. People would try to begrudge him his success. It seemed like it was a brutal business, and it was hard to get something published if you didn’t know anyone.

  Dinner was served. Chitchat continued. Peter asked Heather questions about her kids. His specific questions made it obvious he was a doting uncle. He knew a lot about kids and what they were into. Heather realized she felt happy. She felt happy when she saw her kids happy, but this was a kind of happy that only involved her. It had been a long time since she had felt this way. Peter was smart and interesting. He was incredibly easy on the eyes. His white button down shirt, jeans and loafers were one of those timeless combinations. But the tattoos barely visible under his cuff gave him some edge. When he moved a certain way, Heather caught a glimpse. Their hands touched several times as they reached for their glasses. The spark between them was undeniable. Peter stared at her eyes. Her long lashes smiled and framed the little twinkle he saw in her left eye every once in awhile.

  “Do you live around here?” Heather noticed the wait staff seemed to know Peter.

  “Yes, just down the street.”

  “Living downtown must be great. I grew up in the city proper, but we moved out to the 2-3-1-1-3 when we had kids.”

  “I love it. I’m out your way a lot visiting my sister. Business takes me to New Yo
rk a fair amount of the time.”

  “What’s your sister’s name? Does she have kids in elementary school?”

  “She lives in the neighborhood next to Wild Ginger. Her name is Janie Pullman. She has a 7th grader and a 5th grader.”

  “I’ve heard the name, but our kids aren’t the same ages. I’ve probably seen her around at school.”

  “I’m sure you have. My brother-in-law owns Cafe Nouveau.”

  “Ahh…that explains lunch the other day!”

  The waiter brought the check. Peter paid and stood up holding his arm out for Heather. She couldn’t help but smile and enjoy the feel of someone holding on to her as they walked - or hobbled in her case - to the car.

  “What did you think of your first date? Are you up for a second one anytime soon?” Peter asked, wanting to take away any of the inherent “did he like me?” worry she might be feeling.

  “It was easier than I thought, but that may be because I had a pretty strong gin and tonic before we left. And yes, if you can stand being with this klutz, I would try it again.” Really, all she wanted to do was kiss him some more. The rest seemed superfluous.

  “Great. Lunch on Monday?”

  “Okay. I guess. That’s pretty soon.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” Peter said as he reached for her hand. He kissed her at the next stoplight. The front seats in the Lexus were a perfect kissing distance apart. It seemed effortless for Peter to reach over and find her mouth.

  Maybe he had practiced it quite a bit, Heather thought to herself. She thought about how awkward it would be to reach across the front seat of the van for a kiss. Mostly because there was usually a child in there as well. The last time Heather kissed in a car was in Hank’s old Honda during Christmas break in college.

  Peter walked Heather to the front door, kissed her forcefully with a little more tongue this time. Remembering her need for a hug, he ended the night with his arms around her.

  “I’ll pick you up at 11:30 on Monday.”

  Heather didn’t even respond. She was too overwhelmed by the fact that he had kissed her, used his tongue and asked her out again. As she opened the front door to her house, the house she had built with Hank, she thought she knew what it felt like to be a dirty, rotten cheater.

  Chapter 6

  The guilt, excitement and gin and tonics caught up with Heather. She thanked Jenny, told her she would talk to her in the morning, and walked home to put the kids to bed. Gracie jumped in Heather’s bed and fell asleep immediately. Heather walked in to Henry’s room to tuck him in. She pulled his comforter up around his head and kissed him. A hideous smell hit her nose. It was coming from his nightstand.

  “Henry, what’s in there?”

  “Ah, nothing Mom. Why?”

  “It stinks.” Heather knew he stored coins that he pilfered from other members of the family in there, but coins didn’t have this kind of odor. She opened the drawer with some hesitation.

  “OH MY GOSH, HENRY! WHY IS THERE A DEAD MOUSE IN YOUR DRAWER?”

  Henry started to cry. “I’m trying to learn how to bring it back to life, so nothing in my life will ever die again.”

  Heather hugged him and rocked him until he stopped crying. She was crying now too. After a few minutes, she got a shoebox and placed the mouse in it.

  “I’m going to put it in the garage. We can bury it tomorrow. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  Heather got in bed with her manuscript. She wanted to remember Hank. She wanted him to be here with her, so her five year old didn’t have to try to revive dead mice. She also wanted to have someone else to scoop up the dead mice. She wanted to have some strong arms around her grossed out, sad body. She started to read.

  I walked in from my run at 11:01. I know the exact time because I was timing myself. I ran for 37 minutes. That means I was running when he died. I’ve retraced my exact steps to see if I remember feeling something different in the universe the second his soul left. But I can’t. He was my soul mate, and my soul never felt his leaving. His admin, Mary, called me at 11:03. She called my cell. I was peeing when she called. I’ve had three kids. I need to use the bathroom immediately upon return from a run. She was crying when I answered.

  “Heather, it’s Hank. He’s had a heart attack, Heather. Heather, he’s dead.” She had blurted it all out. I dropped the phone and fell to the floor. His admin called my mom, and my mom called Jenny, who was holding me on my floor within five minutes of the phone call. Mary told my mom I had to go to the hospital to identify him. Jenny took me. My mom and Hank’s parents were there when I arrived. His dad held his mom up. I had stopped crying. I was shaking. I was wrapped up in a coat. Jenny had her arm around me and Mom held my hand. The doctor came out to talk to me. I didn’t hear all of his words but learned what they were later. He said he was sorry. They had done everything they could. He escorted us to the room. The room that had a breathless Hank lying in it. His shirt had been torn off. His eyes were closed. His chest still had the round sticky things on it. I was waiting for him to snore. I hated his snore. I had poked him more than once with a knitting needle to try to get him to stop. And now he was silent. I always wanted him to sleep silently and now I knew I had been wishing for the wrong thing all along. Jenny’s arm tightened around me, and Mom’s grip on my hand loosened. I ran to him to shake him. To shake him awake. I screamed at him for leaving me, for leaving us. I pounded his chest willing him to live. And then I laid my head down on him for the very last time and sobbed. Jenny rubbed my back in small little circles. Hank’s mom was crying into his dad’s coat. My mom sat down in a chair. The nurse tended to her as it looked like she might pass out or throw up.

  The world stopped while I was in that room. I have tried ever since to make time turn around and go back to 10:46. Because he died at 10:47. Even though they brought him to the hospital, he died in his office in his chair behind his desk. The rescue squad was right across the street and arrived within two minutes. Mary tried CPR. The rescue squad continued. They didn’t pronounce him dead until 11:00 but the call to 911 was placed at 10:47. He never took another breath.

  I’m sure I was standing in front of the large evergreen on Twin Team at the top of the hill. And I felt nothing. I felt nothing when my soul mate died, and my happily ever after ended.

  ***

  Hank and I met in kindergarten. Everything was done in alphabetical order. You lined up in A-Z order and you sat at tables in A-Z order. Hank’s last name was Meadows and mine was Nester. There was no one in between us.

  Heather put the book down. She couldn’t read anymore through her tears. It hurt so much to know she would never see him again. She couldn’t get over the feeling she had betrayed Hank by kissing Peter. Sadness and guilt were an awful combination. Add a little pleasure, and the combo felt downright horrible. Heather was sure she was the only one alive who could possibly feel this horrible after being kissed by Peter Adamson. It wasn’t the kiss that was bad though. The kiss was amazing. To make matters even worse, she couldn’t remember the last time a kiss from Hank made her feel the way Peter’s kiss did. Before he died, kisses were interrupted by children in need of something. Henry was still so little and needy when Hank died. Heather could only remember pushing Hank away because she had been touched way too much by the time he got home at night. Heather had always heard there was a second honeymoon period in marriage when the kids got older. But Heather and Hank had never made it that far.

  Heather needed to stop the tears, so she hopped on Facebook to see the comment Jenny had texted her about earlier. Heather realized quickly Jenny had failed to mention there was a picture attached to the comment. There was a picture of Heather and Peter sitting at their table, and the caption read, Who’s the hot guy you are out with Heather?

  Nice. A picture for everyone to see. For Lauren, Hank’s sister, to see. For Donna, Hank’s mom, to see. And for all 372 of Heather’s friends to see. She looked frantically to see if she could delete it but coul
dn’t figure out how to do it. That would probably make her look even guiltier anyway. Heather decided to ignore it and go to sleep. She cuddled into Gracie, closed her eyes and talked to Hank like she had done every night for the last year and a half. This time she hoped even more that he would answer her.

  The next morning Henry was up first. Apparently, he was on the computer because Heather woke up when he yelled, “Where’s the shit key, Mom?”

  “It’s the SHIFT key, Henry. The SHIFT key.” Heather placed special emphasis on the f. Life was back to normal. “Why are you on my computer, Henry?”

  “I’m writing a poem for Beady.”

  “Who’s Beady?” Heather asked from bed with a great deal of trepidation.

  “My mouse, Mom!”

  Gracie was still asleep. Heather wanted to text Hayes to see how the tournament was going. Victoria’s husband had taken him to Newport News for her this weekend. As soon as Heather clicked her phone open, she saw at least a dozen Facebook notifications.

  From Victoria: You went on a date? Don’t worry, Hayes is all tucked in at the hotel.

  From Laura: You look beautiful. I see the smile I have been missing.

  From Nicole: A date Heather? While you still have a cast on?

  From Tanya: That skirt is a little short.

  From Elizabeth: YOU WENT OUT WITH PETER ADAMSON?

  And then a chorus of OMGs, he is so hot, why is he out with you and are you ready for this comments cluttered her Facebook wall.

  The cat was out of the bag. Heather decided to drive them all crazy. She ignored them all except for Laura’s sweet comment. At least someone was happy for her. Under Laura’s comment, she said thank you. She went back to the task at hand and texted Hayes.

  8:01 Heather: How’s it going, buddy?

  8:02 Hayes: Ok. Coach didn’t play me yesterday.

  Heather took a deep breath. Hayes’ coach had gotten into a routine lately of making Hayes sit out of the line up. Hayes had been playing on the same team since he was 8. The coach never kept him out when Hank was alive, probably because he knew Hank would be all over him. Heather didn’t know how to approach this man without sounding like a hysterical mom, which she was, but she knew she had to stick up for Hayes by saying something. Just another area where Heather felt ill equipped to do the right thing without Hank around. She texted Hayes back and told him not to worry. An answer that would hopefully get him through the day.