Hunter moved with ease in this primitive kitchen, reminding me of my father in our house when he was helping my mother during the holidays. He tried to take a scientific approach to cooking, and Mom teased him that there was no science in the kitchen, just magic and a harmony of flavors and aromas. They never danced while they cooked like happy couples in the movies, but Mom and Dad did exchange plenty of butt squeezes and neck kisses. My heart ached under the weight of pain and longing. For what they had. For them.
“You okay?” Hunter asked, drying his hands on the dish towel.
“I was just thinking about my parents. I miss them so much.”
I missed our puzzle Sundays, our summer outdoor movie nights. I missed phone calls with my mom on my way home from work while stuck in traffic. We talked about mostly the same things (my work projects, her cooking or garden, their neighbors’ car parked again too close to my parents’ mailbox). A lump grew in my throat. I longed for her to tell me the same darn story just one more time.
“What happened to them?” Hunter asked in a low voice.
“My mother had an aneurysm. At the funeral, when they lowered her casket, my father jumped into the hole after her. He cried and begged them to bury him with her… It was awful to see him like that.” My lips trembled, and hot tears landed on my lap like fat thunderstorm raindrops. “He fell into a depression. I didn’t grasp how bad he felt at first. I thought he would recover with time, but it only got worse. We tried different treatments and therapies, but nothing helped. His body was present, but his soul had died with my mom.” The familiar pain ached in the pit of my stomach.
Hunter sat beside me. “That’s a special kind of love.”
Despite all the issues I saw in Phill, I’d desperately wanted to recreate with him what my parents had—deep love for each other. But it took two for a marriage to succeed. In my case, it was only me trying, while Phill each year created more reasons for me to give up.
I nodded without looking at Hunter and attempted to control my next wave of emotions. I inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. “Then one night, my dad went to sleep and never woke up.”
There were times when I felt that the entire world was against me, when nothing seemed to work, when it felt like everything that could go wrong had. My mother died, my father got sick, I had to let go of an excellent job to take care of him. And then Phill divorced me. There were innumerable nights when I cried myself to sleep, wishing I could wake up as a different person, in a different life, and that yesterday was just a nightmare.
“Sorry.” I wiped my eyes and managed a bleak smile. “Most days, I’m not an emotional basket case.” I was sure I looked atrocious, with red-rimmed eyes and a puffy nose. “Imust be really,reallytired.”
“You’re fine,” Hunter whispered. “When Edward died, I cried too. A lot.”
“What happened?”
“Cancer.” Hunter turned his attention to the smoking fire. “I had some time to prepare myself, but it wasn’t easy when it finally killed him.”
I took his hand in mine and squeezed it lightly. “Tell me more about him.”
Hunter glanced at our joined hands. I had probably overstepped so I released it and moved mine onto my lap.
“Edward and Annie fostered me and raised me as their own. They were kind people. They took good care of me.” Hunter’s lips curled up at corners. “The three of us traveled to various parts of the world every holiday and school break. We went on several long sailing trips in the Caribbean and the East Indies.”
“That’s amazing. My mom was terrified of flying. Her only flight was from Montenegro to the States when her parents migrated. She was six, and it wasn’t a smooth flight. We only took road trips around the states. She and Dad have been to all the states except Hawaii.”
Well, shoot.I dropped my head, shaking it in disbelief. How dumb of me.Hawaii would have been a much better place to spread my dad’s ashes than a sailing trip.
“Even Alaska?”
I pulled on the loose thread on the hem of my shorts. “Yep. It was the longest trip of their lives, but they made it.”
“Did you grow up in Florida?”
“Born in Miami, went to school in Miami, worked and lived in Miami. What was your favorite part of your childhood, apart from traveling?” The need for him to continue to talk and share about his past grew as my interest in him was piqued. It also helped me feel safer and more at home.
“Edward often left maps and coded notes for me around the house. He left them for Annie, too—on her birthday or their anniversary. He’d write her a poem, and she’d have to guess where he was taking her. It could be a fancy restaurant or a lavish trip.”
“Were you any good at these games?”
A huge smile adorned Hunter’s face, and my heart stuttered. It was impossible not to notice how handsome he was without the beard, and I had to drop my gaze to my hands as if my broken fingernails were captivating.
“On my fourteenth birthday, Edward hid my present and gave me a page with a text that made no sense. It took me a week to get all the clues to crack his puzzling message. I suppose I’m not good at it.”
“What did you have to do?”
“I don’t remember all the details now, but he had a built-in bookcase in his home office. Behind it was a broom-sized hidden closet. I knew about it, but didn’t know how to unlock the secret door. Edward decided I was old enough to be trusted with the safe combination, except I had to figure it out on my own. One shelf had weight-sensitive spots. I had to place books in a certain order and shift an antique brass horse and other knick-knacks around until they were all in their correct places simultaneously.”
“That’s neat. I hope it wasn’t a puppy in a box.” I smiled, thinking how much fun it would be to treasure hunt as a child.
