Page 88 of After We Fall (After We Fall 2)
I could have taken care of her in all the ways she needed. We were different, but maybe our differences would have complemented each other. We could have fit together like two jigsaw pieces. She had book smarts and business savvy; I had physical strength and common sense. She had a gift with people; I had a gift with nature. I knew how to grow; she knew how to sell. She was smooth where I was rough, articulate where I was tongue-tied, social where I was aloof.
I could have loved her.
Sheltered her. Cherished her. I could have done the things for her she didn’t know how to do, taught her things she didn’t know, shown her things she’d never seen. And she could have been my link to the outside world, offering me refuge when I needed it. She could have taught me things too—she knew about art and literature and history. Things I’d never paid attention to, but didn’t want to leave the world without learning.
I could have loved her.
I could have let her love me. I could have been a father. I could have been happy.
Instead, I was alone. But at least it had been my choice.
I didn’t want to go to Pete and Georgia’s that morning since they’d likely ask about Margot, but I’d run out of coffee, and I needed the caffeine badly enough to risk it. From the moment I walked in, I made it clear I wasn’t in the mood for talking.
“Morning, Jack,” Georgia called as I entered the kitchen. She was feeding Cooper at the table.
With barely a harrumph in greeting, I crossed the room to the coffee pot and poured a cup. Even this damn kitchen reminded me of Margot. I could still see her sitting at the counter last night with her wine, eating at the table, laughing over cards. Maybe this would have been our house.
“What’s going on today?” she asked.
“Nothing.” She’d be feeding our baby at the kitchen table.
“Have you and Margo
t gone riding yet?”
“No.” We’d go riding together all the time.
“Might be a nice day for it.”
“I don’t have time,” I snapped. But she was right—it would have been a nice day for it. I was going to take her camping tonight.
She glanced back at me, her brows arched. “OK. Just a thought.”
I swallowed mouthfuls of coffee, letting it scald my throat, glad for the pain. I wondered if Margot was still sleeping, if she’d go home today or stick around. Hopefully, she’d leave…I didn’t think I could stay away if I knew she was here, and I had to. I had to.
“Do you and Margot want to do the market tomorrow? She seemed to really enjoy it the other day.”
“No.”
Georgia looked at me again, a little longer this time. “Everything OK?”
“Fine,” I said. But I wasn’t fine.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. No matter where I went on the farm, something reminded me of her—the chicken coop, the barn, the pasture. The woods, the lake, the cabin. I went to the hardware store, and I swear to Christ, the cab of my truck even smelled like her. On a whim, I drove by the cottage, telling myself I wouldn’t knock on her door, I’d just see if her car was there.
It wasn’t, but a minivan was, and as I idled past, a woman came out of the front door carrying what looked like a bucket of cleaning supplies. She’s gone.
I was angry at myself for being disappointed. Annoyed at the way my chest caved. Alarmed at the ache in my heart.
What the hell? This was better, wasn’t it? I didn’t want her hanging around, tempting me at every opportunity. I wanted her out of town, out of reach, out of my life.
Later I took Cooper to the park, hoping that would boost my mood, but even that reminded me of Margot. Christ, would she never get out of my head? I’d done the right thing! When would I be rewarded with a little peace of mind?
That night I was so exhausted I fell asleep early, but I woke at two in the morning from a nightmare, yelling and shaking, the sheets soaked with sweat. I sat up, my heart beating furiously, my chest tight. Frantically, I looked around the room for danger, but it wasn’t there.
When my heart rate slowed, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and sat still for a moment to catch my breath, cursing my fucking subconscious for its unrelenting assault.
Minutes later, I stripped the bedding and tugged new sheets over the mattress. I thought about Margot’s hands clutching at them. Leaving them twisted and shoved aside. Holding her beneath them. I got back into bed and lay awake, blinking at the ceiling. I wondered if I’d ever see her again. I wondered if I’d ever be able to forget her. I wondered if she missed me as much as I missed her.
