Denny…”
“I have no idea why this is happening now. Really.”
“Maybe it’s the idea of remarrying,” she offered.
“Sarah died eighteen years ago. And we were only together for three years. It doesn’t feel like remarrying. It feels like that was another life.”
“Well, then, what could it be? Are we close to any anniversaries? Of your engagement to Sarah? Your wedding, her illness, her death?”
“No, thank God.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Maybe it’s just time for you to revisit this thing. You know, like post-traumatic stress. Maybe this is how you complete the cycle, bring closure. I mean, is it even possible to marry Charlene without your last marriage crossing your mind?”
“I never thought I’d love like that again,” he said, looking anywhere but at his sister.
A moment of silence passed between them…and stretched out. In a way, Denny and Charlene had been acting like an old married couple since the week they met, but was that a good thing? “And have you?” she asked very quietly, drawing his eyes back to her face.
“Of course!” he insisted. “My God, Charlene is extraordinary. I know you agree.”
“I do,” she said. In truth, Gwen was one of Charlene’s biggest fans, but that wasn’t really the issue here. The issue was her brother, who was morose on the day he announced his formal engagement. Despite his insistence to the contrary, the bold and passionate way he had loved when he loved Sarah had been buried with her. While Gwen was mostly concerned with her brother right now, it did cross her mind that Charlene might be getting shortchanged.
Gwen had been eighteen when her twenty-eight-year-old brother met and fell helplessly in love with Sarah Brown, a slender beauty with dark hair and vivid eyes. Dennis had described his first true love to his sister as kind, patient, good-natured and possessing a dry humor.
They met while Dennis was teaching high-school chemistry. Sarah was the photography and audiovisual teacher at the school and there was such chemistry between them—an intended pun they overused—that the principal asked them to stop looking at each other during school hours. They got married the second school was out—a sweet little ceremony in the park—and spent the summer in Europe.
What they had together was so obvious, so intense, so devoted and delicious, it became the benchmark for what Gwen wanted for herself. Perfect love.
And then Sarah died, a slow and miserable death from ovarian cancer.
“I don’t know if I ever told you this, Denny, but one of the things that I have always most admired about you was…is…your ability to take the pain and disappointment in life and turn it into something positive and beautiful. Like letting the experience of Sarah’s illness and death turn the chemistry teacher into a physician’s assistant who can help people daily. I love that about you.”
He looked wistful, his eyes cloudy. “She was so amazing,” he said.
“Dennis, look at me,” she said.
He obliged. “You’ve told me that a number of times, Gwen. I appreciate it.”
“Denny, is this some kind of red flag? Maybe you and Charlene shouldn’t be getting married….”
“I was so lonely by the time I met Charlene,” he said. “Dating never did do it for me, you know? I was so grateful to finally find someone who liked the same things. Someone I could talk to. I suggested we get married or at least move in together six months after we met.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said.
“She told me she’d never been happier, more in tune with a person…and she didn’t want to screw it up by changing everything so soon after we’d fallen into such a lovely little routine.”
Routine, Gwen thought. Yes, that would describe it.
“The day I met Charlene was one of the best days of my life. The past five years have been some of my most contented.”
Gwen couldn’t bear the flat expression on his face, the murky look in his eyes. Sarah’s death had been a painful loss for Gwen, too, and for everyone even remotely related to them. They had been a beautiful, joyful young couple, without so much as an argument between them, and were now scarred by the utter tragedy of a life cut short. And almost overnight Dennis became a young widower locked in a powerful grief that lasted years. It was almost too much to bear remembering. She was afraid she might cry just thinking about it.
Now he was getting married…. and he sounded perfectly miserable.
In utter frustration she tore open the box of cookies and stuffed one into her mouth. She went for a second, then a third, chewing slowly and with much difficulty. Her cheeks puffed out and her teeth were smeared with chocolate. It took a long time to make room for two more, which she had to break into chunks to push into her mouth. Dennis watched this display in frowning confusion, but she didn’t see him. She had closed her eyes as she struggled with the clump of chocolate. When she was finally done, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looked at her brother and said, “Just don’t bubble over with happiness, okay?”
“That was disgusting,” he observed.
“Thank you.”
When Charlene arrived at the law offices of Bradley & Howe, Sherry Omagi was waiting in the foyer, looking as nervous as a cat. Charlene pasted that smile of confidence on her face. She hadn’t spent as much time as she should have preparing for tonight, for she’d had only one meeting with Sherry, but it should be cutand-dried. Sherry was willing to discuss visitation, as long as she maintained custody, and would not ask for support payments. She was a self-supporting accountant who worked mostly at home and the child was young, circumstances that all heavily favored the mother.
“He’s already here,” Sherry said, wringing her hands. “I saw him go in.”
“Sherry, I want you to calm down and let me do the talking.”
“I’m so afraid,” she said. “Frankie means everything to me.”
Charlene pulled her client along with her to the elevators. She pushed the button for the third floor. “Now, we’ve talked about this, Sherry. Your ex-husband is entitled to some quality time with Frankie, and the same is good for Frankie, but that’s no reason you can’t retain primary custodial care. You should rethink the issue of compensatory support as well.”
“I don’t need support,” she said. “Kim isn’t as attached to Frankie as I am. He only wants him because I want him. He’s even said that having him is stupid.”
“People say things in the heat of the moment.”
“He said he’s sick of Frankie shitting all over the place. Really, Charlene, I worry about Frankie in Kim’s care. I don’t know that he’d be…safe.”
“Well, there are definite messes involved when you have little ones running around. This is the first time you’ve indicated Kim could be abusive. Are you serious
