THE UNEXPECTED

Short story by Lorna Woods

Meg had died in Charles’ arms on the day after Christmas. Charles faced the New Year alone. They’d been married thirty-five years. An aneurism, the coroner said. The last few days before Meg collapsed she’d had headaches and dizzy spells. Still, his wife’s death at age 49 had shocked Charles.

Seated at the kitchen table, Charles stared out the window at the tranquil waters of Alaska’s inside passage. The snow-covered mountains turned to gold in the setting sun. The phone on the table trilled. Their daughter, Lynn—she and her husband and two sons lived in Florida. Too far and too busy to come to the simple celebration of life held in the little church Sunday right after the regular service. No one who’d made it there through the ice and snow had to go home and come back later. After sharing special moments and memories, the celebrators sang, I’ll Fly Away, oh glory, I’ll fly away, and I’ve Got a Mansion Just Over the Hilltop, two of Meg’s favorites. Afterwards sandwiches, salads, and cookies were served with coffee and tea.

Charles forced down resentment and answered her call.

“Dad, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the service for Mom,” Lynn said, “but I’m so glad we flew up this summer to visit you guys. I’d rather have seen Mom alive than come to her funeral.”

What about me? Charles wanted to say, but didn’t. I’m alone. I need you. He’d gladly pay his daughter’s way to Alaska.

“I’m sorry I can’t come right now. We spent Christmas with Gill’s family, and I didn’t want to spoil the holiday for the kids. Gill and I are leaving tomorrow, New Year’s Day, for a Caribbean cruise, his Christmas present to me.”

Charles wanted to tell Lynn her desertion of him in his time of need was okay, but he couldn’t say the words.

She waited for his response. When it didn’t come, Lynn’s words rushed in and filled the silence. “Dad, why don’t you sell your place and come live with us? We’ve got space. There’s boats and fishing here, too.  You could lie in the sun and soak. I know you and Mom were retiring and planned to stay there, but now that she’s gone . . .”

Sell the house on the beach he and Meg had built together with their own hands? Sell the boat they’d fished and hunted from for so many years? Leave the peace and beauty of Southeast Alaska and live somewhere else for the rest of his life?

“You know me. I’d dry up and blow away with all that sun. Why don’t I come for a visit in February? It’s usually pretty nasty weather around here. I can’t get out and do much. I’ll hire someone to watch the house, and take care of Tiz.”

Tiz. Short for Tizzy. Charles patted the little dog who sat beside his chair as he talked on the phone.

“I love you, Dad. Happy New Year.”

“I love you, too, Lynn. Happy New Year. Bye.” Charles set the phone in its base.

Winter dark wrapped the world and cold settled into his bones. He should light a fire in the woodstove. Meg always liked the door open on the stove in the winter evenings, like having a fireplace but with lots of heat warming the house. Charles couldn’t bring himself to build a fire. Meg wasn’t here. Besides, the chill inside him came from his heart, not the air around his body.

Charles poured a cup of coffee. Real coffee. Didn’t matter if it kept him awake, he wouldn’t sleep anyway, alone in the bed. He glanced out the side window through the dark toward their nearest neighbor, whose house set back a bit further from the beach than theirs. A light shone in the neighbors’ window.

Marty and Beth. They were good people. Beth had fought a bout with cancer. Meg had said her friend was in remission. Good news. Especially since three of the woman’s five children were still at home, the youngest girl three years old. Marty and Beth were probably celebrating tonight, staying up late to toast the New Year at midnight.

Suddenly, Charles didn’t want to be alone. Alone with death. He thirsted and hungered for life. It was barely eight o’clock, not too late to drop in. He and Marty weren’t close, not like Meg had been with Beth. The women dropped in on each other for coffee, exchanging recipes, gardening tips, town and family news, and prayers. Marty and Charles were cordial and neighborly, but didn’t spend time together.

He wouldn’t stay long. Charles pulled on his boots, threw on his coat and left the house. He felt drawn to the glow from the neighbors’ window, like the moths in summer clustered around his porch light. Charles tramped down his plowed drive and trudged through the foot-deep unbroken snow to the shoveled walkway leading to his neighbors’ door. The crunch of his footsteps broke the stillness. His chest heaved with exertion and Charles drew in deep breaths of cold, clean-scented air. At the door he switched off his small flashlight. From a nearby spruce tree an owl hooted. Charles knocked.

The porch light flared on. The lock clicked, the door opened and Beth stared at him, brown eyes wide. Stray curls escaped from coffee-colored hair pulled up and fastened on her head.  A peach sweater and brown pants hugged her full figure.

“Charles.” She glanced behind him as if seeking Meg, like she’d forgotten for a second that her friend was gone. Then her gaze flashed to him.

“Come in.” She stepped aside and Charles entered the room, hit with its warmth, the hominess.

He stared at the rumpled afghan on the couch, the toys scattered on the floor. The Christmas tree still up, lights glowed and garlands sagged. A tabby cat slept curled next to a discarded unwrapped box at the tree base. Charles’ heart ached.

“Are you all right?”

The compassion in her voice and the caring in her eyes undid him. Tears lumped in Charles’ throat and backed up in his eyes. “No.”

Beth’s eyes clouded, her mouth trembled. “Neither am I. Martin left me.”

Shock stiffened his body. “What?”

“Let me take your coat. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes. I would.” The cup he’d poured sat untouched on his table at home. Charles removed his coat. Beth laid it across the back of the couch. She headed for the kitchen, and he followed.

They sat opposite each other at the table, a plate of frosted Christmas cookies between them. Beth answered his question. “While I lay in the hospital dying, Marty went out and got himself a girlfriend, someone to take my place. I didn’t die. The cancer went into remission, so the doctors say, although there is no sign of cancer anywhere in my body. I say I received a miracle healing from God.”

Charles acknowledged Beth’s story with a nod. He reached for a green frosted Christmas tree cookie covered with red, yellow and blue dots. He bit and the sweet, crumbly cookie reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast when he’d forced down a slice of toast.

“I came home December first and Marty stayed with us until after Christmas. Yesterday he served me with divorce papers and moved in with his girlfriend. He says we’re selling the house so he has the money to go south.” Beth’s hands twisted together, clasped and unclasped. “What am I supposed to do? Where are the kids and I supposed to live? Lily is only three. Our surprise baby. I’m forty-four years old and the last time I worked at a paid job was seasonal cannery work in my twenties.”

Before he thought, Charles opened his mouth. “You can come live in my house.”

Beth’s mouth fell open, closed. She stared at Charles.

Heat rose up his neck. “I don’t mean, have an affair with me. I have this big house. My wife has died, I’m alone.”

“I’m so sorry Meg is gone. I miss her too. But Charles, I have children, they’re busy, noisy.”

“I love children. My grandchildren live far away.” Charles squirmed in his chair. “I can sleep on the boat, it’s a live aboard—hunt, fish. February I’m going south to visit my daughter and her family.”

Hope dawned in Beth’s soft brown eyes. “But I couldn’t live off of you. That wouldn’t be right. I’ll have some child support, if Marty pays it.”

Energy flowed through Charles, lighting his brain with ideas. “Your oldest boy has worked for me on construction jobs.”

“Yes.” Beth’s brow wrinkled as if she tried to make a connection.

“I was in the process of retiring the business because my son-in-law is an attorney and he and my daughter have no interest in taking over. Why don’t I have you and your son run Island Construction instead? If your boy’s interested, I’ll train him and help get you going. You can keep the books, a paid position, of course.”

“You really mean this, don’t you, Charles? Meg talked about you a lot, and I envied her. You sounded like such a great husband and father, a genuinely good person. I-I could cook for you, wash clothes, take care of your home.” Beth lowered her eyes. “People would talk though. They’d be horrified that you’d move another woman into your house so soon after your wife died.”

Warmth flooded Charles. He felt as sure as if Meg sat there with them, smiling and nodding. This was right. “Meg would want me to do this. And her opinion is the only one that matters.” Hers and God’s. Most of the time, they had appeared to Charles to be one and the same.

Tears streamed down Beth’s face. “You don’t know what this means to me. We had health insurance, but still used up our savings and had to second mortgage our home. After the bank is paid, there won’t be much left from the sale of the house to divide.”

Charles covered her clasped hands on the table with his. “I’m the one whose life is saved. I don’t want to be alone, Beth. You, the children, you’ll give me someone to care about, to live for.” He moved his hands to pull away and Beth held on.

“There’s only a six year difference in our ages,” she said. “I’m attracted to you, Charles. I won’t pretend I’m not. Nearly dying has taught me to grasp life now, don’t wait for tomorrow. None of us knows if tomorrow will come.”

Charles’ heart thumped hard in his chest. “No one knows that better than I do. Christmas morning, I had no idea it would be my last day with Meg.” Or this morning, New Year’s Eve, my first day with you. “I’ll be honest. I’m attracted to you, too, Beth. But first, I want to help you and the kids, no strings attached. Then we’ll see where our relationship goes.”

Beth smiled through her tears. “Deal. Thank you.”

Charles tried to conjure up guilt over how good he felt about helping Beth, holding her hands in his, thinking they might have more than a platonic future together. All he could feel was joy.