Page 11 of When I'm Gone
She was right: they did look young. Well, theywereyoung. Nat’s dark hair was up in a twist, her shoulders left uncovered by the white satin of her dress. The picture didn’t show it, but the bodice had been covered in thousands of tiny pearl beads that kept falling off throughout the day. They laughed through their whole first dance. Every time they shifted, a small shower of beads sloughed off, making tiny pings as they hit the parquet dance floor.
In the picture, Luke stood several inches taller than Natalie, his hair bleached blond at the ends by the summer sun. Lines crinkled happily around his eyes. His smile said he had no idea he’d be burying the woman by his side before they had even celebrated their twentieth wedding anniversary.
“How old were you there?” Jessie asked, still scanning the portrait.
“Um, twenty-one.” He sniffed. “We met in junior high, but I moved away before freshman year. Didn’t meet again till college. I transferred to the University of Michigan for my senior year.” He chuckled, almost talking to himself. “First week of class and I saw her; she was sitting on the quad studying and I knew. Right away, I knew.”
“That’s the sweetest story.” Jessie gasped, one hand over her heart. “I can’t believe you found each other when you were so young. I’m twenty-one, and I don’t even have a boyfriend! Ha.” After staring for a moment longer, she shoved her hands in her coat pockets, the envelope peeking out from one side. She turned to face him. He could feel her eyes on his face as he stared at his stocking feet. “I’m sorry, Mr. Richardson. I’m the worst. My dad always says I don’t slow down to think. That was so insensitive talking on and on about Natalie. I’m sure it’s not easy ...”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.” He couldn’t deal with this girl feeling bad for him. What did she know about losing someone? “Let’s go into the kitchen and chat.”
“Mkay.” Jessie shrugged. She took one last look at the picture of Luke and Natalie before turning away.
Luke rushed ahead, collecting a pile of random mail and May’s school papers to clear a spot on the island. Jessie dropped her bag and climbed up on one of the stools. If she noticed the mess, she was good at hiding it. She put Natalie’s letter on the counter in front of her, “Jessie” scrawled in Natalie’s characteristic script across the front.
“So, tell me about yourself.” Luke wasn’t sure what he was supposed to ask. Natalie had arranged everything. If Jessie was willing to be their sitter, he was supposed to let her. This was more of a “meet and greet” than an interview.
Jessie ran her fingers through her bangs nervously, a silver medical alert bracelet peeking out from under her sleeve. “Well, not much to tell. I’m an elementary ed student at Eastern. I started my student teaching at Wellbrooke Elementary. First grade. I love it.” She shrugged, her small shoulders shifting up and down in her poofy electric-green winter coat.
“Natalie said you guys were close.” Luke rested his elbows on the granite, the coolness of the stone leaking through his thin dress shirt. It would probably be rude to bring up the whole medical issue thing. Better to play dumb.
“Yeah, I don’t know why, but we really clicked, even with the age difference.” Jessie ripped off her coat, hanging it on the back of the stool. She looked even younger without the oversize jacket. She wore a black shirt, which hung off her small frame, with a simple outline of a woman on the front. Underneath, the name “Bette” in white lettering.
“Is that Bette Midler on your shirt?” Luke asked, proud of himself for placing the reference. Foster mom number three had been obsessed withBeaches. He had to change the channel any time “Wind Beneath My Wings” came on.
“Yes!” Jessie’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward. “Are you a fan?”
His interest in musical theater was almost as great as his interest in abstract art in the twentieth century. “No, sorry. But I’m thinking you are.”
“God, yes.” She flapped her hand at Luke with so much expression he had to hide his amusement. “I’m, quite literally, her biggest fan. I go to any concert within five hundred miles. That’s honestly the radius my dad set for me. Once I get a job, I’m upping it to a thousand.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be a Bette Midler fan?”
“Bette is ageless. Honestly, have you looked at her lately?” Jessie raised her eyebrows and looked at Luke like he didn’t own eyeballs. “But really, it’s not just Bette. I love the theater, musicals to be precise. My mom was a beautiful singer. She used to sing all the great show tunes to me when I was sick.” She said “sick” like it was a cold. Luke knew better. “Got me hooked, I guess.”
“Used to”—Luke knew what that meant. He’d been struggling switching all of his memories of Natalie into that particular verb tense. He didn’t want to push her, not knowing how recent her mother’s death might have been.
“Are you an actress yourself?” With her overabundance of expression, she’d definitely do well on stage.
“No.” Jessie shook her head, some of the brightness from her eyes draining for a moment and then reigniting almost immediately. “Believe me, if I had even a third of the talent Ms. Midler has in her little finger, I’d be on stage day and night. You know, I tried to convert Natalie. She was going to go with me toInto the Woodsin April. We were going to wait at the stage door for autographs.” She shrugged and spun the letter around in a circle on the counter. “I guess I’ll just take my dad.”
Sounded like Natalie. She made friends so easily. Luke had a hard time making those connections—always had. “Anyway, sorry, back to Nat. It was her passion for teaching that kept me going through finals last year. She loved kids, even the naughty ones. Anytime there was a case study for psych class in which kids were mistreated or had terrible experiences, I swear she’d nearly cry.”
“Yeah.” Luke bounced his head up and down, knowing exactly what Jessie was referring to. “Nat was almost too empathetic at times. She did this research paper once about a missing girl—uh, what was her name? That Witling girl? By the time she turned it in, she was a bit of a mess. She wouldn’t let May go anywhere alone for six months, even out in our backyard.”
“I don’t know that one,” Jessie replied, “but my mom must have. She was kinda paranoid when I was a kid, and she’d trot out news stories of missing children whenever I wanted to do something even halfway daring.”
“Ha, that’s funny.” Luke chuckled. Talking to Jessie was actually easier than he’d imagined, like talking to a long-lost friend he’d never met before. “Are you an only child? I mean, the more kids you have, the harder it is to be neurotic.” Luke stopped himself. Sending letters to your husband after you’re dead is still pretty neurotic.
“I was a sickly kid, so she was a bit overprotective. I guess I can’t really blame her ...” Jessie trailed off, absentmindedly fiddling with her alert bracelet. Luke knew she was right. There were a lot of things worse than being an overprotective parent.
“Well”—he squinted at the envelope on the counter, sure a detailed dossier for each child was inside—“did Natalie tell you about the kids?”
Before Jessie could answer, Clayton’s squeal cut through the ceiling. Naptime was apparently over.
“Now it gets real.” Luke put his palms flat on the counter, wiggling his eyebrows. “You want to meet Clayton?”
“Of course. Should I come with?” she asked, tightening her ponytail.
