031:

She exited the shower, put on comfortable jeans and a t-shirt with a sweatshirt over it. She donned long socks and gloves and a hat, over her wet hair. Then she went down and fed and changed Hannah, and slipped her in the sling, wrapped her up under her own jacket, and walked the mile to the pier.

Jake, who lived across the way with his wife and family, had somehow been alerted that she was out of the house, and she saw him out of the corner of her eye, come out of his front door and get in his car, to follow her. She shrugged, not really bothered by the body guard. He'd been around her since she was a baby, and she loved him like family, she was just sorry she couldn't tell him to go back to bed. She knew he wouldn't. He didn't work for her, he worked for her father. And her father paid him very well to wake up and follow her in the middle of the night if need be. As inconvenient as it might be.

There were a few people on the pier. She'd thought it might be closed, it was after midnight. But the lights were on, and it wasn't a foggy night. Some were fishing, some were just standing around buckets of coals, talking. Robert was easily distinguishable in his own knit cap and dark jacket. His hands were shoved deeply in pockets and his eyes bored into hers from far away.

She walked directly up to him. "Hi." She said, and tried a smile.

He nodded, looking at her and then over her head to Jake, parked not too close, but not too far. He nodded again, accepting it. He pulled back the top of her jacket that was obviously misshapen and covering something and nodded again at the sleeping baby. "Hm." He said and then placed a hand on the small of her back and directed her down the pier. It was a long pier.

"My wife has leukemia." He said as a starter. "I've been with her eight years. We've been married for six years. She got the leukemia about three and a half years ago. She had a remission after treatment last year and then a rather sudden surge."

Their feet made little noise on the damp cement. They were both wearing very lightweight tennis shoes. She would have called hers sneakers, and his, deck shoes, or slip-ons. He kept his hands shoved in his pockets after directing her down the pier and she walked close to him so she could hear him, their shoulders brushed companionably.

"What is your wife's name?" Melia asked, her breath coming out in a little white gust, surprising her that it might be that cool out, and checking to see if Hannah was breathing it, but she wasn't, safely tucked in her cocoon in the little sleeve next to her body.

"Karen Mae. " He said and ran a hand over his eyes as if saying her name hurt him.

"What was she like?" Melia went on, remembering how after Jared died no one wanted to discuss her memories of him, they hurt too much, but she needed to talk about him. "Before?" she added.

He drew in his breath sharply, gave her a sideways glance and then, having obviously determined that his reason for escorting her onto the pier after midnight on a work day was to discuss just this very topic he blew out his breath in resignation and let his eyes wander the dark waves off to the left, searching for memories. "She has heart." He said. "She gives and gives and gives to others. She's the most giving person I know."

Melia registered that his tone was a little belligerent and she realized that he was in the grief stage known as anger, maybe partially in denial as well, but mostly he'd graduated to anger. Why is this happening? She doesn't deserve to die! She's so good. Now he would list her good qualities, making his case to her. This he did, very starkly, methodically. He told her how they'd met, their early dates and their first break up. He related how he found he didn't like his life without her, and missed her when he'd driven her away. So he cleaned up his life and got her back. This time after living together for a year, he'd asked her to marry him, and she had. Their wedding day was the happiest day of his life. The day the doctors told them she had less than three years to live was the worst day of his life. He anticipated her death to be the end of his life as well. He truly didn't see how he could go on without her.

They had walked and talked the length of the pier twice when he finally turned to her and with real anguish in his tone took her by the shoulders. "Is there life for me? Can I live without her?"

Melia stared into his eyes, his beautiful, dark and easily readable pleading eyes fringed in dew wet thick dark lashes. He was ravaged by this question, a real determining factor for him, and it ate him up with grief and bitterness. Slowly she nodded, just once.

His head fell forward, his eyes closed and he finally rested his forehead on her shoulder and cried. These were tears Melia recognized. They were her own tears heard only softly and from much further away these days, memories of tears she'd cried when Jared was still alive. Sobbing, wracking.... Tears of pain and frustration, futility and anger.

She closed her eyes and prayed for guidance.

Words came. She told him of her sudden and deep love for Jared, her surprise that it had happened the way it had, and of his unmistakable love for her. She told him of her denial, as he leaned against the wet railing over the churning ocean, and their breath mingled in the night. It seemed cushioned, insulated from all the outside stressors, ethereal. She felt wonderful talking to him, he listened for awhile and then launched into his own related diatribe, it was cleansing, helpful.

Melia didn't know how long they spoke, but eventually Hannah began to make her presence known, and she indicated that she needed to get back to her home. "Do you want to come back to my place? It isn't far; I can make you some hot chocolate." She offered.

Robert laughed and nodded, placing that warm hand alongside her lower back to guide her once again down the boardwalk. 

******