Robin had never known Anna to back out on a commitment without an exceptional reason. Something was wrong in her daughter’s world. The tension in her voice had been unmistakable.
And Robin felt it in her bones.
Her instinct had been to jump in the car and drive over to Anna’s house, but her son, Mike, was on the way over to help her clean out the storage unit and take his daddy’s things over to the local nonprofit charity that serviced Moonglow Cove’s needy population.
Dwarfed by the maze of possessions surrounding her, Robin heaved a thick sigh. It had taken her a year to get to this point where she could go through Heathcliff’s belongings, but now that she was in the midst of it, grief wrapped around her like a clammy hand.
How had they managed to amass so much junk?
They should have thrown the stuff out or given it away when they’d moved to Arizona for Heathcliff’s health five years earlier. Instead they’d rented the storage unit. Choosing a hundred-dollar-a-month storage bill over the pain of cleaning out the past. Their thinking? Once his health improved, they’d come back home.
But in the end, after Heathcliff’s fragile lungs lost his battle against the coronavirus the previous year, Robin bought a modest town house in an over fifty-five community not far from where Anna lived.
Heathcliff’s firefighter uniforms, even though he’d retired a decade before his death, were stacked on the floor at her right elbow. His suits and jeans, still on the hangers, hung from rods on rolling racks. His summer attire—cargo shorts, Hawaiian shirts, and crew-neck tees—was sorted into boxes to her left. Lined up in front of her were belts, ties, hats and caps. Beyond those accessories sat his shoes: running sneakers, dressy loafers, cowboy boots, steel-toed work boots, rubber boots, fishing waders.
Seeing her late husband’s things lined up for disposal took Robin’s breath away. The energy and determination that had galvanized to start the cleanup vanished like thin smoke.
Giving away Heathcliff’s possessions was the final act of letting go. Admitting that he was gone forever.
Reality distorted and Robin felt as if her body were being pulled headlong down a dark endless corridor at warp speed.
Emotion flooded her in a hot swamp. Anger and sadness mixed with guilt and regret. Other, more complex feelings burst from her heart as a half-dozen images flooded her brain.
In her mind’s eye, Robin saw her husband manning the backyard barbecue grill in the house they’d had on the beach, the house that Mike now owned and lived in with his wife, Gia, and baby daughter, Faith.
She saw Heathcliff flipping hamburgers in those blue jean shorts and a red shirt printed with vintage cars, adding a veggie burger just for Anna the year she turned thirteen and announced she was a vegetarian.
Everyone had teased her about it, but not Heathcliff. He’d shown he respected her decision by adding the veggie patty and then later, when Anna had gone back to the grill and asked if she could have a real burger, he’d cooked one without saying a word.
How Robin had loved him for that! He’d always been a caring, empathetic father.
His bespoke cowboy boots brought back memories of the time he’d taken her and the kids to M.L. Leddy’s during a family trip to the Fort Worth Stockyards. The place smelled of leather and history and the guy behind the counter winked and asked Anna if she was her father’s girlfriend.
Anna had chuffed out her chest and said in a loud, peevish, five-year-old voice, “Don’t be silly, he’s my daddy!”
The brown plaid bathrobe reminded Robin of the bedtime stories Heathcliff read to the kids and the blueberry pancake breakfasts he cooked using a Mickey Mouse mold. He’d topped the pancakes with melted butter and blueberry maple syrup.
To this day, Robin couldn’t eat pancakes without melted butter and blueberry maple syrup.
He’d worn that navy pin-striped suit to Anna’s second-grade daddy-daughter dance. Anna’s dress had been mauve taffeta with a flare skirt, her shoes white patent leather, the song was “I Loved Her First.”
Robin had gone along to watch, her heart overflowing with love for them both and that precious, special moment.
Anna had been so scared to waltz in front of so many people, so afraid she would mess up and make a fool of herself, but Heathcliff had smiled tenderly. “Put your feet on mine, sweetheart, and just keep looking into my eyes. I’ve got you, Anna. Never forget, I’ve always got you.”
They danced to the same song again at Anna’s wedding reception except that time he’d worn a rented tuxedo.
Funny how the bulk of her memories of her husband revolved around the kids, even though they’d been married for ten years before having Anna. Heathcliff had been an exemplary father. Robin couldn’t have asked for more on that score. He’d been a good man, a tender lover, a great provider, but Anna’s birth had altered their relationship.
Although it was a subtle shift, no one but Robin seemed to notice.
He’d become slightly more secretive, less open with her, and whenever Robin tried to broach it, he’d gaslight her, telling her it was all in her imagination. Because their life was so normal in every other way, she’d let it go, but something had changed between them thirty-five years ago, and she’d never been able to pinpoint exactly what it was.
The one thing she did know, and had resented, was the closeness he’d developed with Winnie Newton after Anna’s birth.
If the midwife hadn’t been twenty years older than Heathcliff, Robin might have suspected he’d been carrying on with her. He was over at Winnie’s place often, mowing her lawn, taking her grocery shopping, doing little repairs around the house while neglecting his own home improvement projects.
All Robin could figure was that night during the hurricane bonded her husband to the midwife in a way she would never understand.
That realization didn’t make her resent Winnie any less.
Overwhelmed by memories and emotions, Robin placed a hand to her heart. She probably shouldn’t have parked herself in the middle of the storage unit. Getting up off the concrete floor was a bit of a challenge.
She shifted from sitting to kneeling, then, bracing her hand against the wall, pushed up. Grunted “upsa daisy” as her aching knees creaked loudly. Her head swam, her blood pressure dropping quickly. Orthostatic hypotension, her doctor called it.
Pausing, she waited for the sensation to pass, her flimsy knees wobbling, the scent of Heathcliff all around her. It was funny and unfair. He was long gone, but his fragrance lingered.
It made her feel as if he might walk through the door after playing dominoes at the community center with his retired firefighter cronies, give her a peck on the cheek, and ask her what was for dinner.
Robin swiped the back of her hand over her brow, glanced across the room at the old office desk and chair they’d stuck at the back of the unit. What was inside there? So much time had passed she couldn’t remember if they’d cleaned it out or not before hauling it over here. Maybe she should look.
Forget it. There’s too many boxes to step over.
True enough, but did she really want to have to come back here and do this again? Once was enough. She’d do it all today.
Pressing one hand to her lower back to brace her achy hip, she picked her way around boxes, trunks, and crates. She had to squeeze through the narrow passageway between rows of stockpiled possessions.