Clare O’Donohue - The Lover’s Knot

Both Eleanor and Ryan looked at me like I was a stranger.

"Do you want me to have killed that guy?" Ryan asked.

"No," I said, and backed down. But I didn't exactly believe his story either.

My grandmother excused herself ten minutes later, saying something about her tired leg. Ryan and I stayed in the kitchen and cleared up. We didn't say anything, so the only sounds were running water and the clanking of dishes. Barney, who had stayed close to Eleanor since her return from the hospital, was now glued to my side. I didn't know what to feel standing next to Ryan-safe, scared, angry or just numb.

So while Ryan washed the mugs, I took Barney out into the night for short walk. We walked down to the river and stared out at the blackness. The rain had stopped but the weather hadn't improved. I could feel a frost around me, but despite the cold and the darkness, I didn't want to go back inside. Instead, I took Barney along the edge of the river.

A thousand years ago I was a bride-to-be. I had a man I loved who would always love me. I had a new apartment to decorate and turn into a home. I had a lover's knot quilt I would pass on to my children. Now what did I have? I looked out at the river, listened to the quiet and waited for an answer. None came. Resigned and feeling the cold, I turned back to the house.

Ryan and I went upstairs, with Barney following close behind. I walked past the open door to my room toward the office at the end of the hall.

"I don't know how comfortable it is, but there's a pullout bed in that couch," I said to Ryan.

"I'm sure it's fine." I could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and wondered if I sounded just as empty and tired.

"I'll get you some sheets and a quilt," I said.

Ryan grabbed my hand as I was about to walk out of the room. For a second we stood, holding hands, then I pulled away.

Once Ryan was settled for the night, I closed the door to my room and sat on my bed. I couldn't take it all in. What I knew was bad enough-I didn't even want to consider all that I didn't know. One minute I would reassure myself by saying that I knew Ryan, I knew he wasn't capable of murder. Then the next I would be reminded of the scene at my apartment just a couple of weeks ago when he blindsided me by postponing the wedding. Did I know him? My mind kept playing the question over and over. And then a more terrifying question crept in. Is there a murderer in the house?

Nothing would be solved, I knew, by my sitting on the bed, so I got into my pajamas, switched off the light and lay under the covers. I don't know how long I lay there staring at the ceiling, the image of Marc's lifeless body in my mind, but eventually I must have drifted off. At some point in the night I felt as if I had entered a nightmare. My room looked like my room, but a shadowy figure was moving toward the bed. I jumped up.

"I'm sorry." I heard Ryan's voice in the darkness.

I switched on the light. "What are you doing?" I snapped.

Ryan stopped where he was standing, a few inches from the foot of my bed. "I couldn't sleep."

"Ryan, it's just not a good idea…"

"Why not? All I want to do is sleep next to you." He seemed hesitant, nervous. "Is that okay?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. Just a few hours before I'd been wondering if Ryan was a murderer, but now I was relieved he was in the room. It didn't make sense, but nothing was making sense. One minute I wanted nothing more than to be Ryan's wife, the next I was imagining a life without him. A life that included kissing other men. In that second I realized that maybe it was unfair to be so angry at Ryan for being confused, when I was so confused myself.

I pulled back the sheets and made room for Ryan in the bed. He climbed in and lay down with an audible sigh. "Good night," I said as I turned my back to him.

But he was having none of it. "I have to touch you," he said. He moved his body close to mine, putting one arm under my head and the other over my waist, spooning me. I could feel his chest against my back, his legs against mine. I wanted so much to relax into his arms, but I also needed to guard myself. I stared straight ahead and tried to find no comfort from the way his fingers moved down my arm.

He moved his head so that his breath was just above my ear. "I love you, Nell," he told me, just as he had so many times before.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything. For a few minutes I just lay there staring at the hand that reached out from under my head, feeling his breath on my neck.

"Did you do it?" I said almost to myself.

"No."

He kissed my ear. This was what I had wanted to happen from the moment he had called off the wedding. I turned around and let my lips meet his. My kisses with Marc had been schoolgirl, uncertain and strange. But Ryan's mouth, his hands, the feel of his skin, were all familiar to me. He moved on top of me without saying another word.

For much of the night, with a nearly deaf dog snoring on the floor beside us, we made love underneath our wedding quilt. Just as I had dreamed we would.

I woke up to the front doorbell ringing. Ryan was asleep, still half on top of me. The bell rang again. I knew it would be a struggle for my grandmother to answer it, so I jumped up, put on my clothes from the night before and ran down the stairs.

Jesse was standing on the other side of the door.

"You have a visitor." He pointed to Ryan's car.

"My fiance," I said, accidentally leaving out the ex. "He came up last night." Jesse raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Do you want to come in?" I asked as if nothing strange had happened last night.

He walked through the door and looked around. "Is your grandmother up?"

"I don't know. I just got up. Let me check."

"Oh, you were in bed," he said, surprised. "You're wearing what you wore last night."

"It was the closest thing to me." I was suddenly embarrassed by his attention to detail. "Go into the kitchen. I'll get my grandmother."

In the living room, Eleanor was not only awake but dressed and on the phone. When she saw me, she wrapped up her call.

"Who was at the door?"

"Jesse."

A worried look crept across my grandmother's face. "Nothing else has happened, has it?"

"I don't think so," I said, suddenly anxious at the thought. "How much more could happen?"

She grabbed her crutches. "I'm beginning to wonder that myself."

Barney, looking sleepy and confused, came walking down the stairs and joined us. He sniffed at my grandmother and walked behind her as she hobbled to the kitchen on her crutches. Then he turned his attention to Jesse, who got down on his knees and roughhoused with the old dog. Barney made it very clear he loved every second of it.

I stayed out of the way, making coffee and looking for something I could serve. We had already eaten most of the pies, cakes, casseroles and pasta dishes that friends had brought by, but there were some brownies. Hardly breakfast food, but I put them on the table.

"We're going to have to keep the shop closed for a few days, Mrs. Cassidy," Jesse said as he got up off the floor.

"It was closed anyway," she answered.

"He was remodeling the place?" Jesse asked.

"Expanding," I broke in. "My grandmother is taking over the diner next door."

Jesse looked at me. "I heard that. A big job for Marc." He turned back to my grandmother.

"I don't know," she said. "He did good work around here. Repaired the floor in the dining room last year and that looks nice."

"He loved the old houses," Jesse agreed. "And I know he loved that building your shop is in."

"He was excited about the remodel," I said, and a wave of sadness fell over me.

Jesse nodded and reached his hand out toward mine, but then seemed to think better of it. Instead he took out a small tape recorder and placed it on the table. "I've got very bad handwriting," he said almost apologetically, pointing to the recorder. He turned it on and looked at my grandmother.