A Last Kiss Goodbye Read online

  “How do couples stay happy over the long term?” she asks.

  Jacques sighs. “That is a question for God. Many people spout the answer to that question, but who knows the truth? I don’t. Possibly it takes hard work, forgiveness, romance.”

  “Trust.” That’s what bothers her the most. How can she enter a marriage in six months if there is no trust?

  “Lucille,” her mother scolds. “Your nails! We just had them done a couple days ago. They’ll be ruined.”

  “I’ll finish up,” Jacques whispers. “Don’t make matters worse.”

  Uncharacteristically, Lucy’s not in the mood to fight with her mother. She stands and wipes the dirt from her hands. “I was careful.” She holds out a hand. “My nails are still fine.”

  Her mother relaxes, but Lucy sees it in her face. The worries etched into every line. The concern for her daughter’s future.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll go get ready for tonight.” Lucy walks past.

  “Lucille?” Her mother softens her tone.

  Lucy doesn’t turn around. “What?”

  “Why don’t you wear that red dress? The color compliments you.”

  “Sure.” As she walks to her room to change and prepare for a dinner she’d rather not partake in, she thinks on her mother’s advice. There was so much more there her mother didn’t say.

  She slips into the red dress.

  ***

  At the Mexican restaurant, they order drinks and dinner then relax. Her parents, Alexander, and Madison surround her. The conversation is light and carefree, staying clear of engagement parties and appointments. Lucy is glad for that, but she has questions she wants answered.

  She clears her throat to gain their attention and offers them a smile. “As Alexander and I prepare to cross over into the magical and mystical world of marriage”—she earns a few laughs—“I was hoping to gain a new perspective.”

  She has their attention. Her mother stares at her, curious but a bit apprehensive. Alexander squeezes her hand under the table.

  “What do you think are the secret ingredients to a long-lasting, happy marriage?”

  Madison immediately jumps in with the results of a poll led by top relationship experts she read in a magazine.

  Lucy cuts her off. “I don’t want to know what the supposed experts say. I want to know what all of you think, even if you don’t have the hindsight. What do you think are the keys to a successful marriage? Truthfully.”

  They remain silent for a few minutes.

  Her father, usually one to let his wife take the lead, speaks. “I’d say flexibility and forgiveness.”

  “Flowers, gifts, trips to Europe.” Madison laughs. “I know, I know. It sounds superficial, but I think the small things like flowers shouldn’t fade away over the years, and a change of scenery can keep the adventure alive.”

  Lucy nods. “I can’t disagree.”

  Alexander stares at his plate. Still thinking.

  “Knowing when to tell the truth and when to let things stay in the past.” Her mother’s words are pointed and laden with hidden meaning meant for Lucy.

  “Thanks, Mother. I can see how that might help. But, eventually, I would think the past catches up. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Her mother nods. “Possibly.”

  Their food arrives, the sizzling hot taco and enchilada spreads. The chicken and steak burritos. The water to put out the heartburn. For now, the conversation dies as they dig in. They laugh. They joke. The tension eases.

  Toward the end, after everyone has passed up dessert, stuffed to the brim, Lucy brings it up again. “Anyone else care to answer my earlier question?”

  Lucy’s mother flashes her an annoyed look but that doesn’t deter Lucy.

  Alexander finally answers. “I’ve been thinking, but I’m not sure I have the answer. Not sure I’ll know until I’ve experienced it. But after watching my parents over the years, I’d say laughter. Joy heals all wounds. It softens hurt feelings.” He continues, “Not to say that there won’t be fights or tension but to end each day with a bit of laughter might help.”

  Madison laughs. “Now I know what to get you two for a wedding gifts. An I love Lucy DVD set.”

  Her answer brings comic relief to everyone.

  “What about you?” Alexander asks. “What do you think is the secret?”

  Lucy has a feeling that all their answers are correct. That a happy marriage is a combination of hard work, flexibility, forgiveness, efforts at romance, and laughter. But she doesn’t really want to know the secrets to a happy marriage. She wants to know one thing.

  “Trust. The honest and raw ability to trust the other person. If not, the doubt could undermine everything.”

  Madison looks away, focusing on the remains of her meal, just as Lucy suspected.

  It’s the slight color that rises in Alexander’s cheeks though that gives her the answer she’s looking for. He must’ve known about Madison poking around in her room. He must’ve been part of setting it up.

  “Thank you, everyone. I appreciate your honest answers.”

  She leaves the restaurant, an uncomfortable feeling twisting her gut.

  Chapter 8

  It’s the night of the engagement party. The gardens are lit with torches and a large white canopy. Strains of melodies from the string quartet float through the open window of her bedroom. She sits at her dresser mirror, staring at her reflection. Her eyes look large and haunted, her cheeks a bit too pale, almost too pale for the red dress. A string of pearls lie around her neck. A gift from her mother.

  Everyone’s thoughts on the secrets of a happy marriage have stayed with her. Her mother wasn’t the only one playing subtle games with their answer. She had baited Alexander and Madison, wanting to know, to make sure of their guilt.

  They’d confirmed it.

  But somewhere during the moment between waking and sleeping, Lucy forgave them. How could she expect Alexander to be completely honest when she had her own secrets? Yes, she tried to tell him but she could have tried harder. Told him earlier.

  Tonight, she would lay it all out. She had to.

  Her stomach clenched moments before the dizziness hit and the room faded to black. She gripped onto her dresser, to anchor herself in this world as the vision hit.

  The same man. Shaggy dark hair. Haunted face. This time he is paler; he is alone. It changes and he is walking through a field of wild flowers. Except this time a girl walks with him. The wind blows through her dark hair. When she turns, Lucy gasps and slumps against her chair. It’s her. She’s walking with him.

  They talk. They laugh. Who is he?

  They reach the end of the field where the grass turns abruptly into a forest.

  Seconds later, Alexander exits the forest. He runs toward them, but instead of racing to Lucy, arms open, he rushes to the man and claps him on the back. Big smiles, knowing looks, happiness. Alexander knows this man well.

  Lucy startles from the vision. Her neck cramps. She feels cold and hot at the same time. Dread rises from her gut and overwhelms her. Alexander knows the man from the vision. That much is clear. She must talk with him. Let him know. Even if it means making herself vulnerable. Even if it means losing him.

  With a last glance in the mirror at her own haunted reflection, she heads down to the party in search of Alexander.

  She spots him chatting with her father. His parents arrived that morning, and they talk with Madison. Sadness weighs her down, knowing she could lose all this, lose him, feeling him slip away.

  “There you are, Lucille.” Her mother rushes toward her. “I was wondering where you were. You remember Bart and Kathleen from the country club?” Her mother stands aside for the couple to approach Lucy.

  Distracted, she nods. In a daze, she politely engages in conversation about the party, their engagement, the coming wedding. But the urgency grows. She interrupts them.

  “If you don’t mind,” she says. “I haven�
�t said hello to my future groom.”

  Her mother laughs, a little too high and fake. “Young love,” she gushes.

  “Oh, don’t let us stop you,” Kathleen says and shoos Lucy away.

  She enters the garden and the sounds and smells seem too strong and aggressive. The scent of candles thick and cloying, like an older woman’s perfume. The light, happy music is out of place. The blur of couples and family friends crowd her, suffocating.

  She has to find Alexander.

  She stumbles forward, forcing guests aside. Finally, she sees him. Her heart races and her breath is shallow.

  “Oh my, Lucy. You look ghastly,” Madison comments as she reluctantly breaks away from Alexander.

  Lucy speaks low but fierce so only Alexander can hear. “I have to talk to you now. Can we steal away?”

  His hands cup her cheeks then drop to her shoulders. “Of course.”

  “Oh, not yet, you don’t.” Alexander’s father steps between them. “Before you two leave the party and disappear, I want a dance with my future daughter-in-law.”

  She flashes Alexander a look of desperation. He shrugs then kisses her on the side of the head. “One dance. Then we’ll talk. I have to call my cousin again. He wasn’t at the airport earlier and he still hasn’t called.” He pulls out his phone. “She’s all yours, Dad. But for just one dance.”

  With stiff, wooden steps, Lucy follows Alexander’s father to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. He leads her in a waltz and keeps up a steady stream of conversation. She barely listens.

  Alexander’s cousin. He never arrived. Her skin breaks out in ripples of goosebumps. She desperately tries to remember what little Alexander shared with her about his extended family. Was his cousin the same age?

  The waltz drones on. She answers questions but she doesn’t even hear the questions. She probably appears mad and incoherent.

  “Are you okay, Lucy? You’re trembling.” He leads her off the dance floor. “I’ll get you some punch. Stay here.”

  She stands in the center of the other couples. She sways even though it’s not in time to the music. The room spins, the colors blurring. She should have told him earlier. She should have forced him to listen yesterday in the park. She should have convinced him that her visions are more than reading palms, more than a convenient joke, a laugh. After the first vision, she should have talked with everyone she knows about the man. But how could she have known it was someone she was connected to? How could she have known it was Alexander’s cousin?

  Maybe she’s wrong. Jumping to conclusions. Her imagination getting the better of her.

  Alexander’s father returns and puts a plastic glass of punch in her hand. She mumbles thank you. Her gaze is trained on Alexander as he talks on the phone. His face pales, his mouth slightly open. Fear passes through him in a slight shudder only she notices.

  The glass slips from her hand. Crashes to the floor. The deep red, spilling, spreading, and pooling. Like blood.

  Chapter 9

  She hears the gasps of the people around her as she stumbles off the dance floor toward Alexander. He stands, unmoving, almost in shock.

  “Alexander!” Her voice is breathless. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  He can barely talk, the words stammering and stuttering before he can say anything coherent. “Let’s go inside. Please.”

  She slips her hand into his and gently leads him around the crowds and into the house. His skin is cold and clammy. In the kitchen, she leads him to a stool.

  “Now. What’s wrong?” she asks softly, knowing he’s still processing, knowing that at times like this sometimes it’s better not to say anything, because once you speak the words it becomes a reality. Instead of something you can pretend away.

  “My cousin. Jude. He...he was on his way to the airport.” He lifts his head, catching her gaze. His eyes are pools of regret and building grief.

  She holds her breath, expecting the worst. All the visions of the dark-haired man return. The haunted eyes of death. It was more of a feeling of being lost and confused.

  “Alexander!” His father and mother stride into the room, Madison right behind them. “We saw you leave.”

  He turns to his parents; his chest shudders. She squeezes his hand, trying to pass on courage and strength.

  “Dad...Mom. It’s Jude. He’s been in an accident.”

  His mother, instead of wilting with shock, steps forward and wraps her around her son. “What happened?” She is calm, the voice of reason when her family rides out the storms.

  “A truck hit him on his way to the airport.” His gaze flicks back and forth between his parents and then rests on the space in between as if he wants to spare his parents any further pain.

  “Oh, Alex.” Madison rushes to him, not so gently pushing Lucy aside. She runs her hands through his hair and then down the sides of his face to rest them on his cheeks, touches of intimacy, of love.

  Lucy always suspected Madison felt more than friendship for Alexander and now she knows it’s true. But this isn’t the time for petty jealousy. This is about Alexander.

  “Do you need something? Anything?” She babbles, the words like a waterfall that turns to white noise.

  “Do we know anything else?” his mother asks.

  “It was Uncle Dave who called. They’re at the hospital. He’s in critical condition but still alive.”

  Lucy’s heart leaps in joyful hope. Maybe there’s a chance this vision wasn’t about him. It was someone else. Jude could make it through the night and into the next day, gaining strength every hour. They’ll call in the morning with the good news that he’ll pull through with rest and recovery.

  Alexander pulls out his phone. “I’m taking the first flight back.” His words are cracked and broken. “He’s always been there for me.”

  His dad rests his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of those details.” He nods to his wife. “Why don’t we give Alexander and Lucy some space? We’ll be right outside. We’ll call Uncle Dave.”

  “Madison?” Alexander’s mother says, telling her with just her name that she should leave too.

  Reluctantly, she squeezes Alexander. “If you need me, I’ll be outside too. I always loved Jude. He was like your twin, in looks, in personality. He’s the best. And I know he’ll fight hard.” Then she leaves, flashing Lucy a look that says you don’t deserve him. It should be me by his side.

  Lucy grips the edge of the island. His twin? In looks and personality? She studies Alexander, his dark hair. She imagines him paler, the eyes darkened, haunted. His hair longer and a bit ragged at the edges. Not for the first time, she curses her so-called gift, her visions. The guilt weighs on her, heavy. It grows, a spreading darkness that consumes her mind and thoughts and heart.

  She takes Alexander’s hands. “You were close to him.”

  Alexander nods. “He was like a brother.”

  “I’d love to hear more about him. Or we can just go for a drive and you don’t have to say anything. Whatever you need.”

  He’s about to answer when she’s jerked away. Her mother stares at her with a grim, cold look. “Can I talk with you, Lucy?” She turns to Alexander. “I’m so sorry. This will just take a moment.”

  Her mother tugs her away just into the next room. Lucy cringes at her mother’s insensitivity. This is not about them but about Alexander and his family, but she knows what’s coming. This storm has been brewing, the dark clouds gathering, for the past few days. Ever since her mother recognized Lucy’s dazed, ghostly look when they came in from outside. It started years ago and just needed something like this to come blowing to the forefront, the angry, hurtful words building like the winds of a hurricane, wanting to strike out, wanting to hurt.

  “What is it, Mother?” Lucy tries to stay calm and reasonable. She tries to remind herself that her mother lost her closest friend.

  “Is this your fault?” The words hiss out, filled with venom.

  “My fault?” <
br />
  The anger, the years of rage, shimmer in her mother’s glare, in her countenance. Lucy never wanted to admit the cold truth that her mother, deep down, blamed Lucy for her friend’s death. As if, somehow, Lucy’s vision caused the events to happen. That if Lucy had never spoken the words, her friend would be alive.

  “My fault?” The tears burn, trembling on the edge. “I do not cause death. I can’t help what I see.”

  “Have you told Alexander yet? How do you think he will feel when he knows the truth?”

  “Told me what?” Alexander stands just a couple feet from them.

  Her mother’s tone, her rising voice, attracted him like a vulture to a rotting carcass. This isn’t how she wanted to reveal her secret. Now, she looks guilty, like she purposefully withheld the information just to share it at a time that would hurt him the most.

  Lucy brushes past her mother. “Why don’t we go for a drive?”

  Chapter 10

  The drive to the graveyard is silent. Alexander stares out the window at the passing scenery. Lucy suspects he’s feeling numb inside and out. Nothing like this ever happens at a convenient time. Death and accidents and illness come like lightning, a flash across the heavens. Life is fine until the clock tick tocks and then nothing is fine and nothing will ever be the same. The future set on a different course.

  She pulls to the side of the road. The sun has set, the grave stones mere shadows of former life. Though the day was warm, a chill has crept into the air.

  “A graveyard?”

  “I thought it best to show you.” Lucy often spent time here, thinking. She never saw a graveyard as a grim reminder of the frailty of human life, that time here on earth is but a wisp. She sees it as a place to find peace, to talk to those you loved, to be vulnerable.

  He sighs. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

  She places her hand on his. “Please? Just come with me. We don’t have to stay long.”

  He agrees, and they leave the car and enter through the iron gates. She knows how to get to there. Her feet know the way for she has often cried and begged forgiveness just in case she was to blame.

  She stops in front of a dark gray stone, words of love and remembrance engraved into the side. “She was my mother’s friend.” The emotion builds as it always does when she’s here. Her voice cracks. “I was only a child, but I knew.”