One Step Closer(28)

Soon Wren was sitting on the big king-sized bed in the suite that Edison had remodeled for her right after Caleb left for college. Her mother had a fit, and though it surprised Wren at the time, it was the beginning of her new relationship with Edison. He’d had the walls between two of the adjoining rooms removed to combine them into one large dance studio, complete with a floating hardwood dance floor, a wall of mirrors, state-of-the-art sound system, and ballet bars. It was separated from her bedroom with just a door, and had become her sanctuary.

The bedroom was lush, decorated in her favorite colors of cream and wine, accented with dark charcoal, which spilled over into the luxurious bathroom. Her affinity for the dark burgundy was one of the things she had in common with Caleb.

The bed was a dark metal four-poster with cream chiffon scarves twisted and draped around, and the desk and dressers were all painted wood. The jewelry box that Caleb sent from Boston the first year after he left, still sat on the dresser, and there was a stack of her favorite books still piled up in the window seat to the left of the bed. She spent a lot of time sitting there, reading, talking on the phone or daydreaming of Caleb.

Jonesy was already unpacking the suitcase before Wren noticed what she was doing. “Oh, Jonesy. You don’t need to do that. I can’t wear much of those clothes here, anyway. I’ll have to go shopping for a dress for the funeral. When is it?”

“A few days. Edison’s body was taken to the mortuary the morning I found him, and I’ve already taken over his best black suit, one of his favorite white Egyptian cotton shirts, and that red silk tie.”

Wren smiled sadly. “The one I sent him from Paris last year?” She’d been on a European tour with her dance company, and Father’s Day was close so she’d popped it in the mail.

“Yes, it’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Jonesy asked, her face sad. She had sifted through Wren’s clothes and picked out the personal things she’d be able to wear, and a pair of jeans, putting some aside with intentions of washing them and neatly folding the rest to replace in her suitcase. “You’re right, honey. This stuff is much too light for our spring weather.”

Wren was distracted. “How is Cale handling it?”

Jonesy smiled. “Cale. No one calls him that but you, dear. Brings back memories of happier times.”

Wren could almost see the questions racing around inside the older woman’s mind; she was wondering what happened to create the distance between Wren and Caleb.

Wren was sad and melancholy about it, too. There were many times she missed him and longed to talk to him. But, so much had happened to change things. Still, there was a piece of her that would always belong to Caleb.

“Yes. So, how is he? He tries to be indifferent, but I know the unresolved stuff with his dad has to hurt him more than he lets on. This might…” Wren’s words fell off, and she shrugged, unwilling to share the true tenor of her current relationship with Caleb.

Jonesy sighed and sat down on the bed, the mattress giving beneath her weight as she took one of Wren’s hands. “He’s calm and keeping to himself, but almost seems annoyed. He’s been wandering around the house a bit, but mostly holed up in the basement. I made breakfast this morning, but he didn’t want much.” Jonesy wondered how much Wren and Caleb kept in touch or how much they really knew about each other anymore. “That boy could always eat…”

Wren nodded. “Don’t worry, Jonesy. Cale’s always been a loner when something’s troubling him. He isn’t one to show vulnerability, so he does something physical to get rid of the tension.” Wren’s fingers ran over the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. The scars beneath it were faint, but she could still feel the ridges. “We all have different ways of dealing with things.”

“I know, child. I just hate seeing him like this. He suffered so much when he was younger, always silent and resentful. But, thankfully, that changed when you came to us.”

Wren’s face took on a far away look and the corner of her mouth lifted in the start of a sad smile. “He hated me, at first, though.”

“He hated everyone, and everything, for a time. You changed that. You gave him purpose.” The old woman patted Wren’s hand. “A reason to open his heart again.”

Wren’s heart swelled as precious memories flooded her thoughts. Caleb had become her everything. She developed a major crush on him from the time she was fourteen. He was sort of like a Greek God, strong and beautiful who swooped in to save her every time her mother hurt her, or the kids at school were cruel. And later, when she let him closer, he was the only one who really knew who she really was.

“It was sort of mutual, Jonesy,” Wren said softly, her eyes languid. “He helped me more than I can ever tell you.”

“I know, honey. You both needed someone.”

“I’m glad we had you, too.” Wren watched Jonesy get up and move the suitcase off the bed. Though she was still sturdy, she wasn’t as young as she used to be and Wren jumped up to help her. “I’ll do that. It’s heavy.”

“Pish!” Jonesy dismissed, waving Wren away. “I’m not decrepit yet, dear. It’s almost empty now.” She set it up and then wheeled it into the large walk-in closet that still held many of the clothes Wren had left when she went off to Julliard. She closed the closet door and then moved to the end of the bed where the stack of dirty clothes were piled and waiting. “I’ll just put these things in the wash. You get a shower and a nap, now. I expect Caleb will be home for dinner, and that woman is here.” Jonesy’s voice took on a sour tone and Wren’s eye’s widened.