This story is a work of fiction. Some real places and institutions are mentioned or implied, but they are used fictitiously here. Insofar as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
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I thought life was wonderful as I reached my 45th year. My business was successful. I was married to an intelligent, witty, and stunningly beautiful woman, my college sweetheart. Our daughter, even more beautiful than her mother, was going into her senior year of high school at the top of her class, as one of the best high school swimmers in the city, and as the number one singles player on her tennis team.
There had only been on negative thing happen through the summer of that year. An important client had come up with an "emergency" project. That meant that I had to bail out on the planned family trip to Europe. I was glad that Erin, my wife, and Amanda, my daughter, went anyway; although I feared what they would do to our credit cards without me glaring at them in the expensive European shops.
I remember the day much too well. Thursday before Labor Day weekend. Erin and Amanda had only been back from vacation for about ten days. Amanda was home. She'd start school the next week. I was working late to clear my schedule for the weekend. The family, and Amanda's boyfriend Mike, were going to spend the long weekend at a cabin we'd rented on a lake about two hours' drive from town. I knew Erin was working late for the same reason.
Around 6:30 that night, my cell phone made the ring that said Erin or Amanda was calling. "Dad," Amanda said in a panicked voice, "the police called here. There's been a wreck. Mom's at University Hospital."
"Is she ok?" I asked stupidly.
"I don't know," Amanda wailed.
"I'll come by the house and get you," I said.
"Don't waste the time," Amanda replied. "Go straight to the hospital. I'll meet you there."
I got to the hospital first. Erin was in surgery. Not good. I was directed to a waiting room. As I entered, a uniformed policeman approached me. "Are you Erin Stone's husband?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. I was beginning to feel panic. "What happened?"
"I need to see your ID before I can talk about it," the officer replied. I pulled out my driver's license. After checking it, the officer said, "your wife was going south on Jefferson. Someone ran the light at Weston and went straight into her driver's side door. Fire had to cut the car to get her out. The other driver's a little banged up. We can't say for certain until we get the blood test results, but he was drunk as shit." Great. My wife had been t-boned by a drunk driver.
To make a very painful part of the story as brief as possible, Erin didn't make it. To help Amanda through her loss, and to distract myself, I wrapped myself in my daughter's life. We spent weekends that fall visiting colleges. Once swimming season started, I was at all her meets.
One thing I learned from that time with my daughter was that she was wonderful to be around. Amanda was intelligent. I could talk with her the same way I talked to my colleagues and clients. She was perceptive and was, I think, much better at reading people than I am. She could be very funny, sometimes wickedly so. She never got angry, at least not around me. Neither of us could forget losing Erin, but Amanda seemed better than I was about not letting it get to her.
Yes, Amanda was also gorgeous. She had her mother's copper hair, green eyes, pert nose, and wide mouth. She had inherited something of my broad shoulders, thick chest, and large legs. Amanda kept herself in such good shape that those features enhanced her beauty, especially the chest. Amanda's breasts weren't large enough to look artificial, but you couldn't help noticing them when you saw her.
I got worried that Amanda wasn't coping as well as I thought when she broke up with Mike not long after Erin's passing. I didn't ask why. I assumed Amanda thought Mike hadn't been properly supportive. I felt bad for Mike. How do you deal with your girlfriend losing a parent at that age? Amanda did have a tight group of four female friends, girls from school with whom she swam or played tennis. I encouraged Amanda to spend as much time with them as possible. Being with them gave her a break from me.
Amanda had one especially close friend: Caitlyn Monroe. Amanda and Caitlyn were a month apart in age and swam together. They had become close in middle school when Caitlyn's father, an Army Reserve officer, was killed in a training accident. Amanda had helped Caitlyn through that loss and Caitlyn was, I think, giving Amanda the same help.
According to Amanda, Caitlyn was also a very good student. I thought Caitlyn might be very attractive, but she seemed to try to fade into the background. Except at swim meets, I only ever saw her dressed in very baggy clothes. Of course, the swimsuits the girls wore were designed to flatten their bodies to reduce drag. Caitlyn kept her blonde hair cut almost mannishly short. The other thing I knew about Caitlyn was that she was a very talented pianist.
Amanda turned 18 in February of her senior year. Almost as if intended as a birthday gift, we learned that day she'd been accepted at a highly selective university in the Chicago area. That was her first choice of college, although I didn't follow why she wanted to endure four years of Chicago winters. A few days later, Amanda told me that Caitlyn had been accepted and awarded a scholarship at the music school of the university in town. That was a big deal because it was one of the top music schools in the Midwest.
An odd, to my mind, situation developed as Amanda's and Caitlyn's graduation approached. Caitlyn's mother, Beth, called me. She explained that she had developed a relationship with a man in Atlanta but had stayed here so as not to force Caitlyn to change schools. Once Caitlyn graduated, Beth was moving to Atlanta. "I'll get Cait an apartment," Beth told me. "It will be no different than if she'd gone away to college." Beth had also put her home on the market. That was the reason for the call. Caitlyn was going to need a place for her grand piano. "There's no way that beast goes in an apartment," Beth said. Would I please let them move the piano into our house and let Caitlyn use it while she was in college? What could I say besides yes?
Not long after I gave in to Beth Monroe's request, I was at the high school watching one of Amanda's tennis matches. Caitlyn sat down beside me. "Mr. Stone," she said, "I want to thank you so much for taking my piano. My dad bought it when I was in sixth grade. We really couldn't afford it. That's why Dad stayed in the Reserves, for the extra money. It's the only meaningful thing I have from him. Mom won't take it to Atlanta. I'd be devastated if we had to sell it, and I want to be able to keep playing it."
I guess I was still emotionally vulnerable, so Caitlyn's story affected me. At the same time, I noticed she was letting her hair grow out and that she was wearing at top and slacks that hugged her figure more than anything I'd seen her in before. Caitlyn Monroe was, as I'd suspected, a very attractive young woman. Caitlyn stayed to watch Amanda win her match. I hadn't talked with Caitlyn much before that afternoon.
Amanda came to where we were sitting after her match. "Dad," she said, "I asked Caitlyn to come today because I knew you'd be here. You two will be alone in the house when she comes to play her piano after I'm in college. I thought you should get to know each other." Amanda gave Caitlyn a look as she said that. Caitlyn looked down towards the ground.
Caitlyn didn't make all of Amanda's matches. She had lessons and recitals which conflicted sometimes. However, she made quite a few. She always sat next to me. We talked and I learned some of my assumptions were wrong. Caitlyn was a poised, articulate, mature, and quietly confident young woman. Amanda reached the district championship that year, which was held at a college about an hour and a half away. Amanda invited Caitlyn to ride with me to the championship. After being with Caitlyn for several hours, including about three hours alone with her in the car, I realized that she had most of the qualities I admired in Amanda.
Amanda and Caitlyn, of course, had parties to attend the night of their graduation from high school. The next day, Memorial Day, Amanda had invited Caitlyn and Beth to our house for a cookout. I didn't object. I'd completely ignored my friends since Erin's death and really didn't have any anymore.
Amanda and Caitlyn were both 18, not 21 as was required to buy alcohol in our state. However, in an odd quirk of the law, it was legal for people 18 to 21 to drink if they were with their parents. Naturally, Amanda had me run out that morning to get a few bottles of wine for the cookout. Beth had no objection to Caitlyn having some wine, and I tended to indulge Amanda. It was, of course, as happy an occasion as it could be. Both girls had made it through losing a parent, had graduated high school with honors, and were headed to good colleges. A little wine just made everyone happier. I decided later that the wine that day was part of Amanda's strategy.
We had finished eating. There was an unusually pretty sunset to the west. That was when Beth Monroe said, "Oh, I closed on the sale of our house. The buyers get occupancy in ten days. Is it ok to move the piano over here that soon?"
"Just let me know when and I'll make sure I'm here," I replied.
"Uh, Dad," Amanda said, "Beth is moving to Atlanta once their out of the house." Beth nodded confirmation. "Caitlyn hasn't had time to look for an apartment yet," Amanda continued. "Can she stay here in our spare bedroom for the time being?"
Perhaps it was the wine, but that didn't strike me as being as unusual a suggestion as it seems now. "If everyone else is ok with it, that's fine with me," I said.
"I really appreciate it," Beth said quickly. "It doesn't seem fair to make Caitlyn come to Atlanta only to turn around and come back up here in a month or two; and, well, Caitlyn and Richard aren't the best of friends."
I looked at Caitlyn. With her golden hair longer, wearing a tee shirt and shorts, she looked different than Amanda but equally as beautiful. "I'd really appreciate it, Mr. Stone," Caitlyn said. "I know Mom loves Richard, but I have trouble not seeing him as trying to take Dad's place. It will be better for them both if I don't stay with them. I also want to be close to my piano."
"Ok," I said. "That's agreed. 'Mr. Stone' seems very cumbersome if you are going to be living in the house for a few weeks," I went on, "so, Caitlyn, I'd prefer that you call me Peter." Caitlyn's piano moved in a few days later. Caitlyn herself followed a day after that.
Erin and I had put an inground pool in our backyard several years before. We justified it as a present for Amanda, but we had probably used it more than she did. It wasn't really big enough for her to train in. No other houses overlooked our backyard so, when Amanda had been off at sports camps or other overnight activities, Erin and I had frequently skinny dipped. I assumed that Erin's passing meant the end of clothes-free use of our pool.
