The Widower and the Neighbor Girl

*This is another long one. If you are looking for a quick wank, this isn’t it. It has a couple of sex scenes, but the set up is needed for the final one. I hope you like it.*

It was just another boring, dreary Pennsylvania morning during my senior year in high school when Kathryn walked into my life. We had just gotten to school and were gathering in Mrs. Castor’s room for homeroom. I had taken my usual lackadaisical attitude towards the beginning of the day. I was a decent student, usually garnering B’s and C’s; however, I was not the most enthusiastic. I saved that for the Brains.

I was doodling on my paper bag book cover, probably something to do with The Doors, or Black Sabbath, or one of the other bands I worshiped… it usually was… when I happened to glance up and see her walk into the class. She was a new student, obviously, and by far the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had shoulder-length, straight brown hair, and was wearing jeans and double Izod shirts, green over blue, and was the most beautiful girl I had ever in my life laid eyes on.

As I sat there wondering what twist the Fates had used to bring this creature into my life, I watched her walk up to Mrs. Castor’s desk. I knew I had to have this girl in my life. She had to be my girlfriend. I knew I would never be happy until…. Of course, I knew I was fooling myself. I was 5’9″ tall and weighed around 130 pounds. I was not the most masculine guy at school. I was a runner, and was on the cross-country and track teams, but I wasn’t #1. I was, actually, middle of the pack. I wasn’t the best student, and I wasn’t really that popular. I was Anthony Michael Hall’s “Farmer Ted” character in “16 Candles”: King of the Nerds.

Guys like me didn’t get the girls. I had girlfriends, but they were the ones that were in my league. I got along great with all of the girls and everyone liked me, they just didn’t “like” me in the manner I would have preferred. I tried giving a cheerleader a shoulder rub one afternoon in the attempt to get her to give me a go, and all it did was have the rest of the cheerleaders lining up behind her for their weekly shoulder rub. I had a knack for computer programming, back in the early days of school computer classes, and had several of the girls coming to me for help with their computer homework. Two of the popular girls lived on my block, and I drove them to school and home. They still didn’t invite me to the cool kid parties, and they still wouldn’t date me. There was no chance this girl was going to be any different.

Imagine my shock when she finished checking in to Homeroom and walked across the room to sit in the empty seat in front of me. A couple of people noticed her, but most everyone was wrapped up in their own conversations. This new girl, this exquisite creature, sat down, got settled, and turned to face me.

“Hello.”

It took me a second to respond. I had fully expected her to ignore me as the others did, so I had to gather my thoughts before speaking.

“Hey.” OK, so I never said I was a world-class conversationalist.

She stuck her hand out. “I’m Kathryn Ames. I just moved here from Cincinnati.”

“John Andersen.”

I shook her hand. It was getting easier to be around her because I had already put myself into the friend zone. With no expectations of having her lower herself to be interested in me, talking became more natural. She reached into her notebook and pulled out her schedule.

“Maybe you can help me a bit with my schedule. Obviously, I don’t know where any of these classes are, and I know nothing about the classes or the teachers.”

I took her schedule and looked at it.

“Well, this day is going to be a bit easier for you. We have first period English together. Mr. Alton. He’s tough, but probably the most fair teacher here. He hates everyone.” I laughed. “No, he’s tough, but if you do the work, he will give you a good grade. I can walk you to his class, downstairs. Second period is computers. Well, that’s me, again. It’s down at the end of the hall across from the office. Third period, you are back here for, wow, a brain. Calculus is taught by Mrs. Castor. Fourth period is… let’s see, here… fourth period History. Mr. Enders has his classroom right down the hall, here. Lunch, my favorite period.”

She laughed. “Oh, stop. I doubt that is true.”

“Whatever. Let’s see….”

I went over her schedule for the last three periods after lunch and it seemed that we had two of them together. Well, if I couldn’t be her boyfriend, I could, at least, see her.

About that time, the bell for First Period rang, so she gathered her books, and we left the class together. She kept a running commentary about her last school, and her friends, and moving here. I was only half listening, but I must have made the appropriate noises at the appropriate time, because she never seemed to notice. By the time we got to Mr. Alton’s class, I guess I was supposed to know everything about her. Of course, I knew nothing. I hadn’t been listening.

As I got to my seat, I was hoping Mr. Alton would sit her behind me. There was an empty sat, she needed a place to sit. To me, it made perfect sense. Of course, Mr. Alton didn’t make any sense. He was an adult, and a teacher. So, Mr. Alton, not having any sense, put her across the room next to Eric Rodriguez. Eric-fucking-Rodriguez.

There were three alley cats in my class, those guys that scam on all of the girls in school. These guys had a competition going between them as to who could get the most girls naked, and virgins counted twice. They were cool, good-looking, and sports stars, and popular, and very successful at everything they did. And sitting next to my….friend. So, class began and life, for me, ended.

We had a rare free class, that day (of course). We were supposed to be working in teams writing original stories in a specific genre. We had to research the genre, find out the commonalities that defined the genres, what stories from each genre had to have to further the story, and what each of the great authors of that genre added to make their stories original. We could work alone or in pairs or teams.

I was, among other things, a DnD nerd, so, of course, I chose the genre of swords and sorcery/fantasy: Terry Prachett, Terry Brooks, Robert Jordan, Michael Moorcock, Stephen R. Donaldson, and- of course-King Tolkien….. these were my writing gods. I knew everything about them, and figured this would be a breeze. Of course, the Alley Cats didn’t have it so easy, but with Kathryn helping them out, I had no doubt that they would get an “A”, among other things. The entire class, I had trouble concentrating on my work, because every time I looked over they were laughing and giggling together, and having just the grandest time. He already had his hooks in her, and would, no doubt, add her to his list.

After class was over, I picked up my books and headed out the door. Kathryn caught up with me.

“So, where are you headed so fast?

“uh… Computers, remember?”

“Of course, I remember. You were supposed to walk me there.”

“I figured you would have Eric walk you. He has class downstairs.”

She laughed at my comment. A prettier laugh I had never heard. It was the sound of birds singing in the summer breeze.

“You certainly are the silly one, John-boy Walton. Eric is OK to talk to, but he is only looking to get into my jeans and brag to his friends about it. I’ve been dealing with his type since Freshman year. I’m not having a white wedding by hanging around that idiot.”

“My last name is Andersen”

“No kidding, John-boy”

That is how I got my pet name, and that’s how Kathryn and I became, well, Kathryn and I. There was never any of the “will you go out with me” that begins every high school relationship. It was just automatically known that she and I were together. And, it lasted that way the rest of the year, through college, and beyond.

After college, I took my degree and became a freelance software developer, and Kathryn became a published author, with a fair amount of success. No doubt, you’ve read one of her books.

Even though she made a couple of million dollars a book, (plus movie rights and appearances), and my company made me about a million a year, we kept to our roots and lived in a nice, upper middle class neighborhood in Carbontown, a very small town in the coal region of Pennsylvania, and were friends with all of the neighbors. As we were unable to have children of our own, Kathryn and I, sort of, adopted all of the kids in the neighborhood. They would come to swim in our pool, we would babysit them when their parents were going out, or they would simply stop by to partake of the cookies that Kathryn seemed to have always just baked. One more than all the others.

Denise lived across the street with her parents, Dave and Danielle Lindermann.. She even looked like Kathryn. Were it not for the fact that her parents were there when she was born, Kathryn could have very easily claimed Denise as her own. As she grew up, she turned into the Kathryn I fell in love with in school. She had the same look, the same great personality, the same… well… boobs… It was just a good thing she was my self-adopted daughter and, well, there was also that whole “underage” thing. Every time she was around the house, I had to remind myself that I was madly, desperately in love with my wife. The more she grew into adulthood, the harder it was to remember that. Seeing her in her bikini made it that much more difficult.

As ashamed as I am to say it, there were times when I was being intimate with my wife, I was seeing Denise in my mind. The first time was the night of her 18th birthday. It had been about a week since Kathryn and I had sex, but after the party, and Denise and her friends were running around her parent’s backyard in their shorty shorts and various boob-enhancing shirts. Denise had on a tight tank top that put her 18-year-old titties out front and pushed up for the world to see…

I started to get an old, familiar tingle in places I was not supposed to be getting them for the girl I considered to be my daughter. I started to harden, and it was only by the strength of my will I didn’t allow it to get big enough for the entire world to see. Not that I am Ron Jeremy, or anything, but I was in shorts, and it would have been obvious. I really wasn’t ready to explain my excitement to her father.

Now that she was legal, as we got ready for bed that night, I couldn’t help but wish that Denise was crawling into bed beside me.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Walton?”

I snapped out of my dream to realize Kathryn had been talking to me, and I didn’t hear a thing she had said.

“I’m sorry, Babe. What did you say?”

“I said, Denise’s party was really nice, wasn’t it? Where were you?”

“Oh, I was going over a thing we’re trying to figure out for… program’s not working to expectations. It’s been bugging me all week. Nothing to really worry about.”

I’m sure my beloved Kathryn knew something was up, but she never said anything, not even until the day she died.

Which gets us to the point of this story.

Kathryn had been feeling run down, but nothing serious. When she started having weakness in her muscles, pain in her legs, we started to realize something was wrong. Then, she started having trouble swallowing.

The first time we noticed that was when she was giving me, perhaps, one of the best blow jobs in the history of sucking cocks. I laying in bed reading the latest draft of her new novel on my tablet. It was some historical romance whatever. I normally don’t got for this kind of thing, but I always read her semi-final drafts, and this one was getting good. It was a sex scene and it was graphic, more so than I had ever seen from her. “Damn, Kathryn, I had no idea you had this in you.” She reached under the blanket and began rubbing, according to her, my second best body part.

“So, my lover, how about you read it to me?”

I looked at her with a bit of wonderment. She normally never wanted to hear her writing, and never wanted me to read it to her. I read them all, but she never wanted to hear me or anyone, read it aloud.

“But, why should-”

She stuck her hand in the front of my boxers and began stroking me with purpose. I became instantly hard.

“Well, Mr. Walton, you can either read this to me, or I can stop this right now, and go to sleep… on the couch.”

“No, no, we don’t want that.”

I looked back at the manuscript. The extreme desire to have an orgasm and the anticipation that it might happen made it very difficult for my eyes to focus on the words and to concentrate on actually reading it.

“Amy crawled up between his legs, as struggled against the leather straps holding him to the bed.”

I felt Kathryn crawling up the bed, kissing the sensitive skin on the inside of my legs. I had tingles before, but this made my already hard prick start to elongate even more.

“Knowing there was nothing he could do to stop her, she used her tongue to tickle the underside of his-”

I gasped as she did exactly as I was reading. By the time she stopped, my tingling, expanding prick had turned into a hard, massive, throbbing cock. I don’t think I could have gotten any harder if an 18 year old Hermione Granger, herself, were servicing me.

“Come on. Keep reading, my love. I want to know what happens next.”

She started licking the underside of my balls, just in front of my ass, right on the most sensitive area. I jumped so hard I almost dropped her manuscript.

“Come on, keep reading.”

“I-”

“Come on, Baby. Talk to me.”

I took a deep breath. This was going to kill me. I knew it was. I refocused on the manuscript that had started this event.

“When Brantley could take it no more, and was whimpering for relief, beg…ging for the torment to s…s…stop. Feeling pity for her victim, Amy took him into her mouth as deeply as she could.”

With this last sentence, Kathryn lifted her head and speared herself on my love missile.

“OH, MY FUCKING…!!”

I almost lost it, right there. As I was reading, she was licking my balls, then with no warning, I was deeply embedded in her throat. Her manuscript forgotten, and scattered across the bed, my fingers were grabbing the blanket to prevent me from grabbing her by the ears and shoving her face into my groin so hard it broke her nose. A few more strokes with her mouth and I was starting to feel that familiar tightening of my-

“You stopped reading, Johnny. I guess I need to stop also.”

I was done playing, and refused to be tortured any longer. I grabbed Kathryn by the back of the head, twisted my fingers into her hair, and forced my cock back into her throat. This was going to happen and it was going to happen with no delay.

I held off as long as I could, but when I could take it no longer, I came so hard that I was worried it was going to shoot straight through the back of her skull. Since the first time she gave me a sloppy, halting suck job, her sister told her that she needed to swallow, and she took it to heart, loving every single drop. This time, she couldn’t swallow not a single bit. Just the attempt caused her to choke, and sent her into a coughing fit. The next day, the trouble swallowing and other ailments continued, so we went to the doctor. I figured they were going to tell us she had a brain tumor, or MS or something.

After some testing, the doctor told us she didn’t have a brain tumor, or MS. She had ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s Disease. She was going to die. This woman that I had loved, deeply and without exception, since we were seniors in high school, was going to die. And it was going to be a horrendous, painful, long, drawn-out death, and there was not a single thing I could do about it. I tried to be strong for her, but I can’t deny that I was devastated. I was a computer programmer. I could fix anything. Everything had a solution. Everything could be fixed. Everything… except my wife. I couldn’t fix the sole reason for my existence.

Over the next almost three years, I promoted my lead programmer to general manager, hired another programmer, and worked from home. I still took my classes to keep up with the changes and trends in programming, but for the most part, I stayed home and loved my wife for however long we had left together. I also hired a doctor, a neurologist, to teach me everything he could about ALS. We got her a physical therapist to work with her, and to teach me to work with her. Even though I had not the foggiest what the hell one was before now, or that they even existed, we hired a practitioner of palliative medicine to help improve the quality of the life we had left together. All of that expertise cost a substantial amount of money, but money we had. Answers on how to fix my wife, we didn’t. And, through it all, I stayed home to take care of the love of my life.

Eventually, it got to the point where the doctors weren’t needed, and I didn’t have the ability to do everything myself. I needed help. I needed someone else to help me take care of the love of my life. It had gotten to the point where.. it was just too tough to do it alone. Luckily, I didn’t have to look too hard or too long. The help I needed was right under my very nose. Denise had graduated from high school and was attending the local community college taking her nursing classes. One day, while her parents were over for coffee, they offered her services a couple of days a week after classes. Later that afternoon, Denise stopped by while the physical therapist was visiting.

When I answered the door, the first thing that struck me was, again, how much she reminded me of my love, who was currently in the other room going through the paces. I got a catch in my throat for just a quick second until I realized it was not my Kathryn come back to me, but the little girl I had seen grow up across the street. She was dressed in her blue hospital scrubs, having just come from… well, I didn’t know quite where. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she had the slightest of make-up on, just a bit of neutral color lipstick and that was about it. Who knows, maybe it was just her natural beauty, and she didn’t have lipstick on at all. I didn’t look that hard.

“Hey, Mr. Andersen, Mom told me you needed a bit of help with my other mother.”

That same old joke. Normally, it was amusing enough, but today… lately…

“Yeah, absolutely. Come on in, Denise. I just put a pot on, would you like a cup of coffee?” I led her to the kitchen.

“Actually, Mr. Andersen, classes have been a bitch this week. What I could use is a beer, if you have any.”

I knew good and well she wasn’t 21, yet; however, she was going to help me with Kathryn, and I didn’t care. She deserved a beer for all she was going to help me go through.

And, so began the four years of my “daughter” caring for my wife. At first, while she was in school, it was part-time. I paid off her loans, and put her on salary of $400/ week while she was learning. When she finally got her license, she worked for me full time and I increased her pay to $1,000/week. It was more money than I should have paid, but I didn’t care about the cash. What I cared about is that I had a caretaker that loved my wife, and wasn’t in it just for the paycheck. Eventually, she moved into the guest room so she could be available 24 hours a day. She was definitely earning her money. I was still the primary caretaker; however, she had the nursing schooling and training to do more good than my meager attempts. I had learned as much as I could and had been trained to take care of Kathryn, but…. well… I was glad for the company, was the truth, and Kathryn was glad to have her around, as well.

For the hours that she spent, working with my wife, and caring for her, those were hours I didn’t and it gave me a chance to leave the house, to grab a cup of coffee, or simply take a walk around the neighborhood and clear my head, and for that, I would have paid twice. She often teased that I was heading off to see my girlfriend while I left her there alone to do the heavy lifting with my wife, but the truth was, I could never do that. It had been years since I’d had any adult physical contact with my wife, and she would never know, but I just couldn’t do it.

While the doctors were there, or the nurses, or whomever, I would make dinner for Kathryn, Denise, and myself. I had always been a decent enough cook, my mother having taught me growing up. Knowing my love had only a few years left on this plane, I decided she deserved more than my feeble attempt at feeding her. I spent more of the money I no longer cared about to hire a chef right out of school to teach me how to be a proper cook and to make meals for her that she could remember even unto the next stage of her life. Not only was I working for her, it also gave me a chance to focus on something other than the grim reality our lives had become.

One afternoon, while perusing one of my computer magazines, I saw an article about communicating with people who no longer had the ability to communicate verbally. It seems there was this guitar player that had ALS, Some rock star I had never heard of and didn’t care about, and whose father invented a computer gizmo that allowed his son to spell out words by looking at letters on a screen, and an automated voice would sound the letters and the words as he finished them. I was able to find him and contact him, and he sold me the program. With his being willing to give me access to the program, and lots of my dollars, I had my team put together one of these devices Through lots of hard work, Kathryn and I were able to talk again. We had been given a bright spot in the gloom, but overall, our lives continued on the same path.

After Kathryn had her dinner, and was in bed, Denise and I would sit at the table having ours and talking. She would tell me about school and I would talk about what was going on in the software business. I would help her study (and, I found myself understanding more and more of her lessons). She helped me with my continuing education lessons, although, I don’t think she really understood or cared. We played cards and chess and had grand discussions about her life and what she wanted out of it. There were no really important discussions, but- to me- they were all hugely important. They gave me a chance to get away from my day and my life. It gave me a chance to talk about something other than Kathryn, and doctors, and nurses, and that awful, fucking disease. Although we called her such as a joke, over the course of the four years she worked for me, I felt more like she was my daughter than ever before.

One night, Denise went to put Kathryn into bed, and seemed to stay in there for far longer than normal. I called in to ask if she needed help, but she said that she and Kathryn were just having a chat before she went to sleep, and that she would be out soon. When she came out fifteen minutes later, she went straight into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I thought that was unusual, as she always went into her room, got her robe, slippers, and two towels. Then she would go into the shower. I looked at the bathroom door for a second longer, shrugged my shoulders, then went back to the television.

She entered the bathroom just as the commercial for M&M’s featuring Danny DeVito talking about the candy being human had just started. Normally, she was an in and out kinda girl, but I noticed she was taking longer than normal because the next commercial break, something about Morgan Freeman, and that short guy from that one series going on about Doritos and some soft drink, she was just coming out. I glanced over, and got the shock of my life. Instead of being in her robe and slippers with a towel wrapped around her head, she was barely wrapped in a small towel that covered, almost, from her breasts to about two inches below her waist. If she had sneezed, I would have known her natural hair color. Instead of being wrapped in a towel, her hair was damp and falling straight down just past her shoulders. As I watched her, she glanced over and moved her hair over her opposite shoulder, exposing her naked shoulder to me. She also had a look in her eyes that I could not read. All I knew was as she gave me a tingle in a place he had not thought about in a couple of years, since my wife was unable to participate in any intimacy.

Although, I tried to stop it, and I tried even harder to make it go away, by the time Denise came out of her bedroom almost five minutes later, I was as hard as an iron bar encased in cement and wrapped with steel cables. She was dressed in a white terry cloth robe, loosely tied, and her hair was flowing down over her shoulders. I had a beautiful young girl parading around in damned near nothing and looking at me with a look in her eyes that left no doubt as to what was on her mind.

She sauntered across the room and knelt before me, rubbing my bare legs. I was wearing basketball shorts. Had the shorts been so equipped, I would have been poking out of the slit in the front giving my “daughter” full access. Of course, the tent left no doubts as to my thoughts, and the thin cloth gave her full knowledge as to what I had. I had to stop this before it really got out of hand.

“Denise, I appreciate you being around more than you could ever know, and the fact that you have refused every offer of time off I have ordered you to take, but this isn’t right. Once she is in bed, I really don’t need you here. You are a young girl, and you should have a boyfriend, and be out spending time with him, or with your friends, or with anyone that might give you a bit of physical attention. You have got to have needs. I can take care of Kathryn a couple of nights a week by myself while you are having them taken care of..”

“What about you, John? How long has it been since you had your needs taken care of?”

“Well, we’re not talking about me.”

“Actually, we are. You know full well, that you are still young enough to enjoy sex. I also know how long it’s been since you’ve been with your wife.”

“How do you know-?”

“The last conversation she and I just had was about you. I am under orders, which I fully intend to follow, to make sure that you are to move on with your life, and begin to live again. She knows what a strain this is putting on you. She knows you love her more than any man has loved a woman, and that any woman could hope to be loved, that you love her more than you love yourself, or even life itself. But, she wants you to stop being tied to her. She wants you to begin to take care of yourself. She wants you to have a girlfriend. She wants you to enjoy life, again. She wants you to be happy. ”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen any time soon. I am not going to go have sex with some strange woman as long as my wife is in the other room in her condition.”

“I am not a strange woman. You have known me my entire life. And, I am right here on my knees in front of you asking you to let us help each other out.

She slid her hands into the legs of my shorts and grabbed hold of the prize that awaited within. I almost jumped out of my shorts, and if it wasn’t for the shock of the whole thing would have ended the party right then…

“DENISE!”

I grabbed her hand and pulled it away.

“I can’t have you do that. There are a thousand reasons, starting with the fact that my wife is in the other room, and I have never cheated on her since we got together in high school. I certainly don’t have any intentions of doing so, now.”

“You don’t understand, do you? It’s your wife that decided this. What do you think we were talking about in there? She knows I am still a virgin, and suggested you change that.”

“WHAT?”

“She said you loved me, and that you were a wonderful lover who was thoughtful and caring, and always made sure she was satisfied. She said you would be gentle until it was time not to be, and I would not find a better teacher.”

She reached her hand back up and grabbed me again. My cock was bigger and harder than I think it had ever been in my life outside of the first time Kathryn and I slept together Prom night. Unfortunately, this wasn’t Kathryn. I started to feel that almost forgotten build up in my…

“DENISE! STOP!”

I pulled her hand out of my shorts and stood up. Of course, with my cock standing tall and proud, and almost ripping through my shorts, it wasn’t like I was hiding anything.

“But, Mr. Andersen, we both want this. We both need this from each other. I am 21 years old, and still a virgin. Do you know how embarrassing that is? I have always loved you. You have always been my choice to be my first, but I didn’t want to do anything that my adopted step-mother would be upset with.”

“Denise, I can’t.”

“Mrs. Andersen has offered you, she actually suggested it….”

“Denise. no.”

With that, I turned and walked back into the bedroom. I laid down next to the love of my life and began to rub her hair. As I kissed her, and ran my hand across her cheek, I felt that she was crying. I kissed her again.

“Kathryn, my love, I couldn’t. I love you.”

A week later, the inevitable happened, and I awoke to find my love, my life, my reason for existence had, mercifully, been taken Home. Her battle was over, and she felt no more pain. I was devastated at losing the most important person in my life; however, at the same time, I was relieved. While I felt sorry for myself and bemoaned the fact that I was going to be alone, I spent no time, not a single second of my life, crying over the loss. Her struggle was over, and she was no longer being forced to deal with her condition. She was no longer trapped in her body. This was a time and a cause for celebration.

The next few days was filled with notifying everyone, getting her to the funeral home, and getting the house ready. I never realized how tough this part of life was. The funeral was the easiest part of the whole thing. When we had gotten the diagnosis, Kathryn sat me down and went through everything she wanted. What she wanted to wear, to the songs she wanted played, to where she was to be buried. She had me write everything down and put it in the safe, so I would have it available. A couple of months ago, I went and stopped in to see Tommy and let him know that we had her wishes in writing and that I wanted to pay everything off, and let him know what to expect when the time came.

I called the ambulance to come and get her. As it was a small town, and Kathryn was famous, and because we were generous benefactors to the fire and ambulance departments, the churches, the Little League, and any child that came knocking for a fundraiser, when the call went out for the ambulance, we had volunteers showing up at the house, and the chief of police was the first one to arrive.

“Good morning, John. I just heard the call, and figured I would come over to give you hand with crowd control, and such.”

“Thanks, Bill, I appreciate it. I have the Linderman’s daughter Denise staying over to help out with… I HAD Denise staying over to help out with Kathryn. She’s in there cleaning her up for her final ride, but once the friends and well-wishers start arriving, they’re just going to get in the way. I would truly appreciate if you could send them on their way until the ambulance is gone.”

“Speaking of that, of Katy, I do need to go and check to be sure the scene is… I need to check.”

With that, I led him to our, my, bedroom. Denise was cleaning her up. Kathryn was a mess, but I knew that she would be in good shape, right quick. She wasn’t going to have her makeup on, that would have been excessive. She would be dressed nice, and her hair would be somewhat done before she took her final ride. For some reason, that was important to her, and it was being done.

Denise looked up when we entered the room.

“Hello, Chief. Come to have a look?”

“Yeah. Is she gone?”

Denise looked at him with a bit of irritation in her face.

“Yes, it is my considered medical opinion that the late Mrs. Kathryn Andersen has, in fact, has, what is the proper phrase? Kicked the bucket?”

“Denise-”

Chief Tompkins just put his hand on my arm.

“Thank you, Miss Linderman. I appreciate it.”

He grabbed the radio transmitter clipped to the shoulder of his uniform.

“County, this is Coaltown PD1. Go ahead and cancel that ambulance on Marsh Street. They won’t be needed. While you’re at it, have the Deputy Coroner on duty respond to this location to pronounce.”

“County, Roger.”

“Come on, John, let’s get you a cup of coffee and let Denise finish her job. Then, we’ll call Tommy to take care of her.”

“It’s who Kathryn wanted.”

As we got to the living room, the EMT’s came through the door. The Chief was the first to react.

“I thought I canceled you guys?”

“Yeah, we got the call as we were right down the street. The Andersens have always been good to us, so we figured we’d see if there was anything we could do to help out.”

I was shocked at their response, yet barely surprised, really. This was a small town, and everyone knew us, and each other, and with the amount of money we gave them, and the fundraisers for them we helped finance, they would certainly want to try and pay it back, somehow. I reached out to shake their hands.

“Thanks, fellas, but, no. I’m just gonna have a cup of coffee and wait for the coroner. You can go ahead and go home. The Chief’s just gonna hang out a bit and shoo people away until the coroner gets here,

“John”, Chief Tompkins said, “go on in and make the coffee for us. I’m gonna talk to the guys here, and I’ll be right over.”

As I finished putting the water in the tank, and turned on the machine, Chief came into the kitchen.

“I’ve got the EMT’s using the crime scene tape in my car to block off the house and stand guard to prevent anyone from coming in except the coroner.”

“Thanks.”

As I got a couple of mugs out of the cupboard, the sound of someone, a male, screaming coming from the front door.

“I’ll be goddamned if a couple of punks like you three are going to stop me from going in there. You have absolutely no business doing so, and I will call the police right now, and have you arrested for wrongful detainment.”

Chief Tompkins got up, as Denise came out of the bedroom. “Excuse me, John.”

“Thanks, Bill. I really don’t want to see anyone, even the Lindermans. Tell them I will call them in a bit.”

“Fellas, go ahead and let him in. I’ll handle it. So, Dave, I hear you wish to make a complaint.”

“Absolutely. Those assholes have no business-”

“Dad? What-”

“Actually, they were acting under my orders at the request of Mr. Andersen. He is not up to visitors, at the moment, and would like me to pass on his thanks, and to tell you he will call you later.”

“I don’t care who you are, you have no authority in this house, especially since there is no crime being committed. Now, you will step aside, or I will have your badge.”

“Dad. Just go. The last thing Mr. Andersen needs is for all of this commotion. Give him a few hours to get his feet under him, and he will be over so you can tell him you’re sorry for his loss. Now, move.”

I had to smile. Denise had gone into Mama Bear mode over her patient, no, over me, and was not letting anyone get past. Not even her father. I thought about going out and asking him to go, but figured they had it under control. I reached into the cupboard and got a pack of Entenmann’s. Bill was a cop. He would like some doughnuts.

“I’m not going-”

“The crime you are currently committing is trespassing. The fact that you have been ordered by competent legal authority to vacate the premises makes it criminal trespass. Now, I am sure you raised your daughter as a law abiding citizen, and it would not do her any good to see her father led out in handcuffs. Please, leave.”

“How fucking dare-”

“The borough secretary will be in her office in about half an hour. You can go there and tell her you wish to make a complaint, and she will let the mayor know, and then Patty will get back to you sometime this morning when he has a chance. Have a good day, Sir.”

I don’t know what transpired after that, but it was less than a minute before Chief came back into the kitchen. I got up to pour him a cup.

“Grab a doughnut, Bill.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of cop joke?”

“Absolutely. Cream? Sugar?”

“John, you’ve known me your since the 90’s. Just straight from the pot.”

We sat there drinking coffee and talking about nothing for about a half an hour until the Deputy Coroner arrived. Actually, we might have solved world hunger, and brought about everlasting peace, I don’t know. I wasn’t listening.

After Kathryn was taken to the funeral home, and until the funeral, Denise took care of the house and let me wallow in my own self-pity. She did the housework, cooked, made sure I had clean clothes, and took on the role of gatekeeper, deciding who would have access and who would not… and not once did she ever try what she had before. I was hoping I could keep her forever; however, I knew I couldn’t keep her, I had no reason to pay her, and she was too highly trained to keep as a housekeeper. The night before the funeral, as we were eating dinner, we got to talking about her plans.

“Well, Mr. Andersen, I was hoping to talk to you about this. I’ve been talking to a friend of mine in Philadelphia. She invited me down to live with her once… well, after tomorrow. They are looking for nursing staff who have experience with care for patients with neurological diseases.”

“Well, that certainly is you. I couldn’t have made it through this without you.”

“Well, I leave day after tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

After a moment of silence, needing something to say, I came up with a truly stupid statement.

“It’s too bad you are so highly trained as a nurse. I would love to keep you on as my housekeeper. Lord knows I need someone to take care of me.”

“Lord knows I tried.”

The conversation died, and we sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, until she finally got up, and started clearing the table. I sat there drinking my coffee, lost in my own world until Denise came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me.

“Even though I know you will never do so, she really wanted you to move on.”

She kissed me on the neck and went into her room.

The next day, the funeral went as expected. Ninety percent of the town showed up, as did everyone from my work, Kathryn’s agent, her publisher, and our sorority and fraternity sisters, and families. Considering we were as private in our affairs as we were, it was a good thing the church was as large as it was. The place was filled to the proverbial rafters.

It was, I guess, a beautiful service, at least that’s what everyone told me. I don’t remember the first thing about it, except for the fact that I spent the entire thing staring at the casket, praying to whichever deity was on duty that my beloved Kathryn would come walking in and sit down next to me laughing about how stupid I was to believe she was really dead, and that the whole thing was a joke. It never happened. At the party after, everyone came up and told me about how beautiful Kathryn was (no kidding), and how much they liked her (her or the fact that they knew someone famous?), how kind she was (no kidding, again)… it just wouldn’t stop. No matter how much I wished it away, it just wouldn’t stop. They wouldn’t leave me alone. Finally, Denise, ever my protector, made my apologies and hustled me out.

When I finally got home, with the home phone unplugged, my cell phone turned off, and a sign on the front door imploring everyone to leave me the Hell alone and go away (all courtesy of Denise), I had a chance to go over everything that had happened the last few days. I always thought people who didn’t cry at the loss of loved ones were cold-hearted and uncaring. Well, I had to include myself in that crowd. I didn’t give so much as a sniffle. I was dry-eyed, I stood straight, and my voice never wavered. I was too shattered to remember that I was supposed to cry. My entire life was….. maybe later.