The Ashes Left Behind
Extravagant thanks to Jaycie Victory for her beta read and to NorahB for helping smooth the rough edges.
Chapter Nine
After Mitch's announcement, Joey entered a new phase of grieving. She slept till noon, leaving Pacey to watch Alexander. Even upon waking, she lay in bed or sat at the kitchen table staring at nothing. Pacey worried about her and Alexander whenever he was at work. He and Bessie both tried to break Joey out of it, to no avail. He continued to read Little Women aloud to her, though she showed no reaction, not even when Beth died.
Pacey lasted ten days before he snapped.
He was up at six, fixing breakfast for Alex, while Bessie got ready for work. Still in gray sweats and his undershirt, Pacey sipped his coffee and stared at Joey's sleeping form. Alexander played with Cheerios in his high chair.
"I'm off," said Bessie, breezing through with a kiss for her son on her way out the door. "Thanks, Pacey. Try and make my sister clean the bathroom today. A shower wouldn't hurt her, either."
Pacey grunted a goodbye. They both knew the only way that bathroom would get cleaned was if Pacey did it himself. As for a shower...and that was the moment Pacey lost his mind. Without pausing for thought, he marched to Joey's bed, threw back the covers, and pulled her up and over his shoulder.
"Pacey?" Joey's voice was blurry from sleep and muffled against his back. "What the hell are you doing?"
He stomped toward the bathroom, hands clamped firmly on the bare thighs below her pajama shorts. "Bessie says you need a shower. I agree."
"Pacey!" Joey began to struggle in earnest. "Put me down. Stop it!"
Pacey fought to keep his hold on her while using one hand to throw back the shower curtain and turn on the water. He tipped Joey onto her feet in the bathtub and held her shoulder against the wall while ice-cold water pelted down on both their clothed bodies.
"Knock it off," Joey spluttered, pushing water off her face. "What's gotten into you?"
"You can't check out on me, Potter."
"It's too hard, Pacey." Even under the shower spray, he could tell Joey was crying. "I need him."
He pushed sopping strands of hair out of her face and held her cheeks in his hands. "I know. I know you do. But I need you." Joey's eyes widened in surprise. He ignored the question in them and pulled her into an embrace. The soaked fabric molding to skin between them reminded Pacey of their drunken, moonlit swim. "I promised I wouldn't leave you. Don't you leave me."
Joey didn't answer in words, but, as she cried, he felt her nod against his shoulder. After a few minutes, the tears slowed to sniffles. She pulled back, biting her lip. "Uh, Pace, think we could turn the water off now?"
"Oh. Right. Sorry." He let go of her to shut down the shower. They stood shivering in the close confines of the bathtub while water dripped off their clothes and ran down their skin. Pacey's gaze followed the progress of a solitary droplet down the slope of Joey's throat, but he refused to let his eyes drift further down.
"Towels." Joey absentmindedly pulled his stretchy, white undershirt away from his abdomen and then smoothed the wet fabric against his skin. "We should get towels."
"Towels. Right." Pacey's fingertips skimmed up and down the goosebumps on her arms. He was too aware of Joey's dark hair—almost black when wet—clinging in clumps to her cheeks, the sides of her neck; of her eyes, dark green and luminous from tears; of her lips, parted just a fraction, as if in invitation.
An anguished wail made them both jump. "Dodo! Dodo!" Alexander cried his name for his aunt.
"Guess he's done with breakfast," Pacey said, jumping out of the tub so fast he banged a shin on the edge. "I'll get towels."
With the loss of studying, new projects were essential if Pacey was going to keep his mind off Joey and both their minds off Dawson. The mindless comfort of swimming made Pacey crave, for the first time in his life, the exhaustion of exercise. So every morning, he forced Joey to wake up before the summer heat became unbearable; they loaded Alex into his stroller and went running. Despite her initial reluctance, Joey took to it even more than Pacey did. She said it cleared her mind and helped her think, while Pacey numbed his own brain to everything but the rhythm of their footfall, the inhale and exhale of each breath.
He saved a little out of his paycheck from household expenses, so he and Joey could go out with Jack and Jen. Bowling, roller skating, mini-golf, tennis—Pacey didn't care what they did, as long as it required perpetual motion. He was terrified of the combination of Joey Potter and stillness.
On days when Pacey didn't work, they rowed Alexander over to the Leerys' and helped Mitch sort and pack. Unlike with the exercise regimen, Pacey could not turn off his mind or emotions then. The hours reliving every moment of the past were painful in the extreme, but he owed it to Mitch to see it through. Dawson's father suffered too much alone. Joey couldn't pack so much as a coffee mug without crying, but she kept at it, as unwilling as Pacey to abandon the closest thing to a father they had left.
No matter how hard he pushed himself during the day, at night, Pacey was left with quiet and stillness and Joey by his side. He filled that silence with the written word.
"'Oh, my girls, however long you may live, I never can wish you a greater happiness than this!'" Pacey frowned as he shut Joey's favorite book for the last time.
Joey looked up from her spot nestled against his shoulder. "What's that face for? You didn't like it?"
Pacey's expression mostly reflected his worry at how they were going to fill the nights now. But he had problems with the book, too. "I don't get it. The book convinces you Jo and Laurie are made for each other then marries him off to her twit of a sister and Jo to some old professor who's not even in the story until the end."
To his surprise, Joey smiled. "That was my reaction the first time Mom read it to me. But she told me that was one of her favorite parts of the book, the twist ending, because it proved your first love didn't have to be your true or only love, that life is about growth and change."
"You believe that?" Pacey had heard Joey and Dawson spout raptures about soulmates too often to buy that she would ever love anyone else.
Joey bit her lip, twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she considered the question. "I don't know. But I do believe this ending is more realistic than books where the hero gets the girl and they live happily ever after. Life doesn't work like that."
Pacey winced, thinking about Joey and Dawson, Mitch and Gail. Him and Andie. "Maybe it doesn't. But that's all the more reason why it should happen in fiction. Fiction is about escape, and don't we all want to pretend the happy ending is possible?"
It was Joey's turn to flinch, as she pulled away from him.
"Jo? What's wrong? What'd I say?"
"Nothing. It's not your fault. It's...one of the last conversations I had with Dawson. We were fighting about happy versus sad endings, and I had the audacity to predict we would get the happy ending. Guess I got what I deserved."
"Hey." Pacey put his arm around Joey's shoulders and drew her back toward him. "It wasn't your fault. You know that."
"Do I? Let's face it, Pacey, I'm a jinx. You should probably run far, far away before you develop some freak genetic disorder or drown in a flash flood."
"I'll take my chances, thanks." He changed the subject. "So what should we do with our nights now that Little Women is finished?" When Pacey's brain caught up with his mouth, he wanted to kick himself for how that sounded.
Luckily, Joey took the comment at face value. "Well, what's your favorite book? It's only fair I suffer through in return."
"Promise you won't laugh?"
"Pacey, you read Little Women with me. That earned my restraint, if nothing else."
"The Sword in the Stone."
To her credit, Joey hid her laugh in a cough. "Isn't that the cartoon with the witch who turns into a cat?"
"As I recall, that witch scared the crap out of you when we were kids. Besides, to quote a wise woman I know, the book is always better."
"Fair enough. So why is it your favorite book?"
Pacey shrugged. "Fiction as escape, remember? It's about a boy who meets a wizard and turns into different creatures and sees how they live. Kinda dumb, sure, but it was funny, and it was one book I couldn't stop turning the pages."
"Color me intrigued. Let's read it."
Pacey went home the next afternoon to grab the book, do some laundry, and pack new clothes. The memorable morning after the shower with Joey, when he'd been forced to wear a pair of Bodie's old sweats, she'd suggested he store some clothes at her place. So now Pacey had a week's worth of clothes crammed into his duffle, and his returns to the Witter residence had become even greater rarities. The growing distance between him and his family left him feeling guilty, but also relieved.
Doug was on the roof when Pacey arrived, making the repairs Pop had been promising to make the last two years. He walked to the edge when he saw Pacey drive up. "Hey, Pacey, care to lend a hand?"
"Sure. Just let me throw a load in first." He held up the stuffed bag as proof.
"There's mail in the kitchen I think you'll want to see."
Pacey tried to feel excited about his weekly letters from Andie. He continued to write to his girlfriend daily. She wrote him twice a week. But it was hollow, perfunctory. The well-intentioned lies of omission about the fire had grown in scope until Andie seemed removed from all the realities of his life. There were days it was hard to believe she wasn't a beautiful dream he'd invented in the midst of his nightmare existence.
Two envelopes—one pink, one purple—were resting on the counter, addressed to him in Andie's adorable cursive. But they were placed under a third, typed letter, already opened. Pacey's report card. He should have remembered it would be here, given Joey had received tidings of her perfect 4.0 two days ago. The fact that his family had seen fit to open his grades without him present killed any interest in learning his scores. Pacey stuffed all three envelopes in the deep side pocket of his shorts and headed outside to confront Doug.
Doug didn't give him an opening to complain. He put Pacey to work laying tar as soon as he climbed the ladder. The job was hot, exhausting, and filthy—exactly the kind of physical labor Pacey had been seeking the last few weeks. Once he got into the rhythm of it, though, he was able to converse and approached the subject of his discontent by a sideswipe.
"Where are Ma and Gretchen?"
"Mom's working dispatch. Gretchen's out with friends." Doug worked twice as fast as Pacey, a fact Pacey acknowledged with more irritation than surprise.
"So which one of you went snooping in my mail?"
Doug's motions ceased as he glared at his brother. "You might be playing house at the Potters' this summer, Pacey, but you're still a minor. Your mother has the right—and the duty—to check up on you. Besides, after all the nasty reports our folks have gotten from your schools, shouldn't you be happy to finally get one like this?"
"Like what?"
Doug laughed so hard Pacey was afraid he'd fall off the roof. "You didn't check your grades? Sometimes, little brother, you really are a moron. Even if your report card says otherwise."
"And with that remark constituting the Witter family equivalent of a compliment, is it any wonder I'd rather keep the news to myself?"
Doug sighed and shook his head. "Fine, Pacey. Don't allow your family to enjoy your accomplishment. But, in my opinion, you owe that girl of the colored envelopes one hell of a thank you."
Pacey worked on without reply. If his grades were as good as Doug implied, he did owe Andie a tremendous debt of gratitude. But there was plenty of that to go round, and the person he wanted to share the moment with was Joey.
After finishing the roof, the laundry, and a shower to kill the tar smell, Pacey repacked his bag—not neglecting the book he'd come for in the first place—and headed back to the Potters'.
Bessie was enjoying her day off by playing outside with Alexander, while Joey fixed dinner, a typical Potter blend—boxed macaroni and mixed frozen veggies simmering in tomato sauce. Pacey knew it was on his account ground beef hadn't been added to the meal.
"So I got my report card."
Joey's back was to him, but she'd heard him enter, because she didn't jump. "I figured. I assume you passed and won't be subjected to an additional year of academic slavery?"
"No idea." Pacey drew out the wrinkled, white envelope from his pocket and nervously smoothed it with both hands. "Haven't looked at it yet, though my family felt no such compunction and opened it in absentia."
Joey turned off the stove and moved the pan to another burner to cool. "Given no one has called to rake you over the coals, you must have done well." She wiped her hands on a tea towel and faced Pacey, mouth turning up in a hopeful smile.
"Witters are dependable that way. Successes fall by the wayside, but failures never go unremarked." He looked from Joey to the envelope then handed it to her without opening it himself.
She didn't bother to ask if he was sure, just pulled out the paper inside. Pacey watched her bite her cheeks in an effort to remain expressionless.
"Well? Do you enjoy keeping me in agony, Potter?"
"Highlight of my day." Joey carried the report card to the fridge and placed it under a magnet, right next to where Bessie had posted Joey's grades. "Congratulations, Pace, half of high school complete, and you still have more options open to you than pumping gas or clown college. Not that you wouldn't excel at both those endeavors."
Pacey looked over her shoulder to read his name and the descending lines of A's and a few B's. It was far and away the best report card he'd ever gotten. "Thank you, Jo. I'd never have done it without you."
"Of course you would. I didn't suddenly make you smart, Pace. Neither did Andie. Any more than your father calling you an idiot made you stupid. You need to believe in yourself more."
"Sorry, I must have heard wrong. Aren't you the same Josephine Potter who calls me cocky every other day?"
"Yes, but on the other fifty percent of days, you're completely self-effacing and riddled with doubt. If you could stop the pendulum from swinging so far in both directions, there might be the makings of a decent person in you."
Pacey smiled ruefully. "Wasn't a chance I was going to impress you with those grades, was there, Potter?"
"They're just grades, Pace," Joey said with a shrug. "When you called to say you would miss lunch because you were helping Doug fix the roof? That impressed me. Every time you get Alexander to sleep without thirty minutes of lullabies, you impress me. But right now, begging for compliments?" She swatted his stomach. "You're just pathetic. Set the table, while I call Bessie in. See if you can impress her by putting the silverware on the right sides this time."
Laughing, Pacey set the table.
It was two days later before he remembered to read Andie's letters.
Jack arrived at the Potters' on a Tuesday in early August with two boxes of Dawson's video footage. Pacey and Joey had been playing Battleship while Alexander napped.
"As promised," Jack said, as Pacey took the top box before it toppled over, "one set for you, one for Joey. Jen and Grams are taking the originals and a third set over to Mr. Leery right now. I wanted to make sure I finished before the move."
Joey cleared a spot for her box by the entertainment center. For the moment, Pacey set his down with hers; he would take it home on his next trip. They both thanked Jack for his efforts.
"You willing to lend a hand on moving day? We could use the extra pair of arms," said Pacey. "Potter can't lift more than a pillow."
Joey threw a couch cushion at him.
Pacey dodged and grinned. "Kinda proving my point there, Jo."
"Bite me."
"Please, Josephine, not while we have guests." He gestured elaborately at Jack.
Jack laughed. "I, uh, I," he coughed at Joey's sour look, "I'd be happy to help. Next week, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Monday. Goodwill is sending a truck in the morning for the furniture and big items, but we need to load it, and Mitch is getting a trailer for the stuff he's keeping."
"Does he know where he's going?"
"Philadelphia that first night," Joey said quietly. The weeks of packing had inured her to Mitch's leaving, but she wasn't any happier about it. She glared daggers at the SOLD sign every time they entered or left Dawson's old home. "He's dropping off Gail's things, but insists he won't stay long."
"He's talked about a job offer in Vancouver and a buddy in California," Pacey added.
"So, basically, as far from Capeside as he can get," Jack translated.
Alex woke with a wail. Joey went to get him, while Pacey put their game away. He wouldn't want the little guy to choke on the pieces.
"End of H. That's where her damn dinghy was hiding," he muttered.
"Hey, Pacey, I've got some news." Jack's low, serious tone clued Pacey into his subject matter.
"About Andie? Is everything okay? She all right?" He ran over the contents of her last few letters in his head. He hadn't noticed anything amiss, but he knew first hand how much could be concealed in a letter.
"She's fine. She's doing really well, actually. Her doctors have told Dad she's ready to hear about the fire. And Dad's decided the news would play better from me and you. He's abrogating responsibility the way he always does, but given that he never knew Dawson, this time he's probably right."
Pacey stood frozen. Tell Andie? For weeks, that was all he'd wanted to do; now, the thought of it was paralyzing.
"Seriously, Pace, that was my fifth time in a row changing him," Joey said, as she entered the room with her nephew on her hip. "If I have to do it again, his next diaper will be your Bruins jersey." She noticed their expressions, and her playfulness fled. "What's wrong?"
Pacey pulled himself together. Joey didn't need to worry about this. "Nothing. Jack just gave me the glad tidings that we're going to pay Andie a visit."
Something flashed across Joey's face too quickly for Pacey to identify it. He blinked, and she was smiling with painful brightness. "That's great! When?"
"Whenever Pacey here pulls his jaw off the floor and tells me his next day off."
"Uh..." Pacey's mind was blank.
"Thursday, isn't it, Pace?"
"If you say so. You know me, I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on so tight."
Joey gave him a look which said, what the hell are you talking about? But she didn't call him out in front of Jack. "Look again. There's a screw loose in there somewhere."
"So Thursday?" Jack kept to the subject at hand. "I'll let the facility know. We'll set up a time; I'll drive." He frowned as he studied Pacey. "Unless you don't want to go?"
"No, no. I want to see her. I just..." He spread his hands in frustration. "Telling her. It's going to pull off some fresh, bloody scabs. For both of us."
Jack nodded, shoulders relaxing. "I get that. It's going to be rough, reliving it all. But, hey, look at the bright side. After that, no more lies."
"One could only hope," said Pacey.
Pacey grabbed his book off the end table. One or two more days should finish it. To his surprise, Joey seemed to like it. She laughed at all the right parts and waxed prolific on the totalitarian ants. "You starting, or am I?"
Joey was staring at the boxes of Dawson's videos and worrying her lip. She didn't answer.
"Or we could shelve the Wart for tonight and watch those movies," he suggested.
"No," was Joey's quick answer. She shook her head and pulled her attention away from the box. "No, let's read."
"It's okay if you want to watch the footage, Jo. That's why Jack went to all that trouble."
"I can't watch the Home Shopping Network without breaking out in hives. You honestly believe I could make it through the filmography of Dawson Leery?"
"Yeah, I do. The reason you can't watch TV or film anymore is because he's not with you, right? But he would be with you in his movies."
Joey's gaze returned to the box. She threaded folds of her bedsheet between her fingers. "Part of me wants to, like it would be a way to feel close to him again. The rest of me is terrified."
"Of what?"
"The same thing you told Jack today—pulling at the scabs. Only for me, it's worse than scabs. It's sutures. Losing Dawson has slowed to a steady seeping of my heart's blood. But it could so easily become a hemorrhage."
"Vivid imagery there, Potter." Pacey followed the flippant words with a supportive hand rubbing circles on her back. "If you're not ready, that's fine. The tapes can wait. But whenever you are ready, I'll be right here. My first aid is a tad rusty, but I can dial 911 with the best of them."
Joey rolled her eyes. "With my luck, your mother would answer and opt to let me bleed to death."
"That's Ma, no compassion for figurative hemorrhages."
Eyes dark in the lamplight, Joey studied his face. Pacey had no idea what she was looking for or whether she found it. After a moment, she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"About what, melodramatic ways to die? My mother? The complicated reasons why Sword in the Stone is my favorite book?"
Joey snorted. "They're not complicated. It's about a little boy who's run down and abused by everyone around him but turns out to be more special than he ever dreamed."
"Hey, we haven't gotten to that part yet!"
"It's the name of the book, Pace. Hardly counts as a spoiler. And quit deflecting. Andie. Your forthcoming visit. Do you want to talk about it?" Joey said the last sentence slowly, as though speaking to someone with a minimal grasp of English.
"You were here. Jack's got it covered. What's there to say?"
"How you feel about seeing her again. What you're going to say when you do. What you're going to wear. Whatever you want."
"Well, I was considering wearing—don't get too exited now—clothes."
Joey swatted him. "Fine. I pour out my heart and soul and endless misery to you on a daily basis and was happy to have a chance to finally return the favor, but, if you'd rather be an ass, go ahead and read."
"You're there for me plenty, Jo. And about Andie...I don't know what to say. I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about it. Nervous, excited, scared." Guilty, he thought, as he lay in t-shirt and boxers in Joey's bed, with only her similarly scanty pajamas and a thin sheet—in summer, Pacey rejected all covers—separating them. How was he supposed to explain this to his girlfriend?
"I haven't thought much about Andie this summer. Too wrapped up in my own drama, like the selfish cow I am. You must have missed her a lot." Joey's long, slim fingers continued to play with the sheet in distracting ways.
"For once, you get a pass on the drama card. And, to answer your question, yes, I have missed Andie. But there were days I nearly forgot her, too, and I have no excuse for that."
"Everything since that night at the Ice House has been a deep descent into darkest hell." Joey's gaze was on her hands as she added, "Except you. I'm sorry you and Andie have been separated, but I am grateful for the way you've been here for me. I...I'm not sure I'd have made it this far without you."
Pacey's stomach turned over again. The choking feeling made it difficult to speak. "Don't get sentimental on me now, Potter. But, for what it's worth, ditto." He pulled her hand free and replaced the pleated sheet with his fingers.
Their hands remained clasped as they drifted off to sleep.