-1Your friends miss you. A lot. George almost joined you today. I got a phone call from Preston. Apparently your pal George stole my death by sleeping pill idea. He took seven of the little buggers, chasing them with Vodka. Preston found him in time, though.
When I asked him why he did it, he told me it was because it was his fault that you died. He knew the river currents were stronger than usual, that taking a raft down the fork you wanted to take was to dangerous. He didn't tell you because he knew you wouldn't listen. You wouldn't have either. All so determined to do things your way. Why did I never notice that before? That you liked having your way. Is that why you didn't tell me about your daughter? Where you afraid I wouldn't want to be with you? I would have. I will always want to be with you. I will miss you.
Your friends are planning memorials for you. Did you know that? George has this fishing trip all planned out. You would love it. I agreed to go. I know. Go on. Laugh. Me. Fishing. A real haha moment if there was one! Who knows, maybe I'll surprise everyone and actually participate. Preston is planting a peace garden behind the office. The Denny Duquette Memorial Garden. Not sure it is really your thing, but his heart is in the right place. They're going to break ground today. We all promised to go. George. Me. Alex. I'm starting to get it, by the way. You and Alex. Maybe I was wrong about him. Will have to get back to you on that, though.
They had left. Alex and Preston had left. Leaving her to try and rouse George. Ha. Like he was going to wake anytime soon. Staring at George's prone form a moment longer, she shakes her head. If she hadn't been so lost in her own misery she would have seen his. Perhaps prevented the over dose. Toying with the end of her long ponytail she jogs down the stairs, taking them two at time. She had no real desire to go, yet had no reason not to. It was for Denny. Preston wanted to do this for Denny.
Reaching into the back pocket of her faded jeans, Izzie pulls her car keys out. As she fumbles with them the sound of heels clicking on cement and a video game of some sort give her pause. She looks up to find a petite woman with long wavy red hair walking toward her, holding the hand of a little girl no more than three. The woman kept looking at a scrap of paper in her hand, then at the numbers on the houses. "Can I help you?"
"I hope so," the woman breathed. There was something familiar about her voice. "I'm not from here and I am completely lost." Next to her the child continued pushing buttons on the hand held game, making bleeps and bells go off. "Does it never shut up? Here. Let me have it." Taking the game offered up by the wide eyed child, she stuffed it into an oversized purse. A mommy purse, Izzie mused. "I'm looking for Denny Duquette's house."
The blood slowly drained from her face. This was her. This was the woman. The mother of his child. Child. Her gaze swung to girl. "How old is your daughter? Is she….maybe eight? Maybe a really, really small, under developed eight year old?"
"Oh Good lord no. Emily's only three. Isn't that right honey. Show the pretty lady how old you are." On command the girl held up three sticky fingers, a smile spreading across her face. Denny's smile.
"They're not home. That's their house. Only nobody is there." She was rambling. What else was she to do? The child was only three. Three. Denny had cheated on her. Cheated! "I can give them a message if you like."
"Oh. Okay. I'm sorry…um…who are you? A neighbor?" The woman blew a stray strawberry curl from her face. The child tugged at her hand, whining a bit. "Hold on sweetie. Mommy is busy right now, okay?"
"No. I…I'm the cleaning lady." The cleaning lady? In a silk cowl neck halter and three inch heels? Not hardly. She hadn't known what else to say. The woman seemed to buy it though. She wasn't questioning it.
"Well let me get you my card. I'm staying at the Ferry View Inn. Its down by the Pier. Not to far from the Marketplace." The woman started digging through her monstrous purse. A zip lock bag of teddy bear shaped cookies. A bottle of water. A purple bra with green and yellow daisies on it. A disposable camera. Finally, she withdrew a bright yellow card. "Here. If you could have some one call…that would great." Izzie took the card. Olivia Drewry. Massage therapist. Los Angeles, California. "Come on baby. Say goodbye to the nice lady." The little girl with Denny's smile waved goodbye.
Izzie waved back, stunned. Denny's child. Denny's three year old child. Conceived and born after he had met her. "Eight going on nine my ass," she hissed, yanking her car door open. Someone had a lot of explaining to do. Since the man who should be doing wasn't available, she would settle on the only other one who seemed to have the answers. Alex.
