Crystal Clear Love

By RENA Koontz

Crystal Kenethey's plain yogurt life turns upside down when her former lover walks back into her life. It's bad enough the funeral they are attending will be heartbreaking. Mike Perzelle is the man who broke her. She's struggled for ten long years to forget him and his betrayal, only to come face to face with him when she is most vulnerable. Aft

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rena Koontz
• Release date: Apr 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088043141

Book preview

1

Funerals suck.

This one promised to leave a deep scar.

Mike Perzelle filled his lungs with air heavy with the fragrance of lilies and carnations, straightened his back and entered the crowded viewing room.

He scanned the sea of heads that blanketed the funeral parlor and, like a north-to-south magnetic draw, he found her. Their eyes met and locked, and a familiar surge of excitement, silent for so many years, stirred in his belly. He smiled and nodded, glad now that he decided to make this trip.

His lifetime friend rushed to embrace him. Johnner followed the direction of Mike’s stare. He whispered, Crystal’s here She drove in this afternoon. How long has it been since you two spoke?

Your wedding. She hadn’t turned away and Mike couldn’t drag his eyes from that face he remembered so well. His heart raced and his palms turned sweaty. Life could have been so different if…

What? Are you kidding me? Johnner wasn’t whispering anymore. A few heads turned in their direction. Say you’re kidding.

He wasn’t. Mike still considered his years with Crystal Kenethey the best of his life. Granted, his childhood hadn’t been pretty, but Crystal had played a major role in what little happiness he’d had. And hers was the only real love he’d ever known.

He’d fallen for her the minute he saw her standing at home plate holding a baseball bat completely wrong. Holding it like a girl. Sure, there’d been other women since her, but never anyone who came close to the bar she’d set. He’d never loved anyone else. When criminals accused him of being heartless, he immediately agreed. Crystal had stolen his heart years ago.

Mike shook his head in answer to Johnner’s question, his gaze still riveted on her. She’d turned into a beautiful woman, standing tall beside her best friend. Crystal was eternally loyal to the people she loved. Except him.

Johnner was still hung up on their lack of communication. Why? His eyes wide, his voice pitched higher. Incredulous.

Mike raked his hand through his hair and finally focused on his friend. You know why.

Johnner’s mouth dropped open into a perfect oval. You mean you never told her?

Mike shrugged. Honor was honor. A promise was forever. I promised you I wouldn’t.

Holy shit, Mikey, you’re kidding. That was years ago. You have to tell her the truth. Crystal is still single. Sherrie says she’s never been happy. You two could finally be together.

They couldn’t. Johnner didn’t know about his life situation now. He searched the room again and found Crystal engaged in a conversation with someone he didn’t recognize. Even her profile propelled his heartbeat into high gear. It’s too late, Johnner. Ten years too late. Childhood dreams best left dead. It wouldn’t work, anyway because, technically, I’m married.

What? Johnner grabbed his arm. Married? When? Who? We always talked about standing up for each other. You were my best man. Who stood with you? Why didn’t I know?

Mike handed him a tissue-wrapped bundle of flowers, shrugged off his overcoat and tossed it on the back of a nearby chair piled with hats and coats. Retrieving the bouquet, he laid it on a side table and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. It’s a marriage on paper, for convenience’s sake if you will. But it’s still legal. It’s a long, complicated story. This isn’t the time. I’ll tell you later.

Jesus, he was nervous. He’d faced down drug dealers, crashed through locked doors not knowing what waited on the other side, and battled wits in court with irate defense attorneys and none of them scared him as much as the steps he was about to take. Rubbing his palms against his thigh he started across the room, zigzagging between the people, offering a wave or a nod when someone spoke his name. But he kept his eyes on her. Man, she’d been everything to him once. The very reason he breathed. Now, he held his breath and stepped forward. Chrissy.

* * *

Crystal watched Mike cut through the crowd, reminding her of his days on the football field when he so deftly dodged the opposing team’s tacklers. Her chest tightened. Was this what a heart attack felt like? She locked her arms to her sides and clenched her fists. She hadn’t allowed herself to wonder if he would mysteriously reappear in their lives and pay his last respects to Mammaw. She’d told herself if he was any kind of a man, he would. But she didn’t want to face him.

Yet he was steamrolling through the crowd right toward her. Mikey was a ghost from her past coming to life again. An overwhelming feeling of despair nearly choked her. It shouldn’t. The betrayal happened a lifetime ago. Still, seeing him out of the blue like this, after a decade of silence, pierced her heart like a carving knife.

Along with the pain came that damn tingling, a thousand needles pinching her to life. She thought she’d buried that feeling with the heartache. A vision of Madam Marceau popped into her head.

You two are connected at the heart, my dear, the turbaned fortuneteller had murmured years ago. Crystal believed it then and she felt it now. He was almost in front of her.

She locked her jaw and tightened her grip at her thighs. A full year of counseling and countless tears had convinced her she was emotionally healthy. She’d dealt with his duplicity and successfully moved on. As long as she kept him out of sight. This was a different challenge. He’d disappeared from all their lives. Dropped off the face of the earth. No one had heard from him in forever.

The distance between them shrank. Her spine straightened. Bring it on, buddy, I’m ready for you.

Dammit, she couldn’t look away as he approached. His eyes still kidnapped her. And she recognized that scowl. He didn’t smile until he stood in front of her. And then, that familiar heart-stopping grin.

You look good, Chrissy. When did you cut your hair?

Um-I-a long time ago. His first remark after all these years was about her hair? In all the imagined scenarios of a reunion, that wasn’t what she expected him to say. But what had she expected? An apology?

His deep blue eyes leveled on her. Once, she’d believed they were as blue as the ocean and she could dive into them and swim to happiness. That memory surfaced whenever she vacationed on the water. Her stomach somersaulted.

Mike leaned in to kiss her on the cheek and she jerked back as if he’d come at her with a blowtorch. She didn’t want to feel his lips again. She recalled too vividly the heat they ignited.

His eyes narrowed, searching her face, silently questioning. Then he nodded imperceptibly and straightened. He pivoted to stand beside her. The muscular chest she remembered expanded when he inhaled.

Still using that melon stuff on your hair that I loved. I’ve never quite forgotten that scent.

The vise grip clenching her stomach squeezed. How should she respond to that? She remained silent. A priest moved to the front of the room calling for everyone’s attention for a prayer service.

As they began saying the Rosary for Mammaw, her tears fell uncontrolled. This woman had been a second mother to her. She dug into her right pocket searching for a tissue before Mike offered her a clean, white handkerchief monogrammed in the corner with his initials.

When he leaned over, his breath caressed her ear. Mammaw told me once a gentleman always carries a hankie.

She refused to look at him, finally finding her tissue in the other pocket. But she smiled at the Mammaw memory.

She was just ten when her mother died and Mammaw, her best friend Sherrie’s mother, stepped into the role without being asked. Mammaw had been like a second mother to her and most of the kids in the old neighborhood. Mammaw was there for her when she discovered her first period, suffered her first heartbreak, and survived her first hangover. She’d shopped with Crystal for her first bra, her first prom dress and the two-piece suit she wore on her first job interview.

Mammaw had mentored all the children on Margaretta Street in one way or another, teaching them compassion and honesty, applauding their accomplishments, empathizing with their errors. It wasn’t just the kids, though. She cleaned up trash in a neighbor’s yard with a smile and delivered fresh-baked banana bread when someone fell ill.

Last week, Mammaw lost a hard-fought battle with cancer. For the second time in her life, Crystal faced burying a woman she had called Mom. Silently, she prayed for strength.

With Mikey standing so close, she’d need it. Hells bells, why did he have to come? No one had heard from him in ten years. She wanted to order him to leave. Only people capable of caring should be here sharing their grief. Not cheating bastards like him.

She turned, ready to unleash a decade of pent-up anger. But the priest called for the pallbearers to assemble for funeral instructions and Johnner motioned for Mike. He left her without saying a word. That’s when Sherrie saw him for the first time and a tiny yelp escaped her as she fell into his arms. Sherrie, her best friend and Johnner’s wife, was as surprised as Chrissy that Mike was here.

2

Though Christmas was just four days away and a snowstorm raged outside, hundreds of people crowded into the funeral home to pay their last respects, turning the evening into a reunion of sorts for Crystal. She acknowledged former neighbors and reunited with old friends, faces from her childhood that now bore the signs of age and adulthood. She welcomed each familiar smile with a warm hug. Every friend from the old neighborhood braved the weather for one last visit with Mammaw, all of them recounting personal stories about her love and guidance. Most of them still lived in the Toledo area. Only she and Mike had moved to other states.

She suppressed a laugh when she hugged Stanley Golds. He was going bald, not fashionably as was the style these days but old-man bald with just a few strands of hair straining to span the top of his head.

Eleanor’s braces were gone. She’d become a personal trainer and was slim and toned, better than when they were children and her clothes always seemed one size too small. Chucky’s teeth were still crooked. The twins, Ronnie and Donnie, had aged identically, right down to their salt-and pepper hair. Crystal had been the only one who could ever tell them apart and her record remained intact as she correctly and happily called each by name and hugged them both. She was never far from Sherrie, though, the sister she never had.

It was nearly ten o’clock, an hour later than the posted calling hours, when the last visitor said goodbye. Crystal sat in a corner, her feet propped on a folding chair, too exhausted to slip into her heels and stand. The tedious three-hour drive in a raging snowstorm coupled with the emotional drain of death combined to fatigue her, but she wouldn’t leave without Sherrie.

Sherrie Scotts was her longest and still closest friend. Even though she lived in Pittsburgh and Sherrie in Toledo and sometimes months passed between phone calls, they shared a bond formed in childhood and cemented by time. Kids don’t hide their flaws. They accept each other as a total package. Crystal often said the friends you make as an adult are never the same as those you grow up with, and she and Sherrie were proof.

Sherrie stood beside the coffin smoothing her mother’s hair. She swiped tears from her face and whispered words Crystal couldn’t hear. Finally, she drew in a slow, cautious breath, as if reconciling that this was the last time she’d see her mother’s face. Crystal’s heart ached for her.

Johnner stood beside Mike, both watching silently from the archway. Those two were cut from the same cloth, men who lived for the people they loved. Well, at least Johnner did. His eyes watered watching his wife say goodbye to her mother.

Mike held a bundle of silk wildflowers wrapped in green tissue. When it seemed the right moment, he approached the casket and wrapped his arm around Sherrie’s shoulders.

Remember how I’d bring Mammaw those stupid flowers?

Oh no, Mikey, they weren’t stupid. My mother cherished those bouquets.

Sherrie was five inches taller than Crystal, but Mike’s six-foot-two stature dwarfed her. Sherrie laid her head against his chest. In this moment, they were all kids again, taking care of each other. Tears rimmed Mike’s eyes. It took me forever to work up the courage to tell her I loved her. He rested his hand on Mammaw’s. I blurted it out and said I wished I could give her the biggest bunch of roses in the world. She told me roses were too expensive and that she loved the wildflowers that grew free in the woods.

Sherrie smiled. The vase would sit in the center of the kitchen table until every last flower wilted.

Crystal remembered the story Mike recounted for her years earlier. He’d raced as fast as his eleven-year-old legs could carry him to the woods at the top of their dead-end street. He was back at Mammaw’s kitchen door an hour later with a handful of dandelions, Queen Anne’s lace, and wild daisies bundled with a rubber band. He’d said he clumsily shoved them in her face when she opened the back screen.

Mammaw’s eyes filled with tears and for one brief moment, he was afraid he’d done something wrong, until she reached out, caressed his cheek and whispered, I love you too, Michael.

He said it was the best moment of his life and he relived it and her touch every night when he closed his eyes.

Crystal watched now as his chest rose with a deep inhale and he removed the green tissue from a wildflower bouquet, silk replicas he must have carried on the plane from New York, if that’s where he still lived. A rubber band bound them in a bunch. He didn’t hide his tears and his hand trembled when he gently placed the bouquet across Mammaw’s lap. Crystal’s throat closed. She suppressed a sob.

Sherrie embraced him and the two cried openly. It’s perfect, Mikey. Mammaw would’ve loved it. Thank you.

Crystal cried too.

Johnner swiped away tears as his wife walked toward him, hand in hand with Mikey. He tugged Sherrie into an embrace, reaching with one arm to pat Mike’s shoulder. When he motioned toward Crystal, she reluctantly reached for her shoes. This moment seemed magical, and she was an intruder.

She joined the trio as Johnner asked, We have the room, Mike. Will you stay with us? We have so much to catch up on. We haven’t seen you since you left.

Mike smiled. Thanks, but I booked a room at the Fifth Street Hotel.

Johnner looked at her. Chrissy, isn’t that where you said you’re staying?

Um, yeah. Her stomach twisted. Johnner, do you think you could give me a ride there? It’s been snowing nonstop since noon and it will take an hour to dig out my car. Plus, it’s so light, it doesn’t do well on icy streets.

Chrissy drives the cutest little sports car, Sherrie told Mike. If you’re staying at the hotel too, can she ride with you? She shouldn’t drive in this storm. I’m still upset that she drove here this afternoon.

What? Sherrie wanted her in the passenger seat beside Mike? She couldn’t. Well, it wasn’t snowing when I left Pittsburgh. I had no idea a storm was coming. It wouldn’t have mattered. The weather forecasters had predicted this storm would be one for the record books but, even so, no blizzard could keep her from her best friend’s side at her mother’s funeral.

Johnner cleared his throat. Sure, I can drive you but Mike, you’re going that way. Will you take Chrissy with you? I want to take Sherrie home to the kids. That way, the two of you can come together tomorrow for the service, and Sherrie won’t be fretting about Chrissy on the roads.

Mike watched her like a hawk. Did he see her heart stop? Um, no, no thanks, she stammered. I can manage in my car. You don’t have to.

Don’t be bullheaded, Chrissy. Sherrie wrapped her arm around her. I don’t want you driving in this weather. Mammaw would haunt all of us if something happened to you. And I have enough on my mind without worrying if you are in a ditch off the side of the road.

Crystal stared into her best friend’s eyes. Didn’t Sherrie know she was barely managing this moment? Didn’t she remember the betrayal?

As if it was decided, Sherrie continued, "You both should be here by eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Will that be too early for you?’

Crystal’s mouth dropped open to protest. But she needed a ride and if Mike was staying at the hotel, it would be unfair to impose on Johnner to haul her there. Dark circles ringed his and Sherrie’s eyes. They’d been through a lot since last week. She shouldn’t heap more on their shoulders.

Mike still stared at her. She thrust her chin up, an adult now, not that starry-eyed young girl he once knew. She could handle this. She smiled and twined her arm through Sherrie’s.

That’s fine. Tomorrow will be a difficult day. You should try to sleep.

Sherrie’s chin quivered. I’ll sleep when this is over. Let’s go home.

Silently, they shrugged into their coats and stepped into their boots in the coatroom. The women turned their backs against the wind and waited under a canopy while Johnner and Mike trod to their cars. Snow was piled high on both vehicles and it took several minutes to clear the windows.

Mikey looks good, don’t you think?

Crystal shivered. I guess so.

How’d it feel seeing him again?

There was no point in lying. Sherrie could sense her pain. They had always shared a sixth sense, an uncanny ability to know where the other was and what each was thinking and feeling, like kindred spirits. It hurts. It opened all the old wounds. I wish there was another way to the hotel.

Sherrie frowned. It’s been years, Crystal. Don’t you think it’s time you talk about it? If nothing else, you can get it out of your system and move on.

It’s out of my system. I’m over it. It’s ancient history now. She rubbed the salt stain on the toe of her left boot with her right root, ignoring the sarcastic un-huh Sherrie uttered.

Are you still dating that principal from your school district?

Her nose crinkled and a puff of breath escaped her mouth when she exhaled. Yeah, Doug is still in the picture. He’s very excited about New Year’s Eve. Says he has a big surprise for me. I’m almost afraid to find out what it is.

Why?

I think he’s going to propose.

And you don’t want that? Why?

She shrugged. "I don’t know. I like things the way they are right now. I’m in control. You know I always like things my way. He wants more. I don’t feel the same as he does."

How do you feel?

When I’m with Doug? She puckered her lips, then drew them tight against her teeth. Stable is the only word that comes to mind. I feel stable. I remember reading once that you can be on your death bed and be stable.

Headlights drew their attention to the curb. Mike drove up in a black Ford Bronco, jumped out of the car and rushed around to open the passenger door. Johnner waited behind in his SUV. Sherrie gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. See you tomorrow morning.

Crystal hurriedly climbed into the car, grateful that it was toasty warm. Still, her back was stiff. She couldn’t relax, too nervous about the ice-covered roads and anxious about sitting in such confined quarters with Mike. They’d become strangers, despite their history together, and now, strangely enough, they were travel mates. She clutched her hands tightly between her knees, ignoring the hint of his cologne arousing her.

Mike hiked up the windshield wiper speed and eased the car onto the street.

Is it ice underneath? She strained to see the tire tracks.

I think so. We’ll take it slow. He focused on the road while she sat silently, fighting the memory of him teaching her to drive. He’d borrowed a friend’s car for her to practice every evening and he had the patience of Job. He was an excellent driver.

His deep voice broke the silence. What are you thinking about?

I hate driving in winter.

You always did, as I recall. The worst was that afternoon we sneaked to the motel and were surprised when we came out hours later and it had snowed. I felt bad that you had to drive home in that, even though I was behind you. You did well.

Crystal’s heart skipped. You remember that?

Mike smiled. Another five minutes passed in silence before he whispered, Did you know Mammaw was sick?

Tears sprang to her eyes. I knew she had cancer. She went into remission for a good while. Sherrie called last week when they contacted hospice. Her condition worsened fast. They ordered heavy sedation for pain management. She refused more chemo. I wanted to come in and visit, but Sherrie said Mammaw wouldn’t know I was there. I guess she was pretty out of it. Typical Sherrie, always protecting me. She told me not to make the trip, to remember Mammaw healthy and in happier times. I wish now I hadn’t listened and come.

Crystal tried to recall the last time she’d seen Mammaw. She always remembered her birthday with flowers, and she never forgot a Mother’s Day card. But it had been years since she carved out real time with her. When was the last time they spoke on the phone? Her heart felt heavy. Precious time lost.

Mike’s attention was on the car in front of them.

Did you know she was sick? she asked.

No.

When was the last time you talked to her? She knew the answer. He hadn’t talked to anyone in forever.

Mike shifted uncomfortably in his seat as a wave of guilt washed over him. I can’t remember. Except he did. Two years ago, the day he called to tell her he’d been promoted to detective with the New York City Police Department.

Her soft voice flowed through the phone. That’s my boy. He heard the smile on her face. Those words were all he needed to feel whole. She was the only mother he knew, the only parent he’d really had.

He hoped she understood why he hadn’t kept in touch with her. He lost everyone he tried to love. His mother. His little sister. Chrissy. His father.

He couldn’t blame his dad for hating him and for drowning his nightmares in alcohol. Big Mike and Little Mike, as they were known, weren’t home the morning their house caught fire and his mother and five-year-old baby sister perished. His father blamed himself for the fire. But he took his resentment out on Mike. As near as fire investigators could determine, the blaze started in Big Mike’s basement workroom. They speculated that an electric tool was left turned on and overheated.

He was lucky to survive the brutality of his father’s guilt. Didn’t think he would until Chrissy waltzed into his life. Standing up to the police to protect him when they were total strangers. He knew then she was special. Thought for sure they were destined to be together. But life always fucked him over, just like it was doing now. He’d loved her with his life and yet she wasn’t his. She sat close enough to caress her cheek, but he couldn’t touch her. She was as cold inside the car as the snow outside.

Those first years without her had been a struggle. His drill sergeant never met anyone as angry at the world as he was. He’d worked it out though and found some semblance of contentment if not happiness. Without Chrissy. And yet here she sat beside him, silently staring out the window. Unattainable. Lost to him.

What should have been a thirty-minute drive stretched into an hour. After he finally drove the rental car into the hotel’s underground garage, Crystal relaxed against the seatback.

Once out of the car, he placed his hand on the small of her back and directed her toward the elevator. Her spine stiffened beneath her winter coat. She scanned the garage as if he might attack her and she’d need rescued. Oh Chrissy, hurting you would be the last thing I’d ever do. If only you’d trusted me. If only you’d believed me. Don’t you remember how much I loved you?

They rode the elevator in an awkward silence. What time should I be ready tomorrow morning. We shouldn’t be late.

Unless she’d changed, she was habitually late. Let’s leave around seven. The forecasters are saying it will snow all night so I don’t know what the roads will be like. The plows are out but they’re having a hard time keeping up with the accumulation. The doors opened to the lobby. What floor are you on?

"I don’t