Forever and a Day

by Linda Lael Miller

“My car! Somebody trashed my car!”

  It was the friendly cashier, Claire, examining her car almost directly in front of them. “Stay here and watch the groceries,” Anna told the twins, and hurried a few steps to reach the distressed young woman.

  Her car was spray painted with ugly words—the same words that had been on Anna’s cabin, plus additional slurs related to Claire’s weight—and her tires were slashed.

  Anna’s stomach churned at the similarity. Had Beau been here? Had he mistaken Claire’s car for Anna’s?

  “That shrew! I can’t believe she went this far!”

  Belatedly, Anna took in Claire’s angry words. “Who do you think did it?”

  “I know who did it. It’s Brandi.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “Because she hates me.” Claire was crying, kneeling to run a finger along a ruined tire. “We have a history a mile long. Plus, she thinks I’m out to steal Tony.”

  Anna put a hand on the younger woman’s arm. “Stop touching it. Don’t destroy evidence.”

  “Oh, what does it matter?” Claire sat down on the curb, wiping tears. “She’ll get away with it.”

  “Not necessarily.” Anna glanced back to give the girls a thumbs-up—they were sitting beside the groceries, watching the scenario with interest but without apparent fear—and turned back to Claire. “I had similar vandalism on my cabin out at the park. I just got everything fixed without talking to the cops, and Liam yelled at me. Said he could’ve done something with prints and paint if we’d waited.”

  “Everyone will see!” Claire buried her face in her hands.

  “I’m calling the police.” Anna pulled out her phone, dialed 911 and explained the situation.

  Behind them, people were starting to gather around, including one of Claire’s cousins, who hurried to put an arm around the crying woman. Anna returned to give her girls a simplified explanation. Within two or three minutes, Liam was on the scene.

  After he’d spoken to Claire, he surveyed the crowd for witnesses. When there weren’t any, Anna spoke up, reminding him of the almost-identical vandalism against her.

  As she was talking to Liam, Anna’s eyes were drawn to Sean’s truck, driving by and then pulling into a parking place. She scolded herself for the little jump in her chest.

  But she couldn’t help it: she was exquisitely conscious of him climbing out of his vehicle and walking in her direction. He wore an olive green work T-shirt, but she couldn’t forget the way he’d looked without it, when he’d come to help them at the beach.

  Something must have shone in her eyes, because Liam glanced back just in time to see Sean approach them.

  “Everything okay?” Sean asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Look at my car,” Claire said. “It’s ruined!”

  Sean looked at the car, gave a low whistle and then looked at Anna. “A little too familiar.”

  “Right?” She was grateful that he saw the same thing she did. “Claire thinks it’s Brandi.”

  Could Brandi have vandalized Anna’s car, too? Could it have been her, not Beau, all along? But that didn’t make sense.

  Sean cocked his head to one side. “But what would she have against both you and Claire?” Then he and Liam looked at each other. “Oh.”

  “What?” Anna demanded.

  “She’s pathologically jealous,” Sean said. “Always thinking someone’s after Tony. That’s what three-quarters of their fights were about. She always thinks he’s cheating.”

  Liam turned to Claire. “Have you had any contact with Brandi?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “She’s been harassing me for the past few days.”

  “Did anything happen before that?”

  Claire frowned. “He helped me change my tire last week, and then we went for a drink. Totally as friends.”

  “That would do it,” Sean said. “Brandi’s kind of...one-track about that stuff.”

  “‘One-track’ is a nice way to put it,” one of the bystanders said. “That girl’s simple.”

  “We’ll investigate.” Liam turned to Anna. “What dealings have you had with Tony’s ex?”

  “I don’t really know her,” Anna said. “I saw her once, when she and Tony were fighting outside a bar.” She looked over at Sean. “You were there, remember? And she came back down the street and spoke to me in front of the library.”

  “What did she say?”

  Anna frowned. “She said something like... Oh.” Realization dawned. “She said to stay away from her man.”

  Liam and Sean exchanged glances. “I’ll be in touch,” Liam said. He waved a hand. “Nothing to see here, folks. Carry on with your lives.”

  “Us, too?” Sean asked.

  Liam nodded. “I’ll give you a call later.”

  Sean walked over to the twins, even ahead of Anna, knelt down and made like he was going to take something from their grocery bags.

  “Mr. Sean, stop!” Hayley said, giggling. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, looking around at the bystanders.

  Anna approached them then, her heart full. They hadn’t gotten scared. In fact, Hayley was inches away from being able to talk in a general public situation, and Hope wasn’t far behind her.

  And a good part of it had to do with the gentle giant before them.

  The best news was that the vandalism hadn’t been done by Beau. Relief rolled over her like cool ocean waves.

  If the vandal had been Brandi, then she’d be caught and Anna was free.

  Beau had sent that package, yes, but when she thought about it, the approach there had been penitence, not violence. Was it possible that he’d changed? That their leaving had affected him, made him see the error of his ways?

  She couldn’t completely let down her guard, and no way would she contact him, but now she had hope. Hope that she’d be able to start over without the shadow of his anger looming over her forever.

  Sean gestured toward her car. “Go ahead. I’ll grab these groceries and follow you home.”

  “We can get our own groceries!” She smiled down at Hayley and Hope. “We’re strong women, right, girls?”

  “Yeah!” Hope said.

  “Well, but he can carry my bag.” Hayley smiled up at Sean and handed it to him.

  “Let me carry them all. I want to help.” His eyes were warm on Anna’s, and their gazes tangled.

  Uh-oh.

  “Come on, Mommy. Let’s go home and make our hamburgers!” Hope said, then looked around at the people on the street, biting her lip.

  She was close to speaking in public. “We’re going now,” she said, reaching down to give Hope a supportive little hug.

  “I’ll follow you,” Sean said, picking up all the grocery bags easily, in one big hand.

  Driving home, between glancing back in the rearview mirror, seeing the twins chatting and, behind that, Sean’s truck, Anna felt the semipermanent knot in her stomach finally ease.

  Coming here had been the right decision.

  Beau hadn’t followed them, apparently. And the twins were recovering.

  And there was a good man who, miracle of miracles, seemed to be interested in her.

  The thought brought a quick twist of shame. Beau had told her no decent man would love her, and to an insecure girl, her father’s neglect had implied the same thing.

  She’d carried that feeling of unworthiness with her for years, but now she put down the burden, at least some of it. She wasn’t the names that had been painted on her cabin and Claire’s car, any more than Claire was. And she didn’t deserve to be called those things, any more than Claire did.

  She’d never approve of someone treating a sweet woman like Claire badly. And maybe, finally, she was ready to stop allowing that treatment for herself.

  Maybe she could even permit herself a little b
it of happiness.

  When they got to the cabin, it was only natural to invite Sean in to share their humble dinner, and it seemed natural for him to agree, and to help with the preparations.

  And of course, he had to roll around on the floor with Blackie, the dog he’d helped them pick out, and show the girls how to throw a stick for the big Lab.

  After dinner, it was only natural that he’d build another bonfire. That they’d all roast marshmallows and make gooey, messy s’mores again.

  And once the twins started yawning, it was natural that he’d help to carry them inside, that he’d tuck Hayley into her side of the bed while Anna tucked Hope into hers.

  That he’d go out and wash the dinner dishes while she read the girls a story, a short one, and they couldn’t even stay awake through that.

  She came out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  Sean was putting the last dish into the drainer. “Are they out?” he asked.

  “Already sleeping hard.” She felt suddenly shy. What would happen now? Would he stick around or leave?

  Which did she want him to do?

  He walked a few steps toward her, then stopped. Looked off to the side, rubbed the back of his neck and laughed self-consciously. “I should go.”

  She didn’t say anything, and slowly, he turned his head to face her again. “Shouldn’t I?”

  Her heart rate accelerated, and she couldn’t take her eyes from his. “It would probably be the smartest thing.”

  He half smiled, eyes still intense on hers. “I’ve never been considered the smartest guy.”

  “I didn’t even graduate from high school.” She barely recognized the breathy sound of her own voice. “Nobody’s ever called me smart.” And then she smiled a little, unable to believe she could make a joke about something that had mostly embarrassed her in the past.

  He knelt to rub Blackie’s head, then stood again. “I think you’re smart,” he said, looking at her seriously. “And I think you’re a wonderful mother. And if you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

  “I’m not...” She hesitated. “I’m afraid.”

  He took another step, held out a hand and brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Of what?”

  She shrugged and looked down.

  “Are you afraid of being close to me?”

  She crossed her arms. “That—the physical side of things—has never been exactly fun for me. Maybe there’s something wrong with—”

  “Hey,” he interrupted, running a thumb along her cheek. “Did you like it when we kissed, before?”

  She met his eyes and nodded.

  Blackie’s tail thumped as if to agree, and then the dog settled down onto his blanket with a big sigh.

  “That’s all we have to do,” he said. “And we don’t have to do that, if you’d rather I leave. I know your girls are in the next room. I’d never ask you to do something that might disturb or upset them.”

  Tears rose to Anna’s eyes as she read the sincerity in Sean’s. She’d never have expected a rugged man like him to have this kind of sweet sensitivity. Never expected to be treated so gently, with such compassion.

  “How about I just hold you a minute,” he said, “and then I’ll leave, and you can have a nice cup of tea and read your book.” He gestured toward the armchair with a reading lamp and bookmarked library book beside it.

  “Um...okay,” she said faintly.

  “Come here.” He pulled her against him then and stroked her hair as she laid her head against his chest, listening to the solid, steady beat of his heart.

  After she’d relaxed into his embrace and relished its tenderness for a long moment, she looked up at him.

  He touched his lips to hers, oh so gently. Then his mouth brushed hers, back and forth.

  Sensations, warmth and tenderness, flashed through Anna’s body, making her toes curl against her flip-flops. She made a tiny noise.

  Sean growled a little and pulled her closer, cupping the back of her head in a big, tender hand.

  She drew in a gasping breath and stood on tiptoes, wanting to be closer, wanting it with a part of herself that felt new.

  Later, Sean let himself out the front door and she sat down in her reading chair. But she didn’t read. She just wrapped her arms around her knees and touched supersensitized fingertips to her lips, her heart racing, her whole body warm, her mind walking a tightrope from joy to worry and back again.

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY, Sean headed for the Safe Haven Women’s Center, finally to fulfill his obligation to fix their roof and start looking at the plumbing.

  He needed a little distance from the cottages. From Anna. Being with her last night, kissing her, holding her—it had been physical, yes, but also emotional. He’d felt a depth of caring beyond anything he’d felt with Gabby, with anyone.

  He turned up the country music and drove faster. That melting look in her eyes as they’d said good-night. That “see you tomorrow,” filled with promise.

  What was he doing? What was he getting himself into, and what expectations was he setting up?

  The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Anna. She’d been hurt too much already.

  He let himself into the old church where the shelter was housed, and immediately memories assailed him, all tied up with a musty, old book, candle wax smell.

  He ducked his head into Yasmin’s office. “Here to work on the roof,” he said, and left before she could ask any questions. She looked preoccupied, anyway, and when a frazzled-looking mother and her young teenage son—a big, gawky kid—emerged from one of the other offices, he could see why. He’d make himself scarce.

  He climbed up on the roof, using the ladder and tools from his truck, and started nailing on shingles. He thought about how Anna had held the ladder for him on that first day of working together. Then, they’d been just getting to know each other. Now they worked as a comfortable team.

  Then, he hadn’t trusted her. Now he thought nothing of leaving her alone with his files or having her process invoices for him.

  He heard a truck with a bad muffler pull up and looked over the edge of the roof. A plaid-shirted man emerged and strode toward the church’s front door.

  Something about him didn’t sit right with Sean, so he finished nailing on the last shingle and climbed down the ladder.

  “Benny!” The woman he’d seen before had yanked open the church’s door and was standing there, breathing hard, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hoping to get you back,” the man said.

  “Look what you did to me!” She held out her arm, and Sean was too far away to see it but he could already guess that bruises ringed it.

  “Babe, I’m so sorry.”

  This was disgusting. Sean cleared his throat, took a step closer and crossed his arms over his chest, giving the man a dirty look.

  Plaid-shirt glared at him. “We can’t talk here, baby,” he said, and urged the woman inside.

  Sean shook his head as he put his ladder back on his truck. Stuff like this made him crazy.

  He heard Yasmin’s voice, loud, firm and angry. No doubt scolding the man for coming, or the woman for revealing her location.

  He lingered to trim a couple of overgrown bushes, hoping to avoid the scene inside.

  And then, through an open window, he heard crying.

  The choked, harsh sound of a young boy who didn’t want to cry but couldn’t help it.

  With a muttered curse, he grabbed his toolbox and headed inside. The adults were talking and arguing out in the main part of the building, but the crying had come from one of the side rooms.

  While Mom and Dad worked out their problems, who was helping that kid? He knocked lightly on the door of the shelter’s little library and rec room, then let himself in.

  “Don’t mind
me,” he said as soon as he saw the boy, scowling, brushing fingers under his eyes. “Just working on the carpet here.”

  He knew, instinctively, how much the kid would hate having his tears observed. He remembered his own frustration and anger, in the same situation, as if it were yesterday. He’d just wanted to be a teenager, free to cope with his own emotions. He’d had feelings for girls at school and worries about how his body was changing, and yet he’d had to repress all that and act like a man, leaving town under cover of darkness as his mom had planned. He’d had to be a support for her.

  As he used the fork of his hammer to pull up carpet, he chatted with the boy. “I came here myself when I was about your age. What are you, fourteen?”

  “Thirteen,” the kid said.

  So. Big for his age.

  “You hoping your parents get back together?” he asked, still not meeting the boy’s eyes, still working with his hands. “Here, hold that for me a minute, will you?”

  The boy took the proffered hammer, looking at Sean suspiciously.

  “Give me a hand if you want.” Sean dug around in his toolbox until he found an X-Acto knife. “That your dad?”

  The boy was silent for a moment, and then he started yanking up carpet.

  “No,” he said. Rip. “He’s my stepdad.”

  Sean cut a long slit in a section of carpet and didn’t say anything.

  “I’m not hoping they get back together.” Rip. “But they will.” Rip.

  “Bummer,” Sean said.

  “I hate him.” Venom laced the boy’s cracking voice.

  “I hated my dad.” And feared him. He remembered the few nights he’d stayed in this shelter, once with his mom and brothers, then later with just his brothers, then just Cash, then alone. He’d been so angry.

  Before the anger, though, there’d been fear. He remembered that awful day, squatting on the sidewalk outside one of the little stores here in town, reading a book, trying to escape all the chaos. When he’d looked up and seen his father, terror had coated his insides.

  Of course, he’d forced himself to jump up and head their way. Protecting his mother was what he did, who he was.

  But in truth, he’d wanted to run away. When his mom had jerked her chin toward his brothers in the store, communicating to Sean that he should go to them, he’d rushed inside with relief.