Sweethearts Old

by Rachel A Andersen

  Declan’s voice rose almost an octave. “Who said I was stressed?”

  He must have heard how he sounded because he cleared his throat. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

  Marissa covered her mouth as she laughed. “First, I know you too well for you to get away with that. Second, if we’re actually going to make this work, you have to be honest with me. Even when it’s uncomfortable. What’s going on?”

  “Tabitha went home sick yesterday.”

  Marissa’s mouth fell open. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine.”

  There was a slight edge to his tone, more in line with the response she would expect if the girl had misbehaved. “You think she was faking?”

  “I was about her age when I figured out you could trigger your own gag reflex.”

  Marissa winced. “Pretty nasty way to make a point.”

  “None of your foster kids ever tried this?”

  Marissa thought back to the couple of kids she’d fostered before she’d gotten Aiden. Their experiences had run the gamut. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’m just admitting that it’s a messy way to make a point. Definitely not the way I would choose to be heard.”

  “Me either, but the school called Helen, so she picked Tabitha up.”

  “Helen?”

  “My mother-in-law.”

  Ice ran through Marissa’s veins as she predicted the outcome of the story. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes. Helen asked Tabitha what the matter was, and Helen got the story according to Tabitha.”

  Marissa let her eyes drift closed. “She must hate me.”

  There was a squeak, and Marissa wondered if Declan had leaned back in his office chair. “To her credit, Helen’s a fair and balanced woman. She suspected that Tabitha was slanting the story.”

  Marissa’s stomach tied itself in knots. “But?”

  “But she was understandably upset.”

  There was a note of something more in his voice, something that made Marissa steel herself against impending heartache. “Declan?”

  “She’s been nothing but kind to me, and three weeks before the one-year anniversary of her daughter’s death, she hears that I have a girlfriend. I know it’s not really true, but—”

  Marissa knew what he was going to say before he even said it. “But you need the space you asked for last week.”

  “Yeah.”

  She swallowed down the emotion that rose in her throat, reminding herself that she’d known this was coming. “Then, honor that need. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.”

  “Just like that?”

  Her heart squeezed as she remembered letting him go twenty years ago because she couldn’t promise how long it would take her to be ready. She had to believe that this journey would bring him back to her, just like that one had. “Take your space. I’ll tell Aiden something came up.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do that. I’ll explain it to him when I come to the game on Saturday.”

  She couldn’t fight him. Not on this. “You don’t have to do that. Aiden will understand.”

  “Riss, you called me a good man yesterday. Well, I aim to show both Luke and Aiden that a respectable man keeps his promises.”

  She licked her lips. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, but there was something else there. Regret? “Declan, I respect that. Just know you have nothing to prove. Not to me.”

  She wished they were in person. Wished he could stroke her cheek the way he would back in high school before he’d lean in and kiss her. Wished she could put her hand on his chest and feel the steady beat of his heart. Wished they were far enough in their story to have come up with some fresh ways of expressing their growing affection. Something more than hand holding. More than kind words.

  “I should get back to work. I’ll see you Saturday, Riss.”

  Excitement and dread crashed in her, the opposite forces making her nauseated. Despite how close she and Declan had gotten over the last few weeks, the farewell felt final. She wanted to cry. This was how it had all ended before. Instead, she sat there, the weight of big emotions leaving her numb. “I’ll tell Aiden to expect you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Declan

  Declan ran a hand through his hair, sitting in the master bedroom for the first time in almost a year. What was wrong with him? Why hadn't he admitted that he had stayed home today? Why did he waffle between taking steps to move forward and retreating backward into his grief?

  It wasn’t fair to Marissa, to his kids, to Aiden. Frankly, it wasn’t even fair to him. He’d have given anything to be decisive again, to pick a path and walk it in confidence.

  That’s grief, sweetheart.

  He could almost feel Angie on the foot of the bed with him, and what little hold he had on his emotions threatened to crumble. He wanted nothing more than to lay his head on her lap and cry.

  Instead, he reached his hand to where hers would have been, pretending that he could touch her one last time.

  Promises. He’d told Marissa that he wanted to show the boys that a principled man kept his promises, but how was he supposed to do that when his oldest daughter seemed to think he’d broken some of the most solemn promises he’d ever made? He knew the intellectual argument. She was a child. She was grieving. She didn’t understand.

  Still, it threw him into chaos.

  He let his gaze fall down to his wedding ring for the hundredth time in the last month, the symbol of his ties to his old life. The life which he had to release if he had any chance of starting a new chapter with any hope. A dam broke loose in him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he spoke to the memory of his blond, blue-eyed wife. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  The words tumbled out of him with a fury like rushing water, and all the emotion he’d been storing for over a year since Angie’s diagnosis broke past his defenses.

  Let it out. Just let it out.

  He lay across the width of the bed, curled up like a little boy as he cried. In his mind’s eye, he could almost picture her sitting there, running her fingers through his hair as every fear, every regret came gushing out as if it would never end.

  It was unfair.

  The way Helen’s lip trembled when she asked him if he had a girlfriend like Tabitha had said.

  The way Tabitha’s fists clenched at the sight of her father embracing another woman.

  The way Luke seemed to be the only one who had made uncomplicated, positive memories at the donut shop.

  The way Angie had left them to pick up the pieces of their broken hearts.

  The way life stole the dreams one had in childhood, from Marissa’s dream of a musical career to Aiden’s dream of having a father.

  The way his grief over Angie seemed to bleed into his feelings for Marissa.

  None of it had ever felt fair, but until today, he’d just kept shoving it down and telling himself that it could be worse.

  Now, he only had one question: what was the point of having a heart if it just kept getting broken?

  THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR motivated Declan to pry himself up off the bed and go downstairs again. He was strangely grateful that Miles had picked the kids up from the house this morning. It had been good for him to get a day off of work and parenthood.

  Declan opened the door, surprised to see his brother-in-law standing there, one hand in the pocket of his khakis. “Liam?”

  The Air Force captain sighed as he stood on the front porch. “Dad told me what happened last night.”

  Hollow and numb, Declan didn’t have the energy to be indignant. “So, you took the day off work?”

  Liam let his blue eyes roam over Declan’s face, taking in every line that appeared there. Funny how that look, honed by nearly two decades of military service, was so similar to the way Angie had looked when she analyzed a situation before deciding how to respond.

  Something told Declan that his face wasn’t hiding any big secrets, like how he’d sobbed upstairs for w
hat seemed to be an eternity.

  Liam swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the emotion. “We should talk.”

  The way Liam looked, almost resigned, caught Declan off-guard. It wasn’t the look of a man who would tear into him about introducing his kids to a potential girlfriend before they were ready. It wasn’t the look of a man who would defend his mother.

  No, for the first time since Angie died, Liam looked at him like he had some idea of how hard it was for Declan to move on.

  Declan opened the door wider. “Come inside.”

  THEY SAT AT THE KITCHEN table, each silently nursing cans of ginger ale. How long they sat that way, Declan wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t claim to being eager to begin this chat Liam was about to undertake. From the looks of things, Liam wasn’t any less hesitant.

  But finally, Liam looked up from his soda. “A week or two before Angie died, she pulled me aside. You’d gone to get some lunch or something, and she insisted that we had to finish before you got back.”

  Declan’s brow furrowed. “Okay?”

  A glimpse of the deep-seated pain Liam carried after his younger sister’s death flashed across his face for a brief second before he schooled his features back into their neutral soberness. “She asked me to help her with something after she died. She said I was probably the only person she could trust to help because it would be too painful for Mom or Dad to handle. Andrea’s too far away, and I’m—well, she thought I might be the closest thing to a friend you’ve got after over a decade of marriage.”

  Declan searched his memory to see if that was true. Sure, he had some buddies at the office, but they were more like friendly acquaintances than friends. They talked about the latest sports game and whatever project they were working at the moment, but that was kind of the extent of it. Even when Angie had been healthy, he’d done little more than the office Christmas party with any of them. He hadn’t seen a need.

  “Anyway, Angie said that there would be a time when you would want to move forward. She thought your high school reunion would be a catalyst for that kind of growth.”

  Declan straightened. As silly as it sounded, hearing someone else verbalize what he’d been thinking was validating. For all his fumbles the night of the reunion, he’d felt like Angie had been pushing him forward. “She did?”

  Liam nodded, though he looked almost ill at the admission. “She also said something about how you might not want to go to it because you might run into an ex-girlfriend, and she didn’t want me to let you get out of it that easily. It’s one reason I kept changing the subject any time you tried to get out of going to that reunion. I knew Angie would want you to go.”

  Declan sat back in his chair, surprised by the admission. Maybe it was the cleansing feeling that came from having a good cry, but so many things about the night of the reunion made sense. “You knew I didn’t want to go?”

  Liam snorted as he took a sip of the soda Declan had set out for them both. “No one wants to go to their high school reunion unless they’re certain they will be the epitome of success. You, my friend, did not fit that definition this time around.”

  Instead of insulting him, the assertion soothed Declan’s pride. He hadn’t been the idiot at the reunion. They had thrown him into the deep end of the pool, so to speak, with an impressive deal of finesse.

  ...well, at least, he hadn’t been the only one responsible for how awkward he’d been. He’d been out of his depth, and the people who knew that had just pushed all the harder.

  The revelation ran around in his head. Why was it that Angie was so sure his healing would begin at that reunion? Was it possible that Angie had meant for him to reconnect with Marissa? Was he just dreaming?

  Liam took another swig of his ginger ale before he crushed the can with his bare hand. “I have a video you should see. She made me promise to play it for you if you were ever in this situation.”

  Declan’s heart pounded as he looked at Liam with renewed interest. “Angie made me a video?”

  Liam didn’t answer, only flicked through the files on his phone for a moment before he slid the device over. “If there’s one thing that this video proves to me, it’s how much my sister loved you. She wouldn't want you—or your kids—to stop being happy just because she’s gone. No matter what that means.”

  Declan could hardly process Liam’s words, only stared at the unmoving picture of his wife on the phone’s screen. For months now, he had ached for one more moment, one more conversation with her. A chance to say goodbye, to close the wound which had gaped in his heart at her passing. To hear her voice just one more time.

  And here it was. That one chance.

  A lump thickened in his throat as Liam’s index finger pressed play on the recording. Her skin seemed translucent against the bright scarf she wore wrapped around her scalp, but even this emaciated view of his wife was enough to squeeze his heart with a poignant agony.

  Angie bit her lip on the video, looking above the camera and presumably into Liam’s eyes. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  She exhaled the way she had when she was nervous before she focused her gaze on the camera. “Hey, babe.”

  He waved at the screen, though he knew she couldn’t see. He would have responded verbally if he’d had the voice. Unfortunately, he couldn't trust his voice to stay steady, even though he’d already cried all the tears he would likely shed today. Maybe even for a lifetime.

  “Liam probably hates my guts for asking him to be your wingman, but you and I both know you need someone looking after you.”

  Declan chuckled as the recorded Liam attempted to discount his sister’s fears. “It’s fine, Ang. Seriously.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s just saying that because he doesn’t want you to know how long he tried to convince me to find someone else for this job.”

  Declan looked around the kitchen for Liam, but he must have stepped out to give a semblance of privacy. Either that or this video was too painful for Liam to watch after filming it. In either case, Declan’s heart went out to the man.

  “I’ve asked my brother to make sure you don’t miss your high school reunion next year. I think getting in touch with some of your high school friends will be essential in building the support network you’re going to need in the days ahead.”

  She drew in a ragged breath, and for a moment, Declan could see the cracks in her emotional armor. It broke his heart that she had sat on this video, hidden its existence from him, to protect him from the pain it might have caused in those last few days before her death.

  “No matter what happens, I want you to know that I’m secure in the knowledge that you love me.”

  Declan stiffened.

  “So, when you move forward—and I honestly hope you will—I don’t want you worrying about whether I would approve of your choice. I trust you. I believe in you. I have every confidence that only a woman of exceptional strength and character could convince you to live your life again. Only a woman with a deep vein of compassion and sensitivity will be able to touch your heart after this loss.”

  Though she had tears in her eyes, Angie offered a thin chuckle. “I don’t mean to be self-aggrandizing here, but I know that losing you would be enough to shake my world at its foundations. So, I don’t think it’s out of place to think that maybe you’re feeling lost.”

  Everything in Declan ached to reach out and wipe the tears from her eyes, thread his fingers between hers, and tell her he would be okay. He wasn’t sure he felt that way yet—especially after a day like today—but it would be enough to calm her troubled heart.

  “I don’t know what your life will look like after I’m gone, but I want you to know that whether you meet a new woman or—” Her voice hitched with emotion as if she didn’t want to add this stipulation. She squared her shoulders and pasted a smile on her lips. “Or if you reconnect with someone from your past, I want you to be happy, Declan Pierce. You deserve to be happy again. No matter who or what helps
you get there.”

  Declan’s heart stopped. Or if you reconnect with someone from your past. . .

  No matter how much he wanted to focus on the rest of the video, his mind kept circling back to that phrase, almost like she knew that he would meet up with Marissa again at the reunion and fumble his way back in love with her.

  Almost like she’d suspected what his mother believed: that things with Marissa had been unfinished.

  Liam’s finger pressed stop on the video as he reemerged. “Now, you know why I brought it out now instead of right after the funeral.”

  Declan turned a questioning eye to his brother-in-law, unable to form a sentence which adequately explained his confusion.

  “If Marissa makes you happy, Angie would be the first person to tell you to go for it.” Liam exhaled as a steely resolve cemented in his blue-gray eyes. “And since she’s not here, I’m going to make sure you at least try.”

  A BEEP ON HIS WATCH brought Declan’s attention to the time for the first time in hours. If this was a normal day, he would have been finishing things up at the office. He should probably pick up the kids.

  Filling the stillness with the chaos of his three kids threatened to leach out what little energy he had left. It felt too alive.

  There was something sacred about how, even from beyond the grave, he and Angie had found a way to be on the same page again. He didn’t want that to get lost in the necessity of everyday life. Not yet.

  Talk to Tabitha. She needs you.

  Funny how this thought seemed to come from both Angie and Marissa, the two voices as different as the two women and yet fully united in this action. Letting go of Angie wasn’t removing her from his memory but giving space to his feelings for Marissa. Two mothers looking out for his children, loving and nurturing them and guiding him with the power of their examples.

  For the first time, Declan really understood that he could love both women. There didn’t need to be a competition. They’d come into his life at different times, each helping him grow into the man he was, into the person he would yet become as the years went on. He didn’t know if it had been Liam’s video or if it had been facing the loneliness of that master bedroom. Maybe it had been both. Still, there had been something transcendent as he let go of the memory of his late wife. She’d always be a part of him, but it was time for him to move forward. Without guilt.