Twice Cherished

by Ava Branson

  The day after Devin left, I went back in the kitchen to find the table still half-set from our dinner, the plates in the sink where he must have put them. I stood in the middle of my kitchen and wanted to sob, but nothing came. My gut ached but nothing else came. You were a foolish woman, Micki Dawson. Not only had I hurt the only man I ever loved, I knew, beyond a doubt, he’d never forgive me. And why should he? I certainly hadn’t.

  One day bled into two. Then three. A week passed and the space in my chest where my heart used to be grew as leaden as my steps. Work didn’t interest me. I refused invitations. I moved from my house in the morning, to the studio, then back home again.

  The eighth day came, and I realized I had to at least attempt to rejoin the human race or my business would suffer, which would reflect on Toby, Alethea and Kim, and that wasn’t fair to them.

  Toby, bless his heart, tried to shake a smile back on my face by bringing me all my favorite guilty pleasures to eat. Triple chocolate fudge ice cream. Nachos. Stromboli. I managed to conjure up a smile that I hoped appeared genuine, but the food was tasteless in my mouth. On the upside, I lost five pounds. My morning runs had gotten much longer and since food wasn’t of interest, my body adjusted accordingly.

  Staring at the image on my computer screen, my fingers closed over the mouse, clicking through image after image, not seeing any of them. I startled when Toby came up behind my chair and plopped his big hands down on my shoulders.

  “Go home, Micki. You’re not focused on anything.” He kneaded my shoulders. “Jesus, you’re tight as a drum. You need a good stiff drink, a massage, and a hot bath with another good stiff drink. In that order.”

  I managed to smile, but didn’t feel any joy from it. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually.”

  “Of course, it doesn’t. It’s exactly what you need. Toby knows. Toby is wise.” He chuckled. “Besides, you’ve scrolled through the same fifty or so pictures for the last hour and I’m really sick of seeing them.”

  Looking up at the clock, I winced. “Oh, God, that long, really?”

  “Yep. You wanna tell Uncle Toby what’s happened or just let us figure it out on our own?”

  Tell him that I was a horrible person? That I’d kept a terrible secret from the one man I’d ever truly loved? That he now knew and hated me? I’d pass. At least for now. I shook my head. “It involves me, my heart, a man, and an enormous amount of pain.” I snorted. “Kinda sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it?”

  “Ya got me. I don’t watch that crap, but seriously.” He sat on my desk and waited until I looked up. He looked concerned and I loved him for that. “I’m here. We’re all here for you, Micki. You just say the word, what you need, and we’re here to help.”

  I knew he meant it sincerely and that did give me a reason to smile.

  If only they could. I blinked back the tears that threatened to come oh so easily these days as another fresh wave of agony crept through me. “Thanks, I know you mean that and I truly appreciate it. More than you know. But I’ll be alright. Always will be.” Now, if I could only convince myself that.

  I did take his advice and left the studio early. Walking out to my car, I heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. The air was thick and heavy, but the breeze was picking up. Out over the Gulf hung a low wall of dark, inky blue storm clouds heading our way. Afternoon thunderstorms were somewhat predictable in the summer in Florida. Some blew through quickly; others lingered and drenched us with rain. From the looks of this one, it was going to be around for a bit.

  Foregoing a stop at the grocery store, I figured another can of soup for dinner wouldn’t kill me. Plus, it would get me home faster before the squall hit.

  Cosmo meowed from his spot on the window seat as I walked through the door. “Hey, buddy. Another rough day, I see.” I locked the door behind me and went to turn on the table lamp. The house was already heavy in shadow from the approaching storm. Normally I loved a good thunderstorm. Loved a glass of wine, Mother Nature’s light show outside, and a good book.

  That was all gone now. I didn’t know what I loved any more. Nothing held appeal like it did a few short weeks ago.

  Letting out a weary sigh, I remembered Toby’s words about my shoulders being tight. I rolled my neck. God, he was right. They felt like they were practically touching my earlobes. If I hurried, I could fit in a quick hot bath before the lightning got too close.

  While the bath was running, I opened a bottle of merlot and poured myself a healthy glass. Sinking into the water, I took a long sip of wine and set it on the window ledge. Leaning back, I closed my eyes, uncaring how much of my hair I’d half-heartedly pinned up fell into the water.

  An unkind moment of reality hit me when I remembered Devin standing in my bathroom and pointedly staring at the tub, telling me it conjured up all kinds of thoughts. I opened my eyes to look out the window, watching as the wind increased and the palms and branches began to dance erratically. Taking another sip, I reminded myself I was going to have to move on. And that included memories that were going to come up, that were going to be painful, but I had to keep moving forward.

  “What choice do I have?” I whispered over the growing sounds of the approaching storm.

  The first pelting drops began to hit the window and I knew I had to get out of the tub. Lightning could easily arc through the house and if it hit, I’d be sitting in my final resting place.

  But it would stop the pain.

  “Oh, my God; Micki. Morose?” I muttered into the empty room. Toweling off quickly, I reached for my favorite white terry cloth robe. The one I saved for days I wanted to curl up and be warm. And today I needed the warmth. The wine just wasn’t getting the job done fast enough.

  I’d no sooner padded out to the kitchen to pour myself another glass when the full brunt of the storm hit. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and Cosmo took off for the safety of the deep recesses under my bed. I stood watching Mother Nature’s wrath through the kitchen window, sipping my wine. Finally the alcohol began to heat me from the inside out, and I leaned against the sink with a weary sigh. I didn’t know whether it was the wine or the hot soak, albeit brief, but I began to feel my shoulders relax. Just a bit…but it was something. Maybe tonight I’d be able to sleep through without waking to dreams and the harsh reality of what I’d done.

  Half an hour later, the storm still rattled furiously outside. I didn’t need to look to know that some roads would be flooded, yards as well. It was a good day to stay in because this one was a barnstormer.

  I tried to find something on TV that would distract me for a half an hour but nothing held my interest. Not even my beloved renovation and design channel. So I poured myself a third glass of wine and plucked a murder mystery I hadn’t finished from the bookshelf. The effects of the wine were working their way through my body and, while it felt good to be so relaxed after spending so long tense, I promised myself it would be my last one. No one—including me—liked a sad drunk.

  I’d just gotten comfortable in the corner of my sofa when the doorbell rang.

  “Who the hell would be out in this holy mess?” I wondered out loud.

  Frowning, I peered out the windows at the heavy rains that still whipped outside. I didn’t recognize the car and the damn peephole had been covered by the wreath on my door. The wind must’ve blown it out of place.

  I opened the door, and my heart dropped to my feet. Standing in the tempest was Devin, soaked through with the wind whipping his hair wildly around his head. Another gust sent a sheet of rain in through the open doorway.

  “Come in, come in.” I waved him in automatically, hurriedly shutting the door. Despite the sedating effects of the wine, panic seized me, making it impossible to suck in a full lungful of air. I just prayed my legs would keep from buckling.

  I turned, leaning my back against the door. Our eyes met and we stared in silence for what seemed an eternity.

  “Is that why you do it?” he asked finally, his voice raw. Ja
gged. The haunted look in his eyes was my undoing.

  “Do what?” I asked, my vision blurring with building tears.

  He swallowed hard. “Take those pictures. Of the babies,” he said hoarsely.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He didn’t say anything more, but I couldn’t bear to let him stand there with any more unanswered questions. What did it matter anyway? Telling him everything wouldn’t make a difference. I’d hurt him, and he had every right to hate me.

  Yet he was here…

  I couldn’t afford to think there was even a glimmer of hope.

  His next words destroyed the most remote possibility. “I imagine you were well paid for those kinds of…that kind of dedication. Like you did for that family up north.”

  I shook my head, not understanding why he thought I was paid. “No, no. No, not at all. I never took money, I…I never charged any of those families a penny. I could never…” My voice trailed off at the look of disbelief on his face. Why was he looking at me like that? “Devin,” I began. “There’s so much I want to tell you. Can we sit?”

  “I’ll stand.” His clipped words sliced through me.

  Could hopelessness grow larger? I pushed on. I wanted him to hear everything. I owed him that, and then he could go. At least then I’d know I no longer held a secret that had so etched my soul.

  “When I was growing up, my mother and father had a normal marriage, or so I thought, but when I became a teenager, she started pointing out all the things I should look for in a boyfriend, in a husband. You see, while I think she loved my father at first, she’d grown discontented over the years when he didn’t turn out to be the big breadwinner she thought, or expected, him to be. Not that she did much to help things along, mind you. But it finally became apparent that she’d thought she’d settled, and she wanted more for me.”

  Feeling a bit stronger as I finally let unfold what I’d held in for so long helped, and I tightened the belt of my robe, prepared to tell him everything. “As an only child, I had no other perspective to see what she was saying was skewed. Kids are impressionable and I was no different. Naïve. Believing that my mother knew best, I absorbed her views and made them my own without examining if they did or didn’t mesh with who I was. Or who I wanted to be, anyway.”

  Whether it was the wine or the need, the words tumbled out as fast as I could speak. “Then you came along and I think, no—I know—she felt that was threatening what she’d decided I was to go for. A career. A future. All of that.” I sliced my hand through the air in disgust as the memory of how misguided I’d been and how I’d hurt the man standing in front of me.

  “You said you’ve worked through all of that now.”

  God, I wished he’d yell. Scream. Anything but sound so…unemotional. Devoid of feeling. But I refused to let that stop me. Not now.

  “I spent some time with a therapist that helped me gain perspective. Confidence. Self-esteem. All the things that were missing and made me so easily swayed. It was the best thing I’ve ever done. I only regret I didn’t know to do it sooner.”

  Finally he looked up with something more than dead eyes. A flicker of something came to life inside him. “I’m glad you were smart enough to reach out and get help to make your life better. I’m truly glad of that, Micki.”

  My lips trembled at the shift between us. “Thank you,” I managed, before pressing my lips together tightly, willing the fresh barrage of tears to stop. He thought little enough of me now. I didn’t need to give him reason to think even less.

  A look of fresh pain etched his features. “Tell me about the baby.”

  I pulled in a shaky breath. Everything, Micki. He’s never deserved anything less. I kept my hands at my side, resisting the urge to twist the belt of my robe in my fingers. “I found out I was pregnant, and my mother figured it out, too. She was out of her mind. Angry. Screaming at me. She blamed me for screwing up my entire future. She told me I’d never have a chance at life having a baby at seventeen with a father that only worked in a boatyard.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched after I said that. I pushed on. “She told me that she and my father wouldn’t support me, that I’d end up on the streets and that the only way she’d help me was by paying for an abortion.” The bile that always boiled in my throat when I thought of that night didn’t disappoint. It had taken time and counseling to understand where she was coming from. Even longer to try and forgive her.

  “But you said you didn’t—” he prompted.

  I shook my head, a dull headache forming in the center of my forehead, my jaw numb from tension. Rubbing it, I squeezed my eyes shut to focus on getting the whole, horrible story out. “She made an appointment with my gynecologist but it took, like, three weeks to get in and see him. By then, I’d started feeling pain on one side. It didn’t go away. I started to get worried because, while I was young, I wasn’t stupid and I knew this wasn’t normal. By the time my appointment rolled around I was pretty much in heavy pain all day long. When I told him, he immediately sent me in for tests and that’s when they found the reason why. I had the procedure the same day because they felt it was at risk for rupture.”

  A small twitch appeared where his jaw met his neck. He dropped his hands to his hips and looked down to the floor. I felt like I had to say something, anything, to make this easier for him. “There was no alternative, Devin. No matter what the circumstances—”

  He looked up sharply, his eyes blazing with something I couldn’t identify. “Yes, there was something that could’ve been different.”

  Rattled at the sudden change in his expression, I started. “I…I don’t know—”

  “Me.” He jerked a thumb to his chest. “I could’ve been there with you. I could’ve been beside you from day one. Do you think for one fucking second I would’ve let you go through that alone?” He paced furiously in front of me.

  I thought of Jason, who had stayed beside Chloe every step of the way through her cancer treatment. She’d found her perfect man…and I’d pushed mine away. I could no longer keep my hands at my sides. Twisting the belt in anguish, I wanted to scream to the world how wrong I’d been. How stupid.

  “I’m sorry, Devin. I’m so sorry.” The tears I’d valiantly tried to keep at bay threatened to come in copious amounts. I couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not with him still here.

  He stopped in front of the window and stared outside. The storm had begun to peter out, but it still churned just as violently as the atmosphere between us. He shook his head. Once. Twice.

  Suddenly he pivoted and took two long steps to come up in front of me, grabbing my shoulders roughly. Tears coursed down his cheeks. My gut twisted in agony at what I saw in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Devin,” I whispered, “I’m so sorry.” A hard lump clogged my throat.

  His eyes narrowed as he peered deeply into my eyes before crushing me against his chest with enough force to push the air from my lungs. I wrapped my arms around him and clung to him for dear life.

  “Forgive me, Micki. Please, forgive me,” he pleaded against my temple.

  I tried to pull back to look up at him, but he wouldn’t loosen his hold. “Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive you for, Devin. This was all me.”

  He shook his head, framing my face in his hands. “Yes, there is. If I’d been more then…things might’ve—would have—turned out differently.”

  “No, no, no,” I insisted. “This was all me. All of it. I drank the Kool-Aid and ruined everything.”

  “Stop talking,” he demanded, tilting my head up and sealing his mouth over mine in a deep, soul-searching kiss that went on and on and left me scared to think.

  “How can you forgive me?”

  He took a long look before answering. “Because I’ve yet to forgive myself and I think I know how you feel.”

  I frowned. “You don’t have anything to forgive yourself for. Truly.”

  “I didn’t know how to fight for you then. I told you, I knew why you du
mped me, and I got it…sort of. But if I’d had the right tools, the right skills to know what to do then, I could’ve…maybe…made you hang on a little longer. At least until I could prove to you I had more to offer than just being a surfer killing time working in a boatyard.”

  “Devin?”

  “Yes?”

  I opened and shut my mouth two times before I found the right words. “Devin, you need to know something.” When I paused, I felt him tense and I rushed to tell him before I lost my nerve. “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not once. You were—” My voice broke. “My first love. The one I’ve unconsciously measured all others by, but I understand if this…” I floundered, waving my hand uselessly in the air between us. “If this was—is—too much…” I trailed off, not knowing where to finish.

  Looking up, I gasped at the dark, almost frightening look on his face. “I’m not going any fucking where. Do you understand that?” He searched my face for a split second before hauling me closer and kissing me in a brutal, harsh kiss.

  My heart dared to hope. Dared to think…

  He pulled back, his hands grasping. Moving. Holding…gentling. “I so wanted to do this the right way. Everything perfectly planned.”

  I wasn’t even remotely thinking clearly. “What are you talking about? Doing what the right way?”

  He dropped to one knee and looked up, taking both of my hands. “Michaela Dawson, will you marry me? I don’t have a ring—yet. But you can pick out one…and…” He stood up and cradled me in his arms. “What’s wrong? If it’s a no, we’ll give it—”

  I shook my head against his chest, pushing away with my hand. “No, you dense man. I’m crying because I can’t—I don’t—” I babbled. “What I mean is yes!”

  His face changed from bleak and concerned to joy-filled. “Are you sure?”

  Nodding, I couldn’t keep the tidal wave of happiness contained any longer. “Yes. More sure of this than anything else in my life.”