by Casey Hagen
Her thoughts flashed to Shane’s wife and child. What was it like for him to think about them? She knew they’d died in a fire. It had been one of those details that hadn’t been heavily broadcast around town, but she had run into George when she was shopping for the monthly donations she made to the rescue, something she had done as a way of paying penance for not being honest with Shay about taking the volunteer time home with her.
She remembered thinking he was ill, and she stopped to say hi to check on him. The dam broke and he’d poured his heart out about Shane’s wife and son. He’d even pulled out their pictures to show her.
Never once did Bellamy entertain a moment of jealousy. There was just hurt and sorrow. His wife had been beautiful and glowing, with wavy blond hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. She was looking at their son with total love, adoration, and protection in her eyes.
Did Shane lie in bed at night and think about if they’d suffered?
He must have, because Bellamy sure did.
She’d gladly live a life of longing for him, even after the renewed passion between them, if she could just bring his family back.
She glanced at the clock and gasped.
“Hey, aren’t you meeting your friends for lunch? You’re going to be late,” Shay said from the doorway.
“I just noticed. I lost track of time. They’ll understand.” Bellamy took the warm, sleeping kitten from her chest, the runt of the litter who needed a little extra love, and placed him in the cage with his siblings.
Shay brought the mother in and put her in with her babies. She circled them and sniffed. Finally, she gave Shay a weary glance before flopping over. Her kittens latched on to her, kneading her fur. The sound of mama’s purring filled the small room.
“Is she going to make it?” Bellamy asked.
“The vet said not to get our hopes up, but if any mother could fight her way back it’s this one.”
Bellamy washed her hands in the sink and rolled a lint roller over her shirt. “Do you mind if I check on her throughout the week, just to see how it’s going?”
“Not at all,” Shay smiled. “You mind if I check on you?”
“What do you mean?”
Shay shrugged, and leaned against the sink. “Well, word is spreading that Shane McGovern is back in town; you two were seen getting hot and heavy right there in The Chatter Shack. I know it’s none of my business, but—”
“You’re worried about me,” Bellamy said for her.
“Yes, I’m worried. You’re a fixer, Bellamy. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just, some things…they can’t be fixed. They just are. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes. I do.” Bellamy smiled. “I don’t think Shane can be fixed. I don’t know if I want him to be fixed. Our dents and cracks are what make us. I wish it had been different for him, but it seems the best-case scenario for Shane is to stop the bleeding so he can move on. With or without me.”
Shay assessed her, and cracked a smile. “That sounds good. Now, question is, do you believe it?”
“I’m working on it,” Bellamy said as she walked out the door.
She found Cameron and Val sitting in the same booth that she and Shane had sat in the night before.
They both sipped milkshakes, doing their best to hide their grins as they shared the bench Shane had occupied.
“Word on the street is that your disgustingly perfect ass sat right there,” Cameron greeted, pointing to the empty bench, “last night as Shane kissed the bejesus out of you in front of half the town. What I want to know is why the hell we didn’t get a call last night telling us about it,” Cameron said.
“Yeah, Bellamy. Why did we have to hear about it on the streets?” Val asked.
“I’m sorry.”
“I think she was taking a cold shower,” Val said.
“Nope, I think she pulled out a few toys and handled business,” Cameron said,
“I think you’re both wrong.”
Their usual waitress for these lunches, Rory, dropped off a chocolate milkshake with a smile. Their lunches were always the same, no menu required. Milkshakes and one of every appetizer on the menu.
They’d agreed years ago that every lunch would be in open defiance to the nutrition judgments they suffered the rest of the week.
Bellamy lifted her glass and clinked it with Cameron and Val’s. “To the deep-fried gods.”
“To the deep-fried gods,” they echoed.
“Okay, so what were you doing last night, when you should have been calling your two best friends? I mean, really, we had to hear all about every little escapade with Shane all through high school. But now that it’s gotten really juicy…I hear crickets,” Cameron said as she twirled the ends of her dark brown hair around her index finger. Gray eyes held Bellamy in their grip, demanding she spill.
“I was reliving the moment a hundred times over and wondering how Shane and I were going to screw this up this time,” she said before taking a sip of her shake.
Val leaned in and swirled her straw in what was left of her vanilla shake. “Who says you’ll screw it up?”
Bellamy scooped the cherry off the top of the whipped cream and pulled it off the stem with her front teeth. “He couldn’t even tell me that he’d applied to his dream college in L.A. until he was accepted and partially packed to go,” she answered after she swallowed.
“And how is that your fault? As near as I can tell, that was all him,” Val said.
Bellamy shook her head. “But it wasn’t. We’d been together for four years. We’d loved each other, yet he couldn’t tell me what was in his heart. I have ownership in that.”
Cameron slumped back in the bench. “God, listen to you, all grown-up-sounding and shit.”
“Yes, well, I’m about to eat an eight-year-old’s dream lunch. It’s all about balance.”
“So, where does this leave you two?”
“I don’t know. He kissed me again this morning before I left the house, and I have to tell you he’s learned a few things.”
“So, you gonna do it?”
“Jeez, this sounds like a bunch of fourteen-year-old boys in a treehouse.”
“Well, I for one would like to know.”
“You think I should?”
“God, yes.”
“Yup. I thought you would have done the deed in high school. I was hoping for it. But you know what? This is probably better. I saw him the other day at the gas station and, good God, that would not be a teenage boy giving you a roll. That’s a filled out, full-blooded, steaming-hot man.”
“Gee, I see you’ve thought about it.”
“Honey, any woman even catching a glance of Shane McGovern now would be thinking about it. He’s this crazy combination of athlete with a touch of lumberjack that just makes you want to crawl up that tree and devour him.”
“There’s been talk. Panties around town have been going up in flames with each spotting. Even married women are going home pre-heated after seeing him and mauling their husbands.”
“He’s just a man.”
“Bullshit. He’s a goddamned work of art that should be chiseled in marble and erected in the park.”
Cameron wasn’t wrong.
Later, when they rolled themselves out to the parking lot, Val caught Bellamy alone. She hugged herself against the stiff breeze that shot through the parking lot. “Hey, all these years, it’s like you’ve been waiting for something that never came. Lives moved forward, even Shane’s, and there you were, still standing at the intersection, not picking a direction. Or maybe picking every direction, I don’t know. But do yourself a favor…pick his direction. For once, be willing to go for it.” Val hugged her quickly and hopped into her car, not giving Bellamy a chance to reply.
Chapter 8
Shane arrived home after six. He’d stubbornly waited to see if Bellamy showed, but she managed to avoid him and he had too much work on his current project to wait any longer.
He wanted another kiss.
&
nbsp; He wanted to peel the clothing from her fevered skin.
He wanted once and for all to finally know the feeling of sinking into her.
He wanted to feel the beat of her vibrant, living heart under his lips as it raced for him.
He should be terrified. Laura was his last. And at the time, they were trying for another baby. He waited for the guilt of betrayal to pummel him, but it didn’t. At least, not the way it always had.
They were gone. They weren’t coming back.
Their lives had been unfairly snuffed out. How much more time was he going to waste, when he was lucky enough to still be among the living?
“Hey, little brother. Did you get a chance to see Dad today?” Devin stopped in the kitchen, reached into the fridge, and pulled out a ginger ale.
He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and dropped it on the table. “No, I’ve been at Bellamy’s all day.”
She winked and smiled. “Yeah, how’s that working out for ya?”
He pulled out the change in his front pocket next and dropped it in a coffee can his mother kept on the hutch for change. “I’m just over halfway. Right on time with what Dad planned out.”
“I wasn’t talking about the project. I’m referring to your thing with Bellamy.”
He locked eyes with her and found her smiling. “You heard?”
“Who hasn’t? It’s a small town. Your romance with her was practically legendary. Everyone is talking.”
He scrubbed a hand over his beard and then through his hair to scratch the back of his head. He needed a shower. The dust from sanding mud, despite his protective gear, had burrowed into his pores, drying him up from the inside out. “Is it horrible that I’m almost grateful that Mom and Dad are distracted with his heart attack right now?”
“Bite your tongue, young man!” his mother said from behind him.
He flinched. “Thanks a lot for warning me, Dev.”
“Hey, I’m going for favorite child. If that means I throw you under the bus, well, them’s the breaks.” She patted his cheek and retreated down the hall, leaving him with the wrath of his mother.
“Mom—”
“I don’t want to hear it. You need to watch your mouth. You should know better than anyone to not make jokes about such serious matters.” She pointed at him, then dragged over the wooden stepstool from his childhood, and hopped up to grab the Jack Daniels from over the fridge.
“I see you and your sister have gotten into my stash,” she said, giving him the eye over her shoulder.
He bit back a groan as he eased himself into a chair. He worked out four, sometimes five days a week at home, but couldn’t remember being this sore. “Maybe a bit.”
“A bit? There’s only one shot left.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“You should be. Now, it’s a good thing your mother is prepared for such things.” She crouched in front of the cereal cabinet and dug around behind the Grape Nuts. With a victory squeal she pulled out another bottle. “The emergency stash!”
“Should I be looking into a twelve-step program for you?”
She aimed the top of the bottle at him and shook it. “That’s two. You wanna go for three? Third smart-ass remark and you’re grounded.”
He laughed at her sass, relieved to see a bit of fire back in his mother after the week she’d had. “I’m almost thirty-one. Good luck grounding me.”
The resounding clank as the Jack bottle dropped a bit too hard against the oak table filled the room, and on the heels of it his mother crossed her arms and raised a brow at him. The look had him pulling at his collar and avoiding eye contact.
“I’ll get the glasses,” he said as he headed for the cabinet next to the sink.
“That’s my good boy.”
He took his seat again and watched her pour two glasses. A full one for her. A half for him.
“Why do I only get half?”
“Because you had more than your share last night, from the looks of it. And this bottle has to satisfy my need for nightcaps until your dad comes home. After that, no more liquor.”
“Doctor’s orders?”
“Among other things. The good news is, if he can prove he’s a good boy he won’t need the stent after all.”
“Any idea when he’s coming home?”
“They’re going to hold on to him for a couple more nights yet, just to make sure he gets a bit stronger. They did say he can’t return to work for three to four weeks. I don’t want to put you in a bind with your job—”
“It’s not a bind. Being here has been good for me. The project I was working on was sitting stagnant in L.A. Now, it’s almost finished.”
“Would a certain redhead have anything to do with this sudden inspiration?”
He nodded after taking a sip of the burning liquid. “She might.”
“Where are things headed with her?”
“I don’t know…I—I love her again.”
“You mean still?”
Did he? The idea made him feel like a right shit when he thought about Laura and Jason. “I don’t know.”
“I do.” She lay her hand on his. “And it doesn’t minimize your love for Laura. The love you had for Bellamy was selfish, on both your parts.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “You put you first and she put herself first. That’s not unheard of in young relationships. You know, that was my biggest worry for you two…that selfishness. Because you really seemed to have something. A connection that defied logic. But neither of you was ready yet.”
“And if Laura had lived?”
“You would have loved her until your dying day. You stick like that. But she’s gone, and if you spend the rest of your life alone, afraid to give your heart, you dishonor her memory. My grandson’s memory.”
He rubbed at his tearing eyes. “I miss them so much. Every single minute, I miss them.”
She kissed his hand. “Oh, my boy, it’s no wonder. Not only were they stolen from you, but those flames took any mementos you had of them. It brought you to your knees. But I see a light in you now, a purpose. I think Bellamy woke it up in you and I, for one, thank her for that.”
“Mom…” His throat closed for a minute as he struggled with the emotions threatening to choke him. “Do you think Laura understands?”
“Oh, honey. Do you not remember your wife? You were so lucky to find two selfless souls in her and Bellamy. Laura would have loved her.” She nudged his chin with her finger, forcing him to face her. “And you know what? I think she’s looking over you right now and telling you to go for it. How can she enjoy Heaven if she has to look down every day and worry about you?”
She kissed the top of his head, ruffled his hair like she did when he was a young boy, and headed down the hall to her bedroom, leaving him there with his past and present coiling around him. The curves and edges repositioning themselves like a puzzle just trying to find the right fit.
***
Bellamy sat in her office, the glow of her monitor and a cup of hot chocolate keeping her company. She’d washed her long day away in the shower until she’d used up all the hot water, then pulled out a pair of flannel pajamas and her reindeer slippers.
With the heat pumping away she examined the Stella photos, marking down the best shots, the ones that needed a touch-up, and which would look good in black and white. She never told her mommies and daddies, but she always picked a family photo and a single photo of their baby to blow up to 11x14 and frame for them as a gift.
Deep Mountain Photography gave her forty-percent discounts on prints, frames, and most other tools of the trade; she did these prints every session in a mostly digital industry that cost them customers as technology progressed.
As a thank-you, she bought all her camera and lighting supplies from them. They rewarded her continued loyalty with twenty-percent off the big items. They’d earned in her a loyal, life-long customer.
She’d just solidified her choice on baby photo for the print, when her cell phone ring
startled her out of her concentration.
She didn’t recognize the number and considered letting it just go to voicemail. However, she’d then just have to deal with it in the morning, with Shane there to boot, so she took the call.
“Hello, Bellamy Stone speaking.”
“Hi, dear. It’s been a long time.”
She couldn’t be sure, but she’d swear it was Pamela McGovern. “Mrs. McGovern? Is that you?”
“You remember…and please, call me Pamela.”
Oh, what in hell was happening now? If she was calling to talk to Bellamy about her public making-out with her son, she’d just die.
“Okay, Pamela. Umm, is there something I can help you with?” She winced, dreading the answer.
“Actually, there is. It’s a sensitive matter, and I think you’re just the right person to ask. Shane lost all the pictures of Laura and Jason in the fire. I have a few shots I took of them about a month before…”
Her voice drifted off, and Bellamy could swear she heard Pamela choke back tears. Unsure of what to say, of just what she was asking, she waited.
And wondered.
“Anyway, I’m certainly not a photographer by any means, but they were beautiful shots. We were in a butterfly garden, just surrounded by so much color, with flowers and butterflies everywhere. I just thought maybe you could go through them, see if there were one or two you could put your touches on, and bring them up to a quality that could be framed for him. Is that possible?”
It wasn’t often that someone brought Bellamy to tears with such an honor. To trust her with something so important, so meaningful, alleviated the niggling worries Bellamy carried about how his parents would feel about them as a couple. If they could make the whole couple thing happen. There were still some significant hurdles to jump.
But she loved the man. Had always loved the man.
She had to be honest with herself at least, and there it was.
He’d been in her heart since the Sadie Hawkins dance she’d asked him to when they were fourteen, and hadn’t budged since.