Tim was already stripping to his boxers and heading into the living room, “That’s fine. I’ve gotta work early anyway.” Turning back to his dad, “could you wake me up though? You’ll be up early, won’t you?”
Nodding, “Five-fifteen as usual.”
“How ‘bout six-thirty?”
Giving his sons quick hugs, “Six-thirty. G’night.”
Left alone, Jack swallowed another granola bar before telling Tim goodnight and going upstairs himself.
And it was there that Jack covered her up with the quilt.
And it was there that he finally told her he loved her. Granted she couldn’t hear him or respond because she was asleep but now that he’d said it, felt how the words played on his tongue, he knew he’d be saying it often … and every time, he’d feel it even more.
After watching her for a few minutes, he changed silently, but regardless of how hard he tried to be quiet, Tim’s bed creaked when he tried to get in, “Jack?”
Sliding back onto the floor, he came over to her, “Yeah, Tim’s down on the couch and I’m sleeping in his bed. Dad figured it wouldn’t freak you out as much if you woke up and found me.”
Blinking a few times before focusing in on him, “I should really go downstairs so Tim can have his bed.”
She punctuated her statement with a jaw-splitting yawn and Jack smiled, “Why don’t you just go back to sleep? We’ve already switched everybody around and, besides, might be kind of fun.”
Immediately snuggling back down in the pillow, “If you insist.”
Leaning over, he kissed her lightly on the cheek, “I’ll always insist.”
▪▪▪
The problem was now she couldn’t fall back to sleep; she could only hear Jack breathing about three feet away from her and, with every breath, she felt more and more guilty.
He was lying there, thinking the evening had been perfect, that she had been beautiful and perfect.
It took her nearly twenty minutes to work up the courage to ask him, “You still awake?”
She heard him roll over, presumably so he was now facing her, “Yeah?”
“What if there was more you didn’t know?”
“If you tell me it’s your birthday again, I’m not getting you anything.”
Almost smiling, “Do you think your mom’ll get annoyed if we shut the door for a little while?”
Moving, he got up and silently shut the door. Coming to sit next to her on his bed, “I was the last one to come upstairs, so we’ll be fine, as long as it’s opened before morning.”
Emily reached over and turned the bedside lamp on, “Then I need to talk to you.” Worry creased his forehead in a heart-meltingly enduring way and she suddenly felt her chest tighten, “And I need to show you something.”
Turning away from him, with hands shaking, she slipped the t-shirt over her head. Since she wasn’t sleeping in her bra, her back was completely exposed to him,
As were her scars.
In a voice barely above a whisper, she heard him ask, “Who did this to you?”
Managing to say, “My father,” she suddenly felt a tentative finger on her back. Surprisingly, she didn’t shy away, but held still as he followed each line and jagged, raised edge, tracing the outline of the iron burns, the glass cuts, the poorly stitched pocket knife gouge and finally, the small, slightly puckered hole where he’d punctured her with a screw driver.
His finger lingered here the longest, “I’ll kill him, I swear to God.”
Still not able to turn and look him in the face, “I think I did that already.”
Now, maybe he didn’t hear her or maybe he decided to discuss it later on, but regardless, the comment went by and he continued to run his hands over her bare back, “Can you tell me what happened?”
Finding it relatively easy to talk to him without having to see his face, she told him everything. Every last horrid detail because, once she began, she couldn’t stop.
And he listened in silence, never interrupting, never questioning, never commenting.
He did however, reach around her shoulders and gently pull the shirt back over her head so he could put his arms around her and hold her tight to him.
He also did this so his tears wouldn’t fall against her skin.
He wept silently for her as she whispered her life story to him over the course of the next hour. Just as the clock was switching over to two, she took a deep breath and was quiet.
Without a word, he reached around her and turned off the desk lamp, laying them both down on the mattress in the dark. Moving her hair off her neck with a brush of his nose, he kissed the only scar she hadn’t told him about, the one that ran the length of her hairline.
For the first time in that hour, he spoke, “This is the first one I’m going to kiss and make better. Eventually, if you let me, I’ll work on the rest but, for now, I’ll just focus on this one.” Continuing to lay kisses from one end of it to the other, “If that’s all right with you?”
She nodded and felt her entire body relax as it never had before. Jack knew everything. And he still wanted her.
He had touched her past and he had stayed.
“I love you, Jack Callaghan.”
▪▪▪
He’d moved out of her bed a few hours later, opened the door and crawled under his own covers about 15 minutes before his dad began his morning routine.
That routine was altered a tad when Will popped his head in to see just where Emily and Jack had wound up.
With satisfaction, he saw Emily curled in a ball in the bed she’d started in and Jack, snoring slightly, his foot hanging off the end of his brother’s bed, right where he should be.
▪▪▪
She slept for another hour or so, then, waking up, she moved quickly, digging in Jack’s drawers until she found the jeans from Christmas and the belt she wore. Pulling them on, as well as an old sweatshirt from his closet, she crept downstairs, dress and shoes in hand. Holding her breath as she tied her boots and slipped her coat on, she prayed she wouldn’t wake anyone up. With a sigh of relief at having succeeded, she slowly pulled the front door open and headed out into the pre-dawn morning.
Tim and Will held themselves still in the kitchen until they heard the front door click shut, then, “Why’d she leave?”
Will shook his head, “I don’t know, but given how quiet she was being about it, she must have had her reasons.”
Shrugging, he took another doughnut as he got up from the table, “Well, at least now I can get in our room without worrying about waking her up.”
“What about Jack?”
“Don’t care if he wakes up.” With a grin, he headed up the stairs.
Tim decided to be quiet, however, and Jack didn’t wake up until the rest of the family did, which was a little after nine. Rolling over, ready to wake Emily up, he instead saw the empty bed and sat up, wondering what had happened. It was then that he noticed the paper tucked under the end of the pillow. It only said, “Come by after work. I love you,” but it was all Jack needed to smile.
▪▪▪
He ran into Will as he was coming out of the bathroom a minute later, “Hey Dad.”
“Morning. Can I talk to you a minute?”
Ignoring his growling stomach, he nodded, “Am I in trouble?”
Will led him back to his room and motioned for Jack to sit down, “What happened last night after we went to bed?”
“I had a granola bar and came upstairs.”
“I mean, what happened after you got up here?”
Jack looked at him warily, “Em woke up and wanted to talk. Why? What happened?”
Slightly relieved, “She just left pretty early this morning. Wasn’t sure if something happened last night that made her want to leave.”
He looked at Will for a minute before, “She told me. She woke up and she told me and she showed me. I think maybe she didn’t want to deal with everyone this morning.”
“She told you?”
“Why wouldn’t she want to deal with us this morning?”
Standing back up, “She probably mostly didn’t want to deal with me. It’s one thing to tell someone something in the dark; it’s another to look at them again afterwards in the daytime.” Jack showed Will the note she’d left, “But she’s okay. I think she just wants to wrap her head around me knowing.”
Will regarded him with what one might have considered a hint of awe if they looked close enough, “When did you grow up?”
“’Bout one o’clock this morning. Give or take a few minutes.”
With a shake of his head, “And how are you wrapping your own head around it?”
“Ask me again in a few days. I may have an answer for you by then, but right now, I’m hungry and think we should go find us some breakfast.”
Knowing when to stop pushing, he started towards the hallway, close at his son’s heels, “I think it’s fend for yourself morning.”
▪▪▪
He knocked on the door after work that night, his stomach full of butterflies much like the first time he picked her up. He also couldn’t help the smile on his face, hoping she’d be glad to see him. He heard her coming down the stairs and, after the pause where he knew she was checking the peephole, the door opened up, revealing Emily, clad in pajamas and smudged with charcoal on her cheeks, “Hi.”
Stomping the bit of snow from his boots, “Hi.”
They shuffled awkwardly for a moment until a blast of cold air caught the door and sent Emily shivering, reminding her it was indeed winter, “Um, come on in.”
“Thanks.” Once they’d gotten upstairs, the weirdness descended again, with Jack shedding his coat and gloves, then standing, unsure what to do next. Emily, in turn, began quietly picking up stray art supplies. “Need some help?” After seeing her nod, he knelt down beside her, stacking the scraps of paper, “What’re you working on?”
“Not much. I turned in my project on Friday, so I’m just messing around really.” They finished in silence and once the last pencil had been put away, Emily sat back on her heels, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For leaving this morning.” Hanging her head now, “It was stupid of me. It was wrong to just drop that on you, then disappear.”
Scooting closer to her, he tilted her head back up, “It wasn’t stupid at all. I’m just glad you left me a note so I knew you weren’t mad at me or something.”
“You should have been mad at me.”
Coming in even closer, “All I wanted to do was kiss you good morning.” And his lips met hers, kissing like he had wanted to when he woke up.
And she kissed him back, moving closer to him as his arms slid around her waist.
Now, usually they’d have come up for air, but this time, Emily had absolutely no desire to let go of his lips and he sure wasn’t giving up hers. Soon, though, she pulled back enough to mention, “You know, you smell like a deep fryer.”
“The perils of working at a diner.” Wondering if he was pushing his luck, he asked anyway, “I could always take it off, if it’s bothering you.”
Already boldly fingering the hem of his shirt, “It might be nice if it was somewhere else.”
He laughed at her as he pulled the shirt off, “Can we at least get off the floor though? It’s kinda cold.”
Pulling him to the couch, she laid her warm hands on his stomach, “Warmer?”
“Much.” Returning to her mouth, he reached tentatively for the bottom of her own shirt, “You know, you’re covered in charcoal and it’s tickling my nose.”
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” She let him pull the shirt off her, but when her head reappeared, he was staring at her chest. Looking down quickly, she realized her scar was completely exposed, the jagged line only broken by the cotton of her bra.
Quickly, she pulled the shirt back down and sat against the arm of the couch, “Sorry.”
“I ... I didn’t see that one … last night.”
“And you probably shouldn’t have seen it now.”
Knowing this was a good moment for a little humor, he took advantage of it, “Geez, always fishing for a complement. You know you’d be beautiful covered head to toe in boils and bald. Who cares about a measly little scar?”
They studied each other intently for a moment until the corners of Emily’s mouth began to quiver, then the smile emerged. Jack grinned back at her and without another moment, their lips were together again.
It didn’t take long for them to be lying on the couch, hands roaming farther than ever before. Emily’s began drifting down his stomach and, as her fingers touched the button of his jeans, something began vibrating only inches from her.
Of course, being that she wasn’t exactly expecting his pants to be vibrating, she jerked backwards and slid off the couch, landing on the floor with a hard thump.
Jack, in turn, couldn’t imagine why his body should be vibrating at a time like this. It took a moment to realize what was happening. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the phone, “Hell on wheels, how does she do that?” Answering it, “Yeah? Um, hello?”
▪▪▪
When he hung up a minute later, Emily had already shifted, stationing herself a respectable few feet away on the other end of the couch. She watched him sigh and lean back into the cushions, “Everything all right?”
With shut eyes, he nodded, “I’d just like to know how the hell she knows whenever we’re …” Raising his hands in defeat, “When we’re here.”
She couldn’t help but shrug self-consciously, “She’s a mom. I guess they can do that.”
Reaching over, he rubbed her stocking feet for a minute before, “I’ve gotta go. My grandparents called and I need to call them back.”
“Fat scarf grandma?”
“Yeah, they call most Saturdays and they like to talk to all of us. Tim usually calls back on his cell, but,” scrolling through his stored numbers, “I don’t have the number in here.”
Standing and holding out her hand to pull him up, “Far be it from me to be the one to stand in the way of talking to Grandma and Grandpa.” Holding out his shirt, “Get out.”
By now he was chuckling, “You’re lucky I love you.”
As she gathered up his coat, “I know I am.”
Chapter 18
The following Monday, she slid into her seat next to Tim a few minutes before art class began, “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So listen, I’m sorry you had to sleep on the couch.”
Tim looked over at her, his perpetual half-grin right where it should be, “Are you kidding? For the first time in I don’t know how long, I didn’t have to listen to people going to the bathroom, snoring, talking in their sleep, having bad dreams,” stretching his arms up behind him, “I may have to move down there permanently. I never knew peace and quiet could actually be peaceful and quiet.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to fall asleep up there.”
Dropping his voice a little, “How ‘bout next time, you stay for breakfast and we’ll call it even?”
She smiled at him as Ms. Tassleman walked through the door, “All right. Who’s first?”
Critiques went quickly and, soon, they were getting their next two week assignment. “You will draw your family. I don’t care what you use or what you do it on … as long as it’s your family.”
Tim, with a loud groan, “Man, there’s seven of them. I can guarantee you there’s no way I can get all of them to sit still for that long. I don’t even think I could get all seven in the same spot, let alone keep them there without hefty bribes.”
Ben, another student with a rather large family, thought for a second, then called across the room, “You know, we can interpret how we want. She didn't actually say you have to draw each one.”
“So, already trying to work your way around my assignment, hmm?”
Tim turned red, “No, just …”
&
nbsp; Ms. Tassleman smiled, “I’m joking. The more you try to work your way around it, the more creative you’ll become. I say drive me crazy with interpretation.”
“Then you will definitely not be receiving seven portraits.”
As she stopped to talk to another student, Tim bumped Emily’s arm, “So, feel like helping me figure out a way to cheat?” When she didn’t respond, he looked over at her, “Hey, did you hear me?”
Crumbling Walls (Jack and Emily #1) Page 17