To fall asleep, I imagine Merit in the meadow next to the Youngs’ house. She’s wearing the blue dress she put on the day of Rebecca’s funeral. She’s smiling, and we’re young. She’s reaching for my fingertips as the daisies dance around her. She controls the clouds and the sun and the grass below our feet. When she moves, they move. And, if they had faces, they’d smile, too. They’d give in to her lean jaw, her defined cheekbones, her purposeful walk, and the love she gives the world.
Holding tight to this image, my eyes feel heavy once again. And I don’t think about tomorrow. All I think about is her smile and the way she pushes her blonde hair behind her ear. The grass. The clouds. And the daisies.
“One more thing, Dubbs is stopping by. We have business to take care of.” One thing I’ll never do again is not tell her something because I love her too much, too much to give her the truth or how I feel.
But I see her lip curl up, as if it’s an involuntary movement.
But Merit surprises me when she asks, “Worst-case scenario?”
It’s a game we haven’t played since we were kids. A game we played as kids and teenagers to put off the fears of what the future might really hold or not.
Carefully, I cross my arms, coffee in hand, staring at Merit in my home, smiling. Something I’ve dreamed about for years. Years when I used other women to try to satisfy a need that only Merit could fill. This I know now. Calling on last loves and situations to break up the heartache I still feel toward Merit.
“That Dubbs owes one hundred thousand dollars in back taxes, and he wants you to hide him from the IRS.”
Merit nods, picking up her coffee, taking a slow sip. She smiles. “Dubbs apologizes and wants a father-son relationship now.”
I tilt my head. “You’ve stepped up your game.”
“I taught the game to Abbey, my colleague on the West Coast. She’s pretty damn good.”
“That Dubbs owes one hundred thousand dollars in back taxes to the government, and he wants me to shoot him so he can fake his own death.”
She grins.
And, with this single act, I tell her what’s going on, “Dubbs needs to borrow five grand. He’s stopping by to pick it up this morning.”
Her jaw drops. “Five thousand dollars?”
I nod, taking a sip of my coffee and setting it down on the counter. “Merit, I’ll never not tell you the truth ever again.”
This comment makes her grow nervous, and I know this because she pulls at the tips of her hair in search of split ends.
Gently and carefully, I reach for her hand. She’s hesitant at first, but she lets me touch her skin, and I feel it in every dark place in my body. “He owes a guy in Augusta,” I continue.
Our hands stay where they are. The warmth of her slender fingers between mine makes me want to stay put.
“This is a worst-case scenario. You know that, right, Ryan?” she whispers, staring down at our hands.
I nod.
I didn’t ask Dubbs who because I don’t want to know.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Stay here.”
“I didn’t want to come back here, Ryan,” she says before I turn to answer the door.
“I know.”
“No, I didn’t want to come back here because I’m terrified of you.”
I don’t rush out the words that come to my mind. I want them to be heard. I know how she feels. I know how she feels because I saw her heart break into a million pieces seventeen years ago.
Instead of saying something reassuring, which I planned initially, all I say is, “I know, Violet. You have to let go of my hand because I can’t let go of yours.” I stare at her. “Not this time.”
Merit’s eyes leave our intertwined fingers, and she meets my gaze. She starts to say something, but the knock at the door interrupts her. She releases my hand and walks to her bedroom, so I can deal with Dubbs.
I grab the cash I keep in my gun safe and put it in a bag as I walk to the front door. I see a man standing there, who looks much less scary than he did when I was just a boy. A man who looks tired. Weak. The alcohol and the cigarettes have taken their toll. His thinning gray hair is combed back. His gaunt and yellowing face tells me there’s some sort of liver damage, but I don’t ask. I haven’t seen Dubbs in more than six months. Living in Hallowell, I don’t have the need or the want to stop and visit him in Granite Harbor. We’ve never had a stop-and-visit sort of relationship.
“Hey.” His hands shoved in his pockets, he waits, unsure of what to do.
“Money’s all there.” I toss him the bag full of bills. “You can count it if you’d like.”
Dubbs looks down at the bag. “Nah, I don’t have to.” His lonely, dark eyes first search the bag and then the ground for conversation starters. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Getting by.”
“Ribs?”
“I’ll live.”
Dubbs stopped by the hospital when he heard about the accident.
Dubbs never laid a hand on me after that day I stood up to him at sixteen. Never touched me again. He also never gave me a second look. Thought I should be a man. But the thing is, he didn’t teach me about the basic fundamentals of life. Love. Family. Responsibility. I learned all that from the Young family. And, even then, I’ve failed. Just look at the woman who came back to care for me, take care of me, after all these years.
“Just take the money and go, Dubbs. I don’t need your small talk.” Though, as a small boy, I would have died for a hug from my dad. But I don’t need it now.
He slowly nods, still staring down at the slats of wood in the porch, mulling over my words and his regret. There’s a long pause. “Thanks. Thanks for this.” He meets my eyes but only momentarily.
I give a slight nod and shut the door, leaving Dubbs standing there.
“You all right?”
“Jesus Christ!” I jump and wince and moan with pain, all at the same time, and grab my rib cage.
Merit is standing in the entryway behind me.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
I hold my ribs as I wait for the pain to subside. Take a few short breaths. After a few seconds, I say, “Want to head to headquarters?”
She nods reluctantly and grabs my arm before I walk past her. We’re only inches apart, close enough for me to touch her face and put my lips to hers.
“Why do you continue to help him?” She isn’t asking out of spite or protectiveness; she’s asking to understand because she’s watched me do this time after time after time. Not so much the money part, but the part where I keep the metaphorical door open for Dubbs.
“Because no one else will.”
Her grip on my arm loosens, as if allowing me space, but I don’t want any.
“What about you, Ryan? Who is going to help you?”
I want to tell her she’s already doing it. She’s here. But I don’t say it out loud because my heart stands in the way, too afraid. But, at the same time, I need to prove she’s all I want. She’s all I’ve ever wanted.
So, instead, with my good arm, I reach up and slowly take the space between her cheek and neck. I take my thumb and rub it against her jaw, staring at her, willing her to see my regret.
Her breath hitches when I do this. Her eyes become slits, and my chest becomes heavy with ache. I want to kiss her mouth the way I used to. I can’t rush this. This can’t be on my terms. It has to be hers.
I think, too, she knows the answer to her question, but I can’t keep allowing her to pick up the pieces. Merit always seemed to be the one to fix my hurts, both emotionally and physically, when we were kids. At a young age, the mother to two boys and her father. I think she felt, maybe still feels, that it’s her responsibility to take on that role. Or it’s harder for her to separate between mother and woman.
The sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, both inside and out. I remember the small of her back after the first time we made love when I was seventeen. It
wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t clumsy. It was as if our bodies had been made to do this just to each other. Forever.
“What?” she says. Her hand slides from my arm.
I want to tell her what I’m thinking about. About the way her body looked, open for only me. The way each of her breasts fit perfectly in my mouth and only my mouth. The way she felt the first time I pushed into her. The only person who’d done that.
I lean in close to her ear, pulling her to me, wanting her to know that nobody stands a chance against her, and that it’s always been her. I whisper, “Nothing.” Because I can’t tell her all this yet. It will only put her in a place she isn’t ready for.
Nine
Merit
Hallowell, Maine
Present Day
I stand in the entryway, behind Ryan.
I want to remind Dubbs about each time Ryan came to our house with a new bruise that two kids had to keep a secret to protect him. That, every time Ryan had a new cigarette burn, he’d make an excuse to hide the way you didn’t love him. Every time you broke his heart. The time you killed his dog. You broke your son, and he defends you to this day. Not because he has to, but because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. That nothing can be done about it.
I want to say, I hate you, Dubbs, for taking a perfect human being and creating scars that sit in his subconscious, the ones I see come alive in his nightmares. And, when he’s trying to move on with his life, you seem to make appearances that set him back a few paces. You always do this; you might not know it, but you do. I see that because Eli and I have been there. The Young family has been there for Ryan, even at times when he didn’t want us to be. I don’t hate you, Dubbs Taylor, but Ryan should.
“You all right?”
“Jesus Christ!” Ryan jumps and grabs his ribs, all at the same time, and after a minute, he says, “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
Ryan’s looking at me with the same eyes he did when we were kids, and he was scared to death of his father. Though it’s changed over time and the fear isn’t so loud, I see the residual effects of the abuse in his adulthood. Him wanting to help his dad, no matter the cost. Ryan Taylor, Granite Harbor’s ladies’ man. But I still see the nine-year-old boy staring back at me. Eyes that have changed with time. A guarded look. More protection, more armor since our last encounter. Our past lives it seems.
“Want to head to headquarters?”
He tries to walk past me, tries to run away from this, but I gently grab his arm as he passes.
“Why do you continue to help him?”
I feel the tension surging through his body.
“Because no one else will.”
My grip loosens, but he moves closer.
“What about you, Ryan? Who is going to help you?”
I have flashbacks of when we were kids. When the grief for my mom got so heavy some days that I couldn’t get out of bed, Ryan would come to my bedside and bring me breakfast and lunch while Pop or Eli would take over at dinner. And, when Dad had to work overtime, Ryan would be back. He would stand me up on my own two feet when I couldn’t walk. I’d trudge forward. I had a family to take care of.
His words permeate and twist in my mind. “Because no one else will.”
Please don’t touch me, I pray.
He reaches up with his good arm, and his large hand slowly takes me at my cheek where he rubs my jaw with his thumb.
Breathe, Merit. Just breathe.
His deep, dark navy-blue eyes fold into mine, and I remember all the times he helped me from the floor when I didn’t think I could help myself. So badly, I want to take his hurt and his loss, just as much I know he wanted to take mine away after my mom died. This is the Ryan I fell in love with.
“What?” I ask, trying to remember where we were in all this. My hand slides from his arm because my entire body is on fire right now.
“Nothing,” he says, his lips inches from mine.
I remember how well our mouths moved together. How good he felt against my body. His hardness ached for more in moments when we couldn’t go any further. The way his mouth felt against my insides. The way we moved like sand and water. He sank into me, and we lost sight of who we were as separate people. I wonder, too, if that was our age. Our youthfulness. Wanting nothing more than to be united as one.
The drive to headquarters is only six minutes from Hallowell. It’s quiet and quick. Knowing I’ll see people Ryan and I have both known since we were kids, people I haven’t seen in quite some time, I’ll have to put on a face that doesn’t reflect what my insides feel. Many will be my dad’s colleagues. I’m sure it will bring up reminders of my mother. Though the good reminders, not the bad.
“You can pull in here,” Ryan directs.
I pull into the spot next to a Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife van.
We walk into the department, and the familiar scent of a well-kept, dated building wafts through my nose, bringing a piece of my childhood back. A safe, secure feeling reminds me of where I am. A distinct smell. The office is bustling with wildlife biologists, secretaries, leaders. Printers sound. Phones ring. Nothing has changed since I left, and yet everything has.
“Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say this is the clone of the long-lost Merit Young coming through the doors of the department. This time, you decided to pay us a visit,” Linda says with open arms from behind the counter.
“Hey, Linda.” I drift into her arms.
Her scent of vanilla is familiar, warm.
She whispers as her arms close in around me, “Heard you were in town.” She pulls back and looks me over. “Girl, you need some food. Meat on your bones. You feedin’ her, Warden Taylor?”
Ryan smiles. “You try to give this woman direction, Linda.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Well, there are doughnuts in the staff lounge.” She rubs my shoulder before she goes back to her desk. “Good to see you, Mer.” She winks.
“We have to go see the benefits manager. She’s in the back,” Ryan whispers to me.
I follow him to an office in the back.
My mouth twitches when I see the leggy brunette stand from behind her desk. Her hair is pulled back into a tight, sleek ponytail. Her glasses give her a sophisticated look. And her facial features are blaring reminders that bone structure is key to beauty.
She’s beautiful and smart. Wonderful.
“Warden Taylor,” she drawls, coming around her desk. But then she sees me and stops in her tracks. “Oh, hello.”
“Faynette Dowd, this is Merit Young.” Ryan stands between us.
Faynette. What kind of name is Faynette?
I assume she’s Southern by her accent. The best of me is robbed by jealousy, and grace seems to be unreachable today.
I shove my hand out to take hers. “Hello. You must be new here.” I establish my time in the department with my tone. Time of not employment, but time spent growing up in this building with its people. Hours spent on the floor, Eli and me, with coloring crayons while Dad pulled long nights sometimes.
Faynette takes my hand. “I am. Just started about six months ago.”
“Well, welcome. It’s a great place to work.” I look to Ryan.
“That paperwork you called for?” Ryan scratches the back of his head for no reason at all but maybe to break the tension in the office.
“Oh, right, yes.” She walks back around her desk and pulls his file. She takes a packet and gives it to Ryan. “Get this signed by your doctor.”
“Will do,” Ryan says.
“Warden Taylor? Can I have a word with you?” Faynette asks as we turn to leave.
Ryan looks to me as if to ask my permission. This is Faynette’s way of getting me out of her office. I’m a woman. I know her tricks.
“I’ll be out front with Linda.” I try to act as if I don’t care in the slightest. But, really, my heart is pounding in my chest.
Why? Ryan and I aren’t together. She’s go
rgeous. Who cares?
But a little voice inside me says, You do.
I walk to where I’m out of earshot of Faynette and Ryan.
Look.
Don’t look.
Look.
Stop.
I look.
Ryan’s settled back on the heels of his feet, his good arm at his side, a look on his face that is unapologetic.
She’s talking to him, rubbing her forehead with her hand, staring at him. I can’t hear anything they’re saying, but I can tell Ryan is trying to keep it professional.
She moves a little closer to Ryan, but he doesn’t budge. The same unapologetic face is worn well. She reaches in for a hug, but his body stays as is until he touches her waist. Carefully shakes his head. Gently pushes her away.
And I walk to the front.
“How’s your dad?” Linda asks as I come around front. “Blood clot fine now?”
I lean against her desk, pushing the feeling to throw up back down. “Yeah, he seems to be doing really well.” I’m only half in the conversation.
“Has a new girlfriend I see.”
I’m not sure how I would classify Meredith Fisher. We all adore her, but Pop hasn’t come right out and said that he and Meredith are dating. Maybe it might be awkward since she’s Alex’s mom, and Eli and Alex are married. But they have fun together, and they both love Emily. I think there comes an age where companionship becomes more important than sex ever will be.
“You ready?” I hear Ryan’s voice behind me.
I try not to look at him, so I don’t make assumptions based on his facial gestures.
Don’t read into it, Merit. He’s not yours. Anymore.
I try to pretend that seeing him and Faynette together in her office didn’t affect me, but it did. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
“Yes.” I walk around to Linda and give her neck a squeeze. “Good to see you,” I say into her thinning, dark hair.
“You, too, sweetheart. You’re not a girl anymore. You’re a beautiful young woman. You should have seen the eyes in the department move when you walked in.”
Violet Ugly: A Contemporary Romance Novel (The Granite Harbor Series Book 2) Page 6