by T. K. Leigh
“Time doesn’t matter, dear,” she offered when I questioned whether he could feel as strongly about me as she insisted he did. “You can be in a relationship for years and feel nothing for the other person, or you can be together for mere weeks and feel something so strong, so beautiful, so perfect, you’d be a fool to walk away just because it hasn’t been long enough. Don’t let society dictate how long you need to be together. Love doesn’t grow. It happens, and you can’t control it. If you don’t feel it from the beginning, it’s not love.”
“When did you know with Thomas?” I asked, sipping my water. The smell of garlic and tomatoes made my stomach growl, and I couldn’t wait to devour the cheesy deliciousness she had prepared.
“Before he even said a word,” she responded, a dreamy glimmer in her eyes. “It was the summer after I graduated high school and I was enjoying my time with friends before we all went our separate ways. I was supposed to be leaving for college in a few months, and some of my friends were heading to teaching or nursing school. Others were hitchhiking their way across the country, trying to get to California. It was the sixties, after all.”
Her voice was gentle and calm, a warm smile crossing her face as if she were remembering the moment like it was yesterday.
“My girlfriends and I took the train into the city so we could go to the esplanade to listen to the Fourth of July concert and watch the fireworks. At the time, the drinking age was eighteen, so we brought a cooler and a few blankets, found a spot on the grass, and spent our day soaking up the sun. After a few hours, we ran out of beer, so I went in search of a concession stand to buy some more. There was a long line, but I waited, knowing my friends would be disappointed if I returned empty-handed. As I was heading back to them, balancing four beers in my hands, I ran into a very tall, very hard body, crushing the beers between us. It was like it happens in all those cheesy romance movies. Everything was in slow motion as I looked up from my beer-soaked tank top and shorts. I finally knew where the term love-struck came from because it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the atmosphere. When I saw his eyes, the most ferocious butterflies began fluttering in my stomach. The rest of the evening was a blur as I got to know this beautiful man, and I’m fortunate that I got to spend nearly forty years with him.”
“That’s beautiful,” I sighed.
“It wasn’t all easy for us. For the first several years, especially after Carol was born, we were barely scraping by. He was over in Vietnam for years, so I was forced to raise Carol without him. When he returned, she was already four. He had missed all of her firsts. After finding out he volunteered to stay in Vietnam after his first tour was over, even after he told me he didn’t have a choice, I kicked him out. His lies hurt, Mackenzie, so I know how you feel. But the time apart gave us both an opportunity to realize how much we couldn’t survive without each other. We both realized what was important in life. Thomas vowed never to lie to me again. He wanted to be there for all our next baby’s firsts, but we were in no position to try again. We were living in a studio apartment, barely making ends meet. I couldn’t find a job, even with the college degree I eventually got after having Carol. Employers didn’t want to hire me because I had a child. They wanted someone reliable who wouldn’t have to miss work because of an ill child. Things were a lot different back then.”
“I guess so,” I responded, shaking my head. I couldn’t imagine what she went through raising a baby while the father was overseas fighting a war.
“Then, one day, he got a letter. He had been trying to get in with the CIA for years, and had been faced with rejection after rejection. Finally, they agreed to see him for an interview. It was a long process but, two years later, we moved to Connecticut, bought a house, and he began working for the agency out of one of the satellite offices. He eventually started his own private security firm and we moved back up here.
“After he passed away, I traveled a lot. It wasn’t until my granddaughter was born that I decided to make Massachusetts my home once more and I’m glad I did so I could be around for all of her firsts.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, even though things may look bleak right now, life has a funny way of working itself out.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Burnham,” an imposing man clad in a dark suit interrupted, popping into the kitchen. Based on his stature, I knew he worked for the security company. Maybe he was Colleen’s version of Eli.
“Hello, William.” She looked away from me and gave him a congenial smile.
“I apologize for interrupting, ma’am, but I have news.” He slid an envelope in front of her and she opened it, examining the contents.
I turned my head to allow her to read whatever it was without me trying to look over her shoulder, but I was certainly curious. Instead, I occupied my mind with my surroundings. The kitchen was modern and homey. It opened into a laid-back sitting room with a large screen TV, and I could tell this was where most of the entertaining occurred.
“Thank you, William,” Colleen’s voice cut through, bringing my attention back to her and the formidable-looking man standing at ease next to her.
“Ma’am.” He nodded, retreating from the kitchen.
As if on cue, the stove buzzed, indicating that the lasagna was done. “Perfect.” She jumped up from her chair. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“Are you kidding me?” I responded, rubbing my stomach. “This little guy has a monster appetite.”
“Well, he’s got Burnham DNA in him. He’s going to be a big baby.”
“How big was Tyler when he was born?” I asked, almost scared to know the answer.
“Nearly ten pounds. Word of advice, dear,” she said, looking over her shoulder as she retrieved the lasagna from the oven. “Don’t turn down the epidural.”
Tyler
THE WHEELS OF THE plane finally touched down at Logan International in Boston after midnight, the end of three very long days of traveling. The drive to the closest airport in Sudan was nearly fifteen hours, then a thirty-hour series of flights back to the States. It was torture. Every minute that passed was another minute Mackenzie believed I was avoiding her. After clearing customs, I debated continuing on down to Texas, but I was exhausted. No commercial flights would be departing for several hours and it would take just as long to get one of the company’s jets prepped for flight. I could use a few hours rest for what I knew would be one of my most difficult missions to date – convincing Mackenzie I was someone worth forgiving, that my love for her was real.
“So what’s the plan?” Eli asked, helping me carry my bags up the short steps of my house in Beacon Hill.
“Sleep for a few hours, I suppose. Then head back home.”
“Home?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. Home. Where Mackenzie is. I’m done being a coward. I’m not going to let my brother dictate what’s best for me anymore. For all I know, there may never have been any threat to our safety. Maybe he just made it up to keep me away from her. I don’t know, but I’m through being his pawn.”
Eli nodded before holding his hand out to me. I grabbed it and he pulled me in, patting my back. “Good for you. I’ll do what I can to get a flight plan in place for tomorrow, hopefully without your brother knowing.”
I smiled appreciatively at him. “Thanks. Call me with the details.”
“Will do,” he said, turning from me and hopping back into the cab we had shared from the airport.
Alone once more, I stared at my front door, my chest tightening. I hadn’t stepped foot inside this house since the day everything fell apart. I had my mom grab the few things I needed for my trip, too distraught to face the memories I made with Mackenzie within the four walls of the house that, for a brief moment of time, actually felt like a home.
After unlocking the door and disarming the system, I entered the foyer. Everything looked just as I had left it four months ago, but it was all different. Darkness enveloped the house, despite
the light that was now flooding through the foyer.
The sound of my shoes hitting the hardwood floor echoed as I walked into the formal sitting room and poured myself a scotch from the wet bar. A strong memory rushed forward and I placed my hands on the counter, trying to steady myself.
“Something about being near you makes my heart race faster than it has in years. And I want this feeling to last for as long as possible, preferably forever. It took meeting you to make me realize I was lost. I was numb for years. I always held out the smallest glimmer of hope someone would come along to make me feel again, just like you did. So, yes, this is my home. Just like South Padre is my home. I’m home as long as I have you. Alaska could be my home. Antarctica, Idaho, a corn field in Nebraska. Fuck. I don’t care where, as long as you’re with me. You’re my home.”
Closing my eyes, I fought against the memory, trying to forget it. The ghost of Mackenzie’s spirit surrounded me here, tormenting me. I could almost smell her scent of cinnamon and it broke me more than I thought possible.
I grabbed the scotch and poured more into my glass. My world spinning, I dashed up the stairs, wishing I could find somewhere in my house that hadn’t been tainted by my betrayal and deception, but I knew it wasn’t possible. It surrounded me, mocking me, reminding me that I didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
Hesitating outside the door to my master bedroom, my hand hovered over the handle. A voice urged me to open it, to face my demons, to live with the reminder of what I had done. That was my penance for using Mackenzie.
Tentatively, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. I stood frozen in place as my eyes fell on my bedroom, everything exactly as I remembered, as if it was suspended in time. The bed still had a rumple on the duvet from where Mackenzie had been reading when I came back from picking out her engagement ring. The shadows of her soul, her heart, her love were everywhere, torturing me, reminding me, punishing me.
A low glimmer on the nightstand caught my eye and I went to it. I grew breathless when I saw the jeweled cross she always wore. I picked it up and my eyes scanned the room to see what else had been left behind. Her suitcase was still in the corner. I opened the closet to see the clothes she had brought with her hanging neatly. At the end of the rack was the dress she had worn the night of the dedication dinner. I ran my hand along the lace, Mackenzie’s words replaying in my mind.
“I love you for you. I don’t care about the man you wanted me to think you were. I know the real Tyler, and I love all the sides of that man. I love the caring side, the controlling side, the side that takes, the side that gives, and the side that loves. And I’m so grateful you opened your heart to love me.”
The pain was back. It had never really left, but being faced with reminders of how I destroyed everything was too much and I sank to the ground, throwing back the scotch, her cross scorching my flesh. I needed the burn to dull the rest of the heartache coursing through my veins. I had distanced myself from any physical memories of Mackenzie, but now that I was back in Boston, it all came rushing forward and the remorse was overwhelming. I physically felt it in my throat, in my chest, in my heart.
I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the email she had sent me, reading it once more. I had lost track of how many times my eyes had read over her words, absorbing them, trying to find the meaning behind them. I put all my hope in the last line… The truth is, despite it all, I still love you. And I always will.
I prayed her love was strong enough to give me the forgiveness I needed.
Jumping to my feet, I shoved the email and her cross in my pocket, then dashed down the stairs, grabbing my bags as I rushed out of the house. The city of Boston was quiet and still as my footsteps echoed in the alley behind my house. I unlocked my Mercedes SUV and sped away.
As if on autopilot, I found myself making the drive out to my mother’s house. It was the only place I could think of that hadn’t been tainted by memories of Mackenzie. Pulling down the long driveway of the house we had lived in most of my teenage years, I continued past the fountain and put the car in park just outside the rear garage. My bag clutched in my hands, I ran up to the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible as I used my key to let myself in. Silence greeted me, the house still. I padded through the foyer, past the formal sitting room, and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I grabbed a bottle of water, my mouth salivating when I saw my mom had made her famous lasagna for dinner. My stomach immediately began to rumble and I pulled out the casserole dish, cutting out a small portion.
Just as I was retrieving my snack from the microwave, the overhead lights snapped on and I spun around to face the doorway.
“Tyler, baby,” my mother whispered almost in relief as she rushed toward me. She enveloped me in her arms and I bent down to match her short height. “You’re home.” She rocked me, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.” She hugged me tighter, her arms strong around me.
“Yeah,” I said, my loud voice echoing in the kitchen.
She pulled back abruptly, her eyes growing wide. “Shhh, baby. Quiet.”
I furrowed my brow, confused about why I had to lower my voice if she was awake. I nearly cringed at the thought that maybe she had an overnight guest. I was more than aware that she had occasionally dated since my dad died over ten years ago, but it still didn’t make the thought any more comfortable.
“Sorry, Ma,” I said, not wanting confirmation of my suspicions.
“Tyler, there’s something–”
I held my hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. There are some things better left unsaid.”
“What do you–”
“It’s okay if you have an overnight guest, Ma,” I explained, praying my face wasn’t turning a brilliant shade of red. I pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. “I get it. I just don’t want to hear about any of it, okay?”
I avoided her eyes, shoveling the lasagna in my mouth as if I hadn’t eaten in days. Truthfully, I hadn’t. It had been months since I’d had a good meal, having to survive on the limited rations provided to the refugees at the camp. We all ate the same thing, and everything was bland and simple. This lasagna was decadent and filling. Now that I was back home, I couldn’t wait to eat my weight in cheese and meat.
“If that’s what you wish. If you really don’t want me to tell you all about my overnight guest…” She shrugged.
The tone of her voice struck me as odd and I raised my head to see her standing there, arms crossed in front of her chest, a smug look on her face.
“Why would I want to hear about any of that?”
“Suit yourself,” she sang, pulling the chair out beside me and sitting down. “I’ve been expecting you. William stopped by with a copy of your itinerary indicating you’d be flying in tonight.”
“How did he know?”
“Do you really need to ask that question?” She paused and I remained silent, knowing how much information our company had access to. “Now, tell me… How are you doing?”
“Good.” I avoided her eyes as I swallowed a large bite of lasagna.
“You can fool a lot of people, young man, but I gave birth to you. Tell me how you’re really doing.”
I sighed, leaning back into my chair. I savored the last bite of lasagna, contemplating having seconds. “Shitty,” I finally admitted and she nodded in understanding. Her intense dark eyes bored into me, goading me to continue.
“I thought being away from it all was the right thing to do, like you suggested, but I don’t know. I think I was away too long.”
“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” she inquired, placing her hand on mine.
“I wanted to, but every time I brought it up, Alexander insisted I stay put, claiming I was needed, that he didn’t think it was safe for Eli or me to return yet. I’m starting to think he kept me there on purpose to keep me away from…” I trailed off, her name causing a lump to form in my throat.
“Yet, here you are
. What happened?” Mom asked.
I snapped my eyes to her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re back, aren’t you? Why now? Something must have changed for you to disobey your brother’s asinine orders. What was it?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded email, sliding it across the table, eyeing my mom as she unfolded and read it. She had almost the same reaction I did when I first read those sorrowful words. Her chin quivered and her eyes moistened with unshed tears.
When she finally finished absorbing the words on the page, she looked up. “What do you intend on doing?”
“Whatever I have to. I can’t go another day without her, Ma.” I stood up from the chair and placed my plate in the dishwasher, then began to retreat from the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” she called out.
“To get a few hours’ sleep,” I said over my shoulder. “Then I need to get back to Texas.” I headed out of the kitchen, briskly walking toward the elaborate staircase.
“Tyler, baby,” she whispered, running after me in her bathrobe. “Wait…”
I spun around. “What, Ma?”
She searched my eyes. I couldn’t help but think she was hiding something from me. “You need to go, I understand that, but do me one favor.”
“What is it?”
Her nervous expression softened. “Wait until after breakfast, okay? I need one of your father’s frittatas and you’re the only one who knows how to make them right.”
I planted a kiss on her forehead. “You got it, Ma.”
I tiptoed up the stairs, praying I didn’t wake my mom’s “special friend”, and headed down the long corridor to the last door on the left…my old bedroom. I looked across the hall, a low glimmer of light coming from beneath the door of one of the guest bedrooms. Too exhausted to care, I entered my room, closing the door behind me. An unexpected waft of cinnamon washed over me, and I only hoped it was a sign of things to come.