A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  Aaron stepped back to make sure there were lights on in her side of the duplex. He knew he had the right house. Not only did he recognize the car, but there were crystals and sun catchers hanging from all the windows. Everything about the place screamed Marissa. He knocked loudly and thought he heard a faint noise from within. Worry gripped him. When he tried the door, it was open, so he stepped inside and called out her name.

  “In here,” she said, her voice coming from the back of the house. “I’m sorry I’m not ready. I just need a little more time.”

  He followed the sound of her words through a cheerfully decorated living room into a bright kitchen. Children’s artwork covered most of the walls. Something bubbled on the stove and delicious smells filled the room. But what most caught his attention was Marissa herself, sitting at a round table. Her skin was pale and damp, her eyes unfocused.

  “What happened?” he asked as he crossed to her and touched her face. She was burning up with fever. “I don’t know. I started to feel a little tired earlier today and it’s just been getting worse. Maybe I should have canceled. I’m kind of hot, but chilly, too, and I couldn’t keep down lunch.”

  “The flu,” he said as he walked to the stove and turned off all the burners. “We need to get you into bed.”

  She blinked at him. “I think it would be better to take things more slowly than that, you know? Not that I don’t think you’re incredibly sexy and everything. But until I figure out why you have all that pain in your eyes, I have to be sensible.”

  When she finished talking, she put her head on the table. “I’m okay.”

  “I can see that.”

  He moved close and picked her up in his arms.

  She shrieked.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you don’t pass out in the pasta.” He started toward the stairs.

  “But we’re supposed to have dinner. I cooked.”

  “I’m sure it’s delicious. I’ll take a rain check.”

  She wrapped one arm around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. “What does that mean? Rain check. Why is there rain involved? Is it raining? I thought it was nice earlier. Did you think it was nice?” There were two rooms at the top of the stairs. One seemed to be a home office and the other was a bedroom—pure girl. Pale colors, lots of f lowers and frills and a four poster bed fit for a princess.

  He set her on the edge of the mattress. “Where are your nightgowns?”

  “Huh?” She blinked at him. “In the dresser.” She pointed. “But I’m not really tired.”

  With that she collapsed back onto the mattress.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m saying that maybe I was wrong,” Ruby said as she sat on the sofa beside Marissa.

  Marissa half expected the roof to fall in. Not only was Ruby never one to admit that sort of thing, but what her friend was saying meant that Aaron wasn’t like all the other men in her life. “The whole time?” she asked again.

  “Every minute. You were out of it for nearly three days and the man never left your side. And let me tell you, you were doing some serious puking. It was gross.”

  Marissa didn’t want to think about that. Her bout with the flu had laid her low for nearly ten days, but the first three had been the worst. She had few memories beyond feeling as if she’d already died and hearing Aaron’s gentle voice promising her that things would get better.

  “He ducked out twice a day to go check on that coyote of his and that was it,” Ruby said. “He was worried, too.”

  “Wow.” Despite still being a little weak and wobbly on her legs, Marissa couldn’t help grinning. “So…” Her friend smiled back. “He’s got it bad. I can’t believe after all this time, you finally picked someone right. He’s smart and successful and easy on the eye. Plus, when the going gets rough, or in your case, when the going is some pretty nasty green stuff, he was right there. That’s what I call a catch.”

  Marissa felt so happy, she wanted to float. “I should go see him. You know, to thank him.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ruby looked amused. “I’m sure that’s all you have on your mind. But a little advice. Wait until morning. For one thing, I don’t want you driving at night just yet. You need to build your strength back up. For another, you’re in some serious need of personal grooming.”

  Marissa fingered her lank hair. “You’re right. I haven’t had a shower in days. But I’ll take care of all that in the morning, then go see him.”

  Her heart fluttered with excitement and the potential for finally finding her own happily ever after.

  Aaron sat alone in the darkness, staring out the window. The promised storm had arrived and lightning cut through the inky blackness. He waited for the accompanying thunder, and when it came, he heard the angry judgment in the sound.

  They were gone. The ghosts he’d come to count on as the last remaining tether to the life he’d once had faded. Two nights of drinking had done nothing to bring them back.

  Pain cut through him. It was as if he’d lost Jilly and the baby all over again. They were gone, and he’d been the one to chase them away this time. They’d disappeared because of Marissa.

  He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the recriminations. He should have left, he told himself for what must be the thousandth time. He should have called her friend and just walked away. But she’d been sick and he’d felt…worried.

  No, he thought, opening his eyes and staring out into the storm. More than worried. He’d been frantic. When she’d passed out, he’d tasted terror. So he’d been right there with her for three days. He’d thought of nothing but getting her better. He’d forgotten, and that’s what the ghosts couldn’t forgive.

  He turned his head, and when the next bolt of lightning illuminated the heavens, he saw the framed picture of his late wife. Jilly was laughing. She’d rarely been without a smile. He’d tried to comfort himself with that thought in the first year after her death. That she would have been smiling right up until the end. Singing to their baby and telling a story. She wouldn’t have thought to imagine the worst. In her world, bad things never happened.

  Bitter betrayal tightened around his chest like a tourniquet. He could barely breathe. He prayed for a stray bolt of lightning to crash through the roof of the house and strike him right then.

  Bracing himself, he waited for the relief, but instead there was only the sound of the rain, then a cold dampness as Buddy sniffed his hand.

  Aaron rubbed the coyote’s ears. That’s right, he told himself. He had Buddy to take care of. The animal would die without him, and he hadn’t rescued him for that to happen. Reason returned, and with it, the list of his obligations. The woodworking class, the bookshelf he still had to finish.

  He opened both hands. Buddy rested his head on one. Aaron closed the other in a fist.

  Two worlds, he thought. What could have been and what was. The animal’s fur was warm, and Aaron felt the steady beat of his blood pulsing through his body.

  It was wrong to throw all this away because he’d lost his ghosts, he told himself. But he wanted to— he wanted to down to his soul.

  Marissa washed her hair twice the next morning. She went through her wardrobe for the right outfit to wear to Aaron’s. The man had spent three days with her while she looked like cat gack. She was determined to make a better impression when she showed up to thank him.

  She still couldn’t believe what had happened— that he’d stayed with her while she’d been so sick. Her heart told her that meant something important, something with the potential to change her life forever.

  She couldn’t seem to stop smiling as she walked into his shop later that morning. The open area looked much as she remembered—various pieces of furniture in different stages of assembly. The scent of spring and wood shavings filled the air. The heavy sliding doors at the back of the shop were open and she saw Buddy stretched out in a patch of sunshine.

  Aaron stood by a bench. He wore safety goggles and was
working some kind of sander. When he saw her, he f licked off the machine and pushed up his protective eyewear.

  “Hi,” she said, suddenly feeling shy and a little awkward.

  “You’re back on your feet,” he said. “How do you feel?”

  “About ninety percent. I still get a little tired by late afternoon, but otherwise I’m fine.”

  He nodded to the overstuffed chair in the corner. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once she sat down, she let herself drink in his appearance. Man, oh man, did he look good. Worn jeans that hugged narrow hips and long legs, a long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbow. He moved with that same easy grace that left her breathless.

  “I wanted to thank you,” she said, tucking her skirt around her knees. “For taking care of me. You didn’t have to.”

  “You scared me,” he admitted as he pulled up a stool across from her and sat. “You were pretty sick.”

  “It was going around the schools. I guess one of the parents in the reading program got it from her kids and gave it to me.”

  “Next time, look for a gift you can return.” She smiled. “Good point.”

  His dark gaze settled on her face and the contact was as potent as a touch. Her heartbeat increased, as did her breathing. Tension charged the air.

  “Aaron,” she began, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

  He stood and returned to the workbench, where he picked up a rag and began rubbing the legs of a half-built chair.

  “Don’t,” he said, not looking at her anymore. “Don’t what?”

  “Say whatever it is you’re thinking.”

  “But I’m not…”

  “Yes, you are.” He kept his attention on his work. “I was married before. While I was in the service.”

  Marissa’s breath caught as her muscles tensed. Married. She hadn’t considered the possibility. She certainly didn’t want to now, but if this was the reason for the shadows in his eyes, she had to know.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Did you split up?” He looked at her then, his expression both weary and heartsick. “No. I was away on deployment. She’d had our first child a couple of months before. Their car was hit by a drunk driver. The crash killed them both.”

  She didn’t know what to think, what to say. What words could make any difference?

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured at last. “You must have been devastated.”

  “More than that,” he told her. “Destroyed. What I lost still haunts me. I never want to forget her…them.” He swallowed. “I was overseas and I was supposed to go home the following week. I was getting out of the military, heading back to the States for good.”

  She ached for him and quickly rose. “Aaron.”

  He stepped back. “Don’t. Don’t touch me, don’t try to fix this. You can’t, and I don’t want you to.”

  She nodded, even though she didn’t understand. “How long?”

  “Six years. But it could have been yesterday.” He tossed the rag onto the bench. “I still love her. I’ll always love her.”

  Marissa frowned. “Of course you will. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t want this,” he said. “Not you or the kids or the town. I want to be left alone. I want you to go away and never come back.”

  His words hovered in the air like sawdust, then slowly filtered into her brain. At first the shock was so great that she didn’t feel any pain.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered, even though she did.

  “I won’t betray what we had. I won’t betray my family.”

  “By living? By caring about someone else?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Right. Because I’ve never lost anything and been left alone. We’ll ignore the death of my parents when I was twelve. I’m sure my pain was wildly insignificant compared with yours,” she said sarcastically. She didn’t want to believe what he was saying, but he wasn’t giving her a choice. She walked closer and put her hands on her hips.

  “How dare you,” she accused, feeling the anger fill her. Anger was safe, she thought. Anger would keep her breathing and moving and surviving. “How dare you retreat into your workshop and turn your back on the world. You have a responsibility.”

  He glared at her. “The hell I do.”

  “You’re alive. That makes you a member of this society. Where do you get off retreating? Isn’t it easy, just you and Buddy out here alone. Nothing to worry about except your next big fat check and getting the wood you need. All the time the rest of us are struggling to make a difference.”

  “Get out of here,” he told her.

  “I’m leaving. You bet. And if you really don’t want to be a part of anything, I’ll make sure it happens.” She dropped her hands to her side. “I thought you were different. I thought you were one of the good guys. You claim to love your wife and child, but you certainly haven’t honored them in their death. What does it say about your life with them that the only thing you want to do now they’re gone is hide? Loving someone means opening your heart, and once you’ve done that, you can’t ever close it again. Oh, sure, there’s pain and a time of mourning, but eventually you’re supposed to heal and move on.”

  She rubbed her hands along the chair leg. “It’s perfect, Aaron. I’ll give you that. But it’s also cold and lifeless. Do you think your wife would be proud of you and what you’ve become? Do you think this is what she’d want as her legacy?”

  He took a step toward her. “Don’t you dare speak about my wife. You didn’t know her.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t. But I imagine her to be beautiful and loving and someone I’d really like. That person would hate what you’ve become.”

  He leaned against the bench. “I told you not to try to save me. You should have listened.”

  “I’m listening now,” she said. “I’m listening, and all I can say is that I feel sorry for you.”

  “Do you?” he asked, turning his attention back to her. “That’s funny, because we’re not all that different. I might hide in the dark, but you’re also hiding. Only you do it in plain sight behind your projects and your loser guys.”

  She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t like that. But when she opened her mouth, she found she couldn’t speak. The pain she’d been avoiding crashed into her and nearly sent her to her knees. There was nothing to say, nothing to do but run.

  Chapter Eight

  Marissa was as good as her word. The following week no one showed up for Aaron’s woodworking class, and when he finished the bookcase for the auction, a man he’d never met came to pick it up.

  No one visited him, no one called to ask him to speak anywhere or help with any cause. His life returned to the way it had been before—perfect solitude.

  Even the ghosts came back. Nearly a week after Marissa had left, Aaron worked through the night, only to fall into an uneasy sleep just before dawn. He saw Jilly again. She was laughing. He heard the sound and it filled him with joy. He watched as she picked up their baby and danced with him across the small bedroom, but when he put out his hands to touch them both, they disappeared into the mist.

  He awoke suddenly, his fingers grasping at air, and he knew then that the ghosts weren’t real, and he was truly alone.

  That night he drove to the library and stood outside Marissa’s class. He heard her patient voice going over the night’s lesson with her eager students. Adults read haltingly, stumbling over difficult words, but never giving up. She praised them and he heard the pride in their voices.

  He returned to his large house on his isolated plot of land. Even Buddy had disappeared into the spring darkness.

  Aaron walked from room to room, looking for something that wasn’t there.

  Around midnight, he heard a sound in the distance. The faraway wail of sirens made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He walked to the big windows in his living room and stared toward the town. Flames l
icked up into the night.

  Without thinking, he grabbed his truck keys and hurried outside. Ten minutes later, he found himself parking at the edge of a massive fire.

  Two apartment buildings seemed to be going up in f lames. Firefighters swarmed around, dragging hoses and pulling people away from the danger. The smoke and heat were living creatures, sucking the oxygen from Aaron’s lungs. People screamed, children cried. In the middle of the cacophony, he heard a young voice calling, “Mommy? Mommy, where are you?”

  Turning, he saw a young boy dressed in pajamas. His hair stuck out in all directions, soot smudged one cheek, and he held a large picture book in his hand. Recognition slammed into Aaron. “Christopher?” he asked, remembering the boy from the picnic.

  At the sound of his name, the child looked up at him. “Who… Who are you?” he said with a sniff as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

  “Aaron Cross. You read to me about a month ago.

  At the literacy picnic.”

  “My mommy hit her head. When she carried me out of the building. She fell down and didn’t move and they took her away.”

  Aaron swore under his breath. How had the kid gotten separated from his mother?

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked. “Where’s your dad?”

  More tears spilled down the boy’s cheeks. “I just have Mommy.”

  Without thinking, Aaron bent down and scooped the boy up in his arms. “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he promised. “I’ll help you find out what’s going on.” He walked around the milling crowd looking for someone in authority. The firefighters were all too busy with battling the fire, and everyone from the apartment building seemed to be in a panic. Finally he located someone who would know exactly what to do. Marissa stood at the edge of the disaster scene. She spoke into a cell phone while she gave directions to those around her.

  “Maybe fifty families,” she said into the phone. “The high school gym has the most space, plus there are showers and the home-ec kitchens. Right. No. I’ve called them already. They’re delivering cots and blankets. We’ll have to get the word out for other supplies. I think most of these people have lost everything. Hold on.”