The Way We Burn

by M. Leighton

  He squeezes.

  I can’t breathe, so I don’t try.

  I simply watch. And I wait. And I hold his hands around my neck.

  His thumbs bite into my flesh and he begins to shake me. Time stands still. Only seconds have passed. I know because I’m counting, counting the ticks of the clock in the hallway.

  One tick.

  Two tick.

  Three tick.

  Then I hear Gregory’s voice. Frantic. Loud.

  He’s back in the room. Panicking.

  There is a pause.

  A heartbeat.

  A lifetime.

  And then I hear the sweetest sound, second only to the laugh of my little Savannah. My sweet baby girl.

  It’s the sound of a gunshot ringing out in the tiny room.

  A single crack that pierces the air.

  I squint only briefly when blood spatters my face, but I open my eyes back up wide. To watch, to see.

  To feel.

  Slowly, Carter Finch’s grip on my throat loosens. His fingers slip away and I stumble back, dragging in a painful gulp of air. My eyes drift from his only long enough to see orange fabric crumple and pleat as my daughter’s killer sags lifelessly to the ground.

  I glance back at his face, to his eyes. They haven’t left mine.

  And I don’t look away.

  35

  CARLY

  Twenty-one months later

  “Are you getting tired of therapy days?” I ask, leaning my head against Noah’s shoulder as we walk. It’s a crisp winter morning in Chicago. It’s cold enough for a jacket, but the sun is bright and warm, and keeps the chill from working its way into my bones.

  We stayed in Chicago. Sold our home in Maryland. There were just too many painful memories there. Not only is my doctor here, but we both realized that our home is here. Our new life is here. And now Savannah is here.

  Once Carter Finch told us where to find Savannah’s body, we brought her here to have her buried. I think we both knew at that point that we were home. At our new home.

  “No.”

  “You aren’t? Because I am.”

  “No. I know they’re helping you, and as long as that’s the case, I’m more than happy to go.”

  “You don’t have to, though. I can drive myself.”

  Dr. Cane still insists on individual therapy, although now he’s branched out to a bi-monthly family therapy session to help us put all this together in a healthy way. I think we’re doing great.

  “I know, but I don’t mind.”

  I stop, tugging on his arm until he stops, too. I look up at him, my beautiful husband. The light is glistening in his dark brown hair and, even though he’s squinting against the brightness of the day, I can see the blue-hot flame of his gaze burning down on me.

  “I won’t leave again. I promise.”

  His half smile assures me that I hit the nail on the head. Since I disappeared on him once, he’s still a little gun-shy when it comes to letting me go out by myself.

  “I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose. Consciously.”

  “I won’t do it at all. I’ve got this under control. I’m doing a lot better. You heard Dr. Cane today. There hasn’t been any evidence of another…episode since the prison. I haven’t lost time, I haven’t had a headache in months. Noah, we’re free. We’re finally free. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

  “I know, but…” He kisses the tip of my nose. An apology.

  “But you’ll never feel comfortable about this again, will you?”

  The thought makes my heart break a little. That my wonderful husband might live the rest of his days on edge, wondering whether or not his wife is going to crack up and bail on him again, brings me considerable pain. God, how I wish I could change that! Wish that I could take away the unease and doubt those months when I was someone else caused him.

  “I will. It’ll just take time.” His smile says he’s telling the truth, but I know good and well he could be shielding me. He does that a lot. My big, strong protector. He’d take a bullet for me. And I know he’d kill for me. He almost did!

  “I’m controlling it all now. Coming to terms with Poppy and Simone, and how they played a role in all this. What they meant to me. For me. And it’s not all bad either.” I strain toward my tiptoes and wrap my arms around Noah’s neck, pressing into him. “We’ve both benefited from Simone’s…flamboyance.”

  His grin makes my knees go weak and the kiss that we share is a breath away from something that shouldn’t be shared in public.

  When he pulls back, I’m gasping for air.

  “I’m just glad she wasn’t doing anything else with those men she was taking to seedy motels.”

  Although he laughs, I know Noah’s relief. I know he would still love me—since I wasn’t in control of her and she didn’t know we were married—it would’ve hurt him beyond repair if I’d slept around while we were apart. I’m glad the part of me that loves him is so strong, so strong that even Simone couldn’t bring herself to have sex with another man.

  Thoughts of those other men sober me. I sigh, dropping back down to earth. “I still can’t believe any part of me could be capable of setting someone up to be killed. How could I…” I trail of, smothering the sudden onset of tears with the back of my hand as I turn away from my husband and back toward the sidewalk.

  “That woman was desperate. She was desperate to find the man who killed her daughter. And the men who were…the men who you brought to those motels, they were monsters. They were there to bring pain to a human being. Maybe even kill one of them. I know the law wouldn’t see it that way if you were in your right mind, but you kinda did the world a favor.”

  “But I tricked them. They didn’t know they were being set up.”

  “Think of it this way. If you really had been supplying them with a prostitute, those men would’ve been tricking them. Innocent women. I hate to say it, but that’s karma, baby. They got what they deserved. Every one of the men you dealt with had either killed or raped children in his past. Think of the cases you helped solve. Think of how much easier you made my job.”

  I laugh lightly, shaking off my melancholy, unwilling to be chained to the past for one more day.

  “You’ve done so much for me, Noah. Suffered so much. Risked so much. But you brought me back. You did this.”

  He shrugs, my humble man.

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was not nothing,” I declare, playfully pinching his arm.

  “I couldn’t help it. I never stopped believing in you. In us. ”

  “I’m sorry I did.”

  “You didn’t. Even when you weren’t yourself, you loved me. And I loved you. All the different yous. That’s just proof that we are meant to be together.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Hell yes! That’s why I wasn’t letting go. I believe that when you find someone to love, you throw your whole self into it and you don’t give up. Ever. If they cry, you hold them. If they hurt, you fix them. And if they disappear, you find them. And when you do, you love them until they come back to you.”

  I lean into his chest a little harder, snuggle in to his side a little deeper. “Well, I’m awfully glad you feel that way because I’m back. I’m back, baby. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Just know that if you do, I’ll find you.”

  “Deal!” I say, looking up at Noah and lifting my lips to his. He kisses them obligingly. I don’t bother telling him that he won’t have to track me down again. I’m staying this time and the only way to prove it to him is to prove it to him. So I will. Every day of forever, I’ll prove it to him.

  “Let’s go home. There’s something I want to show you.”

  We walk the rest of the way hand in hand, my head finding its way to his shoulder every now and again. Back at our condo, Noah stops me in the foyer just after he closes the door. “Stay here. It’s a surprise.”

  “Okay. I won’t move,” I vow, my lips twitc
hing up into a smile. I love the way that feels—a genuine, lighthearted smile. I’ve missed it.

  Less than three minutes later, Noah calls from somewhere inside, “Okay, you can come in now.”

  I walk slowly toward the living room, admiring the details as I go—the soothing pale green walls, the rich cream travertine floor, the soft natural light pouring in through the bank of windows that dominates one whole side of the building.

  I stop at the entrance to the living room. No Noah.

  “Where are you?”

  “In here,” comes his voice from my left.

  I start off in that direction, my footsteps intermittently muffled by the cowhide rug in muted beige and gold that adorns the living room floor. I pass his office. It’s empty but for the dark wood and comfy furniture that’s always there. I move on toward the master, figuring he has to be in there since it’s the only other room on this side of the condo.

  And he is.

  Noah is standing at the foot of the bed, staring at the wall. I glance around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Not even a pillow is out of place on the enormous king-sized bed.

  “Are you my surprise?” I ask, eyeing him up and down. “Because you’re wearing way too many clothes.”

  I grin, walking toward him, but he shakes his head before tipping it toward the wall he was staring at. I stop beside him and turn to face it as well.

  There, across from our bed, is a painting. I gasp softly, my hands flying up to cover my mouth. Emotions flood my head and saturate my heart—sadness, wistfulness, homesickness, happiness, nostalgia. They bolt through me like flashes of lightning streaking across a midnight sky. Here one moment, gone the next.

  “Is…is that our tree?” I ask, my voice wobbly.

  I don’t take my gaze from it, but, from the corner of my eye, I see my husband nod.

  At our house in Maryland, at the home we shared with our daughter, when life was perfect and wounds always healed, there was an enormous oak tree in the backyard. It had thick, sturdy limbs and a wide, sheltering canopy, the ideal place to hang a tire swing. So we did. Noah pushed me in that swing. We both pushed Savannah in that swing. We laughed and played and made memories around that swing. I never thought it could feel so good yet hurt so much to see it again.

  But I know I’ll never be able to part with it. I will look at it every morning and every night for the rest of my days, and I will remember what once was.

  I take a step closer, examining the image with awestruck eyes. I reach out to trace a finger over the tire swing dangling from a gnarled limb of the old oak tree. It seems warm, even though it’s not. Warm, like the sun, streaming through in slashes of white and yellow oil, heated the worn black rubber. It’s so realistic, it could’ve been carved from my memory and glued to this canvas.

  I can almost smell the fall air. I can almost hear a little girl’s laughter.

  “Who did this?”

  His answer is quiet, reverent. “You did.”

  I can’t say I’m surprised. I’m surprised because I never thought myself capable of something this beautiful, but I feel connected to this work in a visceral way. For that reason, his reply doesn’t faze me.

  “Which one?” I ask.

  “Simone.”

  Now that surprises me. Simone saw in only black and white. I suppose she was black and white, although mostly black I’d say. She was all rough edges and sharp angles. Instinctual, perfunctory. I wouldn’t have guessed her capable of this.

  But then I think…

  At her core, we were the same person. She was a part of me I kept carefully locked away, but she wanted the same things. She wanted our life back. She wanted the color and the sunshine and the happiness. She wanted to go back to this big oak tree. And she was determined to get us there, one way or another.

  I finally nod, and smile a little. “I can see that. She was the one tied so tightly to Savannah’s death. To Finch. To revenge. This would be her motivation. This would be what she was fighting for. What she was avenging. Saving.” I step back again, taking in the picture as a whole, the feel of it. “Yeah, this is what she was saving. Me. Us. Our life.”

  Noah slips his arm around me, tugs me in close to his side. “And she did.”

  I look up at him, my heart lighter than it’s been in years. “Yes, she did. Too bad she’s not around for me to thank her.”

  We both laugh.

  “I’m kind of glad she’s not. She was a little hard to control.”

  I turn into my husband, sliding my hands around his trim waist and under the back of his shirt until I feel skin. “But there were some things you liked about her, weren’t there?”

  I still feel her sometimes. A little. But just in her passion toward those I love. Now it’s not an angry passion, though; it’s more a loving one. One free of consuming vengeance and never-ending turmoil. That dark side of me shows itself at night, when I’m lying in the arms of the man I love. That’s when I let my Simone shine, throwing myself wholly into our world when it’s narrowed down to just the two of us. When it’s nothing more than hot breath and naked skin and desperate whispers.

  I feel her creeping up now as I rise up on tiptoe to nip Noah’s chin with my teeth. My blood is already heating when he presses his lower body into mine.

  I glance up and find his eyes on me, nearly black in his lust. God, I love to see him this way! And it’s all because of me. I bring out the animal in him, and that kind of power is heady. The Simone in me revels in it. That’s why I start to tear at his clothes, stripping away all that is between us.

  His mouth crushes down onto mine and he’s peeling off layers of material until I’m bared and pressed to him from mouth to knee.

  When he picks me up, I lock my legs around him, ravaging his mouth as we fall, together, to the bed. We are wild for each other, biting and licking. Fierce. We push one another relentlessly toward the peak, then right over, falling over the other side in a brilliant burst of color and light.

  Both breathing heavily, Noah leans back enough to meet my eyes. It’s then, with his blue-black eyes shining down on me, that I realize he has a Simone, too. And a Poppy. He isn’t just the animal with me. He’s also the warrior and the protector. The lover and the caregiver. He is darkness and he is light. He’s multidimensional, just like me, and I can hold it together just like him. We can be all things to each other, not just one.

  “What are you thinking?” he pants, his lips softly grazing the corner of my mouth, my cheek, my temple. The animal is sated, the claws sheathed. Now he is my gentle, tender lover, caring for my heart and mind as much as my body.

  “That we’re perfect together. That you make me a better me.”

  His smile is quietly radiant. “I’m glad, because I’m not me without you. You make me the man I want to be.”

  He raises one hand to brush my hair back and feather his fingers across my cheekbone. “Now ask me what I’m thinking.”

  I grin. “What are you thinking, Mr. Williamson?”

  “I’m glad you asked, Mrs. Williamson. I was thinking about this,” he says, flexing his hips a little to tease me. “And where it’s going.”

  “Where it’s going?” A little thrill racing along my nerve ends. “What did you have in mind? Another round?”

  He chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into mine. “Not that, ” he clarifies, but then jerks up a brow and adds, “not right now anyway, but definitely later.”

  I can’t help laughing. God, how I love this man!

  “Okay then what? Where is this going?”

  “You’re doing so well. Even Dr. Cane is amazed at how far you’ve come and how quickly you’re progressing.” Neither of us mentions that it’s likely because of Simone and what she did. We try not to think about it, much less talk about it. “He’s already lowering the doses on your meds, which means at this pace, you might be able to get off them completely in another year or so. If you keep up therapy that is.”

  “I don’t think
I’ll have much choice. I don’t want to stop too soon and risk a relapse.”

  “Right, so if you’re going to go to therapy anyway…and you don’t need the meds since you are… ”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Noah goes utterly quiet, his fingers still on my skin, his body motionless within mine, as he stares down into my eyes. The blue is coming back as he calms, giving him a happy, sanguine look that fills me with joy.

  “I’m thinking maybe we could try to get pregnant. If you wanted to.”

  My heart fills so quickly, I worry for a second that my ribs might crack from the pressure of it. Tears pour into my eyes before I could even think to try and stop them.

  “Really?” I ask, my voice strangled.

  “I’d love to if you would want to. I’ll be perfectly content to spend the rest of my life with you. Just you and me. But I thought…if you wanted to…”

  “I do. I do want to.”

  His beautiful lips spread into a stunning smile. “You do?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!”

  He looks genuinely thrilled. Relieved. “I love you so much.”

  “No more than I love you.”

  “And just so we don’t forget the mechanics of it all, we should practice a whole lot until then. Don’t you think? Isn’t that the wise and responsible thing to do?”

  “It is, and we’re nothing if not wise and responsible.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Now, what were you saying earlier about where this could be going? Something about another round?”

  I giggle as he waggles his eyebrows at me.

  As he leans in to kiss me, I catch a glimpse of the painting that hangs across from the bed just before I close my eyes. We’re well on our way to getting back to that place, figuratively rather than geographically. I’m learning that as long as we have each other, we’ll always have that oak tree. We carry it with us everywhere we go.

  Together.

  THE END

  Dear Reader

  Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to take the journey with Noah. I hope you’ve loved it as much as I loved writing it. It is my greatest wish that you’ve found something valuable within these pages—hope, love, inspiration, something good to take with you when you go. More than anything, that’s what I want when I sit down to write. I thank God every day for the life, the voice, the opportunity I’ve been given. And I thank YOU for reading.