In the Cards

by Jamie Beck

  I’ve offended my parents, although truthfully, I’ve spent too long allowing their opinions to override my own. I’ve vexed Rob, although I suspect he’s still not been completely honest with me. I’ve quit my job, which isn’t a proud professional moment and, after years of diligent work, probably not my smartest maneuver. The only positive recent development is the child advocacy program. At least that’s genuine. Now that I’ve finished the training, I hope they’ll admit me and assign me my first case soon.

  But perhaps I should pursue it in New York. There’s no reason I need to stay in California. I’ve not built any friendships other than my undefined relationship with Levi.

  Granted, the distance from my family’s allowed me to discover this passion and enabled me to question compatibility with Rob. Rob. Maybe Rob’s learned from his mistake. If Ava wasn’t his one and only past transgression, will she be his last? He continues to fight for me, unlike Levi, who so quickly retreated and moved on.

  Levi. His face is the last thing I picture as I fall asleep.

  It’s already breathtaking by six thirty. On my return from my run an hour later, I see Levi standing at his deck railing, surveying the waves.

  I fear he’ll push his luck too soon and hop on his surfboard, but I must absent myself from his recovery. Let Shari, or whomever, become the person he relies upon from now on. My immediate dilemma is getting inside without a confrontation. I’m unhappy, but in truth, he didn’t break any promise. I need to grow up.

  I wave without smiling. “Good morning, Levi.”

  His brows raise and a slight grin stretches across his face. He probably expected me to continue ignoring him, considering my behavior last night.

  “Lindsey.” He stiffly grips his deck railing. His mouth opens then closes, as if he wants to say something but can’t.

  I hesitate but then nod and progress toward my door.

  “Hey, can we talk a minute?” He’s moved closer to my house.

  “I don’t want to argue, Levi. I’m not in the mood.”

  “That’s unusual.” He smiles. “You love butting heads with me.”

  Normally his teasing lightens the tension. Unfortunately, I’m not up for banter. “Well, as you insisted upon the other week, we’ve both had time to clear our heads. I’m glad you’re better, but I have my own recovery to address.” I put my hand on the door to open it.

  “Five minutes, please.” His hopeful expression diffuses my resentment. “I have some things to say.”

  I almost refuse, but the truth is, I want to talk to him. I don’t know why, since I’m sure to end up unhappy afterward. Perhaps I’m an emotional masochist.

  “Let me shower, then I’ll be over.”

  He nods and watches me until I disappear into my house.

  Twenty minutes later, I leave home dressed in jean shorts and a pink T-shirt, my wet hair hanging freely around my shoulders. I intentionally dressed down so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of believing I care whether or not he’s still attracted to me. Now I feel self-conscious. The realization I’m playing girlish games embarrasses me, but it’s too late to turn around because he’s opening his door to let me inside.

  I sit with my hands under my butt and cross my legs to keep them from bouncing. “So, what’s up?”

  The scent of his house triggers flashbacks of time spent here with him. My foot starts to swing like a pendulum.

  He’s still standing near the door, arms folded in his typical defensive posture. The room’s charged with his commanding energy.

  “I want to clear up a misunderstanding.” He shifts his weight to his other leg.

  “About?”

  “Shari.”

  I hold up my hand. “No need. You don’t owe me explanations, Levi. We had no agreement. You’re free to do what you want, with whomever you want. So, if that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”

  I stand, enormously proud of how well I handled myself—no tears, no judgments. However, I’m not tough and detached, so I need a quick escape before he uncovers the truth.

  “You’re right.” He hesitates.

  My heart drops. Although I know it’s true, I’d still hoped he’d apologize or offer some explanation. I lower my head and continue toward the door. Instead of moving aside to let me pass, he grabs my hand.

  “I don’t owe you an explanation, but I still want to offer one.” His grip is tight on my hand. “If you’d stuck around an extra minute last night, you’d have seen Shari’s boyfriend, Joe, come back outside. Instead, you jumped to the worst conclusions about me, then refused to talk to me.” One of his eyebrows arches accusatorially.

  “Joe the bartender?” It’s the first thing that pops into my head, along with a little ray of hope. He’s holding my hand, and I’m holding my breath.

  “Yes, Joe the bartender. He and Shari have been seeing each other for a few months. I went to Duke’s for dinner last night. They drove me home and stayed for a drink.” Both of his eyebrows rise in triumph over his redemption.

  “So, she didn’t go with you last week?”

  “No.”

  “Who’d you take? Elena?” I know it can’t be true, but I want confirmation.

  “I went alone to a resort. Took some cooking classes.” His answer catches me completely off guard. He went away alone, to cook?

  “Oh.” My voice is small. We stand in silence for a minute, my hand still held in his.

  “ ‘Oh’? That’s all you’re gonna say? No ‘I’m sorry for doubting you, Levi’?”

  It dawns on me he’s affronted by my assumptions. “Wait, you’re mad at me? That’s pretty rich, Levi.” I glare at him. My anger rushes back. “You kiss me, then cruelly take off for a week without telling me anything. I went crazy worrying only to find you drinking with your ex–sex partner, and you have the gall to be mad at me?”

  Infuriated, I attempt to remove my hand from his grip so I can firmly plant it, along with my other fist, on my hips. Levi has other ideas. He yanks me up against him, looking at me with eyes full of heated resentment.

  “I’m furious. I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me. I’ve always been honest.” He’s looking down at me and I’m not sure if he’s ready to wring my neck or kiss me. Regardless, I’ll not let him have the final word.

  “Yes, you’ve been honest. Honest about the lack of interest in any kind of meaningful relationship, about your doubt in the foundation of whatever feelings may have developed between us, and about how you and Shari have some kind of ongoing, open-ended sexual relationship. You’ve also told me, repeatedly, that no one can be trusted. So I didn’t think the worst of you—I thought exactly what you told me to think.”

  Levi’s face abruptly transforms from smug to rueful. He stares at me, unable to offer a snappy or surly retort. In that moment, I want to bring him home. I touch his face. He shuts his eyes and lays his cheek against my palm. His grief-stricken appearance squeezes my heart.

  My arms wrap around his neck and I rest my head against his chest. His arms hesitantly encircle me. I tighten my hold, hoping to ease his tension, wanting to break through his walls.

  I tilt my head so my lips brush against the base of his neck. His breath catches and he pulls me closer. My pulse quickens and I kiss his neck, coaxing him to meet me. To my displeasure, he pushes me away again. He’s shaken and conflicted, still setting himself apart.

  “I meant what I said last week. I can’t be what you want, what you deserve.”

  “Why’d you bother setting me straight if you just want to shut me out?”

  “Because I’m selfish, Lindsey. Because I didn’t want you to assume the worst, despite knowing, in the end, the truth doesn’t make any difference.”

  “It does make a difference.” I step closer to him, but he holds me apart.

  “Stop it. Jesus, I can’t think straight when you’re so close. You throw me off balance. I can’t do this with you.”

  His sad eyes take me in and then, despite his earlier protests,
he unexpectedly drags me into a kiss.

  His hands sink into my wet hair. Unlike our fiery kisses last week, this one is slow and sensual. This kiss has soul. It weakens my knees and my weight falls against him. I hear my own whimper before he pushes me away again. I’m dazed.

  “Goddamn it.” He savagely rubs his hand through his mop of hair. “I can’t do this with you, Lindsey. Please go.”

  “Why? Because of Rob?”

  Levi’s face registers surprise, as if he’d totally forgotten Rob.

  “No. Well, hell . . . partly, yeah. Lindsey, I don’t know how to be different from how I am. And you, you keep pushing me into uncomfortable territory, taking control away from me. I don’t like being powerless. I can’t let go, not even for you.”

  “You can, but you won’t. This is because of your mother. You won’t try, because you’re afraid.” I’m treading on thin ice, but I must speak my mind.

  “Leave my damn mama out of this. If it makes it easier to call me a coward, fine. The result’s the same, no matter the reason.”

  “That’s bull, Levi, and you know it. You’re quite the hypocrite, telling me to cut the apron strings and stop basing my decisions on other people’s opinions, yet you won’t go to Atlanta to confront your mother and lay this thing to rest so you can move on with your own life!” I bark, realizing, too late, my slip about his mother’s whereabouts.

  He, however, didn’t miss it. His eyes blaze.

  “How’d you know about Atlanta?”

  He’s white-hot mad. I can’t breathe or move. Time freezes.

  “Lindsey, how do you know where my mama lives?”

  My hand moves to my stomach and it seems like my knees are melting. Panic splits my voice when I speak. “I read the letter from your dad the day you were so sick.”

  Levi takes two steps back and plows both hands through his hair. He squeezes the sides of his skull like he can shut out what he heard me admit. Seconds that feel like hours pass before his booming voice cracks open the air.

  “I can’t trust you!” His eyes bulge in disbelief. “You came into my house, read a highly personal letter, and questioned—no, tested—me about my family when you already knew half the truth. You’ve lied to me every day since then.”

  He starts pacing around in a circle with a scowl on his face, then stops suddenly and turns on me. The expression of disgust in his eyes makes me want to throw up.

  “I thought you were different, but you’re not. Pop’s right about not being able to trust anyone. Thanks for the reminder—it’ll make saying good-bye a lot easier.”

  His eyes turn cold. His hands are fisted at his sides. This is the Levi from Florida—the callous, closed-off man I first met.

  My entire body starts trembling, along with my voice.

  “Levi, wait. Let me explain. I was looking for paper to write you a note. I happened to notice the photos of you and your dad in the desk drawer. When I picked it up to see what you looked like young, I saw the letter underneath it.”

  Shame swims through my veins and pours hot tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry. I know it was so wrong, but you’d never tell me anything and I just—I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t do it to hurt you; I did it to know you. I only wanted to know you better.”

  I wipe my cheeks then step toward him, reaching out to close the distance between us. He jumps back and points at the door.

  “Get out, Lindsey. I don’t want to see you or talk to you. I mean it. You need to leave. Right. Now.”

  “I’m sorry, Levi. Please, don’t be mad.” My lungs burn as I break into a heaving sob, but it doesn’t budge him. He covers his ears with his hands and closes his eyes to block me out. Crushed, I turn and run out of the house.

  Once at home, I fling myself onto the sofa and cry. A tapestry of little moments, not all of them pleasant, blend together in my mind and make me feel connected to him despite his attempts to loosen the binds. Ironically, my own behavior severed them, probably for good.

  He may forgive me in time, but he will never trust me. Not really. I lied to him, and as I can’t seem to get beyond Rob’s lie, Levi won’t get past mine. It’s over and I’m to blame.

  For the first time since May, I empathize with Rob.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Levi

  When I return from my latest post-op checkup, I stop at my mailbox to grab my bills before entering my house. At least I received encouraging news about my recovery today. Doc says I’ll be driving and starting therapy by the end of the week.

  Thank God. I needed a little good news just about now.

  Opening a beer, I sit on the sofa to flip through my mail. Amid the bills and junk mail, I find a letter from Lindsey. I stare at the envelope. Lifting it, I tap it against the table several times and then set it aside. I’m not ready.

  Beautiful, generous, loving Lindsey lied through her teeth. I opened my heart, and she deceived me by sneaking through my private belongings. Pop warned me caring too much blinds a man. Looks like he was right.

  I ignored everything he taught me and took her at face value. Somehow she tricked me into believing she was unique, that she honestly cared. I brushed aside my suspicions because she made me feel so damn good. All along, she played me.

  I didn’t do it to hurt you. I did it to know you. I only wanted to know you better.

  Even if her motives weren’t malicious, she still inserted herself into my personal affairs without an invitation. Not that it surprises me, considering her entitled behavior, but I won’t be taken for a ride.

  My whole life’s been based on my ability to discern others’ thoughts, plans, and secrets. If I can’t depend on my instincts anymore, what the hell do I have left?

  Worse, I’m having a hard time returning to the way I lived before she marched herself into my life. I just spent seven days and several thousand dollars last week forgetting about her. I failed miserably, it seems.

  As soon as she entered my house—the instant she bared herself—I faltered.

  Her kiss differs from any experience I’ve had with other women. Being near her blocks out the rest of the world. Everything appears more vivid with her by my side. Christ, my daydreams of making love with her exceed any actual sexual encounter I’ve had in years—maybe ever. Now she’s doomed me to a hellish life of never being satisfied.

  I don’t want to read any lame apologies for her outrageous behavior. If I remain furious, it’ll be easier to free myself from her clutches. I’ll keep myself distracted with other things until the time comes when I don’t even think about her.

  I recovered from losing Mama; I’ll get over Lindsey.

  I lie back on the sofa. Have I really recovered from losing Mama? Looking at my life, there’s a good argument against that declaration. I rub my temples, then jab one of the cushions with my elbow.

  To hell with this. I just want to feel normal again.

  I pick up a book, but the words swim before my eyes. I surf the TV channels, looking for an escape, but give up and go to bed early with a new book, tucking Lindsey’s envelope inside its cover. After an hour of reading and rereading the first pages of a new chapter, I shut my eyes and pray for sleep.

  I’m standing alone, beneath a gray sky, in the middle of an expansive field of tall grass. On the horizon, the sky explodes with bold purple and orange flashes. Suddenly, I’m carried along with a herd of people rushing into a makeshift emergency center.

  All around me, people are crying, getting bandaged, and searching for others. My own face somehow ends up wrapped in gauze bandages. I touch them, confused, then go search for Pop.

  I’m magically alone and outside, bracing against strong winds. The grass field has been replaced by a paved lot, and I see a forest in the distance. I reach the tree line, but then it morphs into a familiar, shallow riverbed, which I recognize as the riverbed behind my childhood home in Tifton.

  I wade into the wide brook, trying to reach the road on the other side. The freezing water rushes over rock
s and around my legs, and I lose my balance. I splash into the water, soaking my bandages. As I cross the raging brook, the wet bandages unravel.

  The riverbank ahead of me begins to incline, like in a cartoon. I try to climb it, but the loose soil continually crumbles under my hands and knees.

  “Levi, grab my hand.”

  I look up to see Lindsey leaning down with her arm extended.

  “Hold on, Levi. Don’t let go.”

  I grab on to her and she yanks me up onto the dirt road. Without another word, she begins walking ahead of me along a path leading away from the road, into the trees.

  I stand at the fork, watching her meander through the shadows of the wooded path.

  Now I’m floating above my body. I can see my face. There are no burns, only a small scar by my right eye.

  I look for Lindsey to show her, but she’s vanished.

  I sit up, gasping. The bedroom’s still dim, so I turn on a lamp and shake my head. I don’t often remember my dreams, but this one’s so graphic and unusual, I’m uneasy.

  I glimpse the unopened letter on the nightstand. Hesitantly, I pick it up and slide my finger along the seal, ripping it open.

  Dear Levi,

  You trusted me in your home and as a friend. I abused that gift with my inexcusable invasion of privacy. There’s no justification for what I did. I’m ashamed and more sorry than I can say. Please believe I never intended to hurt or betray you. My desperation to know more about you got the better of me.

  Now I’ve proven your parents right, which is ironic because I wanted so much to be the person to prove them wrong.

  I pray my mistake doesn’t make you retreat from reaching out to others, or refrain from experiencing real friendships and love. Despite what you’ve been taught, and how you view yourself, you deserve love in your life and are strong enough to withstand the occasional disappointments and bumps along the road.

  I hope, eventually, you’ll forgive me. You’re important to me. You’ve helped me discover things about myself I might not have otherwise learned, and I’ll always be grateful.