Every Moment with You_Redeeming Love

by J. E. Parker

  Oh. “I get it,” I replied, even though I didn’t. I could understand that it was hard for him to see me hurt, but I didn’t understand why he'd keep me at a distance. I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting because it did.

  It stung a lot.

  Pasting a fake smile on my face, I looked up at Grandmama. “Well, I guess you better go make his supper then. I don’t want him to go hungry.” It was the truth. As disappointed as I may have been in him, I didn’t want him to go without.

  Grandmama leaned over the bedrail and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Love you, sweetheart. More than all the stars in the sky.”

  “Love you, too, you crazy old coot.”

  She chuckled as she stood up straight. Well, as straight as she could with her bad back. “Sure, you do, hussy.” She turned to Hendrix. “You staying?”

  Say no. Say no. Say no.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. You going to make sure she gets some supper in her belly?”

  Hendrix nodded once as he looked at me. “Oh, she’ll eat.”

  Dick!

  “Alright, I’m heading out. I’ll call and check on you in a bit. And of course, I’ll be back in the morning. Bye, sweetheart.” She looked at Hendrix. “Bye, behemoth.”

  “Bye, Grandmama.”

  Tossing one last smile in my direction, Grandmama slid her purse that could double as a suitcase over her shoulder and walked out of the room.

  Hendrix wasted no time in crossing the room. Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, he placed both of his arms on either side of me and maneuvered his big body over mine. I laid back on the bed trying to put some distance between us, but he just followed me down. I scowled as he caged me in. “You mad, baby?”

  That went without question. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you won’t go away.” My chest ached as soon as the words left my mouth. Part of me screamed for him to leave but another part of me screamed for him to stay. My stupid heart was as indecisive as my brain.

  Get away from me. No, come closer.

  “You want me to leave, pretty girl?” He asked, his finger drawing an imaginary line down my throat. “And remember, Maddie, you can’t lie for shit.”

  I really couldn’t. And knowing that, I didn’t reply at all.

  That long finger moved across the center of my throat and slid down the other side before journeying across my shoulder and down my upper arm. "Answer my question, baby." I swallowed as my mind and heart warred with one another. "You want me to walk out that door and never come back?" His head dipped lower, his lips moved closer.

  I swallowed; a fine sheen of sweat broke out on my brow.

  Did I want him to walk out the door? Did I want him to leave again?

  The answer was simple: no, I didn’t.

  I may have been pissed, and I may have wanted to throttle him, but deep down I realized that his mere presence settled me. It made little sense—especially after what he’d done—but he made me feel grounded. Hendrix was my anchor. Always had been.

  “Hendrix,” I whispered as he tilted his head to the right and licked his lower lip, “You need to back up.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs, and my hands shook in my lap. “Why?”

  The honest admission slipped past my lips before I could stop it. “Because I can’t breathe when you’re this close.”

  He smiled and that dimple—the one that I’d always been so fascinated with—appeared. “Better get used to me being close, pretty girl, cause you’re never getting rid of me.”

  Something inside of me snapped.

  My chest heaved and that all too familiar feeling of despair engulfed me.

  Pressing two fingers against my lips to hold back the sob that was working its way from my chest and into my throat, I said, “I didn’t want to get rid of you the first time.” The first tear slipped free. Then the second. After that, I lost count. My vision blurred and my body shook.

  Hendrix closed his eyes. "Maddie," he whispered before tightening his jaw, "I didn't leave you because I wanted too." His shoulders shook, but whether it was from anger or sadness, I didn't know. It may be mentally twisted, but I hoped it was from sadness. I wanted him to hurt as badly as I did. “I left you because I had too.”

  Lie. Lie. Lie.

  I knew better. As much as Hendrix once loved me—or as much as I thought he loved me—nothing could have torn him away from me unless he let it. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Baby,” he hissed, leaning back and putting space between us, “I’m not lying. And soon you’ll find out the truth. But until then, I just need you to take my word for it. I would have never walked away from you unless I had no other choice.”

  My head spun, my mind whirled. I needed answers, and I needed them now. “Tell me why.” I was nearing my breaking point. I couldn’t take much more.

  But he wouldn’t budge. Shaking his head, he replied, “not until you’re better.” I was half a second away from cursing him to the moon and back when he kept talking. “It’s not an easy story, Maddie. Just give it some time, wait until you're stronger, and I swear to Christ I’ll tell you everything. But until then, baby, just trust me.”

  “No.” My voice was weak. “I can’t trust you. Not after what you did.”

  His head dropped forward, and he exhaled. When he looked back up, and his eyes met mine again, I lost my breath. So much pain, so much sadness. “Living without you for six years was bad enough, but hearing you say that you can’t trust me anymore, that cuts deep.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  And I was. I was sorry for everything. Sorry for whatever he swore made him leave, sorry that we’d lost each other. Sorry that we were both hurt and broken. But most of all, I was sorry that we were both harboring secrets.

  Secrets that neither of us should’ve had to harbor in the first place.

  Moving back, Hendrix smiled down at me. Lifting his hand, he ran his thumb along my jawline, careful not to nick the bruised or swollen areas. “Not your fault, Maddie. None of it’s your fault.”

  He dropped his hand and took a step back. “Now,” he said, changing the subject, “tell me what you want to eat. I already talked to the nurse, and she said the doctors cleared you for real food, but we should probably keep it light. I don’t know how much your stomach can handle.”

  I bit my bottom lip. "I don't know." I didn't.

  “How about I call and order you some of Mabel’s chicken & noodle soup? I’ve got somebody that’ll deliver it.”

  All Hendrix had to do was utter the name ‘Mabel's,' and my belly came to life. "That sounds so good.”

  Hendrix smiled before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He pointed over his shoulder, “I’m going to step outside to use the phone. That okay?”

  I nodded once. “Yeah.”

  Walking over, he grabbed the TV control that was lying near my head and slid it into my hand. After that, he reached down and pulled the thin hospital blanket up to my waist before tucking it underneath my hips. Just like a burrito.

  Using his free hand, he pulled up the hospital bed rail, locking it in place. Then he leaned over the rail and pressed the lightest of kisses to my forehead. “Rest, Maddie,” he whispered. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I relaxed as his scent surrounded me.

  Safety.

  “Okay,” I replied, my eyelids already feeling heavy. It had been a long day, filled with numerous visitors, and I was tired.

  So. Tired.

  “Be right back, pretty girl.”

  After pressing one last kiss to my forehead, he turned around and walked away.

  Pop

  Pop was standing in his kitchen silently debating whether he should eat soup or a sandwich for dinner when his cell phone rang. Uttering a curse, he pulled it out of his back pocket and answered without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hello.”

  “Pop.” He froze as his son’s voice came through the speaker. “I need your
help.” Panic instantly assailed him.

  “Fuck!” He cursed as he spun around in circles, looking around the kitchen for his truck keys. Where did I put the damn things? "What's wrong, Hendrix? Just tell me where you are and I'll be right there." His blood pressure rose, and his skin began to sweat.

  Shit, shit, shit! Where are my damn keys?

  “Nothing’s wrong,” his son replied, “I need a favor though.”

  He stopped whirling around in circles. "Anything you need, kid. You know that." At least he hoped his son knew that. The truth was, he'd been a shit father all his life, and he’d never given Hendrix a reason to trust him, but he hoped like hell that the progress they’d made over the last few days was enough to make his only kid realize that he’d crawl through hell to help him.

  “I’m at the hospital with Maddie. The doctor cleared her to eat, but I know she won't touch the food here." He couldn't blame her. The girl had grown up eating her Grandmama's cooking. Nothing would ever compare to that.

  Except maybe her own cooking.

  He could faintly remember the meals she'd cooked Hendrix while spending time at their house. It didn't often happen—at least not when he was around—but it happened enough for him to realize that the girl was one hell of a cook. "Do you mind picking her up some chicken noodle soup from Mabel's and bringing it by here? I would go get it, but I don't want to leave her alone."

  Pop smiled. It looked like his kid was digging his heels in for the long haul.

  Good, he mentally added.

  “Not a problem.” He spotted his keys on top of the fridge. Grabbing them, he shoved them in his pocket. “I’m leaving the house now.”

  "Don't leave yet. When I called and placed the order the girl who answered the phone said it would be about forty-five minutes. Mabel herself is cooking tonight, so they're packed."

  Pop’s stomach growled.

  Damn, if Mabel was cooking maybe he should get something for himself. The woman could rival Grandmama in the kitchen. She was that good. “Not a problem. That gives me just enough time to make a stop. You want me to bring you anything? Something to eat? Drink? Read?”

  “Nah, Pop, I’m good.” Moments of silence ticked by. Then, “Room 417. Same as before.” Hendrix paused before lowering his voice. “Maddie will probably be sleeping when you get here so don’t knock too loud.”

  “I won’t.” He headed for the front door. “See you in a bit, son.”

  “See you.”

  They both hung up.

  Walking out the front door, Pop crossed the rickety front porch and hopped down the steps. Standing on the walkway, he looked from his pickup truck to the house next door.

  Making a life-altering choice, he turned to the left and headed straight for the Davis’ house. Crossing the lawn, he climbed onto their porch and knocked on their stained-glass front door.

  Knock… Knock… Knock…

  He took a breath. “Time to confess your sins, James,” he whispered to himself.

  The door swung open. “What the hell do you want?” Grandmama asked, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder.

  “Keith here? If so, I need to speak to both of you.”

  She raised her brow before hollering, “Keith get your ass down here. James is here. Says he needs to talk to us!” She waited a couple of seconds before continuing. “And bring my shotgun!”

  Well, fuck…

  Keith bounded down the stairs sans shotgun.

  “What’s going on?” He asked, tapping his right hand against his leg. “Something wrong?”

  Pop shook his head. “No, but I need to speak with the two of you.”

  Keith looked at his mother before meeting Pop’s eyes again. “About what?”

  "About my son." He took a steadying breath. "About the reason he walked away from Maddie.”

  “Don’t see how it’s your place to tell us any of that, James. I appreciate you coming by but—”

  Pop cut Keith off mid-sentence. “I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.” Both Grandmama and Keith looked at each other. “Something I learned during recovery is that to attain absolution, one must bring their sins into the light.” He slid his hands into his front pockets. “This is me doing that.”

  Grandmama stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. “Come on in and take a seat at the supper table. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need a slice of apple pie and a shot or two of moonshine to deal with this.”

  They walked through the house and into the kitchen. Pulling out a wooden stool from beneath the long farmhouse table, Pop sat down and placed his hands on his knees. Once Grandmama and Keith were both seated, and he had their full attention, he began. “I’m an alcoholic, a gambler, and a child abuser….”

  Maddie

  Seven days after the assault, I was discharged from the hospital.

  “Grandmama,” I groaned, “for the millionth time, I am not going home with you.”

  She stood with her hands on her hips and scowled at me. “The hell you aren’t!”

  Standing my ground, I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at her. “Not happening, old woman, so get over it.”

  Her face softened a tad at the loving insult I hurled her way. “Listen you little heifer, you can’t go back to the shelter. Where else are you going to go?” She tapped her chin with her finger. “Sounds to me like you don’t have a choice.”

  “I can go back to the shelter. I just can't work there. I still have an apartment on the top floor." At that point, I hadn't been cleared to return to work and wouldn't be for several weeks. I had no idea what I was going to do in the meantime, but I knew that I couldn’t stay with Daddy and Grandmama. Daddy’s emotional distance and Grandmama’s domineering presence were the last things I wanted to deal with.

  “No. You. Can’t,” she spit out, her face turning red. “If you stay there, you’ll just end up working, and I won’t have it, Maddie. You'll end up hurting yourself!”

  This was going nowhere fast. Trying to remain calm, I sucked in a breath. “Grandmama, you know I love you and Daddy both, but I can’t move back in with you.”

  “And why in the world not?”

  “Because I’d be in the nuthouse within a week!”

  She scoffed. "No, you wouldn't. You survived eighteen years with us, and you'll survive a couple more weeks."

  No, I wouldn’t. “Grandmama—”

  I stopped talking when the door to my hospital room opened, and Hendrix stepped inside. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said, carrying a bottle of Gatorade and an Old Navy bag in his hands. “Got you some clothes to wear home.”

  “Hendrix, would you talk some sense into her? She’s insisting on moving back to that damn shelter. I’ve done told her that I’m not having it, but she’s being more stubborn than an ass, fighting me every step of the way.”

  Hendrix stared at me with a fiery intensity that made my skin burn. “You’re not going back to the fucking shelter.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that he didn’t have the right to tell me what to do anymore when inspiration stuck. I knew I’d probably regret it later, but it was a chance that I was willing to take. Only one way I could get Grandmama and Hendrix both off my back.

  After tossing a sassy smile at Grandmama, I locked eyes with Hendrix. “You don’t want me going back to the shelter, huh?”

  “Fuck no,” he growled. “That shit isn’t happening, baby.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.” Wait for it. “So, take me home with you then.”

  Grandmama gasped, and Hendrix stilled. “You want to go home with me?”

  Not wanting him to read too much into my request, I closed the space between us, placed my hand on the center of his chest, and whispered, “I’m willing to do anything at this point.” I nodded in Grandmama’s direction. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m staying with her and Daddy.”

  “Knock, knock,” the nurse called out as she breezed in the room. “I’ve got your discharge papers ready.” She
smiled. “I bet you’re ready to get out of here, huh?”

  I huffed out a breath. “You have no idea.”

  The nurse laughed before flipping through the papers she held it in her hand. Thrusting the first one at me, she said, “this is a prescription for pain. Take one pill every six hours as needed.” She flipped to the second page. “These are your discharge instructions. You just need to take it easy. No returning to work, no heavy lifting, no strenuous activities.” She glanced over at Hendrix and blushed. What the hell? She flipped to the third page. “And this has all of your follow-up care information on it. You’re scheduled to see Dr. Addison at Toluca Neurology in exactly seven days. But in the meantime, if you notice any sudden changes in pain, eyesight, or hearing we need you to come back to the ER. Understand?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “Okay. Now if you can just sign here," she placed an x beside where it said patient signature, "and here," she placed another x, "you're free to go." Dropping my hand from Hendrix's chest, I quickly signed the last paper and handed it—along with her pen—back to her. "Do you need me to get you a wheelchair or do you think you can walk?"

  “I can walk. Thank you, though.”

  “Sure thing.” She reached out and ran her hand up and down my upper arm. “I’m really glad to see that you’re doing better. You make sure you take care of yourself, okay?”

  “I will.”

  She smiled one last time before leaving the room.

  Grandmama moved to stand in front of me. “You’re sure you want to go home with the behemoth?”

  I snorted. “I’m sure.” I wasn’t. Not really.

  “Fine.” She threw her arms up in the air. “But don’t say I didn’t offer for you to come home.” She then turned to Hendrix. “Are you going to take care of my Grandbaby?”

  He looked at her like she was crazy, which she was. “Yeah, Grandmama, I am.”

  “Do I need to remind you what will happen if you don’t?”

  He waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “Don’t worry. I didn’t forget that you’ll pop a cap in my ass if anything happens to her.”