Sparing the Heart (Pastime Pursuits #3)

by Tracy Krimmer

  “Good. Now if you'll please be on your way, I need to get back to my friend."

  "You little bitch. I'm going to be sure my brother hears about this."

  "And I'm sure he won't believe you. You've had it in for me since day one."

  Gretchen is practically foaming at the mouth. I put my hands on her shoulders and try to pull her back. "Let go of me." She shrugs me off.

  "Gretchen, let's be the bigger people here."

  "Yeah. Be the bigger people," Macy mocks me and I swear I'm going to clock her. She takes out her phone and snaps a photo of herself and Brian.

  "She’s not worth our time." I’m urging her now. I want to be out of Macy’s sight.

  Her eyes lock with Macy’s. "This is not done. You are not marrying my brother." She points her finger at her, inches from her face.

  Macy doesn’t budge, only smirking and holding the stare. She waits until we start to walk away before she responds, “Watch me."

  Chapter

  Twenty-Eight

  “Daddy!” I scream. “Daddy, where are you?” My feet are frozen to the ground as groups of people race past me, too involved in their own lives to notice this six-year-old girl yelling for her father. Does anyone even see me? I allow myself to move enough to turn. I’m spinning in circles, my eyes darting everywhere in the room as I search for the Milwaukee Bucks cap he’s wearing and his dark zip up hoodie. The crowd is dissipating until it’s only me. I’m in the middle of the circus ring, alone.

  I gasp for air as my eyes pop open. I’m in my bedroom, at my own condo, and I’m safe. My dad, though, he’s not coming back. That day at the circus, he did. For two horrific minutes I stood lost in a crowd before he scooped me up. For twenty-eight more years we would never lose each other again. Until now.

  I miss him so much. I grasp my pillow and pull it into my chest as the tears start to flow out of my eyes. I’m sobbing and wish I had someone to hold me. Times like this I almost regret moving away from the only family I have. In all reality, though, even if I’d never left, I still would wake up alone, no one beside me to comfort me, kiss my forehead, and tell me everything is okay. My brother is married, Gretchen has Clark, Tiffany has Taylor, and Kellan has Macy. Who do I have?

  My head aches the more I cry. I reach for a tissue and note the time. It’s only eleven. Most adults my age are still out enjoying the night. Well, those childless at least left their kids with a sitter. Here I am waking from the umpteenth nightmare in a year. I should be out dancing or even filling up on a late night appetizer.

  I run my hand over the decorative pillow next to me. That’s what shares my bed with me every night, a pillow that no one’s head rests upon. I don’t need a man to share my life with, but right now, I’d settle for physical intimacy, a touch, anything.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I pick up my phone and send a text.

  Meet me in thirty outside The Perculator.

  ••••••••••

  “This is beautiful,” I say to Ned as we lean back in our seats in the car. He got a coffee and I opted for tea and are now sitting in his car with the State Capitol in view. The awesome thing about sharing a city with college students is places like cafes are open super late. “That place is amazing at night.”

  “I love living here.”

  “Sometimes I miss the suburbs. Then I sit back and take all of this in and I’m so glad I moved here.”

  “Think you’ll ever go back?”

  I shake my head. “No. This is home now. I’ll go back and visit. I mean, it’s less than two hours away, so I don’t have an excuse not to.”

  “I’m sure your family misses you.”

  “It’s just my brother, his wife, and my aunt.”

  Ned turns on his right side. “Really? What about your parents?”

  I tighten my grip around my mug, allowing the warmth to move through my hands. Some day I’ll be able to mention them without my heart aching and gasping for air. I can’t believe we’ve known each other this long and I still haven’t told him about my parents. “They’re both gone.”

  He sets his cup in the holder and lightly touches my shoulder. I can’t pull away. I need this. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I know how difficult that is.”

  “You do?” My pitch changes as I cock my head. Sometimes when lost in your own grief, you forget others lose people they love, too.

  “Yes. My parents passed when I was very young. Ted and I — well, our grandpa raised us. Losing him was the hardest thing we’ve ever gone through.”

  “Even the time you spent … away?” I’m uncertain which would be more difficult, saying goodbye to someone I love, or being locked away from everything I know, forced to conform to a society I would fear every day. Wasn’t he afraid of dying in prison? He crossed paths with people who did worse than he did. The thought alone frightens me.

  The concern in his face drops and I think I’ve upset him. “You spoke with Gretchen, didn’t you?”

  A car drives by, causing me to close my eyes to avoid the shining headlight. I open my eyes and he’s waiting for my reply, his eyebrows darted together, worry covering his face. “Yeah. After the palm reading.”

  “Damnit!” He crosses his arms and turns away from me, the vein around his temple engorging. “I don’t want that being public knowledge, and I especially don’t want my friends spreading gossip around town.”

  “Well it is public record.” Not that I go around searching for information, but anyone can use a search option and discover it on their own. “Gretchen isn’t gossiping. I asked.”

  “Yeah, but still. You must think I’m a horrible person.” He hangs his head in shame.

  I’m sure life isn’t easy for him. His term was short, if any time in prison can be called that, but re-entering society and dealing with people’s misconceptions about his character must be tough. He didn’t ask to be judged, and it’s simply not fair people do. “Actually, I don’t. Gretchen said you refused to give up your friend. That’s quite honorable.”

  He turns the radio up a few notches when “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy comes on. “I love this one.” He bobs his head to the music and starts a drumming rendition.

  A perfect change of subject. Clearly all I have been told about his time in jail is all I will ever know. He doesn’t want to talk about it as much as I don’t want to discuss my father. “I thought you were a country guy. You are in a Randy Travis cover band, for crying out loud.”

  “So what?” He stops mid-drum. “I can’t like other music?”

  “You’re eclectic. I like that.” His hands drop to his lap as I look into his eyes. I mean really look. Here’s this sweet man, we’ve been out a couple times, and he’s interesting. His actions at the palm reader upset me, but after speaking with Gretchen, I understand his reserves. My shield lowers as a lock of hair releases from his ponytail and falls over his face. I reach my hand forward and he doesn’t flinch as I brush the escaped strand out of the way. “And you’re a damn good guitar player.”

  “I am.” He licks his lips and puffs out his chest. “That I am.”

  And he’s not afraid to acknowledge it. It actually makes me laugh out loud when a few months ago, I would have been disgusted, calling him cocky.

  The song ends and Ed Sheeran’s soulful voice replaces the previous rock tune. With the lights of the Capitol lit up in front of us, I can’t deny the romance. Ned is staring out his window, his head tilted as he observes the stars. I jump when he catches me watching him, but relax as he leans towards me.

  He’s kissing me. Ned’s lips are planted on mine and it’s not what I expected at all. His tongue barely slips through in this soft, warm, and sincere exchange. The problem is I don’t feel a thing. The moments leading up to this gave me hope and fooled me into believing maybe he and I could develop into something. We can’t, though. We won’t.

  When we break apart, his head sort of shifts and he sits back. “Huh.”

  I inhale deeply, the heat f
rom the vent next to me drying my nose. What’s he thinking? Is he going to kiss me again? What do I do if he does?

  My body stiffens as he runs his right hand over the crown of his head and pulls back on his ponytail. “That was … “

  “Just okay.” I cover my mouth with my hands when I realize I said the words out loud. I don’t blame him if he asks me to walk back to the coffee shop to get my car, leaving me with an almost mile hike in the frigid temperature.

  He turns his head and the bottom of his lip curls into a smile. “Exactly.”

  I bow my head and release a quiet exhale. Rejection never felt so good.

  “Listen, you’re a very nice girl.”

  “And you’re a very interesting guy.”

  “But we don’t fit.”

  “No, we don’t.” He’s outlining the obvious. I won’t hurt his pride by pointing out I, too, have no desire to pursue anything romantic with him. “Having friends, though, that’s a great thing.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I’m glad he’s mine. We don’t mesh sexually. I’m happy we both accept this and can move on as friends. This wasn’t the intimacy I desired tonight, but sometimes a supportive friend is all you need.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Nine

  I rub my hands together before opening my car door. Damn, Kellan’s forecast didn’t lie. Subzero temperatures for the last week of January. A few months are left of winter, but I hope we’re on the upswing and warmer air will overtake this frigid atmosphere. The dash lights of my Focus light up and I glance at the temperature — negative twelve. Now I wish I’d opted for the condo with the gas fireplace. I’ll make some tea when I’m back in the house.

  I yank the box to the edge of the seat so I can grab a hold of it. My hands slide under and as I lift it up I stumble forward before catching myself. I forgot how heavy this box is. Once my hand is steady on the corners, I use my butt to shut the car door and head back upstairs to my condo.

  I try not to drop the box too hard onto the table, but after carrying it all the way upstairs, my arms give out, and the table shakes when I drop the package. I slit the tape, sighing when I set the scissors down. As though opening a carton of eggs, I take my time pulling back the sides. One at a time I press the cardboard down until the black bag inside stares back at me. I place my hand on the zipper. It’s just a ball. I remind myself this should be easy, but my heart isn’t receiving the memo.

  “On the count of three,” I say out loud even though I’m alone. “One,” I grip the zipper tight. “Two.” I close my eyes. “Three.” The zee of the zipper makes my heart pound. I open my eyes and widen the bag, the ball staring back at me. I reach in to take it out, but stop myself. No. Not here. I should do this where and how it’s meant to be done. I seal up the carrier and head to the bowling alley.

  Ned is behind the counter when I arrive, and no one else is there. All twenty-six lanes are clear and glisten against the lights set against them. I don’t recall ever seeing this place so empty, much like my heart.

  “Hey, Kate. Here to knock down some pins?”

  My grip is tight on the bag and I’m close to losing circulation. “Yeah. Can you open a lane for me?” My voice cracks as I ask the question.

  “You bet. Lane twelve.” The scoreboard lights up and the pins set. Let’s go, Kate.

  The zipper is loud in the quiet alley. I need some music. I lace up my bowling shoes before picking out a playlist from the jukebox. I love these new electronic ones. They are so much easier and faster to use. I toss in some Randy Travis just for Ned. When “Diggin’ Up Bones” comes on he grins at me and gives me a thumbs up.

  My breath catches in my chest as I take the ball out of the bag and lift it to my nose. It smells like him, a mix of Old Spice and Pabst Blue Ribbon. The last time we bowled together he told me he wanted me to take this ball and keep it safe. He won so many tournaments with it. Even that last one. When I found him his bag was ripped open, the ball far down the street. I paid a lot of money to have this bag sewed back up good as new. I set the bag on my lap and run my fingers across the new stitches.

  My dad’s death was so much more difficult than my mom’s. Mom was sick for a while. We had time to prepare; we couldn’t deny the end was coming. When she died and my dad lost his way, wandering around town and sinking into a deep depression, I stood by him and helped take care of him. We visited mom’s gravesite together and when he became especially lonely, I drove him to the Humane Society and we played with the puppies. Once I convinced him to try bowling, a pastime he loved in his younger years, he hesitated. But then he fell in love with the sport again. He found himself. The night he died he was so elated. He won the tournament and gave me his ball. He said he was done, hanging up the ball and retiring. Then he was stabbed and robbed when I stood a hundred feet away in the bowling alley. I couldn’t save him. I wasn’t given time to prepare or come to terms with the end. Mortality just came, arriving without warning.

  I suck in air as my nose tickles. Something is shining in the bag. I place the ball on the return and reach in to grab whatever is inside. The gold chain with four hearts is the bracelet he gave me the Valentines’ Day after my mother died. Each heart represents someone in our family — me, Dad, Mom, and my brother, Seth. I thought I lost this. It must have fallen off into the bag sometime before or after I had it fixed. I lay the chain across my wrist and clasp it shut. I should wear this now.

  My dad is gone and he’s not coming back. I couldn’t do anything then, and I can’t do anything now. The pain eats me up inside. The last three years of my life I spent most of every day with him and our relationship was as strong as ever. I miss him and I’m afraid of experiencing that kind of pain again. I can’t hold back love, though, strictly to spare my heart. What good is life if I don’t love? It doesn’t have to be Kellan, or any man for that matter. I need to be happy and accept my life as it is. I can do this.

  I can move on. And I will.

  ••••••••••

  I may be bowling my best game ever in honor of my dad. I don’t even normally use a ball this heavy, but I swear it’s filled with some sort of magic. Or, quite possibly, the spirit of my father. Ned cheers me on from behind the counter and I welcome the encouragement.

  I’m on the ninth frame when I nab my sixth strike, but the ball isn’t returning nor are the pins resetting. I press the button on the ball return and nothing. “Ned?” I call back to the counter. “Can you help here? Something is jammed.” I click the button again, and nothing.

  “You bet!” He tosses down the magazine he was reading and motions for me to follow him. “I’ll give you a small tour back here. Have you ever been?”

  “No, I haven’t, and I’d love to check it out.” I’ve always wondered how things work back there. When I was a little girl, I imagined dozens of cats helping run the process. Their tiny paws kneading the ball, slowly rolling it back to the bowler. Through all my years of bowling, I never thought to even ask to witness what goes on back there. I’m sure there aren’t any cats, and I’ll try not to be disappointed.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you bowl so well before, even in the league.” He leads me down the alley and a wave of guilt washes over me. I expect the buzzer to go off and for me to fall flat on my butt. Beyond the foul line was always forbidden, and here I am waltzing past it like it doesn’t exist.

  “Thanks. I’m blowing off a lot of steam this afternoon.” And sexual frustration.

  “Sometimes that makes for the best motivation.” I bump into him as he stops. “Wait. You were with me last night. Did I piss you off?”

  The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. After our uneventful kiss, I went home and slept until eight. “Not at all. The same old stuff — trying to sell the unsellable house and make sure the bills get paid.”

  He nods and continues walking. Good. I don’t want to start a whole discussion about all the energy locked up inside me.

  I follow him through a door into
a tiny space behind all the lanes. Ned maneuvers through a tangled mess of metal. I find my way through and meet him on the other side. “It’s cramped back here.” My claustrophobia is kicking in.

  “Yeah, well, it’s pretty tight, but I’m remodeling soon. We can clean this up and make it much easier to maintain and manage.” He ducks down, his hand on a large contraption. All that’s going through my mind is I hope his ponytail doesn’t get caught in anything. “Everything is so slick and modernized these days. It’s time we join them.”

  “Do you see the ball?”

  “Yeah.” He lifts his head and meets my eyes. “Did you hear that?”

  I jerk my head around. “No.” Am I in a horror movie? We’re stuck in the back of the bowling alley. Someone is going to come back here and … dizziness overcomes me as I remember my dad’s last day. My hands clam up but inside I’m heating up. “Ned,” I whisper. “Is everything okay?”

  A bell dings and I jump back, clutching my chest. Ned bursts into a laugh, then apologizes. “I’m sorry, Kate. I wasn’t trying to scare you. Someone’s at the counter, that’s all.” He sneaks around me. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.” He’s shaking his head and I can tell he’s smiling when he leaves.

  Okay, maybe I overreacted, but if I confided to Ned how my dad died, I’m sure he wouldn’t have laughed. My heart starts to return to normal pace and I release my breath. I replay my reaction and understand why he thought it was funny. I’m even now half-smiling myself.

  The door opens. “Who was it, Ned?” I turn around and Kellan is standing where Ned should be.

  “Hi.” My light-headedness returns, though this time my body warms in excitement rather than fear. His lips are parted, his greeting lingering on his lips, and the simple word repeating in my head. The scruff around his face is gone, buttery smooth skin behind it. The mixed blues tie peeking out from behind his black suit is the perfect choice, his dark hair popping from the contrast and his eyes pulling me in. I can’t. I use all my force to defy the attraction.