The Man She Knew

by Loree Lough

  “They’re fast asleep. Have been for hours.”

  “So,” he said as she led him to the back steps, “they have no idea you’re out here, alone in the dark, in the middle of a major blizzard.”

  “No.”

  “And if you slipped, clunked your head on something—”

  “It’s snow, Ian. Snow.”

  “With a half inch of frozen stuff on top of it.”

  She paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Says the man who traveled miles, on a snowplow, to earn a few brownie points by having my grandparents’ driveway cleared.”

  Ian hung his head. “I’m that obvious?”

  She blinked up at him through snowflake-dusted lashes, blue eyes glittering in the golden glow of the porch light. Once upon a time, a look like that might precede a passionate kiss. At the very least, a loving hug.

  Maleah took a step closer. Licked her lips. Exhaled a sweet sigh. Those minutes on the dance floor, holding her close enough to feel her heart thrumming against his chest, had been wondrous and memorable...and woke a yearning in him as nothing before it had. Would she actually take another step forward, and bridge the gap that had separated them for so long?

  Rattled, hopeful and more than a little scared, Ian decided to take that step, instead...and lost his balance.

  He landed on his back in a deep drift, taking her with him, a warm and petite, parka’d blanket that covered him from chin to shins. Instinct made him wrap his arms around her.

  Instinct...and an aching desire to hold on to the moment for as long as he could.

  He’d heard people say “Time froze,” but until now, hadn’t experienced it. What seemed a full minute passed as those incredible eyes bored into his, searched his face, then squeezed shut.

  When she opened them again, Maleah whispered, “Are you all right?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  Both eyebrows disappeared under wet bangs. “I’ll get your snowplow friend to help get you up.”

  She started to get up, but Ian tightened his arms around her. “The only thing wrong with me,” he managed to say, “is...is...”

  Where to start? By telling her about the self-loathing he’d experienced every hour since that night at the convenience store? With regrets he’d recited like a litany when sleep eluded him? Or the list of “if onlys” he’d tried so hard to bury in his mind?

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have braved the elements so soon.”

  Her lyrical voice, soft as the falling snow, touched a long-forgotten place in his heart. Ian didn’t trust himself to speak. Last time she’d brought tears to his eyes had been the day the letter arrived, unopened like the others, demanding that he leave her alone, forever. Eyes burning, he struggled for self-control, and the courage to tell her what he’d come here to say.

  “Guess I am a little crazy. Crazy about you,” he ground out. “Still. Always.” Hands pressed into the snow on either side of his head, she raised up, repeated the mesmerizing study of his face. The pale yellow glow of the porch light haloed her head, making it impossible to tell if her lashes were still damp from the snow...or if she had been moved to tears, too.

  “I know.”

  She knew? He held his breath, waiting for her to follow up with “Me, too.” Or “That’s how I feel.” When she didn’t, another old saying came to mind: No one ever died of a broken heart.

  Right here, in this moment, he wasn’t so sure about that.

  Her lips touched his, softly, gently, slowly at first.

  But only at first. Where he ended and she began, Ian couldn’t say. Did she realize that as her kisses slid from his mouth to his cheeks, from his forehead to his chin, she’d awakened every hope and dream he’d secreted away? It seemed she was reaching into his soul. How would she respond after reading years of unanswered love he’d written there?

  Had he thumped his head hard when he flopped onto his back? Open your eyes; it’s the only way to know for sure. He hesitated, because if this was some sort of weird dream, Ian didn’t want to wake up. Ever.

  “What day is it?”

  She’d just turned his world upside down, made him question his sanity, and that’s what she wanted to know?

  “Saturday. January twenty-third.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  She rolled to the left, and lay beside him.

  “Let me help you up before you freeze to death.” She pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Besides, what will the neighbors say?” He looked over at her, into eyes that once blazed bright and blue with unabashed love for him. What were the chances he’d see them shine that way again?

  She scrambled to her feet, dusted snow from her backside, from the knees of her snow pants. Then, hands on hips, she said, “Would you look at that?”

  Already, the narrow path she’d shoveled from the mailbox to the porch had drifted over.

  Snow filled their boot prints, too.

  “All that work and what do I have to show for it?”

  She might not see any positive results from her hard work, but Ian did: If she hadn’t been outside, shoveling at two in the morning, he never would have lost his balance, starting a chain reaction that ended with kisses and sweet smiles...things that would comfort him when this dream ended and he had to face the ugly reality of life without her.

  Maleah held out a hand, and he grabbed it, let her help him to his feet.

  “I’d forgotten that you’re a lot stronger than you look.”

  “Aren’t we all?” she said, brushing snow from his back. “This jacket isn’t the least bit waterproof. You know that, right?”

  “I, ah—”

  “Let’s go inside.” She mimicked the bunny-hating cartoon hunter: “If you’re vewwy, vewwy quiet, I’ll make us some hot chocolate and let you dry out beside the fire.”

  Lord but he’d missed this, missed her.

  “Well, what are you waiting for, siwwy wabbit?”

  “Are you sure about this? With your grandparents asleep upstairs?”

  She opened the door and, forefinger to her lips said, “Don’t worry. You won’t wake them. They sleep more deeply than my folks.”

  Guiding him onto the bench in the laundry room, Maleah tugged off his snow-caked boots and stood them beside the door, then helped him take off his jacket, gloves and cap, and clipped them onto the clothesline Teresa had strung between the cabinets above the laundry tub before removing her own wet gear and hanging it up.

  They made their way into the kitchen as he limped along behind her. “I have a feeling my dreams will be mighty sweet tonight, thanks to you,” Ian said.

  Her back was to him as she filled the teakettle, so he couldn’t see her reaction. “Y’know, on second thought, I should go. Don’t want to miss my ride, get you in trouble with your family.”

  In less than the time it took to utter the words, everything—from the caring light in her eyes to her relaxed posture and affectionate smile—changed. She left him alone in the kitchen, returned with his still-dripping coat.

  “You really need something that repels water.” Then, as if she regretted doling out that helpful piece of advice, she said, “It probably wouldn’t be easy, explaining why I invited the notorious Ian Sylvestry into my elderly grandparents’ house, in the middle of a blizzard.”

  First, capable of robbing a children’s charity; now, notorious.

  “Sorry I couldn’t help you shovel,” he said, pulling the stocking cap onto his head.

  “Don’t give it another thought. I’m sure once Andy makes his way to this end of the block, he’ll make quick work of the job.”

  Had he dreamed that perfect, unforgettable scene outside? If so, maybe he was crazy. Yeah, that had to be it. How else could he explain that, for those exquisite moments, he’d talked himself into beli
eving Maleah saw hope for their future, too?

  He zipped up and walked toward the back door, wondering what a good parting line might be. He didn’t think “It was great, kissing you. Hope we can do it again, real soon” would fly.

  “Be sure to thank your friend for us. Who knows how long we’d have to wait for the county to send a plow?”

  “Yeah, can’t put much stock in what politicians say.”

  As she reached for the doorknob, Ian reached into his pocket.

  “Found this in a little shop on Thames Street the other day.” Taking her hand in his, he deposited a silver chain and white enamel daisy pendant into her upturned palm. “The minute I saw it, I thought of you.”

  She held it up to the light. “It’s lovely. But why did it make you think of me?”

  “Because I remembered how many decisions you made with your invisible daisy... Pink sweater or white at the blue-light-special sale. Fries or potato salad with your burgers. An old movie on TV or something new in the DVD player...”

  She bit her trembling lower lip. “It’s a very sweet gift.”

  “Surprising, coming from a notorious outlaw, huh.”

  Eyes and lips narrowed, Maleah opened the door. “Thank you, Ian, for arranging for the plow—I know you did it to ease the family’s mind, in case Grampa needed to go back to the hospital—and for this, too.” She closed her fist around the daisy, let the chain dangle between her fingers. “I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful. It’s just...”

  He sandwiched her fist between his hands. “You don’t owe me anything, not even an explanation.”

  Ian opened the door and stepped outside. What more could he say except “Sleep well, Maleah. Keep me posted on Frank’s progress.”

  With that, he ducked into the collar of his coat and, hands pocketed, walked away, praying with every difficult step that Andy wouldn’t ask how things went.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MALEAH LEANED INTO the mirror above the guest room dresser and, satisfied the daisy pendant was hidden in her turtleneck, headed downstairs to start breakfast.

  She’d slept all of two hours, most of it tossing and turning, and remembering her bold and brazen attack on Ian. She felt the heat of a blush creep into her cheeks. You should be ashamed of yourself, she thought, and nothing—not sleepless nights or moving hundreds of pounds of snow from the driveway—excused or explained her behavior.

  Maleah stood at the window, waiting as water filled the coffeepot’s carafe. From this vantage point, one might think her grandparents had grown so tired of lawn care that they’d paved the entire yard with white concrete. Sunlight flooded the fenced-in space, painting pale blue shadows behind every glittering wind-blown ripple. Gently sloping drifts inched up tree trunks, making it easy to guess at the snow’s depth...

  Thirty inches, she calculated, minimum. She and Ian had fallen into a snow heap at least that big. Thankfully, Andy had cleared the driveway and sidewalks, covering up any indentation they might have left behind.

  When her lips first touched his, Maleah knew Ian had been stunned. And why wouldn’t he be, when the only warmth she’d shown him to that point had been when she leaned into his arms on the dance floor. Learning that he’d arranged to clear her grandparents’ drive and every street leading to the main highway had moved her—Water sloshed over the pot’s rim, rousing her from her daydream. Grabbing a dish towel, she dried it, then filled the pot’s reservoir.

  “Add an extra scoop of grounds,” Frank whispered, padding into the room in corduroy slippers. “Your grandmother’s coffee is as weak as tea.”

  Maleah stuffed a filter into the basket. “I thought your doctor said no more caffeine.”

  “I get one cup a day, and by golly, I’m gonna enjoy it.”

  “Makes sense to me,” she said. But instead of the rounded extra scoop of grounds he’d asked for, Maleah only added half that much.

  “Is Grams up yet?”

  “Yup. She’s in the shower.” He parted the curtains behind the corner booth. “Man. It’ll take days to dig out of this mess.”

  She’d let him find out for himself that here on Waterford Street, at least, cleanup wasn’t necessary.

  “Pancakes for breakfast?” she asked.

  He parked himself at the table as Teresa appeared in the doorway. “Sounds good,” he said.

  “But no eggs,” Teresa said, cuffing her plaid shirtsleeves. “Remember what Dr. Peters said.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah...two eggs a week.” He scowled.

  “I’m impressed with our councilman neighbor,” Teresa said. “He said midnight tonight, and beat that time by a whole day.”

  “No way.” Frank stood, said over his shoulder to his wife and Maleah, “That guy makes promises all the time, and I can’t think of one he’s kept.”

  Standing at the windows, he surveyed his driveway, walkways and porch. “That politician didn’t do this. No way those county guys would have plowed all this. Wouldn’t have shoveled the walks, either.”

  He looked at Maleah. “What’s the scoop, kid?”

  “How would I know?” Maleah returned to the kitchen.

  “You’re the one with a hundred big shots in your phone book...”

  “If only I had that kind of pull, my job would be a whole lot easier.”

  Frank and Teresa exchanged a look, something between surprise and suspicion.

  Maleah poured their coffee and juice, then started the batter.

  “I heard that snowplow last night,” Teresa said. “Thought it was wishful thinking, though, so I didn’t get up to check it out.”

  From the corner of her eye, Maleah saw Frank focus on her. She oiled the griddle.

  “And I thought I heard a man’s voice down here,” he said.

  “If you ask me, dreams that realistic are proof that you two need to quit snacking before bedtime. You need at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep a whole lot more than ice cream or pudding.”

  “Or popcorn and hot chocolate?” Teresa asked.

  “Okay.” Maleah hoped she’d diverted their attention away from male voices. “Good point. But that was special. A once in a lifetime thing. The likelihood we’ll get another blizzard like this one in our lifetimes is slim to none.”

  “Aw, we get hit every ten-twelve years,” Frank said.

  “But not like this...nearly three feet in twenty-four hours?”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  She poured two circles of batter onto the griddle and, while waiting for the edges to form bubbles, sipped her coffee.

  “You gonna keep us in suspense, or tell us who it was?”

  Maleah flipped the pancakes, happy to have something to look at besides her grandmother’s face. “His name is Andy.” Not the whole truth, but not a lie, either. “We went to high school together. Sort of.”

  She slapped pancakes onto a paper plate and poured two more circles of batter.

  “Sort of?” Teresa grabbed three rooster-decorated stoneware plates, distributed them around the table.

  “I was a freshman when he was a senior...for the second or third time. But at least he hung in there long enough to get his diploma.”

  Frank rearranged the silverware, earning a cross look from his wife. “So now he drives a plow for the county?”

  Without thinking, Maleah said, “It’s his plow. He owns a major construction firm.”

  “Wait...are we talking about Andy Palmer, that big gawky kid who hung around with Ian?”

  Too late to take it all back now, Maleah thought. “One and the same, Grampa.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Teresa said, putting butter and syrup on the table. “I’ve seen his trucks all over the county.”

  Frank nodded. “Read an article in Baltimore Magazine couple months
back. I have to admit, he did pretty good for a kid who didn’t go to college.”

  “Well,” Teresa corrected. “He did well.”

  Maleah brought six pancakes to the table, and went back to the stove to make more for the freezer. Standing here gave her a valid excuse to avoid eye contact. “Makes one wonder,” Teresa said, “what your ex is doing these days, doesn’t it?” She squirted her stack with syrup. “He didn’t attend college, either, did he?”

  Maleah saw nothing to gain from telling them he’d earned the equivalent of a degree...at Lincoln.

  “Not everyone needs to attend a university, Grams.”

  “Exactly,” Frank said. “Where would all those sheepskin-flaunting folks be without people to do the real work?”

  “I have a teacher’s degree. Are you calling me uppity?”

  “’Course not, sweetie. Just highlighting our granddaughter’s very astute point.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Besides, I know plenty of cops and firefighters, EMTs, too, who don’t have degrees.” He took a gulp of coffee. “And we all sleep better knowing they’re on the job.”

  “Ian is sole owner of a very successful bistro in Fells Point.” Maleah didn’t know what possessed her to say that. Or what prompted her to add, “And lets his dad and aunt live in the apartments above the restaurant, rent free.”

  “And you know all this because...”

  She should have known that providing details like that would awaken her grandfather’s interrogation skills.

  “We had to talk about something other than the Kids First campaign.”

  “She’s right, Frank. It’s better to let the boy boast about his accomplishments than encourage a reunion.”

  Maleah carried more pancakes to the table. She could only imagine how much it would distress her grandmother that, not only had she heard a man’s voice last night, but it had been Ian’s. And if she found out that Maleah had nearly suffocated him with that long, delicious, heart-pounding kiss? She didn’t even want to think about that!

  “Have you been to this bistro of his?”

  Frank shot his wife a look.