by DJ Stone
"Mom works in a bookstore. Thinks of it as her own personal library. I can picture her, reading every juicy romance on the shelves, craving each happy ending almost as much as she craves chocolate. It’s more than a job to her, and she won't be home until lunchtime to check on me. I’m sure she’ll have a book in hand that I will have no desire to read."
“I'll hang around to make sure you don't fall again or something. Just long enough to get you back to bed."
Should I invite him to join me in bed? No, I’m being insane to even consider it. I’m still too twisted up in my love affair with Harrison and the way he made me feel to think straight. You don’t beg strangers to pleasure you, to lessen your own sorrow.
“I tried to repair your door on my way back in here. I have it closed and locked, but I'm afraid I made a mess of the outside."
"Mom will never notice. We don't use that door anyway. It’ll probably stay like that for the next twenty years. Without my dad being around anymore things don’t really get repaired or changed around here.”
“Is your mother a widow?”
“I wish,” I mutter, forgetting how callous that must sound to someone who doesn’t know the circumstances. “My dad ran off years ago. He was a cheater, and he broke my mother’s heart.” I think for a moment about my own heart that feels fractured right now.
"My glorious dad wasn’t much better, a typical Irish cliché if ever there was one. Angry as a wet cat. The only thing he ever loved was his bottle. He drank himself to death.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I say, feeling guilty for wishing my own father dead.
Pierce trails off like it’s ancient history. “I should fix the door the right way. I’ll come back tomorrow—that is, if you don't mind."
"Of course not," I say, wishing I could reach out and touch him. I need a friend badly right now, especially one with the power to take my mind off Harrison. I like the way Pierce is looking at me, even though I’m not much to look at right now. He seems simple in the best way possible. "What brought you out here anyway? You couldn't have known I'd take a fall. Do you cruise up and down the streets looking for ladies in distress?"
"My sister said I should give you a call, but I remembered your cell phone was pretty smashed and there wasn’t any other number listed for you. Have you replaced your phone? I was hoping to get your number so I could check in.”
“No, I’m going to wait until I can go out and get one myself rather than sending my mom out for one. She knows nothing about them. That's really sweet of your sister to think of me, considering I destroyed her boat. My insurance will take care of everything." The fact that he’s keeping in touch with me at all is too big for me to even address.
"Including driving lessons?" he jokes. "Just kidding, but why were you driving so fast anyway? You had to be aware of the fog."
“I think I’m ready to get out of the tub now.” I pull myself into a sitting position and lean forward to pull the plug. As the water starts to gurgle its way down the drain I grab the towel Pierce left out for me.
“Once you’re ready I’ll give you a hand getting out. Can you reach the towel?”
I consider saying no and dropping the towel so far away from the tub he’ll need to come in and see me as I am, naked and desperate for distraction. But it doesn’t seem fair to him. Pierce isn’t here to make me feel better in that way. It’s not his fault Harrison got me hooked on a new level of ecstasy and intimacy I crave every second of every day.
“All set,” I say and he tentatively peers in the bathroom. When he’s sure I’m covered he comes in the rest of the way. Pierce easily lifts me up out of the tub and places me on my feet. I wobble a bit and his forearm is instantly there for me to lean on. What an interesting man he is, giving so much but seeming to expect nothing in return; my entire life, my career, has been filled with men willing to help me as long as I play by their rules.
I'd like to think I'm keeping quiet because I don't want to draw him into my miserable existence, but I'm not that noble. Mom would be thrilled—Pierce is exactly the kind of man she dreams about for me. I can tell just by the few encounters we’ve had. I stay silent because I don’t know if I can keep myself from making some completely inappropriate proposition.
"Thanks Pierce. For everything," I croak as he supports my weight on the way to my bed. He’s laid a pair of pajamas out and looks at me with a raised eyebrow, seeming to wonder if I can get into them by myself.
“I should be able to get dressed. It won’t be pretty, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure everything you do is pretty, Jenny. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
I feel myself blush as Pierce steps out of the room. I can hear him back in the bathroom cleaning things up. Who is this man?
"All dressed?" Pierce's strong voice asks from the hallway. "Took a look at that front door. Looks like an easy fix. Lucky for you, when I'm not on duty, I work in construction."
Wickedly, I get an instant arousing image of Pierce striding toward me wearing nothing but work boots and a tool belt. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough, Pierce. I barely know you, and you've been this sweetheart. I didn’t know men like you still existed. If you could see the ones I’ve crossed paths with lately you’d think I was crazy.”
"I just believe in paying it forward. You know, the old golden rule." Pierce folds his arms and leans against the doorframe of my room.
"Golden rule?" I do actually recall something about that from my childhood. I blame my mental lapses on the blow to my head.
"Do unto others as you wish them to do unto you."
In my book, with a seething pain in my heart from Harrison, it should be rewritten as do unto others before they do unto you.
"You can’t actually be this good. I don’t believe that kind of man exists anymore, so you’ll need to convince me. I know nothing about you. You need to fix that. Your mom and dad have both died, and your sister lives on the Cape. Tell me more." I have a pang of loneliness, and I’m hoping Pierce sticks around a little longer. I don’t like what fills my mind when I’m alone in this house.
"Well, we're a family of Irish firefighters. Goes way back. An ancestor of mine was actually a New York fireman until the Civil War. He joined the Union side, serving in the Irish brigade until he died at Fredericksburg."
"I was hoping for something a little more relevant,” I laugh. “What does your sister do?"
"Actually, I have two. Katie—that's Kathleen—and Lisa. Katie is a nurse. She's the one whose boat you hit. She was on duty when you had your accident. Gave me one helluva tongue-lashing when she found out how I yanked you from the wreck."
"You saved my life. I heard the firefighters on the scene giving you hell too. I forgot about that until just now. I wanted to speak up then but I couldn’t. Well—" My hesitation leaves Pierce with an opening to cut in.
"Look, I'd better get going.”
"Wait,” I call out nervously. “Where are you from, like where do you work?” I can hear the desperation in my voice. I feel a bit like the ball has just ended and if Pierce leaves now I’ll have to chase down clues to find out who he is.
“South Boston. I've got to be back on duty day after tomorrow, so I thought I'd come see you today. Look, I really do have to be going—got to go pick up little Kelsey at school."
"Kelsey?"
"Lisa's kid. My sister is what you might call . . . a fallen woman. Sort of the family embarrassment. We do what we can to keep things normal for Kelsey."
"Drugs?” I blurt, wishing I could call back my words and tenderize them.
"Good Lord, no. Lisa's an unwed mother. She had Kelsey out of wedlock. Lots of bad choices from there."
"Oh. I'm so sorry," I squeak, unsure of whom I’m apologizing for. I’ve never really thought of having a baby without being married as much of a crime these days.
"Not nearly as sorry as she was when my dad found out. No need to really get into my family’s skeletons though. I’ll be back t
omorrow, and we can talk about happier things. Like you.”
"Y-yes," I stammer.
"I’ll see myself out. I promise not to kick the door in tomorrow if you promise not to try to do too much by yourself. No need to be out there trying to conquer the world. If people offer you some help, take it.”
Pierce disappears, and I hold my breath as the words take it ring in my ear. What a different message the same words can hold with different men speaking them. Maybe the words were right from Harrison but the meaning was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t be out there banging down doors and taking what I want. Maybe I should be surrendering to the fact that I can’t manage on my own. Maybe help is what I should be taking.
True to form, Mom doesn't notice a thing. She comes bubbling in, babbling about the misadventures of some dashing eighteenth-century rogue and the poor sweet noblewoman he seduces. If only you knew what happens in the real world, Mom.
We have a pleasant enough dinner. It's Thursday, so it's baked potatoes, halibut steaks, and corn on the cob. Saturday it'll be beans and franks. Mom's never varied her menu since I was a little girl. At least there are no lima beans. That'll be Monday. Hopefully I'll be well enough by then to slip away with Tracey or Pierce.
We wade our way through a forced conversation, talking about the bookstore, her latest heart-throb novel, and employment opportunities. I don't bring up Pierce or the drama that transpired today. All I want to do now is go to my room and cry my heart out to Tracey. I rise from the table and notice she had set our plates away from each other in the seats we would have taken when I was a kid. Rather than sitting across from each other or side by side we are where we would be if the rest of my family were here. But instead of mocking her I throw my arms around my mom, giving her the warmest hug I have in years. Sure, she has hang-ups; she'll never change. I don’t want to become her. But she tries. She's always been there for me, her heart full of love.
The words are out before I can think about them. I don't know what's come over me. I just volunteered to help with the dishes. The light in my mother’s eyes is so bright and shimmering behind the hint of tears that I look away. I never realized how little effort was necessary to warm my mother’s lonely heart. It makes me joyful and sad all at once.
Chapter Six
The next day, ten minutes after Mom goes to work at Happy Endings bookstore, Pierce knocks on the side door. When I answer it, he's standing there looking all hunky in his work boots, utility belt, and basketball T-shirt. Unfortunately, his lower extremities are hidden behind a thick layer of denim.
I'm feeling much better. Most of my aches are gone and the cut on my cheek is fading away to a bad memory. Though I'm not quite ready to go dancing, I've stopped hobbling about. The walking boot feels like something I can move in today. I kept it off since arriving at my mom’s house, but she didn’t give me a choice this morning. My mother strapped it on and told me if I took it off she’d drive me back to the hospital tonight. I know it’s an empty threat, but I give her the win.
Even my hand feels better, other than the splinted two fingers. I ask Pierce if he'd like a cup of coffee. I know the close presence of this gorgeous man has something to do with my well-being. I want to show him I’m worth visiting. For the first time since the accident I have a reason to act normal again.
He takes the offered steaming cup of coffee and puts the finishing touches on his front door repair before turning to me, giving me a thorough appraisal before completely deflating my balloon of happiness.
"Physically, you look great. You're not wobbling anymore, your face is as lovely as I'm sure it always was, even your hand motions seem fluid. I guess a good night’s sleep did you good."
"But?" I say, brushing aside the elation I feel when he says I'm lovely.
"You look sad. As if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. You look like you could start crying any minute. What's the matter?"
"Nothing. I'm perfectly fine," I say with a casual wave of my hand even as I feel a lump rise into my throat and tears threaten to well in my eyes.
"You're a terrible liar. Come on; tell me. Shared misery loses half its sting. Besides, there's an old Native American saying that when you save someone, you're responsible for their well-being. So it’s my job to make sure you’re doing well. What's wrong?"
"If you haven’t noticed, I’m not really living the dream here. My car is gone. My apartment is gone. My job is gone. I just want my life back." My voice climbs a few octaves, and I try not to let the panic I feel show on my face.
“Jenny, all of those things can be fixed with time. You are lucky to be alive. I can’t tell you how many accident scenes I’ve pulled up to with folks who never get a chance to have ruined lives because theirs is over. You have people who love you. Here, give me your hand.”
I offer him my hand and wonder what he could possibly want with it. Will he pull me into his arms, hold me tight, and tell me everything will be all right? I’ve never wanted or needed that in my life, but now I certainly wouldn’t say no. Instead he opens my fingers so my palm is flat and places it on his chest. He takes my other hand and places it on my chest. “That’s it, Jenny. That thumping in your chest, in my chest, is the only thing that matters. It’s what separates you right now from the woman I watched last week as she was pronounced dead at the scene of her accident. As long as you have that you should have hope that things will get better.”
I let my hands absorb the rhythmic thumping of our hearts. I haven’t really felt very lucky. I’ve been wallowing in pity but forgetting that it could be worse. I could be dead.
“Accidents have a way of shaking us to the core. It’s not just physical healing that’s needed; many people need more than that.”
“What do I do?” My tiny voice is shaking with tears and Pierce drops our hands and pulls me in for a hug. “One step at a time. I can help you. Getting in an accident shouldn’t cost you your job. You were injured. There are laws to protect you.”
Holding my breath as I rest my head on Pierce’s chest, I think back to that horrible moment in my boss’s office where I had to face the very private photos that cost me my job. The vile feelings of betrayal and mortification overtake me, making the tears come fast, accompanied by sobs into Pierce’s shirt.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, pulling me slightly so he can get a better look at my crumpled face.
“I was fired before the accident. This man,” I fight to find the words, not even wanting to speak Harrison’s name out loud, “he ruined my life.”
“Who?” Pierce asks, sounding like he has a lifetime of experience being a big brother.
I consider gushing it all out. Just laying it all on the line. Telling him about how Harrison pretended to care for me, took me on this sexual revelation, made me fall in love with him, and then got me fired by exposing our relationship in the most personal and hurtful way possible. I imagine how that would play out. Pierce strikes me as the type of man who would be quick to protect and defend anyone. He’d offer some kind of plan for legal action to solve this. I don’t want that right now. I want it gone. Forgotten. I try to compose myself, using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe away the tears as I pull away from Pierce and stand on my own.
“It’s not important. It’s behind me now. I just want to move on. You’re so right. I forgot how lucky I am to be alive. That’s what I need to focus on.” Nodding my head to try to convince us both, I brush my hair back off my face.
“Jenny, if you’re in some kind of trouble with a guy . . .” Pierce starts, looking very serious.
“I’m not anymore.” Is all I can muster before pursing my lips and locking eyes with him, desperate to reassure him I’m over it. All of it.
The phone rings and breaks me from the thought. I’m happy to hear a familiar voice. “Tracey?” I say, composing myself fully now. “Hey we’ve been playing phone tag. I have a lot to tell you.”
Our conversation goes on for a minute but I feel bad that Pierce has to lis
ten to it drone on. “Are you free for drinks tonight?” I ask, covering the phone with my hand and hoping for a response. “Tracey and I are going to meet up, and I’d love you to come.”
His face seems to light up, though held back by something, and he nods his agreement. “Okay then, it’s a date,” I say to Tracey. “Drinks at Swans Dive tonight at nine.” I disconnect and hope my smile is convincing enough for Pierce.
“I should have told you I don’t drink. It’s just that my dad’s drinking problem kind of turned me off to drunks. Going out still sounds like fun though. I just don’t want you to be surprised when I order a soda.”
“That’s completely fine. Tracey and I just like to sit around and have a gab fest anyway. I don’t know if you’ll really enjoy yourself. I just want to get to know you better and buy you a soda as a thank you for all you’ve done. It doesn’t seem like enough.”
“That sounds great actually. I’d like to meet your friends. It’s important to have a support system. It’s good that you have people who care about you.”
“Yes, my mom has another favorite childhood lunch—canned pasta—all lined up to remind me how much she loves me,” I joke, trying to add a little levity to an emotionally charged moment.
“Oh that reminds me,” Pierce says, grabbing for a bag he placed on the table when he came in, “I brought you food. Real food. This is a meatball sub from the deli next to my house. It’s the best in Boston as far as I’m concerned.”
He pulls a sandwich wrapped in white paper from the brown bag, and the smell is heavenly as it wafts over to me. I yank it out of his hands and tear off the paper. “You brought me food? Real food? Not food fit for a ten-year-old home alone on summer vacation? You’re amazing.”
The prideful smile that spreads across his face speaks volumes. Pierce is a hero. He lives for it. Saving the day, whether it’s pulling me from a car or salvation through decent food, means he wants to help me. I’ve known this kind of man before. I’ve always been too strong-minded to let them into my life. Being rescued has always been a turn-off for me. I’ve always fought to have my footing in this world. I haven’t needed a man to come in and carry me up the ladder I was trying to climb, even if it took me longer. But this is the first time I’ve ever fallen ass-over-teakettle down the ladder and landed on my face. Maybe it’s time to finally take someone up on his offer to carrying me.