Let Me Hold You

by Melanie Schuster

  Sydney nodded emphatically and said, “Yes, I do. My mommy and daddy brought me a baby brother! He won’t be here for a while, but he’s coming. Isn’t that great?”

  More laughter, applause and tears of joy erupted around the room, accompanied by happy barking. It was a true celebration in every sense of the word for everyone but Alana. The pang in her heart was turning into an unbearable pain and she prayed that no one noticed that her tears weren’t from happiness, but from a long-denied sense of loss and loneliness.

  There was so much happy chatter and laughter that no one paid her any attention, no one but Roland.

  Chapter 5

  “What a great night,” Alana said cheerfully. “It was a wonderful party. I couldn’t tell who was the happiest about the baby news, the VanBurens or the Strattons. Sydney was adorable, wasn’t she?”

  Roland had been listening to Alana chatter ever since they’d left the party and he let her go on, even though it wasn’t like her at all. The ride home didn’t take long, but she talked the whole time. He turned into her driveway and after helping her out of the car, he walked her to the door. Her eyes had an unnatural sheen to them and it was evident that she was holding on to her composure by a thread.

  “Umm, well, good night, Roland. Thanks for coming with me and umm...”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in for coffee or a glass of wine or something?”

  Alana blinked. “Sure, why not? Come on in,” she mumbled.

  “Why don’t you turn on the fire and put on some music and I’ll make you a fantastic drink. Do you have any brandy?”

  “I’m pretty sure I do. It’s in the cabinet next to the refrigerator.”

  “You relax and I’ll be right back.”

  When he returned with two pottery mugs of a delicious-smelling drink, Alana was curled up in a corner of the sofa looking melancholy but resolute. The fire was flickering and an old Al Jarreau CD was playing. He handed a mug to her and she took it, murmuring her thanks. He sat down and watched her take her first sip of his version of Irish coffee.

  “This is really good, Roland. Thanks again.”

  “You’re more than welcome, Alana. Anything you want, anytime you want it, honey.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes until Roland could sense that she’d relaxed a bit. He put his mug on the coffee table and moved closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She gave him a weak imitation of her usual smile and handed her mug to him.

  “I think I’ve had enough for right now.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll make you some more later if you’d like. I’ll do anything for you, Alana.”

  She moved so that her head was on his shoulder and she rubbed her face on his broad shoulder. “Really? Anything?”

  “As long as you do one thing for me. Tell me what made you so sad tonight, honey. I know you were happy for your sister and for Sherri, but I could feel your heart breaking. Talk to me, Alana.”

  He felt her slender body go absolutely still and her sharp intake of breath before he placed her in his lap and held her as close as he could. “It’s okay, Alana, you can tell me, honey.”

  He wasn’t really prepared for the sob that issued from deep inside her, but it didn’t put him off in any way. All he wanted to do was comfort her, to make her realize that he was there for her and always would be. He’d hold her forever if that’s what it took for her to lower her guard and let him in. It was as though a curtain had been lifted in a dark room and revealed everything that had been hidden from his view up until now.

  What he saw was his heart and his future; he was holding the rest of his life in his arms.

  Her broken cries slowed down and gradually stopped. Oddly, the next sound he heard was a loud sniffle and a cracked little laugh.

  “I need you to close your eyes while I go wash my face,” she mumbled. “Otherwise there’s a real good chance that I’m going to leave a nasty trail of mascara and lip gloss all over your beautiful sweater.”

  It was such an unexpected remark that Roland couldn’t stop the deep belly laugh that came out. He tried to kiss her and ended up kissing her hands because she’d covered her face. “C’mon, honey girl, just one kiss to seal the deal. You can’t look bad to me; just let me give you one little kiss.”

  While he was pleading his case Alana wriggled away from him and ran to the bathroom. She was back in minutes with a squeaky-clean face and a box of tissues. She returned to her place in his lap armed with a handful of tissues and a small sigh.

  “I’m sorry about that. I never, ever do that,” she confessed.

  “You don’t have to apologize to me for anything,” Roland said firmly. His long fingers stroked the side of her face as he reassured her. “I know something affected you deeply tonight and I want to make you feel better. I don’t know you well enough to try to guess, but I want to. I want to know you so well that you feel like you can tell me anything, anytime, anywhere. I want you to realize that I’m always going to be here for you, always.”

  Alana didn’t say anything for a moment. She was looking into his eyes, staring so intensely that he was sure that she could see his soul looking back at her. When she started to speak, it was in a slow, measured voice as though she wanted to make sure that he comprehended every word. Her hand rested on his chest, smoothing the fine purple merino knit over and over.

  “This life, the one I have now, isn’t the one I planned on,” she began. “I met Samson Dumond my junior year of college and he was it for me. We came together like magnets and we just never let go. We completed each other, we made each other whole or whatever they say in romance novels.

  “From the very beginning we knew we’d be together forever and our future was all planned,” she said, her eyes misting over with the memories. “Our parents weren’t happy that we eloped, especially my mother. She flipped out when we came back here married, but she got over it. Eventually,” she added with a wry smile.

  “He’d majored in automotive engineering, but the market was so bad when he graduated that he came up with the idea for Custom Classics. I was working with him until the business got on its feet, and then I was going to grad school so that I could teach art while I built up my sales and my client base as a portrait artist. We had it all planned and it was working, too. Custom Classics caught on like wildfire and things were going just the way we wanted.” She stopped to blot her eyes and swallowed hard before continuing.

  “Right before Christmas, we decided to get a big live tree. We’d closed up the shop and went to the bank to make a deposit. We always deposited the bags at night so there wouldn’t be any money in the store overnight. We were both driving that day because I’d had a doctor’s appointment, so Sam followed me to the bank when I made the drop. He was watching my back, like he always did. He was behind me, but a car got between us, because I didn’t see him when I got there. I was about to get out of the car when a man grabbed my arm and jerked me out of the driver’s seat.

  “I can’t say for sure what happened next. Everything went so fast. All I know for sure is that Sam came up out of nowhere and went for the man, who had a gun. And the gun went off and Sam was shot. I must have jumped in at some point because I got shot, too.

  “When I came to I was in the hospital. My husband was gone and so was our baby. And that was the end of my life. You can plan for everything, for a marriage, a career, a house, children, you can plan it all out, but one random meth-head can destroy everything just like that,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Just like that.”

  Roland was stunned and humbled by what he was hearing. Now he knew why Alana was so elusive, why she ran hot and cold with no warning. She hadn’t gotten over the pain and the anguish she’d suffered from losing her husband and their baby. And that was why she reacted the way she had at the party. It must be killing her to see her siste
rs and her friends living the life she should have had with her first love. And to have to stand on the sidelines and watch while they celebrated the babies they were having.

  He could imagine her pain; he knew the kind of strength it took to rebuild and keep living when your world had crumbled around your feet. He’d seen what it had done to his mother. His hand stroked her silky hair and he tried to think of the most eloquent thing to say.

  “Alana, I...”

  “I’m sure that’s more than you ever wanted to know about me,” she said ruefully, patting her eyes with the wadded-up tissues. “I just couldn’t stop once I started talking. I never talk about it, you know. It’s too depressing for other people to hear. They start making these pained faces and their eyes dart left and right like they’re looking for an escape hatch. Anything to get away from the poor sad lady.” She laughed mirthlessly.

  “I wallowed in misery for a while and then I just stopped. My mother and my sisters, especially Adrienne, they were there for me and they kept telling me that Sam wouldn’t want me to give up. That he’d want me to keep on living, to pull it together and to be happy again.

  “So I did. I went back to work and I built Custom Classics up into what Sam wanted it to be. I’m sure he’s proud of it; that place meant everything to him. He died trying to protect the deposit and it would’ve been really weak of me not to keep it going. I have a good life. I have a lot to be grateful for; I don’t want you to think that I don’t know that. But it’s not the life I wanted; it’s the life I got.”

  Roland wanted to contradict her; Sam died protecting her, the woman he loved, not the stupid deposit. He wanted to tell her that she was living her late husband’s dreams, not hers. But he didn’t want to come across preachy and paternal because she hadn’t asked for his advice, just his listening ear. He’d asked her to talk to him, to confide in him and that’s what she’d done. What came next had to be up to her.

  “What can I do to help, Alana? I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone anymore,” he said. He tilted her chin up so that their eyes met. “You’ve been handling a whole lot of things by yourself, from what I can tell, and it’s time for that to be over. It’s time for a new life for you.”

  They leaned into each other at the same time and the resulting kiss started out tender and binding, but it soon turned hot and passionate. Her hands slid up his broad shoulders and she locked her arms around his neck, while his went down her body, sliding under the soft sweater until she could feel him against her bare skin. She moved against him urgently, changing positions until she was straddling him and they were beginning to get lost in each other. Alana managed to slow down, gently pulling away from his lips.

  “Stay with me, Roland. Stay with me tonight,” she whispered.

  Chapter 6

  Take one step forward and six steps back. That was exactly how Alana felt ever since the night of the anniversary party. She’d opened her soul to Roland because that’s what he’d said he wanted. He wanted her to talk, and she’d talked. He wanted to get to know her better, to know what made her tick, to let her know she wasn’t alone anymore. But after she’d poured out the things she’d been keeping inside her for so long, he’d bolted.

  She’d asked him to stay the night with her and he’d run like he’d stolen something. Her face still got hot every time she thought about how embarrassing it was to offer herself up to him like that only to get turned down flat.

  And she thought about it fairly often because it was a big thing to her, monumental, as a matter of fact. She spent her days trying to hide her anger and disappointment, and her nights staying awake. Sleep was just out of the question. It might have been her insomnia but she knew it wasn’t; it was because she was afraid of what might come to her in her dreams. The only up side was the fact that she was getting a lot of painting done.

  Every night she’d go into the studio and paint until the sun came up and it was time to get ready to go to work. Yes, she was going through the motions of living, but she’d had plenty of practice doing that. Her painting had become her lifeline because it was the only way she could stop thinking about the night that Roland had left her flat.

  During the day, the horrible scene was always right there, right under the surface of whatever she was doing. When she was at Custom Classics she was pleasant and professional as always and no one could sense that anything was amiss, that is except for Tolerance.

  Tollie was even more intuitive than Adrienne and she could sense a big change in her friend. Alana knew that Tollie was trying to find out what was on her mind and she also knew it would only be a matter of time before she pried it out of her. Sometimes she was convinced that Tollie was a witch.

  Sure enough, Tollie came into her office with a determined look on her face. “I’m taking you to lunch and we’re going to talk because there’s something on your mind and it’s making you crazy. C’mon, let’s go.”

  As if she had no power over her own feet, Alana got her coat and purse and within minutes they were seated in a back booth at their favorite little sandwich shop. Tollie had already called in their orders which appeared with big glasses of sweet tea. Once their waiter left the table, Tollie leaned over and said, “Talk.”

  When Alana hesitated, Tollie reached over and took her hand. “Alana, you look like you haven’t slept in three days. You haven’t been eating right, either, I can tell. A chubby chick always knows when her skinny friend has lost weight she can’t spare and your clothes are starting to hang on you. Your hair has lost its sheen and you have Lipton-sized bags under your eyes. I haven’t seen you look like this since Sam passed away.”

  It was a sign of how far gone Alana was; the fact that her expression didn’t change when Tollie used Sam’s name. It was like an unspoken agreement among her friends and relatives not to talk about Sam because it always seemed to make Alana feel bad. Tollie pushed her advantage by squeezing Alana’s hand.

  “Alana, I can’t let you slip back into the abyss. You can’t let whatever is bothering you make you lose yourself again. Talk to me, girl. And do it now, people are looking at us like you’re breaking up with me or something.”

  Alana actually managed a laugh at that remark and she took her hand back. She took a sip of her tea and a small bite of her Cobb salad, and then she began talking. She told Tollie about the party and how Roland brought her home and urged her to unburden herself. She held back none of the details, right up until the point where she’d asked him to stay and he’d left abruptly.

  Tollie looked puzzled. “So you two were kissing and getting hot and bothered and then he just turned and ran after you asked him to stay?”

  “Pretty much,” Alana said grumpily.

  “I need to know precisely what happened,” Tollie pressed. “What exactly went on from the time you said ‘stay with me’ until the moment he put his hand on the doorknob to leave?”

  Alana stabbed a piece of avocado with her fork and put it in her mouth before answering. “We kissed some more and he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. He put me on the bed and he was about to pull off his sweater and all of a sudden he stopped. He sat down on the bed and told me it was too soon for us and that I needed to be sure that this is what I wanted. And then he left.” She shrugged to indicate it was of no importance but Tollie knew better.

  “Alana, is that giant portrait you painted of Sam still hanging over your bed?”

  “Yes, of course it is.”

  “And all those photos and drawings of him still all over the walls?”

  “Yes, they are. Ever since I moved into the house, they’ve been there.”

  “Sweetie, no matter how much a man cares for you, no matter how much he loves you, he’s not gonna be able to make love to you in a shrine and that’s what your bedroom is. You can’t blame him for losing the urge to merge, honey. Once he saw that elaborate tri
bute to your late husband, he got out of the mood when he realized that you’re still in love with Sam.”

  Alana immediately got defensive. “I can have anything I want in my bedroom,” she snapped. “And of course I still love Sam. He was my husband, my life! Am I just supposed to stop loving him because some low-down bastard killed him?”

  Tollie’s face softened. “Honey baby, of course you still love him. You’ll always have love for him. But to still be in love with him is something else. That means there’s no room for someone else in your heart or in your life and from what I’ve seen of Roland, he’s not one to share. That man has real feelings for you, Alana. He wants you to share your life with him and that’s going to mean giving up the life you had with Sam. It’s time for you to start living on your own.”

  Alana looked stunned at her friend’s words. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing since the minute I woke up and was told my husband was dead and I’d lost our baby,” she said bitterly.

  “You’ve been living, but it’s not your life, not completely. The only reason you moved into your house was because that management company sold your apartment complex and turned it into a senior living facility. If it wasn’t for that you’d still be living there with everything in place the way it was when you lived with Sam.

  “Custom Classics is a very nice business and you’ve done very well with it, but it wasn’t your chosen career. You had a totally different career mapped out for yourself and you abandoned it completely after Sam died. You can’t tell me that the way you’re living would make Sam happy. He’d want you to move on and be happy and fulfilled. I believe that from the bottom of my heart, I really do. I want you to be happy, too. And I also believe that Roland can make you happy. That is if you let him.”