Truly, Madly, Deeply

by L. S. Scott

  He took a deep ragged breath. “Yeah,” he answered without lifting his head. I could feel the heat of his long breath as he exhaled slowly against my neck. “I’m afraid if I move; you’ll get up and leave.” His voice crackled with emotion.

  I dragged my finger-tips through the back of his hair and kissed his earlobe chastely.

  “I won’t.”

  He raised his head to look into my eyes for reassurance. Slowly withdrawing from me, he rolled to his back and pulled me close.

  “You’ll sleep with me,” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  I felt his body relax beneath me. His fingers rubbed lightly back and forth over the scar on my hip and mine made lazy circles around his chest.

  “I’ve wanted to be with you, like this, for so long,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond. I only kissed his chest several times, wrapped him up tightly and held him until he fell asleep in my arms for the first time.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  I flew out of Las Vegas at 11:00 p.m. and arrived in Little Rock at 10:30 a.m., with nothing but my purse and a raggedy old shoe box full of unopened letters.

  I only made one stop on my way home. I stopped to buy six bottles of sweet red wine and two bottles of Crown Royal. By one in the afternoon I rolled into Prairieview for the first time in almost seven years.

  Not much had changed, as it is with small town America. Some of the houses were a little more run down than before as the old folks who lived in them had passed on and they fell into the hands of renters and such. The bank was closed and set empty with a for sale sign on it, but everything else was the same.

  The old county road that led to the house was just as rough as always with the half ass patches the county kept putting in the pot holes. I took it slow in my rental car and the knots in my stomach twisted tighter and tighter with each bump.

  When I reached the drive I turned in and sat at the end, looking up at the little white farm house. It too was exactly the same. Jaron’s blue Chevy parked in his parking spot, the tractor sitting in front of the barn, the porch light on. I swiped at the tear on my cheek, took a slug of whiskey from the bottle and pulled up to my parking spot.

  I unloaded all my liquor and set it on the porch and grabbed my shoe box of reading material before searching for the key, right where it always was, under the ugly garden nome by the door. I pushed the old door open slowly. The smell of vanilla candles wafted into my face, filling my nostrils and kick starting the film roll of memories in my mind.

  As I walked slowly through each room, I could see my life with Jaron playing out scene by scene in chronological order. The loving, the fighting, all of it engrained in the walls of the house we shared just as it was in my mind, my heart and my soul.

  I stocked the refrigerator with the wine and poured me a glass of Crown and Sprite. I built myself a pallet in the living room floor and dumped the box full of letters out in front of me. Sifting through I found the first one I received. I ripped it open, wiped the tears from my eyes and began to read the words Jaron had written so many years ago.

  Natalie,

  It’s been almost a week. Where are you? I know things went down bad and I understand if you’re upset but don’t you care at all. Janna’s been trying to call you. I need to see you Natalie please.

  T M D - Jaron

  I guzzled down my drink, replenished it and found letter number two.

  Natalie,

  I wanted to talk to you about this face to face but I want you to hear it from me. They arrested me on two counts of murder. Greg thinks we can win at trial with self defense, but you would have to testify and it could be drawn out for a long time. I’m pushing for the quickest end to it all and whatever keeps you out of it.

  My arraignment is in two weeks. Maybe I will know more by then. I hope you are ok. Janna told me you were pretty banged up. I am so sorry baby. I hope I see you soon.

  T M D

  Jaron

  I LOVE YOU NATALIE

  Natalie,

  Where the hell are you? Janna said your clothes are gone. I hope you left a forwarding address so you’re getting the letters.

  I entered a plea of not guilty. Greg is working to get me a plea deal. I’m going to do time no matter what. It don’t matter if it’s two or twenty years. Every day of not hearing from you is killing me anyway. If you don’t want to see me at least write me so I know you are ok.

  TMD

  Jaron

  Natalie,

  It’s bee over a month. I know schools about to start and you are probably going back. I hope you’re careful. We are meeting with the prosecutor tomorrow to discuss a deal. Greg is optimistic. I just want to get it over with and start serving my time.

  Janna brought me some photos of you but I wish I could see you in person. I can’t believe you would just turn your back on me. At least let me know how you are.

  I love you

  Truly Madly Deeply,

  Jaron

  Letter after letter, Jaron poured his heart out to me. Once he was sentenced and in prison, he started counseling. In his letters he told me about his sessions and how he was dealing with the demons that had plagued him all his life. He stopped asking me to come see him or even write back. It was clear at some point he had given up hope of that and just wanted to share his thoughts and feelings with me, letter after heart wrenching letter.

  I read them over and over. Day became night and I slept, or passed out rather, from too much alcohol, crying and pills and at some point I lost all track of time. When I woke, I started all over again until I couldn’t take anymore. With my last bottle of wine, I washed down a handful of various pills. Stumbling through the house I fell into bed, our bed, our haven, curled up in the soft covers and hugged Jaron’s pillow as the numb darkness washed over me.

  “Natalie! Natalie!” I could hear him calling me.

  I tried to force my eyes open, tried to answer, “I’m coming Jaron,” but couldn’t.

  “Natalie, wake up dammit!” I could hear him crying farther and farther in the distance.

  My body began to convulse and heave. The vile taste of alcohol and pills and acid stung my throat and nose. My body heaved again, and again. The numbness began to fade and was replaced by aching in my chest and ribs and cold on the back of my neck.

  “Natalie,” he called. The cold spread across my forehead and down my face.

  The pain and convulsions stopped. His arms were around me, the cold on my forehead. Darkness.

  The room was dark when I finally woke up. Memories of the dream I had been having fresh on my mind. It had seemed so real. I stared at the dark shadow of the light fixture on the ceiling wondering why and how I had woke. I had taken all of my pills, hoping not to.

  “Hey, you’re awake.”

  Startled I almost jumped out of my skin. I sat bolt upright in bed and scrambled until my back pushed against the headboard.

  “It’s okay Natalie, it’s me.”

  My eyes blinked rapidly trying to focus on the man walking slowly through the bedroom door, his hand extended.

  “Jaron,” I mumbled under my breath, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

  “Natalie, it’s me, Connor,” he spoke softly, easing onto the bed beside me.

  “Connor?”

  The events I believed to have been a dream started to become clear. The burning in my throat, the soreness in my chest and stomach, all evidence I had been vomiting.

  My body began to shake violently as shameful sobs overtook me.

  “Ssshh,” Connor pulled me close against him. “It’s okay baby. You’re okay,” he comforted.

  I couldn’t speak. Without medication, I was crushed by the physical and emotional pain of a broken heart. I cried, harder than I ever had, harder than I ever thought possible. I cried, for what seemed like hours. Connor rocked me in his arms, never letting go. Exhausted, I fell asleep once again.

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nbsp; The room was filled with soft light streaming through the window. The smell of coffee filled the air. I rubbed the matting out of my swollen eyes and threw the covers back. My legs were wobbly when I first stood. After I got my bearings, I made my way to the kitchen. Connor stood in front of the toaster with his back to me.

  “What are you doing,” I hissed, standing in the entrance of the kitchen with my arms crossed over my chest, wearing the same clothes I had on the night I left him sleeping in Las Vegas.

  He whipped around, his blue eyes shining with relief. He regarded me closely, his eyes traveling the length of me, from my tangled messy hair to my disheveled and dirty clothing.

  “Yeah, I know I look like shit. What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped before he could answer my first question.

  He wet his lips and took a calming breath, crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

  “I woke up and you were gone,” he spoke bone chillingly calm. “When you wouldn’t answer my calls or my texts, I called Jake.”

  “I didn’t tell Jake I was here,” I shook my head and crinkled my forehead and spat my words at Connor like he was to blame for some wrong doing.

  “When Tiffany called you, you told her you were at home, ‘just opening some old mail’. She called me right back and said you weren’t making a lot of sense, and she said you sounded drunk. When you weren’t in your suite, I knew you had to be here. They told me how to get here.”

  The toaster buzzed and a Poptart sprang up. Connor glanced at it for a second and then turned back to me.

  “You need to eat,” he said.

  “You can’t be here Connor. Not in Jaron’s house,” the lump in my throat made it hard to speak or even swallow, but my eyes were dry from crying and dehydration.

  His lips drew into a thin line. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care whose home I have to invade, I am not going to let you hurt yourself.”

  “You’re not my keeper Connor!”

  “I don’t want to be your keeper Natalie,” he said in a strained, irritated voice, trying hard to control his emotions.

  “Than what do you want Connor? Why are you here?!” I screamed at him.

  I saw the emotion boil in his eyes. His mouth dropped open as he shook his head slowly.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said. “I. Love. You. Natalie. I know I’ve never said it before, but after everything that’s happened; you can’t tell me you don’t know that.”

  I did know. I had been in denial about the fact since the accident. Too busy drowning in my sorrow and self-pity to acknowledge it.

  “After the other night, when we made love, I thought,” his voice trailed off.

  He dropped his head and pressed his fingers into his eyes, no doubt pushing away the tears I heard in his crackling voice.

  “You need to go Connor.”

  “No,” he said shaking his head and looking at me intensely.

  “Yes!”

  “No, Natalie. I’m not leaving you here to drown in pills and liquor. You deserve better.”

  “You deserve better Connor. Better than me!”

  I shook my head. He looked at me through misty eyes and took a step closer. I took a step back.

  “Natalie, stop it. Stop running,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “I know you have feelings for me.”

  ““I’m broken! I am so broken Connor. I don’t know how to love you the way you deserve.” My shoulders jerked with sobs as my eyes finally became wet with tears.

  One long stride and Connor caught me in his arms.

  “That’s okay. It’s okay. Just let me love you.”

  His words were pleading and echoed the heartfelt appeal Jaron made with some of the last words he spoke to me.

  I froze. My heart and mind replayed every painful second of the last moments I spent with Jaron. He came to find me, to fix me, to love me and make me whole. In those last seconds he knew he wouldn’t be there to repair all the damage that had been done and with his last breath he gave me permission to live and love and be loved. He tried to show me the way.

  As the last of the walls I had spent years building, crumbled and fell, it was like the dark clouds parted and Connor’s blue eyes shined through.

  “Just let me love you.”