by Jenika Snow
“Yeah. Mom and Dad called me right after the accident, and I got on a red eye. They told me you had internal bleeding and didn’t know if you’d even make it through surgery.”
Poppy’s hand went to her belly as the memories of those days spent in the hospital came back full force. Blake’s words reopened the scar on her belly, reminding her that she should have died in that car right along with Jon and their unborn baby.
“I sat by your bed that whole night, just watching you sleep.” Poppy didn’t know any of this. After two years of talking, of planning on her move, Blake had never said any of this. “You talked a lot while I was there. Of course you were out of it, and a lot didn’t make sense.” Blake had turned his body so he faced her. “But the thing you murmured over and over again was that it you thought it was your fault he died.” He took her hand in his, and Poppy let the warmth seep into her. His words, and the way he spoke them, touched not just the surface, but deep down as well.
“I don’t know what to say.” The words came out on a whisper, and she felt tears burn in the corner of her eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.” Blake moved closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. With the side of her body flush with his, Poppy let her head fall to his shoulder. “I just want you to know that is isn’t your fault.” He gave her a little squeeze as if to emphasize his point.
They sat there for another hour, not saying anything else. The weather grew colder, but Poppy didn’t care. Sitting next to Blake, even if no words were said, was the single most peaceful and fulfilling moment she had experienced in the past two years.
Chapter Five
The storm had come Saturday night and lasted all through Sunday afternoon. Poppy had stayed inside the whole time, watching Blake keep the fire going. It was strange, but being around Blake didn’t require a lot of conversation. They could enjoy each other’s company without words getting in the way.
The sun had already set, and aside from the desk lamp on the desk in the corner, the only illumination came from the fire. Poppy sat curled under a blanket with a book in her lap. Blake sat on the other side of the room at his desk working on paperwork. He had a pair of glasses on, and his hair was disheveled from the numerous times he ran his fingers through it. Poppy found it extremely hard to concentrate on anything when his big body was hunched over the desk and a look of concentration marred his face.
The light from the lamp cast harsh shadows along his angular jaw. Blake still hadn’t shaved, and Poppy admitted, albeit only to herself, that it added a rugged, masculine quality to him. Although he only sat there, working on mundane things, there was no denying he was very comfortable in his skin, in his surroundings. It wasn’t just that he had lived in this environment for years. It was something deeper, something almost … peaceful.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Blake lifted only his eyes to her and smiled. His glasses slid down his nose, and he watched her over the rims. He straightened and leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked from his weight and the movement. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” He took the glasses off and rubbed his eyes.
“Nothing in particular.” Poppy set her book aside and wrapped the blanket tighter around her middle. “I was just thinking that you seem like you’re at peace. It’s nice, comforting in a way.” When he opened his eyes she swore she could see the green and brown mixed together. The shadows wrapped around him like a cloak. The way he glanced away made her wonder if the peace had all been an illusion.
“Sometimes what you see isn’t always the truth, Poppy.”
“No? Why do you say that?”
He stood and cracked his back. Blake walked around the desk and sat on the couch across from her. The sound of the fire crackling pierced the sudden silence.
He watched the fire, and she watched him. Blake laid his head against the back of the couch and turned to look at her. “Did you know I used to be a troublemaker?” He said then smiled.
“Oh? I thought I knew everything there was to know about the Ellis boys.”
Blake chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, I used to run my dad ragged. ‘Course I doubt you would remember any of it, and I sure as hell know my dad didn’t brag about all the shit I did. You and Jon were too little, and even if he realized what I did he was too enamored with you to notice anything else.” A faraway look crossed his face, but he quickly hid it. “He used to follow me around. It drove Dad nuts.” He rubbed his eyes again. “I hated Jon following me around, used to piss and moan about it, but Dad always told me that he looked up to me, that I had to set a good example.”
Poppy wasn’t sure where Blake planned on going with this, but if it helped him then she would be that ear he needed. Lord knew she had unloaded enough of her shit on him over the years.
“I hated all the rules my dad laid out, hated having little brother follow me around.” He looked at her again, and his pain was so strong that she felt her throat clog shut with it. “I wanted to do whatever I pleased. Yeah, I was a cocky little shit back in the day. I guess my point is I wish I could go back to the days where Jon hung on my coattails.” Blake leaned forward and placed his forearms on his thighs. For a long time he did nothing but let his head hang between his shoulders. “I see him, running around, that goofy ass smile on his face, and I let myself feel happy again when I think of him.” Poppy knew exactly what smile Blake talked about, and the happiness that thought brought.
“But even though those thoughts bring me a sense of comfort the pain, dread, and regret follow.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “You can’t change the past, and you can’t control the future. You have to embrace your life, or the sorrows of the world you carry on your shoulders will drag you down to the pit of despair.”
Poppy forced herself to look away from Blake and the words he said. She hated that he spoke the truth, hated that he was so damn smart. “When did you become so smart?” She wasn’t really talking to him in particular, but he took her hand in his regardless, and she clasped it.
“It’s not about being smart, Poppy girl. It’s about knowing which battles you want to fight. Life is way too short.” He tightened his hand and smiled. “I know, without a doubt, that Jon wouldn’t want you to keep all of this inside of you. It’s eating you up, Poppy, and you need to let it go. You can’t do it for anyone else but yourself.” His big, warm hand landed right over her heart, and her breath stalled. “You have to accept death in order to understand life.”
****
Blake felt the steady beat of Poppy’s heart right below his palm. Her eyes held unshed tears, and she blinked rapidly. He could tell she did so to keep them at bay. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but she didn’t say anything.
“What is it?” Over the years he had found out so much about her. Their conversations hadn’t always been about Jon’s death, but the majority of the time they were. Poppy didn’t know how to deal with what she felt, and how not having Jon around changed her life. When she wasn’t telling him about the turmoil they felt, Poppy gave him little pieces of herself in her words.
He had loved her because she was the girl Jon loved, because she was his little brother’s wife, but after speaking with her and feeling their connection grow, he loved Poppy Ellis, the individual that she was. How could he not when she had been so important to the one person that he cared about the most?
Blake remembered the very first time Jon told him he loved Poppy Mathews, and that he would marry her at seven years old. That had been the start of a great romance, one that poems should have been written about. It was the love Jon had for Poppy that made Blake believe in soul-mates and love at first sight.
“I didn’t tell you everything, Blake.” Her softly spoken voice drew him out of his thoughts.
“What do you mean?” He still held her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Their relationship was one of open honesty. He would never hold anything back from her, and she knew he was always here to listen. Jon’s
death had brought them together in a way that survivors clung to one another. At least that was how Blake felt.
Poppy turned her whole body toward him. The tension that surrounded her was thick, but he didn’t rush her. Obviously a serious subject matter had just arose, and she deserved his understanding and undivided attention.
“That night, before the accident, Jon and I were fighting.” She closed her eyes, and her face took on a look of pain. “It was so damn stupid. He went to lunch with a female co-worker, and I blew it way out of proportion.”
“Poppy—” She shook her head, and he stopped what he was about to say.
“Please, let me say this.” The blue of her eyes seemed more intense with her unshed tears. “I wanted to tell him that I…” He heard her swallow. “I was pregnant, and because of my stubbornness and not letting the stupidity of the fight go, I never got to tell him.” Her hand went to her stomach, and Blake felt his throat close with emotion.
He didn’t know this, and as far as he knew no one else in the family did. Everyone knew she had internal bleeding and required surgery to repair it, but she had been pregnant?
“I had just found out, and was only like a month along, but we had been trying for so damn long. I wanted to tell him that day over lunch, but he went to lunch with his co-worker instead.”
“Poppy, you know Jon would never have cheated on you.”
She nodded and wiped her tears away. “Of course I know that. It was my own insecurities and jealousy that made me so angry.” When she lifted her eyes to his the firelight played off the tears slowly sliding down her cheeks.
“Hey, now.” He brushed them away with his thumb and cupped her cheek. Her skin grew warm from the fire. “This is not your fault.” She started shaking her head, and he cupped the other side of her face with his hand. “Poppy. This is not your fault. Do you understand me? The accident, the fighting, even losing the baby was not a result of you doing anything wrong.”
“I know, it’s just,” she took a deep breath, “I wonder if I hadn’t kept the fight going maybe Jon wouldn’t have been so worried about me and the accident may never have happened.”
“Sweetheart.” Blake ran his thumbs under her eyes. “Things happen, no matter what we do. We can’t control the weather, and we certainly can’t control other people’s actions.” The car that had slammed into them had lost control and hit a patch of black ice. When it hit Jon’s car it caused it to careen out of control and slam so hard against a telephone pole the car had nearly wrapped around it. Poppy had been lucky she lived that day, but because the driver’s side had been the one to take the impact, his little brother hadn’t been so lucky. Blake was just glad Jon’s death had been instant. If Jon had suffered it would have made the grieving process even more arduous.
“I knew as soon as I woke up in the hospital that I lost the baby. I may have only been a few weeks pregnant, but I suddenly felt so empty. All I wanted was that little piece of Jon still inside of me, still with me.” Hard, wracking sobs left her, and Blake pulled her into his lap. Her whole body shook from the force, and he wished he could take the pain away from her.
“I didn’t tell anyone, couldn’t even bring myself to say the words. I’m a coward, Blake.”
“Shhh, Poppy.” He cupped the back of her head and whispered things he wished someone would have said to him when he had been hurting. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“There is just so much anger inside of me, Blake.” Her muffled voice surrounded her, and when she lifted her red-rimmed eyes, something inside of him clenched with torture. Seeing her upset was so much harder than hearing her tears over the phone. “I feel like I’m drowning in it, Blake. When will it go away to where I don’t feel like this?”
He searched her face, but didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know, Poppy. I don’t know.” He pulled her into his chest again and rocked her until her sobs stopped and the even sound of her breathing told him she had fallen asleep.
Chapter Six
Monday morning came and went, and now Blake sat behind his desk Monday evening with a massive headache. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, partly due to the storm last night, but mainly because he couldn’t stop thinking about everything Poppy told him. On top of losing her husband traumatically, Poppy had been pregnant and miscarried. He had lain in bed for hours, listening to shards of ice pelt against his window. The weather mimicked his mood, turbulent and violent.
“You doing okay, Blake?” Maggie said.
He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. The pounding behind his eyes matched the steady thumping of his heart. “Yeah, just tired.” His eyes were closed, but he knew Maggie sat in the seat in front of his desk. He could smell the cinnamon bagel she ate and the dust that always seemed to surround her from digging through boxes for samples.
“Did the storm keep you up?”
He sighed and opened his eyes. She sat in front of him. Her thin wire-rimmed glasses were slightly askew. Her red hair was twisted in a severe bun at her nape, and her thin lips were painted with bright red lipstick. “Yes. No.” Blake let his head fall to the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling. A water stain sat in a brown, dull circle in the corner.
“Everything okay? All day you haven’t been yourself.” She took a bite of her bagel and watched him.
“Yeah, I said I’m just tired.” In all honesty he hadn’t been able to concentrate today. Poppy was just in the next room over, staying busy with filing samples into the computer system that needed to be up and running by the beginning of the year. Occasionally he could hear her muttering profanities, and those times he hadn’t been able to hold in his smile. Something about Poppy calmed him, and made everything seem bearable when it shouldn’t be. He knew her pain, because he lived with it also. Two years might have passed, but every morning when he woke up the agony of knowing he wouldn’t be able to call his brother and see if everything was okay, or plan a guy’s night out the next time he came to visit, hit him full force.
Every day he woke up wishing it had been him instead of Jon.
“Hey, maybe we can go out again sometime?”
Maggie looked so hopeful he didn’t want to crush whatever ideas she had brewing in her mind. “Maggie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She looked a bit forlorn, but she quickly schooled her expression and smiled.
“Listen, you’re not feeling the greatest, so I’m going to leave you alone and get back to work.” She stood and smoothed her hands down her pleated pants. She gave him one more smile and left him alone in his office.
Six months ago they had gone out on a date. That one had led to another, then the two of them in bed together. It had been a mistake, in more ways than one. For one thing he should have never gotten involved with his co-worker. For the second thing Maggie had grown attached to him after that one date and one night in bed. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but being with Maggie had temporarily filled the void inside of him. The morning after he told her they could never do it again. Maggie hadn’t made a scene, and things were still good between them, but every once in a while she nudged him for something more.
The sound of Poppy cursing again had warmth spreading inside of him. He stood and left his office. Blake leaned against the doorframe and watched Poppy. She was bent over the tiny desk, her upper body forward and her face close to the computer screen. He could hear the sound of her fingers flying over the board.
“Well, shit.” Poppy looked at the keyboard, typed something out, and looked at the screen again.
Maybe Blake should have made his presence known, but he couldn’t help but sit back and watch her.
“Argh!” Poppy sat back and ran her hands threw her short blonde hair. It looked soft, and his fingers itched to touch the strands.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Blake mentally berated himself for his inappropriate thoughts. The floor creaked as he shifted on his feet, and Poppy turned to look at him.
“Oh, hey.”
Her cheeks took on a pink hue. “You, ugh, you didn’t hear my foul language, did you?”
Blake threw his head back and laughed. God, that feels good. To actually laugh and feel it throughout my whole body. When he looked at Poppy again her face took on a pretty shade of red, and he grinned wider. “Your face always did show your emotions.” Despite her emotions, Poppy’s smiled at him.
“So I take it you did hear me swearing up a storm in here?”
“Yeah, but that’s all right. I think it’s funny as hell. Makes for an interesting day.” He stepped into the office and looked at the computer screen. “Everything okay, though?”
Poppy sighed and stared daggers at the screen. “You know, I did advertising for years, worked on the computer for hours a day, and could tell you any program out there and how it works, but when it comes to organizing samples with crazy-ass names, I’m computer-illiterate.”
Blake chuckled again. He grabbed an extra chair and sat beside her. “The system is pretty outdated, but we are required to document and print our findings and send it to universities and research facilities. It’s a pain in the ass, but the government funds our research so they have us by the balls, so to speak.” Poppy gave him a coy look and started laughing.
“I like it when you laugh. It sounds nice.” The air shifted around her, and her back straightened. “I’m sorry.” He went to stand, but her hand on his forearm stopped him. Blake looked at her.
“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” She let go of his arm and looked away. “I feel kind of guilty.”
He felt his brows knit. “Guilty? But why?”
“Because I wasn’t thinking about Jon. I wasn’t thinking about anything aside from the way you make me feel.” She smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m so happy around you, Blake, contrary to the way I’ve been acting, and I feel guilty that I find myself not thinking of Jon.”