Through Fire (Portland, ME #3)

by Freya Barker

  -

  “Hey.”

  A familiar voice sounds beside me as I blink my eyes open. Pam’s beautiful face leans over me as she brushes hair out of my face. I’m a little confused, but as she sits back and I have a chance to look around the sterile room, it all comes rushing back to me. I don’t answer, but instead just turn my head away.

  “I’m sorry, Ruby.”

  I’m shocked to hear emotion in Pam’s voice. The woman is a pillar of strength that rarely shows emotion of any kind. Still, I resist turning around.

  “I know you don’t want to hear me now and believe me, I don’t blame you. But I want you to know how sorry I am for failing you.”

  I don’t understand what she means and before I have a chance to swallow it down, one question escapes me in a croak. “Why?”

  I can hear a deep sigh and then a hand starts stroking my hair. “Because I wanted so hard to believe you’d already found your path to healing. Even if I should’ve known the damage done to you could never be so easily swiped away. It was too much, too soon, my lovely Ruby. You were reaching for the sky and I cheered you on. Instead, I should’ve made sure you were ready for each step you were taking.”

  Her hand stops suddenly, and I instantly miss the soothing motion, when a deeper, familiar voice sounds. “If there’s any blame to go around, it’s mine,” Tim says, his voice ragged and broken. “I pushed too hard.”

  It’s difficult not to turn around, but I persist in keeping my back turned. So many thoughts racing around, I can’t handle seeing the pain I can feel in the room. Tim’s large frame fills my vision as he crouches down beside the bed, his face only inches from mine. My heart breaks when I see tears pooling in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Boop.” His voice breaks on his nickname for me, and my throat closes up as my eyes close. “I love you so much,” he whispers with his lips on my forehead, before I hear him walk away. The soft click of the door sounds so final.

  “I’m going to let you rest, honey.” Pam’s soft voice is accompanied by a final stroke of my hair. The silence that follows the second click of the door is deafening.

  I did this.

  It doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean to—that I’d hope to spare them––not make them hurt. The blame is mine alone. Hot tears spill, rolling from the corner of my eyes to pool on the pillow. I wish I hadn’t woken up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tim

  It’s been six weeks, and still the events of that Monday morning are all too fresh in my mind.

  The blood, her pale face, Mark’s voice shouting from the phone I’d dropped on the floor. The absolute terror that almost choked me as I frantically felt for a pulse. Pressing towels against her arm to stop the constant flow of blood, and my panicked plea to my brother to call an ambulance.

  He’d been there in time to let them in. Probably only minutes, but it had felt like an eternity as my thoughts went over every little detail of the past weeks to find where I may have gone wrong. After that everything went into fast forward. The ambulance ride, the hospital wait as they wheeled her away, and the arrival of all our friends, apparently called by Mark as he followed the ambulance to the hospital. When Pam showed up, her skin had looked almost grey. Her hands were shaking. I’d never seen her so undone before. Mom and Dad, obviously also alerted by my brother, came in shortly after and sat down beside me, holding on to my hands for dear life.

  She’d be okay, we were assured by the young doctor who gave us an update. Her vitals were stable and although she’d lost some blood, she’d completely recover. He made sure to clarify that he was talking about her physical condition. Psychologically, he indicated, it was the beginning of a long road ahead. She would be transferred to the psychiatric ward as soon as her physical injuries would allow, to properly assess her mental condition.

  The only time I’ve seen her since then is when she was still in the ICU under observation. She didn’t want to talk to me or see me.

  I have talked with Pam. A lot. Seems both of us have some regrets. The same with my mother, who was initially convinced that she’d been the trigger for Ruby’s suicide attempt. It had taken Pam’s involvement there too, to convince Mom it hadn’t been any one thing, but rather a ticking time bomb all of us had missed until it finally went off.

  It had helped, discussing things with Pam. She pointed out that it’s human nature to want to move away from traumatic events in our life as quickly as possible, without giving ourselves a chance to hurt, grieve, or to process our emotions. Ruby had been conditioned for thirty years to suppress all of those things, and when her life started moving in a positive direction, she was so eager—as were the rest of us—to step over them in a rush to get to the good stuff.

  Sometimes you have to struggle through the bad before you can truly enjoy the good stuff. Or it might catch up with you. Just like it did with Ruby.

  I’d decided to give her space to heal. I made sure, with cards and occasional flowers, that she knew I loved her and thought about her all the time. But I was done pushing her. Her suicide attempt had shocked me to the core. I hate to admit it, but it angers me too.

  It had also hammered home the harsh reality that we aren’t given much time. That we have to be responsible for our own happiness first. And to that end, I’ve thrown myself into pursuing the dream I’d shelved since becoming an adult.

  My first commissioned piece is due to be delivered this weekend, when Ike and Viv will be celebrating the anticipated arrival of their baby and are planning to reveal its sex to friends and family. The harvest table is Ike’s gift to Viv. She has no idea it’s coming, and I can’t wait to see her reaction. Ruby is scheduled to be there as well. Pam told me that.

  Six fucking weeks: I haven’t seen her beautiful eyes, felt the comfort of her body, or tasted her ripe lips. Six weeks of burying myself in wood chips and designs. Six weeks of taking myself in hand in the shower after another day of Ruby on my mind. I’m sick of the empty release with nothing but her memory to keep me company. I sure as shit am not going to see her for the first time in a room full of people. I need some time alone with her. Some time to make sure Pam’s assessment that Ruby’s made giant strides since she was released, means that she is ready for me in her life. I sure as fuck am ready for her, even though I’d wait forever if it took that long.

  God, I’m nervous. My hands are clammy as I raise my fist to knock on the ornate door of the shelter, and I quickly wipe them on my jeans.

  “Hi.” I hear Ruby’s soft voice, but I can’t seem to get my own to work. I’m too absorbed in the sight of her in the doorway. She looks beautiful. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, leaving her gorgeous face exposed. I take my time admiring every detail of her features. I missed her so damn much. My hand rises out of its own volition, my finger tracing the delicate swoop of her nose and the curve of her lips. Her eyes are big and shiny as she smiles nervously at me.

  “Well, come the hell on in,” Pam’s voice sounds from behind her. “I’d like to keep the heat in here.” Gone is the emotionally shaken and gentle Pam and in her place, the familiar no-nonsense, brusque, formidable woman she is. Ruby laughs softly at my grimace and grabs my clammy hand to pull me inside.

  It isn’t until I sit down in the offered seat that I notice. “Your arm...the cast is gone.”

  She stretches out her arm to show me, so I use the excuse to pull her a little closer and run my fingertips over her skin. “It came off last week.” Her voice is husky and I see goosebumps breaking out on her skin. I’m fucking thrilled to see I still affect her. That’d been my greatest fear, that she’d lose interest. Wouldn’t want me anymore. But the look in those brown eyes, and the slight hitch in her breathing, as I continue to stroke her arm tells me she’s still in this with me. I try to avoid looking at the other arm, where the sleeve of her sweater covers most, but not all of the angry red scars.

  “You two talk, I’ve got shit to do,” Pam announces, as she looks from one to the other before
walking out. I didn’t realize she was even in the room.

  “I missed...” I start.

  “I’m sorry...” Ruby says at the same time. “Let me,” she pleads. “I’ve got to get this out, or I won’t have the courage.”

  “Okay.” I nod, taking her hand a little tighter in mine and continuing my petting. I can’t seem to keep my hands off her.

  “I spent most of my life thinking about myself. How to get through another day—how to survive a week. I didn’t think much further than that. Coming to Portland already turned into something I never dreamed for myself. Friends, a job, and then even a place for myself. Then you,” she softly adds, turning her eyes away. “I couldn’t believe my luck. Even with everything else going on around me, I soaked up all you gave me.”

  Reluctantly, I release her hand when she pulls away slightly, putting some distance between us without looking at me. The joy I felt earlier is slipping away. I don’t like this distance. I also don’t like the tears that are filling her eyes. This feels too fucking much like goodbye. “Ruby...” The sharp shake of her head shuts me up.

  “I was so busy dreaming about a future with you, I didn’t stop to consider if what I had to offer would be enough for you.” Now she lifts her eyes and looks at me. “I’m so sorry. I never really weighed the impact I would have on your life, and it was a rude awakening.” Again I try to interrupt, but this time she reaches over and places her fingers on my lips to silence me. “Meeting your family, your mother...it was wonderful. Nerve-wracking, but wonderful. Your mom put me at ease, and in minutes had me spilling my history, but she never once judged. She simply accepted and moved on. I couldn’t believe my luck.”

  I’m starting to get the picture, so I keep my mouth shut when she takes a deep breath again. But I need to touch, so I grab her hand again, stroking my thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes focus there.

  “You two will make a beautiful family...That line was like a punch in the stomach, and a mirror in my face at the same time. I realized that is something I can never give you. A beautiful family. I can’t give you kids, I don’t even know if I can make you happy. I don’t know if I can really be happy.” The tears are flowing and hers are not the only ones.

  I’ve had enough. In one move, I have her on my lap. It’s fucking torture not being able to interrupt and tell her; all that will make me happy is her. And that I’d spend my years working to make sure she’s happy too. She doesn’t fight, but instead settles in, putting her head on my shoulder before she softly continues talking.

  “When you put a drop of white paint in a bucket of black, the color doesn’t change. It stays black. But when you put a drop of black in a bucket of white paint, the white immediately loses vibrancy. The dark starts taking over.” Her eyes lift to my face and she raises a hand to wipe at my cheeks.

  “The black paint is me, and the last thing I wanted to do is turn your white world grey.”

  Ruby

  I was so nervous when I opened the door. Many times over the past weeks, I’ve wanted to see him—talk to him. Pam had to remind me that the best thing I could do for him, and for myself, was to get to a point where I could see where my thinking had gone off the rails. But it was Dino’s words that really hit home. He came to visit when I was still in the hospital and asked me if I was done running yet. When I started to apologize to him, something I seem to be doing a lot of, he stopped me.

  “The only apology I’ll accept is you staying right where you are, fighting for your happiness. Because little one, life is never perfect. Not ever. You have to claw and scramble and dodge, just so you can hang on. It’s never perfect, but damn, it can be so beautiful.”

  I’d received so much support from my friends; it riddled me with guilt, but at the same time made my heart feel lighter.

  This man, though: the beautiful, kind man who had the misfortune of falling for me. Who is crying hot tears over me. This man fills my chest to exploding.

  “I caused so much pain,” I whisper, my hand still on his cheek, and my face tucked in the crook of his neck.

  “Don’t,” he says back, his voice ragged with emotion. “You’re here. I can’t want for anything more.” His arms lock around me, so tight I can barely breathe, but I welcome the sweet burn of my lungs. A reminder that I’m still—very much—alive.

  After a moment, he loosens his grip and moves his hands to cup my face. His eyes are red-rimmed and hot on mine, as he lifts my arm and lowers his mouth to the ugly scars in a torturously tender kiss.

  The clearing of a throat has both of us look up. Pam is leaning against the doorpost, a small smile tugging at her lips, with a tray in her hands. “Tea, anyone?”

  -

  “It’s beautiful.”

  I stroke my hand over the surface of the massive, gorgeously rustic harvest table Dino and Tim just carried in.

  “Gotta say,” Dino’s voice rumbles behind me. “The man’s got the magic touch.”

  My eyes search for Tim, the man in question, who’s standing a bit sheepishly to the side. “He sure does,” I whisper to Dino softly.

  His visit to the shelter, only three days ago, had been intense, but I’m happy we had that time before facing our friends today. Tim had left shortly after we finished our tea, during which Pam carefully tiptoed through the swirling emotions in the room. He seemed to withdraw a little under Pam’s scrutiny, which made me nervous. But when I was standing in the front door, saying goodbye, he’d taken my face in his hands again, pressed his lips to mine, and said, “You’ll never be black to me. You color my world in rainbows.” With that he’d turned and walked away, only stopping to look back at the gate with a wink, before he got into his truck and drove off. I was still standing there when Pam walked up behind me.

  “You okay?”

  “Mmmmm,” I hummed. “I think I will be.”

  “Bet your ass you will. Now close that damn door already. Heat’s getting out.”

  -

  Across the room, Tim’s eyes find mine and he smiles a little. I give it back to him, only bigger.

  “Ohmigawd!” Viv’s screech draws my attention to the front door, where she stands with her hands clapped over her mouth, Ike wearing a big grin behind her. “Where did you...How...”

  “Tim made it,” her husband announces, with a big grin.

  “No way,” Viv says, looking with disbelief at Ike before barreling for Tim, who smiles and endures being peppered with kisses. I watch him set his hands loosely on her hips as he smiles down at her. Their quiet conversation seems intimate, as Viv has her arms around his neck, keeping them standing very close. I feel a brief pang in the pit of my stomach, but when I check to see everyone else’s reaction to what is clearly a very private moment, I find nothing but smiles. Even Ike observes their interaction with a warm indulgence, so I let go of the breath I’ve been holding.

  The noise level goes up a notch when Syd, Gunnar, and the kids push in the door behind Ike, and in no time the house is filled with people. Even Dino’s kids are there. The oldest boy a bruiser like his father, and his spitting image, is sitting next to Pam on the couch, talking animatedly. This, of course, is very much unlike Dino, who is far from a chatterbox. Only person missing is his wife, but no one questions her whereabouts. “Everything okay?” I ask him quietly, as he keeps an eye on his rambunctious crew. He turns to me, and I see a dark emotion in his eyes that is quickly blinked away.

  “My kids are here. My friends are here. It’s all I need.”

  I wince at what his words imply. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed as he puts his arm around my shoulders and leans in. “I’ll be okay,” he says softly, so no one else hears. I grab his hand resting on my shoulder and give it a squeeze.

  After three hours of laughter, constant noise. and restless children, I am pooped. I’ve found a spot on a cowhide-covered seat at the bar and take in the bustle around me. Viv had a special cake made that announced the baby’s gender the moment she cut a slice. The pink frosting inside a clea
r indication of the little girl they’re expecting. Apparently we were all finding out at the same time, even Ike and Viv themselves. They’d had no clue since their doctor had sealed the sex of the baby in an envelope, which Viv handed over to the baker. They are so happy. The strong bond of their friendships underlined by the fact they chose to share this special moment with everyone here. The fact I seem to be part of this tight group is a little surreal and a lot overwhelming. Especially given what I’ve put everyone through.

  Melancholy blankets my earlier happy buzz. Something Pam had warned me would happen, from time to time, as my body was adjusting to the lack of emotion numbing drugs I’ve been fed. It’s also a reminder that the depression I apparently suffer is not something that can just be fixed. It’s a constant flying, falling, crashing, and getting up again, and it will likely always be part of my existence. That’s been a hard pill to swallow.

  “Hey, Boop,” Tim says, as he leans in to kiss my cheek. “You alright? The steam seems to have run out on you just now.”

  I manage a smile and decide that instead of pretending I’m fine, I’m going to be honest. “It has. I’m a little overwhelmed and feeling a bit down on myself. I’m sorry.”

  “Gotta stop apologizing, Ruby. For the record, I’m glad you told me. Gives me an opportunity to take you home.”

  I start to protest, which Tim cuts off quickly. “I was heading out myself, babe.”

  Pam gives me a thorough look over, when I go to tell her I’m tired, and Tim’s taking me home. Apparently satisfied with what she sees, she wraps me in a hug. Always interesting with Pam, since our height difference basically has my head buried in her cleavage every time. “Just a heads up that we have two new guests at the shelter,” she reminds me quietly, referring to the domestic abuse victim and her little girl, who came in just last night. “But I’ll make sure to keep the outside light on if you should be home late.” I chuckle a little at her blatant implication.