by Lyz Kelley
“How about an ‘I’ll try’?”
“Good enough. Now come give me a hug.”
Ashley readily stepped into the warmth. She missed that human connection. The feeling of another person accepting her, physically conveying she was worthy of love.
Maggie held on until Ashley stepped back and pointed at the counter filled with stuff. “What did you bring me?”
“I brought a pint of my eggnog and a couple of my jams for you to try. There’s wild blackberry and fig. Jenna sent your favorite cookies. Joe made some elk jerky. It’s spicy, so watch out. Harold and Claudia said to remind you they’re saving a place for you for Christmas dinner. And there’s a little something extra for you. A couple of others chipped in as well. You open it when you’re ready.”
“Can I open it now?”
“If you want.”
Ashley pulled the card from the envelope. On the front of the card was a glittered picture of a Santa on the back of a Harley motorcycle, holding a martini. The image somehow created a smile. When she opened the envelope and saw all the ten- and twenty-dollar bills, her heart paused.
“Oh. Oh.” She fanned her face, feeling a rockslide of emotions tumbling down the hill, with no way to get out of the way. She shoved the card toward Maggie. “I can’t take this.”
“You can and you will, ’cause I’m not going to tell the people who wanted to give you a little something that they aren’t appreciated.”
Ashley’s chin quivered as tears welled and flowed down her cheeks. Maggie kissed her on the forehead, and lifted her chin. “I meant what I said. You have one day, and only one day, to revisit the past, and then you have to move forward—become the woman you were always meant to be. No one can tell you who that person is, you have to discover her for yourself.”
Maggie moved toward the front door before turning back. “And remember. You’re only alone if you want to be. This town, even if unconventional, has a lot of love to give.”
The door clicked closed before Ashley could say a word. Yearning, fear, and determination all competed for attention.
Lucky, sensing her mood, nuzzled her hand with his cold nose. She returned to the living room and the little space in front of the couch she’d carved out in the circle of letters. She lowered into a cross-legged position and the dog collapsed at her side, resting his head in her lap.
As the afternoon sun warmed the room, she read about her mom’s multiple sclerosis diagnosis. Her mom buried the announcement in the middle of a paragraph, moving on to local news in the next sentence.
Her dad had wanted to be with her, but her mom believed he had a calling, and told him not to come home. He needed to train his soldiers well, to keep the world safe. She would travel to him only when in remission, and go into seclusion when flares occurred. He wanted to leave the military and take care of the woman he loved, but her mom flatly refused, always saying she was only one person, and he needed to save the many. The sheer stubbornness might have driven some men away, but not Ashley’s faithful father. He’d loved his wife then as he loved her now. For several more hours, Ashley read letter after letter of back and forth arguing.
Back and forth commitment.
Back and forth heartbreak.
Ashley lifted the next envelope and took a fortifying breath, but couldn’t stand to read one more set. Each of them at the end of their rope, tugging and pulling, neither willing to let go, both holding on, fighting against a dying marriage. Holding onto a love that just wouldn’t give up.
She rubbed her head as guilt squeezed and made her joints ache. The angry words and silent rejection she’d thrust at her dad for leaving her mom were unfounded, and he’d let her believe him the villain. Let her create a false belief that he didn’t want her, when each letter proved over and over and over again, every day, that he carried both of them in his heart.
Anger and hatred filled Ashley to the point that she had refused to speak to him at the funeral. Her grieving father left the next day. The guilt over her actions chiseled to a fine, sharp point. She’d needed to feel his arms around her, feel his strength soak into her like it had when she skinned her knee.
How could she have been so wrong about her dad?
She lifted the note he’d sent. These are yours to do with, whatever you like. I have scanned copies. It’s important for you to have the whole story. Dad.
The holes in Ashley’s life filled at a rapid pace. With the knowledge came pain. With the pain came understanding, regret, and sorrow for the time lost. She pushed the boxes near her aside and reached for the last set. Living with her mother’s stubbornness, Ashley regretfully understood both her parents suffered, neither winning, both losing.
She lifted the last note her mother ever wrote. The white typed page seemed cold and stark after reading years of handwritten prose on elegant stationery.
She skimmed the pages, remembering the documented events. Tired of delving into her parents’ past, she started to fold the sheets of paper when her typed name drew her attention. Her gaze zoomed to the paragraph, reading, then re-reading for clarity.
…Ashley sits asleep in a chair across the room. I worry about her. She’s so beautiful, it makes my heart ache. You need to help her venture out and spread her wings. I’ve made mistakes in raising our daughter. She is not prepared for a life on her own. In the months I have left, I’ll try to give her the tools she will need to move on. I shouldn’t have been so controlling, yet I only wanted the best for her. I wanted to protect her, allow only happiness into her life. I didn’t have the strength to let her grow and reach for her dreams. As I lie here, I’ve come to realize I wanted Ashley to live my dreams.
You will have to be strong for us, for your special Ashtray. Promise me you won’t swoop in and save her like you always wanted to save me. Let her become an adult. Promise me.
I’m afraid for her—truly scared. She pushes everyone away, closes her heart, afraid to open to possibilities. She doesn’t know how beautiful and freeing love can be. I fear we haven’t shown our daughter that a love like ours, even if unconventional, is the glue that binds the pieces of life together and makes a person whole. I’ve loved you all but the early fifteen years of my life, and I’ll love you until the end. Love Ashley as you always have, and help her see what a truly beautiful daughter she is.
Ashley’s hands trembled and her mind stumbled over the events of the last three years, the heated fights, the accusations, the emotions that left both her and her mother drained, not speaking.
The crumpled piece of paper fell to the floor. The months of poking, pushing, prodding hadn’t been due to a mother’s disappointment or disgust, but done out of love and wanting the best for her. She doesn’t know how beautiful and freeing love can be.
Lucky licked her face, soothing her, lapping up the tears as the drops plopped into her lap. She hugged her knees to her chest and lowered her head, thinking her parents were total idiots.
She’d been wrong about everything—her mom, her dad, their opinion of her. Her back and belly convulsed and shuddered while she recalled the frustration she’d spewed at her mother. She wished now she could take everything back—every harsh word, every act of rebellion—everything. But now, nothing, not one damn thing, could be done. Her bones melted and she puddled into a small, sobbing blob on the floor.
“Mom, why? Why didn’t you just talk to me?”
Lucky pushed his way into her arms, his golden eyes worried.
“Oh, Lucky. What am I going to do now? How am I going to figure out what I’m supposed to do?”
She wrapped her arms around the dog’s chest, threading her fingers through his growing fur, letting the words she’d read soak into holes in her emotionally deformed heart. Deformed from the years of believing her parents didn’t want her, like her, love her. The revelations didn’t yet match their actions, but she wanted to believe, to fill her empty heart full of wishes and hopes for love.
Tears swelled in her eyes and dripped on the carpete
d floor. She would have told her mother…told her…told her what? Defensive, curt words were so easy to come by, but when it came to fresh, honest communication, words abandoned her.
Her phone poked her in the side, and she removed it from her sweatshirt pocket. Entering the security code, she hovered her thumb over the phone list.
Chase came to mind, but stubbornness thwacked her on the ear and wouldn’t allow her to reach out. Her thumb continued to scroll down the list until she pressed enter. The phone rang. And with each successive ring, the monster in the darkness loomed closer, gnawing and chewing at her insecurities.
She couldn’t hold out any longer, and every muscle went numb. She couldn’t listen to an empty ring, not anymore. The phone slid from her fingers to hit the carpet, and she curled inward.
“Oh, Daddy. What am I supposed to do now? I’m so lost.”
In a few days, the bank would likely evict her from everything she’d ever known. She’d packed her clothes, bedding, a few knickknacks, and kitchen supplies. What choice did she have?
She would make something of her life. She would. But today she wanted to grieve for what she had lost. All those years of heartache.
Of miscommunication.
Of misunderstanding.
Of missed opportunities.
You have one more day to wallow. Promise me. Maggie’s words returned. She picked up a box of letters. “Okay, Maggie. No more looking back. No more questioning why. No more searching for answers. I’m going to take Mom’s advice and only focus on the future. No more regrets. No more anger. No more resentment.” She opened the fireplace grate to place a box on top of the log and watch it catch fire. “I will not let the past dictate my future. I won’t. Not anymore.” Watching box, after box, after box catch and burn solidified her determination to release the haunting of the past. Her mother and father might have scanned copies of the letters, leaving her the originals, but she didn’t want the past to chain her to what might have been.
Not anymore.
No more letting the past actions of her family pull her under.
Ever so slowly, while the letters burned, the ache of the past dissipated, and the steps toward the future truly began.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new start. My start. My new life. No more wallowing.
Bobby’s truck skidded sideways into the driveway and stopped a couple of feet short of the four-car garage. The windshield wipers swished back and forth, frantically trying to keep up with the falling snow. Chase finally let out a full breath.
He’d made it back.
The massive, dark and silent house loomed in front of him, and his battle-ready instincts were signaling caution. He clutched the duffel bag handles and waded through the knee-deep snow to the front door. Testing the handle, he found it unlocked, and went on full alert. With fingertips, he eased the door wide and scanned the hallway.
He should have called, but he’d been so hell-bent on getting back to Ashley, back to the one place he wanted to be, he didn’t think. Pointing the truck in her direction, he’d driven non-stop, speeding to get back to the one person he wanted to see. Back to the place where he felt at home.
Regret lashed at him while he moved through the house, alert for movement or sound. The light from the embers in the fireplace drew him closer, and a soft whine stilled his breath as he studied the lump lodged against the couch next to Lucky. His pulse beat wildly in his chest as he pictured the worst possible outcome. He reached a tentative hand forward, aching for the visions in his mind to be wrong.
Heat. He felt her warmth and a shiver.
He smoothed the hair from her face. Her lashes fluttered in the amber light until her disoriented face turned to his.
“You came back,” she croaked.
“I couldn’t leave things the way they were.”
She rubbed her eyelids with her fingertips. “I didn’t want to push you way. I got scared.”
“I realized after I left that you’d misinterpreted what I said.” He circled his thumb on her cheek, working to erase the dark smudges under her eyes. “When I found out Bobby’s parents had made me promise to visit for Christmas just so I wouldn’t be alone, I explained I wouldn’t be if I returned to Elkridge to a very special woman. I wanted to come back to you, Ashley. I want to be with you.” This is where my home is.
“I’m glad you came back.”
Woman, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you. But he mustn’t speak his heart aloud. For one, the intense feelings might scare her. And two, they would terrify him.
He placed the back of his hand on her forehead. No fever, but her nose could have doubled for an ice cube. “Let’s get you off the floor, and the fire going again.”
Her fingers clamped on his arm, and then let go while she pushed herself up. “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t fine. He could feel her shivering. Her eyes were red and swollen, and he noticed the family room was littered with empty bins. Something had blown up in her world, and he wanted to know what.
He tossed another couple of logs on the fire and returned to the couch, where she sat huddled in the corner. She reminded him of Lucky hiding in the brush, afraid to trust. While on patrol he’d watched people disarm plenty of IEDs, and he approached her with the same care.
“Ashley?” he said gently. He sat next to her, securing her cold hand, wrapping his fingers around hers to transfer warmth. “What’s all this?”
She shriveled inward. No, come on, talk to me, he pleaded in silence.
Ashley studied their entwined hands, and he felt waves of something raw and daunting emanating from her. Something or someone had hurt her. He prayed it hadn’t been him. The idea stung and sliced at him.
“Ash, I’m sorry I left. We don’t have very good timing.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad,” she whispered, but her wounded expression said something entirely different. “I hate Christmas, but you didn’t cause that.”
He wanted to rip the hurt away and find the beautiful, caring woman hiding beneath the pain. He sighed, at a loss for what to do, and then let his body make the choice, reaching out for her delicate wrist, feeling her pulse, wanting to feel more. What was she thinking? Feeling? Would she push him away again?
Her beauty in the firelight made him breathless, even shy. Reverting to his schoolboy years, he, a grown man, had no idea what to do, say. He stroked her face with a finger, and a miracle happened. She leaned into his caress until her cheek pressed into his palm. He hesitated.
“If this is the time we have left, I don’t want to waste it.” Ashley stretched up to him. “Kiss me.”
“I want you to know this isn’t about sex.” He brushed a finger over her cheekbone.
“I know. Kiss me.” She turned her head, her lips brushing the sensitive part of his wrist.
His whole body sighed, and he captured her trembling lips until her breath combined with his. He cradled her face, his tongue exploring. His world began spinning, while her breath became increasingly short and ragged. Adrenaline shot through his system. Jumping out of airplanes didn’t compare, and he felt a sharp thrill of excitement race to his fingers and toes. She took him on an adventure like nothing he’d experienced before.
Her hand bunched his shirt and yanked him closer. Chase’s lips trailed down her jaw while he stretched over her, pushing her deeper into the cushions. He pressed his nose to the soft skin beneath her jaw, smelling the sweetness of spun sugar, feeling the swell of her breast beneath him.
Ashley sighed.
He lifted his head, dragging himself away from her warm skin. “Am I crushing you?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” He started to lift away, but her arms clamped around his shoulders. “I want to go upstairs.”
He didn’t expect to hear those words, and for a moment he worked to understand the full meaning.
“I want to be with you, Chase. Do you have a condom?”
A white-hot blaze surged through him. He lifted onto his elbows. “Stay here.”
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br /> He closed the glass fireplace doors, ripped his duffel apart to find the strip of condoms buried inside his mess kit, and made it back to her side in Superman time.
Lifting her in his arms, he sprinted up the stairs as if his life depended on it. He didn’t want her to change her mind. If she did, it might just rip his guts out.
Ashley gave a shaky laugh as he bounced her down the hall. She bent her legs, but he had to back up when her foot got stuck on the door molding. He wanted to lay her gently on the bed, but in his excitement he tripped on the rug beside her bed, sending her flying, with him landing on top of her.
He lifted his head to apologize for his clumsiness, but her laughing lips were already on their way to meet his, her arms gathering him closer. He skimmed up her sides, flesh reveling in flesh. Arching back to explore the curves of her face, he pushed a strand of hair out of the way. Dazed with desire, he bent his head to her swollen lips and indulged, claiming all she shared.
“I’ve missed you,” he admitted on a whispered breath. “You make me feel alive.”
“Chase, you’re going to be dead if you keep talking.”
He laughed and slid his hands under her shirt, over her skin. She let out a half-sigh when he cupped her perfect breasts covered only by thin lace. He wanted this. He wanted her. Pulling the shirt higher, he pressed his mouth against the lace and blew warmth through the sheer fabric, then watched the result. Her back arched as she let out a choked cry.
With a flurry of arms and legs, they were both naked within moments, clinging to each other as if tomorrow was their last day on earth. While the blizzard raged outside, a storm erupted inside. His hands and mouth moved on instinct, keying into the subtle changes in her breath or skin, relishing the surge of pleasure pummeling his body. Ashley’s fingernails raked his back while she strained for a closer connection, positioning him to satisfy a deep need.
He wanted her. Now. Lifting up, he secured the protection and dove back into action. He wanted to wait to extend her pleasure, but she didn’t leave him the option when she thrust her hips closer.