by Ava Miles
She shoved him back with a hand to his chest. “And you say you’re not proposing? You need to stop this right now.”
When she pushed out of her chair, he grabbed her shaking hands. “I’m not proposing right this second. I’m sharing my vision of the future. Our future. Our paths were connected when we were young. Then you went away, and they forked, but now you’re back. We’re walking the same path again.”
She put her hand to her temple like he was giving her a headache. “Andy, you don’t get it. No one ever walks the same path. That’s what my mother finally understood today. Her, you, me—we all walk different paths. We’re all our own people. Don’t ask me to stay here and become something I’m not.”
He pushed out of his chair. “I am not asking that. Lucy, you’re not hearing me.”
“I may have trouble seeing you like I used to, but I can hear you just fine.” Stalking over to the counter, she put ten feet between them. “Why are you doing this? We’ve only just started this other thing between us.”
He stayed where he was, watching her small frame tremble across the room from him. “Lucy, you know I usually take my time about making big decisions, but with some things, I just know. I feel that way about this, about you and me. And you’re not being honest with yourself when you say this just started. You and I have always connected on a deeper level than most people do. Normal rules don’t apply to us.”
She edged back even further from him—bumping into the counter. “You don’t think I’ll get my full vision back, do you? Oh, my God, is this your way of trying to save me?” The fire in her eyes was scorching. “I know you love me, but you can’t save me from an uncertain future, Andy Cakes.”
The derision in her voice crushed his heart. “Every fear you have is rising up and casting a shadow over us. I don’t want you to give up who you are. I’m saying I want to be with you. Forever. However that looks. Whether you get your vision back or not. Whether you work overseas again or stay here.”
Her head was already shaking in denial. “You originally said I couldn’t have children and do what I do. Andy, I know you like I know myself. You could never be happy with a wife who traveled the world for work. And I couldn’t give that up. Not for you. Not for our kids. I wouldn’t want to. I would want to show our children anything is possible—even a marriage that isn’t conventional.”
He took three steps toward her, but the look she gave him—like a wild animal caged—halted him. “I do love you. What I’m telling you is that I want to find a way to have a shared future. And yes, that includes a family.”
She threw out her hands. “You’re way too conventional to have a wife who has to leave for a month here and there to visit a war zone. I wouldn’t want to worry you. You could never take hearing what my life was really like.”
In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never gone below the belt. “You’re pissing me off, Lucy. You were the one who decided I couldn’t take it. Why don’t you trust me more?”
“You had trouble with Kim getting sick and dying,” she spat out. “There are plenty of things I knew better than to tell you, and that was before we were together. Like the time I managed to evade five child soldiers who bribed the hotel manager for the key to my room so they could gang rape me. Or when I hid behind a burned-out garbage can while soldiers shot a bunch of street children because I knew I’d be killed if I tried to stop them. How would you feel about getting that kind of phone call from your wife?”
God. Is that what she’d gone through? His face tightened as emotion jolted through him. “It’s cruel of you to say I couldn’t handle things with Kim. I did my fucking best, okay, like any other person after finding out their beloved young wife is going to die. No one knows how they’re going to react when they’re faced with impossible situations. You’re projecting because you’re scared I could actually love you as you are. Lucy, I’m not your mother, dammit!”
Her harsh breathing filled the kitchen. He took a moment to compose himself.
“How did we end up yelling at each other?” he asked in a softer tone. “We never do that.”
She smiled sadly. “It appears we are, and I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Please don’t do this,” she said more softly now. “Let’s see how things go between us, and whether my vision changes. We can talk about the future when it comes.”
Now he strode across the kitchen and gently put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her scared green eyes. “I don’t want our decision about whether to have a future together to hinge on whether your vision improves. That’s not fair to either of us. I love you. I would want you even if you were blind. It’s you I want, Lucy. However you are.”
The muscles in her shoulders were stretched taut under his fingers. “Well, it matters to me. I need to know who I am and where I’m going. I can’t just agree to throw all that aside and stay in Dare Valley.”
Suddenly he felt as helpless talking with her as he had while talking with her mother. “You’re still not hearing me.”
“We’re not hearing each other, and that breaks my heart. We’ve always been able to understand each other.” She hung her head. “Perhaps this was inevitable. We’ve both wanted different things our whole lives.”
He shook her gently, sensing he was losing her. “No, we haven’t. We’ve always wanted to be in each other’s lives. We love each other now more than ever, and people who love each other find a way to forge a future together. That’s what I want with you. That’s what I’ve been trying to drill into your thick head.”
Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t respond.
“You need to think about what I said,” he told her, releasing her. “And I’ll think about what you said. Lucy, I mean it, the situation with your vision doesn’t matter to me. All I want is to be with you, share Danny with you, and make a family with you. I’d like to stay here, but I’m willing to talk about that.”
From the shuttered look on her face, he knew she didn’t believe him.
“I know you’re scared I’m asking you to give up on yourself, but I’m not. The truth is that I plan to bring my lawn chair to your game of life and cheer you on like I cheer for Danny at T-ball. I want you to remember that.”
He made himself kiss her on the forehead and walk out of the kitchen.
Chapter 31
After a sleepless night, Lucy decided to pay a visit to the man who would understand her the best: Arthur Hale. So, after drinking her morning coffee, she drove to the office of the newspaper that had helped steer her course.
Main Street was bustling with pedestrians enjoying the warm fall day as she walked to The Western Independent, mulling over her conundrum all the while. She knew that Andy loved her —she really did. But while he said he understood her, she still didn’t believe he fully comprehended how integral being an international photojournalist was to her sense of self.
His talk of marriage had been so unexpected, and it had…well, she’d pretty much freaked out. How had conservative Andy Hale, who’d always approached relationships so carefully all his life, thrown this curveball at her?
It was like an alien had taken over his body, except she knew he never said anything he didn’t mean. And then there was their mind-blowing lovemaking the other night. That meant something, right?
She schooled her features as she pushed open the front door to the office. A few of the locals who’d worked for Arthur all their lives called out greetings as she made her way across the floor. Everywhere she looked, employees were chatting and talking up the current headlines over coffee, talking with sources on the phone, or hunkered down at the small tables situated in the corners, discussing story ideas.
By the time she passed Meredith and Tanner’s offices—which were empty—on her way to Arthur’s, she felt calmer.
In many ways it felt like her adult life had started here. Within these walls, she’d been exposed to a world beyond Dare Valley, one that was at once complex and
flawed, dangerous and exciting. This place had been her salvation, and Arthur her teacher.
When she stopped in his doorway, he was already looking down his nose at her over his glasses. She couldn’t help but grin.
“About time you came to visit this old man,” he huffed out, standing up. “If I didn’t know you’d been busy with my great-nephew, I would have taken it personally. Now, come and give me a kiss.”
To pull his chain, she said, “You never asked me to kiss you when I interned here.”
He barked out a laugh. “Good God, no. Who do you think I am? Some sleazy politician?”
She made her way over to him and kissed his weathered cheek. “Not in a million years. Mind if I close the door?”
He arched a brow. “I like when people ask me that. Means they have something good to tell me. Is it a story?”
Sadly, she shook her head. He huffed some more.
“Then it’s personal problems,” he said, sitting back in his squeaky old chair. “Go ahead and close the door, but I swear, I should start charging you young people money for all the advice I dish out.”
She settled into the same scuffed-up wooden chair that had graced the front of his desk since she was a teenager. Probably earlier even. “Any of it good?” she asked.
He gave her a look. “Still got that sassy mouth on you, I’m glad to hear. When you came home, I thought you might have lost it. You looked pretty done in. Are you going to finally tell me what brought you back to Dare Valley? Tanner said it was your story to tell despite my inducements.”
Nodding, she put her hands to her thighs. “I thought I might lead with that and then tell you about my problem.”
Waving his hand, he said, “Then get on with it. Who knows how many hours I have left in this world?”
That eased the pressure in her diaphragm, and so she launched into the story about the attack on the village she’d been in, taking him through the events and the subsequent outcome. His face didn’t give a thing away, not even when she shared the details about the condition of her right eye.
“Well,” she finally burst out. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He rubbed his cheek. “Journalism isn’t without its risks, especially in the places you visit. Do you regret going?”
“To the village?” She shrugged. “Sometimes, but I know it could have happened anywhere.”
“Correct,” he said in his tough-as-nails tone. “Wrong time, wrong place. It sucks, as you young people say, but that’s one of the realities of reporting in high-risk areas. Someone has to do it. You decided it would be you, and for that, me and a whole bunch of other people out there are grateful. Here’s another question for you.”
It touched her to hear him thank her for putting her life on the line to report world events. Not too many people did that. “Shoot.”
“Could you have done anything differently that day in the village besides being there?” he asked, putting his elbows on the desk.
She’d thought it through plenty of times. Who didn’t wonder if an event could have been prevented? “No, there was nothing.”
“All right,” he said, sitting back again. “So, you have vision problems, and you’re a photographer. Double whammy.”
Her throat was growing tight. “Double whammy.”
“The big question is: do you want to keep taking photographs of world events and writing stories about them?”
She released a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Even if you get hurt again?” he asked, his eyes zeroing in on her face.
It took courage to admit how she really felt. “I’m still scared of going back out there. And it’s not just because I fear I won’t be able to take the same kind of photos again. I don’t want to get hurt again or hurt worse.”
He tapped his desk emphatically. “That sounds pretty smart to me. Only a moron wanders into a war zone and says he’s not afraid. I told you when you went off on your first assignment that fear is only fear. It only has the power you give it.”
Right now, she felt like she was battling every shadow inside her while Andy seemed to have finally conquered his. “That’s a good transition to my other problem.”
She looked down at her hands, feeling suddenly awkward. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never imagined asking her mentor advice about relationships.
“I can already tell your problem concerns my great-nephew,” Arthur said in his gravelly voice. “Best spit it out. I’m aging here.”
That made her look up. A short smile tugged at her lips. “It might be a little embarrassing.”
His head darted back. “If this is about sex, you can forget it. I might dispense some common sense advice to you young people since you don’t seem to have a lick of it, but I am not a sex therapist. For the love of Pete!”
Now she was blushing. “It’s not about sex. It’s about…”
“Yes? Yes?” he prodded, leaning over his desk.
“Andy wants me to consider having a future with him,” she said, clutching her hands. “Here in Dare Valley.”
“Mmmm,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “Interesting. I have to admit I’m impressed.”
Now she was confused. “Impressed? I’m not following you.”
“I lost my wife after spending fifty-some years with her, and it crushed me.” He tapped a finger to the picture of Harriet he kept on his desk. “I’ve always wondered what I would have done if she’d been taken from me as young as Kim was taken from our dear Andy.”
Everything inside Lucy seemed to still, and she leaned forward to listen.
“I’ve always said a real man realizes the importance of marriage and family,” Arthur said, looking back at her. “Seems Andy has found a way to do so twice in his young life, and that takes more courage than most people possess. And let’s face it…after losing one woman, it takes big balls to want to forge a life with another whose career could kill her. That impresses the hell out of me.”
Shell-shocked, she sat back in her chair. She’d been so focused on her own feelings, she hadn’t stopped to think how much courage it must have taken for Andy to visualize a future with her. He’d told her he wasn’t afraid anymore, but she hadn’t completely gotten it until now.
How many times had he told her he’d struggled with the idea of dating again, let alone remarrying, before Lucy’s return to Dare Valley? Her heart felt constricted in her chest, like it was tugging at bonds of her own making.
“I’m ashamed I freaked out on him, but I’m also confused about what to do. Andy told me my vision shouldn’t factor into my decision about our future.”
“He’s completely right,” Arthur said, pounding his desk emphatically. “You either love him or you don’t. You either want to be with him forever or you don’t. As I told Meredith when she first met Tanner, life is short. Don’t dick around.”
She blinked at his language, but then extended her hands in exasperation. “But this is Andy we’re talking about. He says we’d find a way to make my career work if we had a family, but—”
“You don’t believe him,” Arthur said. “Ah…I see the problem now.”
“He’s the settle-down, two-car-garage kind of guy. Heck, I’ve never even had a garage.”
“Do you want to have kids, Lucy?” he asked.
Every time she’d held a child against her breast—be it in an orphanage or a stifling-hot village hut, she’d hoped to have one of her own someday. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Arthur cleared his throat and reached for a water glass on his desk. “All this talk is making me thirsty.”
Lucy knew he was only giving himself more time to think, so she gave it to him, all the while fighting the urge to bounce her leg in agitation. Talking about marriage and having kids was raising all sorts of emotions inside her.
“When it comes down to it, Lucy, love is a choice. Sure, there’s that warm feeling you get from being around someone you fancy, but it takes more than that for two people to build a happy life t
ogether. You have to be willing to hang in there with the person you choose and do your best to support them and let them support you. Andy has already proven he could support one partner.”
“She didn’t want to travel the globe,” she said, thinking of Kim.
“Last I saw, there were still airplanes that could fly you somewhere in a day and vehicles to take you the rest of the way.” He pushed his water glass aside. “Maybe you won’t be in the field as long as you used to be. Here’s a humdinger for you. Did you stay in those countries for all that time because you needed to do your job, or did you stay because you had nowhere else to go between assignments?”
His humdinger, as he’d called it, smacked her right in the face. “Dammit, that hurts.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Lucy, you’re one of the smartest, most interesting women I’ve ever known—and I’ve known a lot. Ever since you were a kid, asking questions about glasnost, I knew you were special. You weren’t like the rest of the kids around here. Not even Meredith has your global breadth as a journalist.”
She remembered discussing the Gulf War and the role of petroleum with Arthur at church picnics. He’d always been willing to listen to her and share his thoughts, making her feel…connected to something bigger, she supposed.
“I don’t think you ever knew how grateful that little girl was to you for talking with her.”
“I was entertained.” He waggled his brows. “Your global interests put you somewhat out of the pack around here, but one thing I always found interesting was how Andy Hale stayed your best friend throughout school. For someone you think is so conservative, he sure picked a pretty unconservative friend.”
She’d always found that pretty incredible too. “I still don’t completely understand why.”
“Because you’re a knucklehead.” Arthur’s mouth twisted. “Harriet used to say she didn’t need to accompany me on my trips to communist Russia, for example, because she rather liked hearing about it through my eyes. Perhaps you’re Andy’s eyes to the bigger world out there.”