Beneath the Scars

by Melanie Moreland

  He was destroying what I loved, because he thought I destroyed him.

  A small piece of paper was tacked to the corner.

  Finally. You got something you really wanted.

  Sinking to the floor, I buried my head in my hands as I sobbed. I didn’t have to go to his house to know he was gone. His house would be vacant, the rooms echoing with silence.

  He had left. I didn’t know how to find him and tell him the truth.

  He left thinking once again he’d been used and discarded. He believed that I used him, because he was unworthy of really being loved.

  A small bundle of fur crawled into my lap, and I pulled Dixie close to me as I wept. He brought her back to me and left me with the thing he believed I wanted most.

  Except it wasn’t the painting I wanted. It was him.

  Now, both were destroyed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Someone was tugging at my arms. “Megan. You have to move.”

  Blinking, I looked up into Karen’s concerned eyes, then took in my surroundings. The room was dim, and I realized I must have cried myself to sleep sitting on the floor.

  When did she arrive?

  She shook me slightly. “Stand up,” she commanded, her voice firm but patient. With her help, I struggled to my feet and moved to the sofa. She handed me a glass of water. “Drink.”

  I sipped at the liquid, the coolness feeling good on my parched throat.

  “How—”

  “Ashley called. She said you needed me. Right away.”

  “Oh.”

  All the memories came back, my eyes widening and filling with more tears. Karen took my glass and clasped my hands. “Tell me.”

  Between sobs and hiccups, I told her everything. She listened, cursing at times, rubbing my back on occasion, while I cried and got out all the words.

  “Bastards,” she hissed. “Both of them.”

  I frowned at her, shaking my head. “This isn’t Zachary’s fault. You can’t blame him.”

  “He believed Jared! How could he do that?”

  “Jared did a thorough job.” Sniffing, I pulled the crumbled paper out of my pocket, showing it to her. “He covered all the bases—again.” Another sob wrenched from my chest. “For the second time, I handed it to him. Only this time, I’m not the only one hurt.”

  “Stop blaming yourself. You had no idea Jared would do something like this, Megan.”

  “I should have, though.” I stood up, pacing. “I should’ve taken the damn offer, like you and Bill said. Put it behind me. He stole my book, then had no problem calling me a liar and defaming me everywhere. I should’ve known he wouldn’t stop.” I held out my hands in a pleading gesture. “I dropped a receipt with Zachary’s name on it. I didn’t know Jared had followed me.” I choked back a fresh sob. “I didn’t know he was watching.”

  Karen grabbed my hands and tugged me back down beside her. “I know,” she soothed.

  “You should have seen his face,” I sobbed. “He believed him. He thinks I used him the way he’s been used all his life. He looked at me as if he hated me, Karen!”

  “He’s upset. He’ll come around.”

  “No! He’s gone!” I indicated the painting. “He did that then he left! His cellphone is off, and he and Elliott are gone!”

  She got up and examined the painting, shaking her head. “Coward,” she muttered.

  “Don’t,” I pleaded. “Don’t call him names.”

  “How can you defend him?”

  “Because he’s hurt! He’s out there alone, thinking everything between us was a lie!” My voice rose, panicked. “I don’t know where to find him!”

  “I don’t know why you want to after the way he behaved today.”

  I stood up, shouting now. “Because I love him! And now, once again, he thinks he isn’t worthy of being loved. Jared’s stunt only proved to him he’d been right along! Can’t you see that, Karen?”

  She stared at me, gaping. I didn’t think she’d ever heard me raise my voice in anger.

  My legs gave out and I fell back to the sofa. I stared at her beseechingly. “Don’t you understand? He’s alone, in pain, and I can’t reach him. I can’t hold him and let him feel how much I love him.” I wiped the tears off my face. “I don’t think I’ll ever have the chance to do that again.”

  “Maybe he’ll calm down and reach out to you. Maybe he’ll think it over and come back in a few days.”

  I shook my head. “He doesn’t give second chances—ever. He told me that on more than one occasion.” I drew in a shallow gulp of air. My chest felt so heavy I couldn’t get in enough oxygen. “Jared did such a good job; Zachary will never believe anything else now. He won’t come back here for a long time—if ever. He’ll never give me another chance”—my voice dropped to a whisper—“or maybe even another thought.”

  I walked to the window, looking at the bluff. Squinting, I could make out the shape of the house, its lines barely discernable in the dark. There were no lights blazing in the studio, no one moving around the rooms, or quiet music playing. The house looked dead—it was as empty as my heart.

  “And yet you forgive him.”

  I turned to look at her. “He has a whole life of pain and rejection to draw from. Of course his first instinct would be to believe he’d been deceived again. Used again. We’d only just started, Karen. He still questioned why I would love him. He never got the chance to know how deep that love went. We never got the chance to stand the test of time. I have the luxury of knowing he loved me, that what we had was real—he thinks my love was a lie.”

  My chest tightened; the simple act of breathing causing me pain. “We argued the other day over those stupid pictures I downloaded. It planted a seed of doubt—or maybe added to the doubt he already felt. Then I practically insisted we go into town today. I was so excited about giving him a gift, I begged him to come with me, even though he didn’t want to. I can only imagine how all the pieces fell together in his head once Jared started spewing his lies and the reporters descended.” My head fell back against the glass as I met her concerned eyes. “How easy it was for him to believe I betrayed him.”

  Karen rubbed my arm in what she meant to be a soothing gesture. Except, there was no soothing me. My body felt like a live wire, burning and snapping in waves of shock. “What are you going to do now?”

  Turning back to the window, I stared into the night.

  “The one thing I can do,” I whispered. “Keep breathing.”

  The sun rose, lighting the sand and water around me as I walked up and down the beach in constant motion. I hadn’t slept all night—every time I closed my eyes, I’d see Zachary’s face and the dead look in his eyes as he glared at me. Feel the waves of anger when he turned and left. Nausea would run through me and I’d have to sit up, waiting for it to pass. Finally, I had given up, and Dixie and I had gone down to the beach. More than once, I ended up at the bottom of his beach stairs, staring up at his house. I prayed for some miracle, wanting him to appear at the top of the steps and tell me he had panicked, but came back.

  Of course it never happened, so I’d call Dixie from her exploration of the deck and we’d walk away. Her soft whines told me she was as sad over not finding Elliott there as I was over missing Zachary. I scratched behind her ears. “Sorry, girl. We’re on our own again.”

  I stood back from the lazy waves that rolled up onto the beach, staring out over the long expanse of water. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Karen coming toward me. She slipped her arm around my waist, standing in silence beside me.

  Finally she spoke. “Did you sleep?”

  “No.”

  “Have you been thinking or wallowing?”

  I chuckled a little at her directness. “Some of both.”

  “I wish you were angry.”

  “I can’t be. I’m too numb.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure I can ever be angry with him. The urge to believe the worst is so deeply engrained in his psyche, I’m not sure it’ll ever
change. I think maybe it was going to happen one way or another.” I glanced at her, the sadness sinking back in. “Time was against us.”

  “I checked the net—there are a few stories and some pictures, but it isn’t huge. It’s been twelve years and they didn’t get very much information. Chris says there were only a few small articles in the paper.”

  “Good. I hope it dies down quick for Zachary’s sake.” I sighed. “Not that it will help me, or my image in any way. Jared won that round.”

  “What are you going to do about him?”

  “Nothing. What can I do? Spar with him through the media? It’s done; he won—he won it all.”

  “Megan—”

  “Don’t,” I pleaded. “I need a little time, Karen. Give me that, please. Let me work it through in my head and my heart.” My voice shook a little. “I’m overwhelmed right now.”

  She wrapped her other arm around me. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving you alone.”

  I rested my head on her shoulder, grateful for her and her friendship. “Thank you.”

  The next day we were out on the beach for another walk. I walked a lot, trying to sort things out in my head. Karen was often beside me, allowing me to talk when I wanted and remain silent at other times. Dixie let out a little bark, running toward Zachary’s steps. My body started to shake with anticipation, even as my head snapped to the side, my eyes glued to the stairs and the figure that appeared. A rush of disappointed air escaped when I realized it was Mrs. Cooper gingerly making her way down the steps. Karen squeezed my arm in comfort and we walked toward her together. She smiled—her eyes sad and somewhat nervous—as she greeted us. Frowning, she cupped my face with her hand. “Child, you look so tired.”

  I smiled and shrugged. “I’m fine, Mrs. Cooper, really, I am.”

  She nodded, although she didn’t look convinced.

  “Has the town returned to normal?” Karen inquired.

  “I think the last of them left yesterday. They sniffed around, asking questions and taking their stupid photographs,” Mrs. Cooper huffed. “Nobody would talk to them, though.” She smiled grimly at us. “It isn’t like many people even knew him well enough to comment on his life now, never mind what happened years ago.”

  “Did you know?” Karen asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Did you know who he was before he came to live here?”

  “I knew who he was when he first came here. He would come to the store at the strangest times—early in the morning or late at night so he wouldn’t be seen. He was always polite, but distant, and we gave him his privacy. He seemed to need it. After his, ah, accident, he came back and it broke my heart to see the change in him—not only physically. He was broken—bitter. He didn’t leave his house much.”

  She paused, lost in memories. “We had become a little closer. Mr. C and I looked after his house when he wasn’t around. Then when he came to live here on a permanent basis, I brought him groceries for the first little while. He hid himself at first, but when I offered to let him send me his lists and come through the back to pick up his groceries, he agreed.” She sighed as she looked over my shoulder at the water. “I thought maybe, with some encouragement, he would start rejoining the world, but he never really did.” She focused her gaze on me. “Until you came into his life, Megan. I thought he had finally turned a corner.”

  My chest tightened further. I thought so, too.

  “I didn’t do this to him,” I pleaded, my voice full of honesty. “I would never hurt him this way.”

  “I know,” she assured me. “I don’t know what all happened with that other man, but I know he was the one responsible.”

  “He was!”

  “The lesson of not judging a book by its cover most certainly applies here, doesn’t it? He’s such a nice looking man, only to be such a terrible person. I’m sorry I even let him in my store. He seemed to know both of you so well, the way he spoke.”

  “That’s what he does, Mrs. Cooper. He fooled me, as well.”

  She nodded in understanding, patting my shoulder. “I wish I could help.”

  My fingers pulled at the sleeve of my sweater. “Why are you here?”

  She hesitated, heaving out a large gust of air. “Megan, I had a message from Zachary last night.”

  Hearing his name, my heart started to pound in my chest. “Is he all right?”

  She looked surprised at my question. “I believe so. He instructed my husband and me to come close up his house.”

  Pain lanced, constricting my chest. I pressed my hand to my heart, trying to stop the ache that was forming. “Did he say for how long?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  Tremors ran through my spine. He wasn’t coming back.

  Mrs. Cooper shifted, looking uncomfortable. “He asked me to check and see if you had taken your things. If not, to remove what belonged to you and return it before I locked the place up and engaged the security system. He wants you to give me the key.”

  I hadn’t been back. I couldn’t face going into his house and the echoing silence that would greet me. I shoved my hand into my pocket, fingering the silver key resting inside. He’d only given it to me a few days prior, now he wanted it back; he wanted my things removed.

  There would be no chance to explain—no conversations—no second chances.

  I looked at Karen, fighting the tears. “I can’t—” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “I can’t go in there.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll go with Mrs. Cooper. Can you tell me what’s there?”

  “Some clothes and toiletries,” I rasped out. “My laptop.” I racked my brain. “I don’t know…I don’t know what else is there.” I couldn’t think; I could barely form the words over the roaring in my head.

  He wasn’t coming back.

  Karen took the key from my shaking hand. “I’ll assume I need to take anything feminine or that I recognize is yours. Go back to the house, Megan. I’ll take care of this for you.” She grabbed my arm, frowning. “Can you make it back to the house? You’re scaring me a little.”

  “I need a moment,” I pleaded. “Just give me a second.”

  Karen and Mrs. Cooper exchanged a look. I shut my eyes and inhaled deep gulps of air, willing myself to calm.

  I had spent the last two days in denial. I kept telling myself it was over, even as a small hope inside me stayed lit. Hope said he would realize how wrong he had been and that I couldn’t possibly be the awful person he was led to believe. Hope told me he would come back and we’d talk and face this together.

  But hope just died.

  “Anything else?” Karen asked.

  “My journals he gave me,” I whispered, making a decision. “They’re on the table.” He had brought them over, hoping I would open one and start writing, but they were still empty.

  He gave them to me and I wanted them. A tangible reminder, that at one point, I had meant something to him. The first gift he ever gave another person. I had meant enough to him that he made such an immense gesture.

  I needed my journals.

  “Okay, I’ll get them. You go back to the house and sit down before you fall down. Please.”

  I nodded, watching them as they climbed the stairs, Dixie following them. I didn’t try and stop her. I turned, and with slow, measured steps, walked to Karen’s house, alone.

  Reminding myself, the whole way, to keep breathing.

  When night fell, it felt endless. Darkness descended in slow motion, like ink dripping from a bottle, one drop at a time, until the sky was filled with blackness. The only light I could see were the stars that shone like small diamonds, set into the ebony velvet of the heavens. I inhaled, the scent of the ocean all around me in the night. I huddled farther into the blanket I was wrapped in, as I sat on the deck staring into the sky. I had given up trying to sleep. I knew it wasn’t going to happen. The past weeks played and replayed in my head on an endless loop. Every word, every touch, the tiniest of details of my time with Zacha
ry screamed at me. I couldn’t shut them off.

  I knew Karen was worried. Every morning she shook her head as she watched the circles under my eyes grow darker. Her sighs of frustration grew louder with every meal I picked at, and each word I uttered in Zachary’s defense. She refused to leave, saying she was too worried about me, and I refused to go back to Boston with her. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. We were at an impasse.

  Another long shiver ran through me and I knew I had to go back inside the house. The days were warming up, but the nights were still cold and I had been outside for a while, gazing at the darkened horizon, wondering if by chance, Zachary was doing the same thing wherever he was. With one last look, and a shaky sigh, I got up slowly and stepped back inside.

  I curled into the corner of the sofa, Dixie beside me, her warm body heavy with sleep. I stroked her fur, wishing I could sleep, as well, but that peacefulness wouldn’t come to me. Instead, when I shut my eyes, images bombarded me, and rest proved to be elusive. I didn’t know how to move forward—to get past all these feelings and memories.

  My gaze fell on my journals. I had picked them up numerous times over the past couple days, after Karen had carried them in and set them down. My fingers had traced the supple leather over and again, remembering the expression on Zachary’s face as he gave them to me. He said he wanted me to fill the blank pages with my words; how when they came back to me, the books would be there, waiting.

  Before I realized what was happening, I had removed one journal from the box and opened up the thick pages.

  I had the words.

  Our words. They needed to come out of my head and live on these pages.

  The pages of us.

  I picked up one of the special pens he had chosen and began to write.

  Time slipped away, and it was the clearing of Karen’s throat that broke my concentration. Startled, I looked at her, realizing the room was filled with the morning sun. I looked down at the journal in front of me surprised to see I had filled about a third of the book.