Tripped Up Love

by Farley, Julie

  “Just let me help you. It’s not a big deal.”

  She did. They went in through the garage door. Fabulous, thought Heather, The first things he will see are the messiest parts of my life - the garage and the laundry room. There were three stairs to get up, and he lifted her up and got her in past the laundry. He bent down and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. Heather plopped down and let out a huge sigh. The sigh was an effort to stop herself from crying. Her ankle was killing her, and the reality of her life was smacking her in the face.

  “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I didn’t even ask your name.”

  “I’m Peter and really this was no big deal. I’m just happy I didn’t run over you. And your name…”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m Heather. That’s my dog Coco out there. Welcome to my house, the kingdom of chaos.”

  “It doesn’t seem so chaotic right now. I’m guessing from all the stuff in the garage and all the laundry you don’t live here by yourself. And I apologize if you do and just happen to be a hoarder.”

  “Hoarding would be easier. No, I live here with my three kids. They’re at my mom’s right now.”

  “Well, Heather, I think you need to get to a doctor. Who can I call for you?”

  And suddenly the sigh wasn’t enough. Heather didn’t really have an emergency contact anymore. Her emergency contact was dead. She had friends but didn’t want to burden them with yet another saga in the ongoing Heather Story. The tears rolled down her cheeks. Poor Peter looked like he was sorrier than ever he hadn’t run her over. He had a panicked look on his face.

  “Umm…I’m sorry it must hurt terribly. Let me get you some ice and we’ll sort this out.”

  Instead of ice, he grabbed a box of chocolate chip waffles, pulled out a chair and held the box over the swollen egg on what was now a cankle. Heather sniffed and cleared her throat.

  “I’m fine. I can take myself to the doctor.”

  “No, you can’t! There is no way you can drive.” Peter was afraid to ask if there was anyone she could call again. Nothing good happened the last time he had said that. “I’m taking you. Let’s grab your purse and go.”

  Peter didn’t wait for any hesitation. He scooped Heather up and took her to the car only stopping for a second so she could grab the purse dangling on the laundry room door.

  “Let’s go to Ortho on Call. That’s where I took Henry last year. It was pretty fast and easy.”

  “No problem. Just show me the way.”

  Clearly, Peter was either not from around here or didn’t have any kids. Every parent in the zip code knew how to get to Ortho on Call. Peter was afraid to say anything else in case it might make Heather cry. Heather was filled with embarrassment, annoyance and a dash of sadness. Actually, more than a dash of sadness. Whenever she felt helpless, she could not help but miss Hank. If he had been alive, she would have waited on the road for him just like she did the time she had all three of the kids out for a bike ride and had gotten a flat tire. He left his meeting, drove over to repair her bike and got them on their way.

  Peter helped Heather into Ortho on Call and sat her down. He got the registration forms for her and sat down next to her. Heather started to fill them out. Peter not so slyly watched her and realized she checked the box indicating she was single.

  A divorcee with three kids, he thought. Must have been a bad divorce if she couldn’t call her ex and it still made her cry. And on cue, he noticed her eyes were welling up with tears again.

  “What can I get you? Some water? Some ice? Want to use my phone to call your mom?”

  “No, not till I know what’s wrong. She’ll just worry. I’m fine,” she sniffed.

  “Obviously, you’re not. Your ankle is huge, and I can tell it really hurts. I also have a feeling you might be crying about something else as well. Please make me feel useful.”

  “I am so tired of everyone wanting to help me. I am so tired of needing to be helped. For the last year, all I have wanted was a hug. One of those big hugs that only a man can give you. The kind that makes you feel so safe and protected that nothing else matters in the world. And now my stupid fall is going to make me the charity case again. Dinners will be piled up on the doorstep within minutes of my return. People will offer to take the kids and walk the dog, but all I want is a hug. And no one has offered one yet.” Heather looked up skeptically figuring she had just scared Peter away and was going to have to call a taxi or Jenny. But when she looked up, he was still there. Still there with a scared look, but he had opened his arms and was about to hug her.

  How could Peter resist this tiny, teary injured woman? Her eyes were the color of emeralds underneath the tears, and her auburn hair was all catawampus after her run. But she was beautiful in a crazy, weird and irresistible way, and he hated to see anyone cry - let alone a gorgeous woman. So he hugged her. He cradled her head onto his chest and just held her.

  “Mrs. Meadows? You can come back now. Your husband can come with you.”

  “He’s not my husband!” Heather sobbed.

  “But I’m coming anyway,” responded Peter.

  An hour later they were back in the car with a set of crutches and a fresh cast for Heather’s broken ankle. He brought her home, got her situated in her family room, and put her in a chair that could fit three of her. He pulled up the ottoman to rest her leg on, got her a glass of water and sat down next to her foot.

  “Can I sign your cast?” He figured that was a pretty benign statement.

  “Sure,” Heather kind of smiled. “There’s a sharpie on the table I think.”

  Peter got up and scanned the mess of papers and found a purple Sharpie in the pile.

  “You editing?” Peter asked.

  “I don’t know if I am even at an editing point yet. Still creating. Still writing the shitty first draft.”

  “Want me to pile it up and bring it over to you?”

  “No, I just feel like feeling sorry for myself for a little bit longer. The kids will be home in a while anyway.”

  He brought the Sharpie over and signed his name in a very I’m-used-to-autographing-things way. Maybe he was a professional cast signer. Who knew? thought Heather.

  “I have no intention of leaving you here alone. So if you want to call your mother and let her know about your condition, feel free.”

  “Seriously, go. I will be fine. I can hobble wherever I need to go, and I have taken up so much of your time already.”

  “I have nothing but time. And every intention of making sure you are taken care of.”

  Which made Heather start crying again. Soft tears fell down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry. You must think I am pathetic. I don’t usually cry this much. Well, I take it back. I’ve cried more in the last year and a half than I have in my last 40 years.”

  Peter grabbed Heather’s hand and listened.

  “My husband had a heart attack and died a year and a half ago. I have three kids, a dog and no job. I cannot stand being pitied, and I just fell in the middle of the road and broke my ankle. The thought of heading back to the pity place is killing me. The thought that everyone at the bus stop is going to bring me a casserole or pasta dish again for the next week makes me want to throw up. I want to be normal. I want to be what I was…what we were. I don’t want my kids to be the ones with the dead dad. I want them just to be Henry, Gracie and Hayes.”

  Peter was holding her hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb.

  “And now I am sure you are so sorry you pulled over. If you had left thirty seconds earlier this morning your day would have been so much different.”

  He was drawn to her. Drawn to her in a way he could never have imagined. He wanted to cuddle in next to her on the chair and run his fingers through her hair to make all her troubles go away.

  “Stop. I am here. I want to be right here helping you. I wasn’t doing anything important today.”

  Hell, he hardly ever did anything important, Peter though
t to himself.

  “Why?”

  “Because maybe you fell into my life for a reason. And you did literally just fall into my path. Who cares why? Let’s call your mom and let her know what’s going on. At least it’s a holiday, and you don’t have to face the bus stop. But that does mean you need to figure out what’s for dinner.”

  “No, my mom will bring dinner I’m sure. She’s not one to miss an opportunity to roast a chicken.”

  “Ok. Call her now while I run out and pick up some lunch. Tell her not to hurry back. I’ll stay with you until she gets here.” All of the sudden Peter was rushing out to buy this stranger lunch. His sister would tease him, as she had been trying to get him to settle down and be serious for the last twenty years. And now he was buying lunch for a widow with three children.

  Heather was too tired to argue. She had a feeling she hadn’t had in a while. It felt relaxing to have someone else take charge of her life for a moment. And someone had finally hugged her. Even better, someone who looked like Peter. Heather had always had a thing for arm tattoos. Hank was a guy without a tattoo. It hadn’t mattered to her. Hank was about so much more than a tattoo. He was her home, her childhood, her life all packed into a 200 lb man. He was her everything. Hank had been part of her life for thirty-two years. He knew everything about her. When he died, he took so much of her with him. Things weren’t always perfect with them, but things were familiar. They had known each other since Mrs. Zarchy’s kindergarten class. He asked her to sleep over at his house when he was in first grade. He was her first love. She was his. There had been others in high school and college for both of them but just enough others to know they were all the other wanted. When he proposed to her in the lifeguard chair on the beach in September, a year and a half after they graduated from college, they both knew this was it. It was a relationship sealed in the bark of the old oak tree in front of the house her mom still lived in. A house and tree that were painful reminders of the current state of things.

  But right now, this guy in a white t-shirt, well-worn skinny jeans and Doc Marten’s was going to buy her lunch and had rescued her from the turkey vultures and tennis moms who would have started swarming had he not stopped his car. He looked like the bad boy every girl dreamed of when her usually doting husband did something wrong. Like forgetting to put a Pull Up on your toddler before bedtime or leaving the half-gallon of organic milk in the car on a hot summer night. This guy, Peter, looked bad but seemed like he may have some shining armor in his closet.

  Peter left before she could say anything. Heather called her mom, who was frantic and decided she would leave the boys at home and take Gracie to the store to buy dinner. She said they would come over later that afternoon.

  Peter hopped in his car and ran over to his brother-in-law’s restaurant. He grabbed some iced tea, salad and sandwiches. Thankfully, Chris wasn’t there. Peter knew he was at a travel baseball tournament in Newport News with Peter’s nephew. Janie was at home with his niece.

  He got back to Heather’s pretty quickly. Peter opened the food on the island. He carried a tea over to her.

  “I have a chicken curry sandwich, garden salad and grilled cheese with tomato. What would you like?”

  “Hmmmm… that’s easy. Obviously you went to Cafe Nouveau. I’ll have half of the chicken curry. It’s my favorite.” She decided not to mention she was a vegan. Or a fegan (fake vegan) as her best friend from high school not so lovingly called her. Heather happened to be a vegan who enjoyed a cheeseburger every once in a while and a good chicken curry.

  Peter brought it over to her in the brown cardboard box it came in. Peter seated himself on the couch opposite Heather and ate the grilled cheese.

  “Does your Mom take the kids often?”

  “At least once a month. I like to have them here though. I’m not good about sharing them anymore. Hank’s mom likes to take them out when she can. But it gets too quiet without them. They have their friends here and usually don’t like to leave.”

  “Do you run often?”

  “As often as I can get away. I usually write better after I run - assuming I don’t fall in a pothole. But I guess that’s done for awhile.”

  “You’ll be back at it before you know it. We’ll have to find other ways for you to workout.” We? What the hell was he doing? he thought to himself. He never said things like that.

  We? Who the hell was this guy? thought Heather. After I ruined his day, he was brave enough to mention seeing me again.

  “I can only imagine what I would do on another workout. Accidents and misfortune seem to follow me.”

  “Yeah, I’ve only known you for a few hours, and I’ve picked up on that.”

  “I have a stationary bike upstairs I can probably use to ensure my ass doesn’t get any fatter.”

  “Don’t think you are in danger of that happening anytime soon.” Conversation was easy with Heather. He felt like he had known her all his life.

  Heather hadn’t fallen into an easy conversation with anyone in the last year and a half much less a stranger of the male persuasion. It felt oddly familiar, and she was hoping she didn’t ruin it or over analyze it too much. She could hardly take her eyes off of him. She was having a hard time figuring him out. He was casually elegant, had at least two tattoos (she could only imagine what was covered), wore Doc Martens and drove a navy blue Lexus. He did not look like any of the men she knew in the area.

  “Do you live nearby?” Heather asked.

  “I actually have a loft downtown, but my sister lives out here. I dropped something off this morning and was on my way home.”

  “Stuck in the 2-3-1-1-3. Lucky you.”

  “It’s not so bad. Who knew I would get to experience so much of it today? I divide my time in a few different places. I have a place in Manhattan, and my family has a house in Maine.”

  “Some of my favorite places.”

  He said family, thought Heather. Did he mean his immediate family or his parents? He wasn’t wearing a ring, and she kind of doubted that a wife would love for him to be spending so much time with another woman.

  “This is my home base though. The place where they send my mail.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for getting me this sandwich. And for taking me to the doctor. Oh, and for picking me up off the pavement. Great first impression.”

  “It was a first impression I am not likely to forget. I get the sense that life with you is always this memorable.”

  Peter didn’t know the half of it. Heather had a knack for making waxing your eyebrows interesting. He hadn’t even met the kids yet.

  “What are you writing?” asked Peter.

  “A memoir. A love story of sorts. I just don’t get a lot of time to write lately.”

  “Well, I would love to read it sometime. I guess I can wait till it’s published.”

  “Ha! You’ll be waiting awhile then! Mom and the kids should be here soon. Why don’t you get on with your day? I’ve kept you long enough.”

  “Only if you are sure you’ll be ok. I’ll be out here again to check in on you.”

  Peter picked up all their lunch, made sure Heather had what she needed and left her with a quick tap on the shoulder. And for the first time in ages, Heather had a tiny smile in her heart.

  Chapter 3

  Peter was shocked by his own behavior. He never even turned his head at any of the women who lived around his sister. He knew there were some beautiful ones. He had been to Wild Ginger or as he liked to call it “Wild Cougar.” Janie learned a long time ago to butt out of his love life. Janie and Peter had gone to college together. He was two years her senior and had dated some of her friends. Peter dated them, made them fall in love with his poetic and romantic side, and then never returned their phone calls. After losing some friends due to Peter’s shenanigans, Janie decided to leave his love life alone. An occasional tease was of course not out of the question. What would she think if she knew how he had spent his morning? Well, it was something he w
asn’t planning to share with her yet. But he found himself thinking about different things he could do for Heather. He also found himself wondering about different things he could do with her and to her.

  Peter drove downtown to his loft and sat down to look at his week. He had a book signing tomorrow, Tuesday, in Tribeca. He had arranged to fly up for the day and would meet with his agent after the signing. His latest novel was coming out in paperback, so his publicist insisted on some book signings. Publicity was not Peter’s favorite area, or one of his strengths. He was tired of all the women swooning over him at each signing. He rarely found anyone who appreciated him for his books. Pretty much, all they wanted to do was take off his pants. A fact his publicist played up, and one Peter liked to ignore.

  A day out of his loft meant a day away from his other writing. He intended to make up for that this afternoon. Peter turned on the computer and opened his file. He wanted to bang out 2,500 words today to make up for heading to New York on Tuesday, but his mind drifted back to Heather. Her beauty was the second thing he had noticed. She was so fragile sitting in the middle of the road. He watched her go down as he got close to her, and he just wanted to save her. He wanted to pick her up and whisk her away. How could a person be that vulnerable? He was sure she thought he pitied her, but the word never entered his mind until she used it at the doctor’s office. Heather’s laugh-at-herself confidence made it impossible to pity her. It was easier to laugh with her. And he intended to do that again soon.

  The kids came home and doted on Heather. They each signed her cast. Henry looked at it quizzically.

  “Mom, who’s Peter, and why is his phone number on your cast?” asked Henry.

  “Oh, he’s the guy whose car I fell in front of. He helped me and took me to the doctor. He probably put his number there in case I fell again before you guys got home.”

  “Weird,” said Hayes in his twelve-year-old, almost ready to change voice. “You fell into the street? Did anybody else see you?”