“I, I have to go,” I said as I turned around and started for the gate.
“I don’t understand!” She hurried down the walkway behind me. “Did I do something wrong?”
I immediately turned around to face her and shook my head, feeling like an asshole through and through. “No, it’s nothing you did,” I insisted. “It’s just that…this…it just can’t happen. Not between us.”
She was surprised, and it showed in her face. “Are you married?” she asked.
“No!” I nearly barked back at her, stunned to think she could have even considered such a thing. “No, I’m definitely not, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not good for you.” She didn’t say anything, and the silence blared between us uncomfortably. Finally I couldn’t take any more. “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” I offered before turning on my toes and starting for the darkness of the street. I didn’t wait to hear her reply.
Chapter Nine
Delilah
I didn’t know what to think as I watched William’s back as he retreated down my street, the moonlight bathing him in its milky brightness. One second, he was kissing me, and he was so hard I could feel him pressing into my waist, and the next he was pulling away and saying we couldn’t do this, whatever “this” was. It didn’t make any sense. And I was disappointed. When I’d felt his stiff, rigid length pushing against me, I’d felt nothing but exhilaration. I’d started stinging deep down inside my core. I’d wanted him—wanted him like I’d never wanted another man before. And even though I was a virgin, that didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted men before. I had, but just never like this.
I unlocked the back door and walked inside, only to find my mama in her rocking chair beside the fire, knitting as she rocked back and forth. She was wearing her pink flannel robe, matching slippers, and a pink beanie to cover her head. As soon as I walked in, she looked up and smiled at me.
“You are so late!” she said as she set her knitting aside and looked as if she was about to get up. “I left your dinner on the counter beside the stove.”
“Don’t get up,” I said as I closed and locked the door behind me, approaching her. “Just take it easy, Mama. I can get my dinner myself.” I paused as I looked at her, loving the fact that I was lucky enough to call her my own. “Thank you for making it, by the way.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she responded, staying where she was even though she was now standing up. I walked over to her and putting my hands on her shoulders, pushed down, forcing her to take a seat again. My mother tried to do way too much, even though she was well aware that Dr. Benson had ordered her to pretty much do nothing at all. She sat down again as I wrapped my arms around her and inhaled her unique, mom scent that always reminded me of freshly washed laundry hung out to dry on a sunny day.
“I’m sorry I missed dinner, Mama,” I said.
“I understand,” she answered with a sweet smile. “Why did you have to stay so late?”
I pulled away from her and taking off my jacket, I warmed myself by the fire as I debated the best way to start what was a very long and involved story. As I glanced down at my mother’s caring face, I noticed for the first time in a long time that she was missing her eyebrows, eyelashes and all the hair on her head, owing to the chemo. In the few seconds it took to remind myself of what my mother had been and was going through, I made a decision.
“The bank was just really busy today,” I started with a shrug. “And then we had a mandatory staff meeting afterwards.” In general, I didn’t like to lie, but in this case, I felt like lying was the right thing to do. I just didn’t want to overwhelm my mother with worry, not when her health was as brittle as it was.
She just nodded and picked up her knitting as she started rocking back and forth again. “Sounds like it was a busy day,” she said as I remembered the angel figurine William had made for me and fished it out of my coat pocket. Then I looked down at the angel’s stained face for a few seconds, before I walked to the kitchen and turning on the faucet, washed the blood away. Once I dried her as best I could, I noticed the blood stain was now hardly noticeable. I walked back into the living room, rolling the angel in my palm before I placed her on the mantel, just beside the clock where she could keep an eye on my mother. I figured my mama needed to be underneath the angel’s watchful gaze more than I did.
“It was very busy,” I answered.
“What’s that?” she asked as she glanced up at the angel, an inquisitive smile on her face.
I picked it up again and handed it to her. “It’s an angel figurine that one of my customers made for me. He said he whittled it from a tree branch.”
She smiled even more broadly as soon as she held the angel in her hands. She, like me, believed strongly in guardian angels. “He did a very good job,” she said as she inspected it.
“Yes,” I answered, somewhat absentmindedly because my head was swimming with images of William and our conversation right before he’d freaked out and left. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d keep true to his word, and I’d see him in two or three weeks. But as soon as the thought entered my head, I rejected it. Two or three weeks was way too long to go without seeing him again! It would feel more like two or three years! And once he came into the bank, would he just stay his customary five minutes? I shook my head as I considered it. There was no way I could go back to how things had been between William and I—not after everything that had happened, not after he’d put his life on the line to save mine. But then I silently wondered if maybe I didn’t have a choice in the matter—maybe that was all William wanted from me.
“So tell me about this customer of yours,” Mama said as she faced me with a sly expression and handed the angel back to me. I took it and placed it on the mantel again, feeling a sudden weight on my shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
“Well, I don’t know that there’s that much to tell,” I answered with a shrug as I took a step closer to the fireplace and held my hands out in front of it. My entire body suddenly felt ice- cold, and I shivered in spite of myself.
“Do you think he’s handsome?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, and I could tell where this conversation was headed and I really didn’t want to encourage it, especially when I had a deep, dark feeling that things with William were over before they ever began.
“What does he look like?”
I smiled as an image of William blossomed inside my mind’s eye. “He has a strong, solid face with pronounced cheekbones and a definite jaw. He has black hair which is way too long and a beard which is even longer. His eyes are a beautiful, deep blue and when he smiles, I can see he has very nice, straight teeth.”
My mama nodded, apparently pleased to hear this. “Is he tall?”
“Yes and very broad,” I answered. “To me, he looks like he’s the size of a bear and with all that hair, he could probably double for a grizzly.”
We both laughed even though my laughter held a sadness to it that, luckily, my mother didn’t pick up on. I wanted to maintain a happy face for her benefit because I didn’t want to overwhelm her with all the self-doubt that was currently plaguing me. All she needed to concentrate on was getting better.
“So what’s the problem?” she asked.
“Problem?” I repeated. “There’s no problem.”
“Then are you both dating?” she continued, giving me that narrowed-eye expression which meant she was studying my every word, inflection, and body language closely. There was no getting anything past my mother.
I sighed as I shook my head and took a seat across from her on our sofa. There was no use in lying, at least not in this case. “No.”
“And why is that?”
I shrugged, feeling uneasy beneath her scrutiny. But I also knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t going to back down. She could probably tell that there was something that was bothering me, and she wouldn’t let it rest until she got to the bottom of whatever it was. “I don’t know,”
I answered honestly. “I mean, we aren’t dating because he’s never asked me out on a date.”
“Maybe he’s shy?”
I shook my head. “William isn’t shy; he just isn’t very social and he’s… complicated.”
“William?” she repeated, as if trying his name out on her tongue. “Nice, solid name.”
I nodded, knowing she wouldn’t know who William was. She’d been sick for a while now which kept her indoors and out of any town gossip, which was just as well. It actually pleased me that she hadn’t heard any of the rumors about William because I didn’t want her to be biased against him. For myself, I was beyond convinced that William was a good man. I didn’t care about his past. It just bothered me that he didn’t feel the same way.
“So, what do you suppose he’s waiting for?” she pressed.
I shook my head. “I don’t know that he’s waiting for anything.” I looked down at my hands and remembered the ordeal I’d suffered earlier. Maybe I was just in shock and needed time to process everything, but as it now stood, I felt disconnected from it—almost like I’d watched it happen to someone else on one of those crime shows on TV. My memory about exactly what had happened was cloudy—I couldn’t remember the rundown of events. Maybe I was fortunate—maybe this was my body’s way of dealing with the trauma. Whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact that everything that had happened in the bank felt as if it was a lifetime ago, rather than just a couple of hours. I couldn’t feel anything other than a soothing numbness which I supposed I was grateful for, considering the other thoughts and feelings I could be experiencing.
“Well?” she pressed, facing me expectantly.
I shrugged again. “I don’t think he thinks of me that way, Mama,” I finished finally as I started for the kitchen and picked up my plate. I removed the saran wrap and placed the chicken and potatoes into the microwave.
“I think that’s a silly thought to have,” she responded, almost sounding affronted at the very thought that a man might not be romantically interested in her daughter.
“If he wanted to date me, don’t you think he’d ask me out?” I responded as the microwave beeped. I removed the plate, placing it on the counter as I fished out a fork from the silverware drawer. I speared a red potato and plopped it into my mouth, noticing it was still cold.
“Maybe and maybe not,” she answered as she continued to knit while rocking back and forth. “But what I can tell you is that that angel means something,” she finished as she eyed me.
“Means something?” I repeated while cutting a small bite of chicken breast, not really feeling very hungry, but not wanting to offend Mom because she’d taken the time to make it.
“Of course,” she continued as she stopped rocking and placed her knitting in her lap. “Think about the time it took him to make such a detailed figure and the thought involved in it. First, he had to find a tree branch, then he had to scrape the rough bark away and cut the branch down to size. Then with every cut, every shaving of wood, he was thinking about your reaction when he gave it to you, imagining your expression, the smile on your face. Imagine how lengthy a process it must have been to turn a piece of wood into that lovely angel.” She looked up at the angel where it stood on the mantel, as if seeing it for the first time. “That man cares about you, sweetie, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. His actions already do.”
Chapter Ten
William
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d left things with Angel. I felt like an asshole. But I figured there was nothing I could do about it now. And there was nothing I should do about it either because she and I weren’t a good fit, and the sooner I got that through my thick skull, the better.
I pulled up to my house, and my headlights immediately illuminated a woman who was sitting on my doorstep with her head between her hands. I had no idea what business she had sitting in front of my house, but I figured I would soon find out.
I turned into my parking spot, killed the engine, and tried to keep my annoyance from bubbling over. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some random woman. Not when I still couldn’t get beyond the fact that I’d just kissed the woman of my dreams senseless then abandoned her like a complete and utter fool.
But back to the woman on my porch. Her hair covered half of her face, so I couldn’t see what sort of state she was in—whether she was crying, confused, drunk, whatever.
“Can I help you?” I called out as I opened the car door and approached the steps to my front porch.
She didn’t move, but her eyes slowly rose to meet mine. As her hair fell away from her face, my heart started pounding as my breath hitched. I just stood there for a few seconds, halfway wondering if I’d just dreamt up the fact that Janet, my ex-wife, was sitting here on my porch steps as if no time had gone by at all, as if everything that happened between us had never happened.
“William.” She stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans as if she were nervous to see me. It was extremely dark outside, the moon mostly obscured by dense clouds, but what little light was offered by the moon highlighted her in its milky rays until she looked like a ghost.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, barely controlled anger seeping into my voice. Who the hell did she think she was showing up on my doorstep after all this time? After everything she’d done? After everything that had passed between us? The anger, the pain, the passion. I shoved my hands into my pockets as I stood in front of her, still not past the shock of seeing her after…two years.
“I came here for you,” she said, her tone and expression soft.
“Why?”
“Because,” she answered, almost in surprise that I was asking. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last two years. You’ve proven to be a difficult person to find.”
Yep, it had been two years. Two long years of trying to forget her, trying to forget what had happened, and trying to move on with my life. “So how did you find me now?”
She shrugged as she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the cold night air. “Can we talk inside? It’s cold out here.”
“No, we can talk right here. You’ve got five minutes.”
“Five minutes, huh?” she asked with wide eyes. The same eyes I’d lost myself in more times than I could remember.
Janet was just as beautiful as she had always been. She had the sort of looks that caused men to turn around and stare at her. And she knew it. She’d always known it. “Five minutes.”
She sighed, long and hard. “I’ve had nothing but time on my hands for the last year,” she started and I couldn’t tell if she was answering my question of how she found me or not.
“Why is that?”
“Because I committed myself to a mental institution,” she answered, her expression unreadable. She just looked at me blankly, as if she wasn’t sure what my reaction would be.
“You what?” I asked as I frowned at her, surprise coursing through me. Janet was not the type of woman to commit herself to anything, let alone a hospital. This news was surprising to say the least, and a big part of me didn’t believe a word of it.
She reached inside her purse and handed me a folded-up piece of paper. I accepted it, then walked forward until I was standing on my porch under the overhead light. Then I unfolded the paper and read along the top in scrolling letters: “The Hillcrest Hospital”. The rest of it appeared to be a release notice that was dated roughly two weeks prior to today.
“Why were you in a mental hospital?” I asked her, very aware that whatever might come out of her mouth could be anything but the truth. She probably figured I’d think as much which was why she produced the letter.
“After you left, my life sort of fell apart,” she admitted as she dropped her eyes to the side and her face took on an embarrassed expression. She’d always been an excellent actress, so I wasn’t convinced she wasn’t just playing a part now.
“Most people don’t commit themselves to mental hospitals because they’re
going through a divorce,” I pointed out, my tone of voice harsh, angry even.
“Most people don’t have to deal with the particulars I did,” she returned, her voice a bit more biting. “I fell into a deep, deep depression, and it was completely consuming. I wouldn’t eat. I lost way too much weight. And I started up with the cocaine…again.”
“But you’re out now so you must be fine?” I didn’t mean to sound dismissive or insensitive but this was Janet so I had to keep my guard up.
“Fine is relative,” she answered with a sad smile. It was a side of Janet I hadn’t seen before. Usually she was confident, bold, and even abrasive. This sad, downtrodden, humbled and even submissive Janet was a new person altogether. Not that I was buying into her guise.
She didn’t say anything more for a few seconds. Instead she just looked up at me, smiling warmly. “You look good, William.”
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, not wanting to get off the topic. The sooner I figured this situation out, the sooner I could get her on her way again—hopefully back to Las Vegas where she belonged.
“I’m in a bad way,” she admitted.
“And that matters to me why?”
“Because you loved me once,” she insisted as she stood up and took the few stairs that separated us. She hadn’t aged much in the last two years. Her face was still as lovely. Her figure was still just as trim, and her breasts just as fake.
“That was a long time ago. A lifetime ago.”
“I realize that,” she said as she dropped her gaze to the ground and sighed again. “And I also realize I have a lot of apologizing to do.”
“Interesting that you’re thinking of all of this now,” I started as I faced my front door and turning the knob, opened it. Camille, my wolf, immediately trotted outside. I heard Janet gasp.
“Please tell me that’s a German Shepherd,” she started.
“Wolf.”
“A wolf? Are you crazy?”
“Some would say so,” I answered with little interest as I watched Camille disappear into the bushes just beside my humble cabin. “But back to what you were just saying. All of this is coming too late. We’ve both moved on. We both have different lives.”
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