Breathe Her In

by Gretchen Tubbs

  The day goes by in a blur. I made sure to keep my afternoon clear so I can be the one to pick up Della. I can’t wait to see Eleanor again. I wish I had more time to spend with her, more time to get us back to the place where we once were, but my schedule has been impossible.

  The smile I have on my face is quickly wiped away when I get to carpool to pick up Della and she isn’t there. The teacher at the door tells me that Eleanor is with her in the classroom. I take off down the hallway, listening for any sounds of Dells, but it’s quiet, even when I reach the door. When I throw it open, my sister’s head is down on her desk and Eleanor is next to her, smoothing her hair down and speaking to her in hushed tones.

  “What happened?” I whisper.

  Eleanor looks up, a tired smile on her face. “Nothing. She’s just not feeling well. I think she has a fever.”

  Walking over to them, I push my cheek against her forehead, feeling for signs of fever. She’s hot and clammy. “Della, can I touch your back? I need to see if you’re warm.” I would never touch her under her clothes like that without permission. She nods, barely able to pick her head up. I stick my hand under her shirt, where she’s burning up, too.

  “When did you figure this out?” I ask, upset that she didn’t call me.

  “When we were walking to carpool and she wanted to hold my hand. If it would have been any sooner, Rafe, I would have called you, but I knew you were already on your way here.”

  I pull out my phone, dialing the shop. “Finn, can you cancel my appointments for the rest of the day? Della’s running a fever.”

  “I can watch her,” Eleanor tells me, tapping my arm.

  “Gimme a sec,” I tell Finn.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to,” she says. “You don’t need to cancel your clients. She can come to my house, or I can go to yours.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her.

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

  I look at Dells, a small grin on her pale face. “Is this okay with you? Can Eleanor watch you while I finish up at the shop?”

  She nods and then closes her eyes, but not before I see a gleam in them.

  “Never mind, Finn,” I say into the phone. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “It’s not a problem,” he tells me, his Irish lilt more pronounced than usual. He must have been on the phone with his cousins earlier. “We can cover you.”

  “I know, but Eleanor is gonna keep her for me.”

  “Well, alright then.” I can hear his smile through the phone. I guess we’ll be having a conversation when I get back to the shop, if he hasn’t already discussed this with Bennett. Those two are worse than a bunch of women.

  “See you in a few.”

  “Della,” Eleanor calls, causing her eyes to slowly open. “Would you like to go to your house or mine?”

  Della points a shaky finger at her teacher.

  “My house it is,” Eleanor says with a smile.

  “Why don’t I follow you over there, that way I’ll know where to come back to pick her up?”

  She nods, and I pick Dells up, getting her warm body settled in. Eleanor gets Della’s bag, along with all her stuff, and follows me to my Explorer.

  “I’ll try to shuffle some people around so you don’t have her all night.”

  She lays her hand on my arm, sending a jolt through my system. “I don’t mind, Rafe. You worry about work, and let me worry about Della. I’m sure it’s just a fever virus. We had a few kids with this last week. She’s fine. I can handle this.”

  “I know. Lead the way, Ms. Benson,” I tell her.

  I follow her away from school, through the campus of the university, and down a long, gated driveway. The biggest house I’ve ever seen comes into view, complete with sweeping porches and giant columns. We go around to the back of the house and park.

  “Teachers must make more than I thought,” I comment when I step out of my ride.

  “This is Gigi’s. I live back there,” she says, pointing to a smaller house that I didn’t notice before. It’s a tiny replica of the mansion we just passed.

  “That explains it.”

  “Come on.”

  I carry a passed-out Della through the kitchen of the small house. I decide to put her on the couch. If she wakes up, I want Eleanor to be in her line of sight.

  “Thanks again for doing this.” I get Della covered with a blanket from the back of the couch and make sure she’s comfortable. “Call if she needs anything.”

  “I will. Don’t worry about us.”

  “Walk me out so you can kiss me bye.”

  Her cheeks flood with color. It amazes me that she still reacts to me like that. She’s not moving, so I pull her into my body.

  “Or, don’t walk me out. You can kiss me right here.” I get my hands settled into her thick, dark hair and she winds her arms around my waist. “You gonna give me what I want, Eleanor?”

  Her face tilts up, her eyes slowly close as her lips part, and I take what I want. I use my hands in her hair to angle her face perfectly. Our mouths come together, teasing, nipping, tasting, and it’s torture. I want more.

  I want everything from her.

  “Jesus, Eleanor,” I sigh, pulling away, our foreheads pressed together, our chests quickly moving up and down. “You’re killing me.”

  She bites the corner of her bottom lip, trying to keep her smile from peeking through, but I can see it in her eyes. I tug it free with my thumb, rubbing across it several times and wishing I had more time to explore her warm mouth.

  “I gotta go,” I tell her, but make no move to leave.

  Pushing up on her toes, she gives me one more small kiss. “Go,” she whispers against my mouth. “We’ll be here when you’re done. I’ll cook you dinner.”

  I unwind her hands from my waist, kiss the palm of each, and leave. If I don’t go now, I’ll never make it back to work.

  10. Eleanor

  “Have you changed your mind about this weekend?” Tristan asks through the phone, in lieu of a greeting. My eyes drift from the patterns on the rug to Della’s sleeping body curled up on my couch.

  “No. I can’t go away with you.” I close my eyes and try to think of a decent way to do this. “Tristan, I can’t see you anymore.”

  “What’s going on, Eleanor?”

  How do I explain Rafe to him? “I was in a relationship with someone before I met you. We broke up, not by choice, and now he’s back in my life. He and I are trying to figure things out.”

  “Eleanor, I think I’ve made it pretty clear-” he begins, but I cut him off. I’m not interested in anything he has to say in order to sway me. I don’t want to hear how good he is for me, or what a perfect pair we make. In theory, we do make the perfect couple, but when I think about what Rafe and I share, there’s no comparison.

  “I’m sorry, Tristan, but there’s nothing you can say or do to make me change my mind. I have a history with him… it’s not something that can be easily forgotten. This was never going to work out.”

  He clears his throat. “Alright, then, I wish the two of you all the best.” Of course he does. That’s the polite thing to say. It’s typical Tristan.

  “Goodbye, Tristan.”

  “Goodbye,” he mutters, and the line goes dead.

  My hand drops the phone and moves to Della’s forehead, checking on her fever. She’s still warm, but her temperature seems to be dropping. I wish I had a thermometer here. I make a note to pick one up next time I’m at the store.

  I close my eyes while I rest my hand on her head and let my mind wander, imagining a completely different scenario… one where Rafe is at work and I’m at home with our child, not his sister. Pangs of longing hit me with a force I haven’t felt in years. They’re practically crippling when they come like this, before I have a chance to guard against them.

  If only we could have left that night. If he would hav
e come to meet me, if I wouldn’t have tried to find him later, how different would our lives have turned out? Eight years is a long time for things to happen. We would be married, I’m sure, and have our own brood of children running around.

  Instead, here we are, familiar strangers, holding onto secrets that I don’t think either of us are willing to share quite yet.

  A few sharp raps at the door pull me out of my thoughts of the past, my wonderings of what-if. I pry myself away from Della’s side and rush to the side door, letting Rafe in. The smile on his face drops as soon as his eyes take me in.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, bringing his hands up to my face, his thumbs gently wiping at the skin beneath my eyes, getting rid of the tears I didn’t realize were there.

  I shake my head back and forth, but he’s not satisfied.

  “Eleanor, is it my sister?” His voice is low, desperate.

  “No,” I answer, laying my hands on top of his and giving them a squeeze. “I’m sorry I made you worry. Everything’s fine. She’s still sleeping, and I think her fever’s going down.”

  “Everything’s not fine. Why are you crying?” His eyes are searching, probing, looking for answers, and it’s unnerving.

  “I was thinking about things that I shouldn’t have been,” I whisper. There’s no reason for me to give specifics. He’ll know exactly what I mean.

  “Us?” he asks, his voice coming out just as quiet as mine.

  Despite the grip he’s got my face in, I nod. His forehead pushes against mine. I brace for his kiss, but it never comes. We stand in my entryway, just breathing. Our mouths are touching, slightly open, but we aren’t kissing… we’re merely exchanging breaths. It feels more intimate than any kiss we’ve ever shared. Our joined hands are trembling against my face.

  “I wish I could take it from you,” he whispers. “All the hurt, all the pain, all the ugly. I don’t want you to remember any of that. I only want you to remember the beautiful.”

  My tears hit our clasped hands as I close the small gap between our mouths and kiss him. I can’t tell him what I want to. I don’t know how to put into words what happened after he left. It’ll come out eventually- the physical reminders I bear on my body guarantee it. But right now, in this moment, I can give him this kiss.

  We pull away when the need for air becomes greater than our need for each other.

  “Hungry?” I ask him, ready for a change in subject. I’ve had enough heavy for one night. His dark eyes light up, and the weight in the room all but evaporates. “Let me try that again. Have you eaten dinner?”

  “I could eat,” he shrugs.

  I take his hand and lead him the few feet into the kitchen. I told him I’d cook, but the night got away from me. Scrounging through the contents of my refrigerator, I prompt him to tell me about his day.

  “It was long. I’m working on a huge back piece for a client. I’m almost done, but it’s a tough one. It’ll be worth it, though, when it’s finished. Oh,” he says, his voice changing quality. He’s just remembered something that has him excited. “You ever been in that art gallery by the studio?”

  I do a mental scan of the street that Ink Addiction is on and remember visiting Fifth Street Gallery when I first moved back and falling in love with the feel of the place. I have a couple of pieces from there scattered throughout my house. “A few times. Why?”

  He snags a carrot off the cutting board. “Well, Landon, the owner, is a friend of mine. He’s sold some of my paintings, and evidently some of his clients are interested in seeing more of my work. He’s doing a show featuring a few local artists, and he wants me in it.”

  My knife freezes mid-chop. “Really?” I ask with a smile.

  “Really.”

  “That’s amazing, Rafe. I can’t wait to see,” I tell him, color rising on my cheeks. I look back down and continue cutting up the veggies. “I mean, if you want me to.”

  He gets up from the stool and takes the knife from my hand, wrapping me in his arms. His warm fingers tilt my chin until I have no choice but to look into his dark eyes. “Let me make myself clear. It seems I haven’t done a good enough job with that. I want this, Eleanor. I want us. I thought we cleared that up.”

  “I know. It’s just…”

  “Just what?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth along my jaw bone.

  “I don’t know. Just strange.” I get a look. “Good,” I clarify, “but strange. Don’t you think?”

  “I think that maybe I need to take you out on a date to help you sort through the strangeness. What do you think?”

  “A date?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes get soft, like heated chocolate. “I regret that, you know. There’s so much to regret, but that’s one of the biggest. I never got to take you out when we were younger.”

  I feel myself melting in his hold. “You can take me on a date.” I think I’d go anywhere with this man.

  “Good. Now finish cooking and tell me about your day.”

  ___

  “Dinner was delicious,” I tell him, wiping the corners of my mouth with the linen napkin. The food at Salvatore’s is always exceptional.

  “Can’t take the credit, but I’m glad you enjoyed it. Dessert?”

  “I don’t know if I have room.”

  “We’ll take it with us. I’m not done with you yet.”

  I nod, scared of the implications of his statement. “I’ll be right back,” I tell him. Excusing myself from the table, I scurry off to the ladies’ room. I know Rafe’s going to want to stay over tonight. It’s been a few weeks since we started seeing each other again, but this is the first night that he doesn’t have to rush off to pick up Della. I’m terrified. I’m not ready… at least not mentally. Physically, I’d let him have me in the middle of the restaurant if that’s what he wanted. I don’t know how much longer I can put that off. The simplest kiss or touch has my whole body going up in flames for him. But, conversations need to be had before we go there.

  I take my time in the restroom, toying with my hair and make-up until I’ve given myself enough of a pep talk to join Rafe at the table again. When I open the door, though, he’s standing there waiting for me, a paper bag in one hand and his keys in the other.

  “Ready?” he asks, a beautiful smile gracing his face.

  “Ready.”

  We get in the car and I expect for him to go to my house or his, but he doesn’t do either.

  “Rafe? Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” he says, his hand resting on my thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles on the bare skin of my leg.

  It doesn’t take long for me to figure it out. As soon as he pulls into the neighborhood where our park is located, I know exactly where we’re going. He grins at the gasp I let out and squeezes my thigh.

  “You been back here recently?”

  I shake my head. I couldn’t bear it.

  “What about you?” I ask, my voice barely coming out.

  “All the time. I tried to find you here, you know, when I came back. It’s silly, but I’d come here every damn night and sit in that clearing, waiting for you to come skipping down that trail, just like you’d do when we were kids. I knew if I waited long enough, you’d eventually show up.”

  “When did you get back?” It’s only after I ask the question that I remember I still don’t even know where he went.

  “Three years ago.”

  “I was still in Texas with my mom.” Thinking about why I went to her in the first place, I feel emotions coming to the surface that have no place here with us tonight. “I couldn’t come back, Rafe. I’m sorry,” I tell him, forcing down the tears that are threatening to spill. “Even if I knew you were here waiting for me, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

  “Don’t apologize for anything that happened,” he tells me as he parks. “You didn’t know I was back, and I sure as fuck didn’t deserve you looking for me,” he continues.

  I’m powerless against those tears when he comes
around to open my door and I see what’s in his hand.

  “You still have it?” I reach out a shaky hand to touch the thread-bare blanket.

  “This old thing stays draped over the foot of my bed,” he says with a smile. “Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me through the park and down the path, which is more overgrown than the last time I was here. The longer we walk down the dirt trail the younger I feel. The easier it is to forget everything we went through. I can feel the years, the pain, and the suffering melting away with each step we take.

  Now would be the perfect time to tell him everything, I think. But once the path opens up to the clearing, I decide I can’t do it. I can’t ruin the perfection of this place, the beauty of our spot, with such ugliness. The evening has been perfect. I want it to end on a good note.

  Rafe spreads the blanket on the grass, just like he’s done hundreds of times before. I kick off my heels and sit on the scratchy wool, and it’s like I’m transported back in time. The smile on my face feels huge.

  “I didn’t think we’d ever get back here,” he smiles.

  “I’m glad we did.” I mean it. Despite everything I went through, despite everything I’m sure he’s been through, I’m happy to be back here with him.

  He gets me settled in his arms, the position the same as all those years ago. “Eleanor?” he asks.

  “Hmm,” I answer lazily, his hand playing in the strands of my hair making it hard to form words.

  His hand stills. “How long did you wait that night?”

  My heart completely stops for a second, and then it starts back up, the beats coming far too close together. “I never left,” I whisper, all while pushing down the accompanying nausea. “I stayed all night and woke up when the sun was beating down on me.” His hand tightens in my hair. “I came back every night for three weeks and waited for you to come get me.”

  “Fuck,” he breathes out, then clears his throat. “Claire said you came to her house later.”

  “Rafe,” I puff out, shaking my head. I don’t want to have this conversation. Not tonight.

  “I’m so damn sorry. I can tell you that every day for the rest of my life, and it won’t nearly be enough.”