Even If

by Bethany Riehl

  A handful of the men Sheila had dated over the years would be at the BBQ. Most were coworkers that had since married and started families of their own. It was like a big community that shouldn’t make sense but worked together in its own way.

  Lillian licked her lips as she and Chuck walked hand in hand up the walk to the house—now a pretty cream with sandstone trim and cornflower blue shutters, window boxes, and door. She didn’t often bring men home—Drew had been the last. He had not been well received.

  Lillian opened the front door, not bothering to knock. A large living room opened to their left, the galley kitchen just beyond it, the sliding glass door past the kitchen off of a small den. Before she could step into the sunshine and join the animated crowd scattered throughout the yard, Chuck squeezed her hand and tugged lightly, pulling her backward. “Lilly, wait,” he said softly.

  She stepped away from the large slider and looked into his calm face. It was then she realized that, other than giving him monosyllabic directions, she hadn’t spoken to him since they’d left downtown.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled. “It’s going to be fine. Trust me,” he kissed the corner of her mouth, and she smiled, relishing the feel of him.

  The door whooshed open, the boisterous sounds from outside suddenly sharp in the quiet house. Lillian jumped, but Chuck didn’t release her hand.

  “So, are you planning on coming outside, or do you two intend to stay in here making out all day?”

  Lillian winced and turned to face the petite brunette.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Lillian loved her mom’s backyard. It had taken years and many summers of hard work, but the payoff was abundant. The back half of the property was her mom’s small fruit orchard. She grew peaches, nectarines, plums, and apples. Neighbors and customers at the shop helped her make use of what fruit she couldn’t eat or can herself.

  Next to the orchard was a vegetable garden and, beyond that, her flower garden. The front half of the yard was where the parties happened. There was a volleyball net—set up all summer long—a small swing set and playhouse for the endless children being born and brought to the BBQs, a horseshoe pit, deck, hot tub, and an above ground pool.

  Sheila had three true passions—gardening, parties, and people. Motorcycles and men fell in line just behind those three. She had such a charming way about her that even her ex-boyfriends—and later their wives or girlfriends—usually stayed in her life, with the exception of the one that had mattered most in Lillian’s life—her father.

  But, the backyard was brimming with men and women alike that Lillian had known all of her life. These were her people.

  Hours after Lillian walked into the backyard with Chuck by her side, the party was still going strong. Although Wade’s youngest son had still not made an appearance, guests continued to arrive as they finished shifts at various jobs. Dusk fell, and the twinkle lights her mom had strung all over the yard glowed brighter. Wade’s oldest son, Luke, short and stocky with a natural scowl and military haircut, paired up with Chuck for a game of horseshoes against Wade and one of his buddies. True to his word, Lillian hadn’t needed to worry about her boyfriend fitting in. Chuck was flawless with her mom’s friends. Even more, he seemed to genuinely enjoy being with them. And they with him. He asked questions, laughed and joked with them, but expertly deflected any filthy comments or jokes. When offered a beer, he held up his soda without ridicule.

  Lillian was standing with her mother, and holding the new baby of a childhood friend when Chuck found his way to her side.

  “Your step-dad is merciless,” he said with a grin.

  Wade idled up next to Sheila as well. “Nah, I just got lucky. Next time, Chuck, you’ll get me.” His words slurred, and Lillian wondered if Chuck had let Wade win. She smiled up at Chuck who leaned over the baby, obviously pleased when the tiny hand curled around his offered finger. He noticed Lillian’s gaze and squeezed her around the waist with his free arm. Wade and her mom turned to talk with other friends, but Lillian barely noticed. She locked eyes with Chuck for a handful of heartbeats before he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “I love watching you here. Seeing your mom’s yard, your plans for the roof make complete sense. You were raised to be hospitable. It’s in your blood.”

  She grinned up at him. He was right. She had learned to be hospitable—and to love it—from watching her mother. She felt warmth spreading through her at the thought. And from Chuck’s hand against her waist.

  Under the gauzy sunset, with twinkle lights all around, her mom’s abundant flowers curling their scent around the fantasy moment, Lillian felt she could stay inside Chuck’s strong embrace forever. No one was paying attention to them and Lillian tilted up to kiss his cheek, the small bundle in her arms grunting as she strained to pull Chuck’s finger to her mouth. Lillian licked her lips, heart pounding with fear as she fought the urge to say the words that screamed through her soul. I love you, Chuck. I love the way you encourage me. The way you teach me more about God and His word. The way you make me feel cherished and adored. I love you, I love you, I love you.

  “What’s that look for, Boss?” Chuck’s eyes shone in the twilight.

  She opened her mouth, but a shout from behind cut her off. Lillian turned toward the house as a man about her age walked through the side gate with Bobby, one of her many “uncles.”

  “You lose this, Wade?” Bobby shouted, guiding a leaner version of Luke toward the group.

  “Tanner!” Wade shouted.

  ***

  No.

  Chuck’s stomach dropped out and his heart fell into its place and played dead.

  Lord, please, no. It can’t be. I’m not…ready. I can’t do this. Not now, Father. You know I’m not ready.

  It couldn’t be true. His heart kicked up again, pounding against his ribs—fighting to escape with or without the rest of him.

  Wade wrapped Tanner in a big hug, clapping him hard on the back. He kept one arm around Tanner’s shoulders and turned to find Luke in the crowd. “Luke, get over here. And bring your brother a drink.”

  Chuck tensed as Luke came forward, the necks of two brown bottles hanging from the fingers of one hand, a Dr. Pepper can in his other. The first grin Chuck had seen on Luke all night stretched wide across his hard face. He handed a beer to his dad, the soda to his brother, and kept the other beer for himself.

  Wade held up his bottle and addressed the guests, voice catching, “My boys in the same place at last!” He clinked bottles and can with his sons, happy tears shimmering in his eyes. The guests all cheered, and Chuck heard the merry clinking of glass all around him. Lillian had her eyes on his face, but Chuck couldn’t bear to look at her until he could pull himself together. But as he watched Tanner take a long pull on the soda, something cold and dark unfurled in his chest.

  Chuck turned to Lillian, not quite meeting her gaze. “I need to get going.” He wished his tone weren’t so flat.

  Lillian’s forehead crinkled. “Now? They’re setting off leftover fireworks for the kids in just a little bit, and—”

  “I’m sorry, Lilly, I need to go.”

  He turned to her mom, barely able to hear over the buzzing in his head. “Thank you for having me, Sheila. I need to get going.”

  Sheila, watching her husband, was too wrapped up in the moment to do more than nod absentmindedly.

  Chuck turned to Lillian and cupped her face in his hands, hating himself. He brushed a chaste kiss to her lips. “You can stay. I don’t want to ruin your night. Something, uh, something came up.”

  “No, I’m coming with you.”

  Lillian handed the baby back to its mother, and said good-bye to the women close enough to hear. She hustled to keep pace with Chuck, reached for his hand.

  Could she feel the tremble running through him? Chuck led them away from the crowd gathering close to Wade and his sons and toward a side gate. His heart beat a frantic staccato, despe
rately urging his not-fast-enough gait to get him out of there.

  Just a few seconds longer, and he could breathe.

  Another yard, and he’d be at the gate.

  One step more, and his hand—

  “Lillian! Chuck! Wait,” Wade’s booming voice stopped them just as Chuck grasped the handle.

  Lord, please. I’m begging You. Please not here.

  But Wade was right behind him. Lillian’s hand tugged his as she turned back. Chuck’s shoulders dropped, and he rotated slowly on his heel, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

  Wade had his arms around both sons, red face beaming. “Lillian, meet your other brother, Tanner.”

  “Hey, Tanner,” her voice shook, and something squeezed in Chuck’s chest. She had no idea what was wrong. But surely she could feel his sweaty palm, the tremor in his hand. She glanced up at him, eyes painted with confusion.

  “Tanner,” Wade continued. Jovial. Clueless. “This is your sister, Lillian, and her boyfriend, Chuck…uh...Chuck…”

  Chuck took a deep breath and pulled his hand free from Lillian’s grip. He reached out, teeth bared in a sarcastic smile. “Chuck Davis.”

  Tanner accepted Chuck’s hand, a flutter of hesitant recognition working through his hallow features.

  Chuck held his grip. “I’m Charles Edgar Davis’ son.” He waited.

  Luke cursed. Wade blanched.

  Tanner’s pupils pulsed. The blood drained from his face. He dropped Chuck’s hand as if it were a hot coal.

  Chapter Forty

  Lillian’s shoulders shook violently, made worse by the heavy vibrations of the truck as Chuck peeled out of the neighborhood. She fell into the door as he turned, then righted herself again. She clasped her hands together and tucked her elbows into her ribs to make the shaking stop while glancing furtively at Chuck. Passing headlights worked up and over his face, revealing the hard lines carved in the stone mask he wore. Darkness fell on them again, and the silence opened something raw and terrifying between them.

  “Chuck, I didn’t know.”

  “I know.”

  She released an arm to tentatively reach out and run her trembling fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He remained stiff, wooden.

  “Are you okay?” She winced. What a stupid question.

  Silence.

  “Do you think it would help to talk—”

  He reached for the radio dial and offered her a brief glance. The corners of his mouth lifted, but barely. “I just need to think.”

  He turned up the volume. The station was playing Rivers and Roads. The Head and the Heart’s haunting melody swirled around them in the rumbling cab of the truck. Lillian looked across the bench, once again clenching her arms to her sides. How she longed to scoot close, as she’d done so many times in the last few weeks, and get him to smile at her.

  She hunched down in her seat, ashamed of the need to connect with him. She could only imagine what he was feeling. Knew the battle within his soul to forgive the man who was responsible for the accident that killed his father. How could either of them have guessed that he would be at the BBQ that night? Or—worse—that Lillian was connected to him?

  Oh, Lord. I don’t understand what you’re doing. Please show us. Show him.

  They drove the rest of the way home in stifling silence. Chuck parked the truck, and they walked through the empty garage, the only sound the echo of their flip-flops and sandals slapping against the pavement. They trudged the stairs side by side.

  Chuck waited while Lillian unlocked her door. She hoped he couldn’t see the trembling of her hands. But she missed the lock twice, and Chuck finally reached around to cup her hand in his. She nearly melted with relief at his touch, brief though it was. Together, they turned the key. His hand fell away and she felt it, the end of what they had been. The familiar prison of loneliness and inadequacy she’d been trapped in when they’d first met was closing around her once more.

  At the threshold, she turned to look up at him, clutching her purse against her stomach. Chuck’s gaze was fixed on her sandals, his hands pressed against the insides of the doorframe. At last he looked up, cobalt eyes empty.

  “I just need to process this Lilly. It’s going to be okay.”

  She couldn’t believe him. Shouldn’t. Still, she nodded.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he whispered.

  Her breath quickened when he leaned forward, arms still braced against the frame. He brushed a kiss to her lips. Her chin trembled, longing to hold tight to him, to warm his cold lips with hers. Be a balm to his grief. Instead, she gripped her purse in front of her, holding herself back. But barely.

  His kiss was dry, placid. He pulled away to look into her eyes, his as dark as coal until, suddenly, a spark ignited them. They flashed with fire as he suddenly dropped his hands and stepped close. He seized her waist, pulling her up onto her toes and against his chest. His lips—now deliciously warm and achingly soft—slanted over hers, hungry, desperate. Keys crashed to the floor. Her purse landed with a thud. Lillian’s arms slipped up his sides and wrapped around his back, fisting his t-shirt in her hands. Tears rolled from her cheeks, seasoning the kiss with desperation. His stubble scratched her chin, rough and unrelenting.

  Chuck released her, but only to guide her out of the doorway and further into the apartment. He turned to close the door gently, locking it. He faced her again, reached to cup her face in his hands, fingers sliding back to support the base of her skull. Lillian closed her eyes as the pads of his thumbs gently wiped at her tears. He brushed moist lips where the tears had been, then moved on to her temple, earlobe, the pulse at her neck.

  “Lilly…” The husky baritone vibrated against her throat, stirring a dangerous quake in her belly—a grave hunger. One she’d experienced before, but never like this. Not with Chuck.

  It’s just a kiss…

  She gripped his belt above each hip bone, heart barred against the knock of warning hammering against it. Chuck moved fingers down her neck and shoulders to her arms, leaving a trail of fiery goosebumps in their wake. He gently lifted her hands, set them at the back of his neck. His strong arms circled her waist, lifted her from the ground, and carried her into her room.

  Her conscience buzzed of impending danger. Surely, so did his. There was a difference in these kisses. Reason and want wrangled and pulled in opposite directions, leaving their hearts stretched taut between them. And yet, she couldn’t stop holding him, kissing him, willing this moment to make everything right. But, of course, it wouldn’t.

  Couldn’t.

  The black warning crouched in every shadow of the room as he set her on the bed. She lay on her side, and he followed, stretching out beside her. Kisses they knew better than to share in such a tempting place grew more heated beneath the cool slats of silver falling across them.

  She ran her hand along his arm, inside the sleeve of his t-shirt, appreciating the cut of muscle under his skin. The hand at her back inched around the curve of her hip. Danced with the hem of her tank top, fingers flirting—just a brush—with the tender skin around her belly button.

  Flames seared through the steel door she’d placed over her virtue. Stop. A quiet whisper worked through her heart, finally louder than the roaring of her ears. If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to. Stop. Stop now. St—

  “Stop, Chuck.” She pushed against his chest. He stilled. “We have to…stop.”

  Their breath puffed between them, ragged and reckless. Lillian dared to lift her gaze past his chin and into his eyes. Chuck’s face was ashen, even in the pale blue slants of moonlight falling across the bed. She couldn’t bear it and looked down at their entwined legs.

  She scrambled away and sat upright, drawing her knees against her chest, nose buried between them. What would he think of her now? The only sound in the stillness that followed was the hammering beat of shame as their hearts slowed their foolish pace. Lillian covered the top of her head with her hands. The base of her throat swelled as i
f she’d swallowed a hot rock. Lord, God, how could I? After all You’ve done to wash away my shame…

  How many minutes ticked by before he sat up as well? Before the whisper of his shorts against her comforter preceded the brush of his arm against hers? Before his whisper tripped over her name, unsure and weighted with regret? “Lillian, I’m so sorry.”

  She couldn’t answer, couldn’t face him. It’s not your fault, she longed to answer. It’s mine. But the rock wouldn’t dislodge for her to reassure him.

  “Lilly?” Fear was the underscore in his tone now. She needed to shake herself free of the paralyzing grip of regret and shame. She lifted her head, thrust the heel of a closed fist against her forehead.

  “Chuck,” she squeaked. Cleared her throat. Tried again. “It’s not your fault.” A sob choked her, strangling the next words. “It’s mine.”

  His hand was on her back. “No, love. No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have shut the door when I…I shouldn’t’ve brought you in here. After tonight I just wanted…needed to…wanted you, and…” His baritone voice slipped to bass as it drifted away on a heavy sigh.

  She looked at him finally, heaviness pressing down on her at the look of anguish on his face. The stubble on his cheek scratched her palm before she realized that she’d reached out to caress it. Chuck closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

  “No, Chuck. It’s me. I’m the one with the history. I’m the weak one here.”

  His features twisted, eyes still closed tight. “No, Lilly,” he leaned forward and buried his nose into her hair, lips dangerously close to her neck. She stiffened, the heat of their careless moments still prickling fire and ice through her veins. One touch from him could spiral her back into the flames.

  “Chuck, you need to go,” she whispered, swirling into the ice. Drowning in it. “If you don’t, I won’t be able to…stop…you need to go.”

  Chuck pulled back slowly, eyes eating up her features. A mask of resignation lowered into place. He nodded slowly, Adam’s apple bopping. She stayed rooted to the bed as he rose and walked slowly, but deliberately, out of her apartment, pulling the door shut behind him. The snap of the latch jolted through her. Foreboding that had bloomed earlier now snaked through her, black and menacing. Her prison locked into place around her. There was no hope for release.