Anna's Secret

by Blossom Turner

  “Do you think your mama will let me take you to see your good friend Joey at the end of the hall? He was asking about you.”

  The child lifted her head long enough to plead. “Please, mama.”

  “Of course, honey.” She shifted her gaze to Matt. “But are you sure you have time in your busy schedule?”

  Matt nodded. “Go get yourself something to eat, Nancy. I have an hour, and you need a break.”

  She turned to leave, then spun around.

  “Dr. Carmichael …” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t know how to thank you. Without Isabella’s dad in the picture, it’s been a gift for her to have a father figure who cares.”

  He cupped the back of Isabella’s smooth head in his hand where her natural blonde curls used to bounce freely.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, Nancy. If only her father knew what he was missing,” Matt shook his head.

  “Yeah, if only he knew.” A wistful tone filled Nancy’s voice.

  Four days later, Anna hugged both her sons goodbye.

  “Drive carefully,” she reminded them for the umpteenth time. “And let me know when you get to Victoria safe and sound.”

  “Yes, Mom. We always do.” They waved off her concern and jumped into the vehicle.

  She closed the front door only after they drove out of sight, despite the chill in the air. The clouds fit her mood. Dark. Gloomy. Low.

  “What now?” Her words echoed down the empty hall. Silence hemmed in around her, restrictive and depressing. She pulled the band from her hair and kneaded her scalp aching from the weighty ponytail. Determined to put on a good front for the kids so they would return to University without worrying, she had forced herself to rise each day, do her hair and makeup, and make a healthy breakfast. Glad the façade was over, she sank into the nearby couch and curled into the fetal position. She prayed she would fall asleep and never wake up.

  A solid rap on the front door caused her to spring to her feet. She flipped the hair out of her eyes and smoothed a hand over the riotous mess before swinging the door open. A blast of winter air whipped in, but Anna froze.

  “Dr. Carmichael. I mean Matt,” she corrected. “What—?”

  “I think I left my gloves here the other day.”

  “Come in. It’s freezing out there.” She closed the door behind him.

  Matt rubbed his hands together. “Old man winter is grumpy today, and my hands feel like ice.”

  Anna’s hands flew to her hair where she tried to smooth the waves that sprang free.

  “I’ve never seen your hair down.”

  “I don’t … well, it just isn’t practical.” She moved toward the couch, looking up and down for the band she had so carelessly discarded. Unable to find it, she smoothed her hands over the curls.

  “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I meant it as a compliment … you have beautiful hair.”

  A flush of heat worked its way from her neck to her hairline. It had been years since she’d heard a compliment, and she had no idea how to respond. “Um … your gloves. No, I don’t think I found any.”

  “Hmmm, I must’ve left them elsewhere. But since I’m here, how about a coffee? I’ll even make it.” He didn’t wait for an answer but walked to the kitchen and went straight to her coffee cupboard.

  “How in the world do you know where I keep my coffee?” One brow arched skyward.

  “Your sister gave me the task of making coffee the other day, and I don’t forget much. You’d be surprised at the random paraphernalia that clutters my brain.”

  “Well, then, where are your gloves?”

  He smiled broadly. “Okay, you got me. I had to make some excuse to drop by and check on you.”

  “Seriously?” With her hands on her hips, she gave a stern look before breaking into a smile.

  “Forgive my white lie, but I was worried about you. It’s what friends do.” He scooped coffee into the maker, poured in the water, and pushed the button. Crossing the kitchen, he plopped down onto the stool.

  He gestured at the seat opposite him. “Come, have coffee with me, and I’ll be on my way. I promise not to be a bother.”

  “You’re one bossy friend, Matthew Carmichael,” she said as she slid onto the barstool.

  “Well, at least I’m in the friend category.” A twinkle sparkled in his eyes. “Things are looking up.”

  “Big surprise. I saw you more often than any of my other friends this past year.”

  “I know.” His voice gentled as he shook his head, “Tough year … well, years actually.”

  Unable to go down the cancer road, she immediately changed the subject. “My boys headed back to University a few hours ago.

  “UBC or UVIC”

  “UVIC. It’ll be a long day. They’re hoping to catch the six o’clock ferry over to the Island. I hate them traveling over that highway this time of year. The weather can be so iffy.”

  “They’ll be fine. They have each other.” A reassuring smile spread across his face. “What year are they in?”

  Does he worry about everyone like this …?

  “Anna?”

  She looked up, not sure what his last question had been. Her mind had definitely been elsewhere.

  “Sorry. My concentration is gone these days.”

  Matt gave her a sympathetic smile. “What year are your sons in?”

  “Mark’s in his third year of Business, and Jason’s in his first year. He wants to be a teacher.”

  “Oh, that’s a great—”

  “Why are you worried about me, Matt?” She interrupted, unable to manage small talk. “Are you always so concerned about your patients and their families?”

  He placed an elbow on the granite island and rested his chin in his hand. Pressing a thumb to his lips, he was slow to answer. “Only those I consider close friends.” He lifted his head and looked squarely into her eyes. A smile caused the dimple on his right cheek to sprout.

  My, he’s handsome. Why have I never noticed that dimple before? That strong jaw, and those eyes that smolder like blue flames … I’m staring like a schoolgirl with a crush. She rose, thankful for the diversion of gathering mugs, cream, and sugar.

  Warmth knotted in her stomach as she caught his stare. His intense look drew her gaze, and a few unguarded seconds filled the silence. Something undefined simmered between them.

  With effort, she turned back to the coffee. A slight tremor in her hand rattled the pot against the lip of the mug as she poured. She inhaled and slowly let the air flow free in effort to still the uptick of her heart. “Ahhh, I do love that smell. Don’t you?” Glad the roasted beans made for easy conversation, she averted his stare.

  “Me too. It’s that kick for many a long day.”

  Like the tendrils of steam lazily wafting into oblivion, she allowed the awkward moment to dissipate. Steven came to mind, and sadness permeated her again.

  “Do you take cream and sugar?” Her voice dropped a notch as heaviness settled on her heart.

  “Nope, straight up.”

  When she headed his way with two mugs, his expression held only warmth and friendship. Her stiff shoulders relaxed as she eased back onto the stool. A comfortable silence filled the room as she clutched the brew with both hands and lifted the cup to her lips. The rich, full-bodied taste did not disappoint.

  “Anna, how are you really?” His voice grew soft and gentle.

  She set her mug down with a thud. A splash of hot liquid landed on her hand, but she barely noticed.

  “I hate that question, Matt. It’s everyone’s go-to question these days. How am I supposed to answer that?”

  “Give me the truth.”

  Anna lifted her gaze. His eyes radiated genuine care. The door of her heart creaked open.

  Matt wouldn’t let go. “You
must miss him a lot?”

  She looked away, ashamed of the truth.

  “Honestly, Matt … I hurt for so many years before his death. Now when it’s time to receive sympathy as a grieving widow, I feel like a fraud.”

  He reached across the island and touched her hand, then immediately pulled back. “How so?”

  “It’s so hard to explain. As much as we loved each other, that illness drove a wedge between us. We became everything but husband and wife. Sadly, even our friendship waned as he slept hours and seemed far more content with the company of the television than me.”

  Matt nodded. “I’ve heard this happens. It doesn’t mean you loved him less; it just means you loved differently. Long term care alters relationships.”

  She let out a sigh. “I grieve more for what should’ve been, than what I lost … that grief was done years ago. I feel guilty just thinking about it.”

  “Anna, you and Steven were one of the most loving examples I’ve ever witnessed, and over such an incredible long haul.”

  “But you don’t know what I did to survive. The choice to feel nothing was safer than the perpetual emotional upheaval. I put up walls … I fulfilled my duty … I loved but from a safe distance. In the end, we were almost strangers.” Her voice faded to a whisper. The heat of a blush worked its way from her throat to her hairline. Why did I speak so freely?

  Matt remained quiet for a moment, then rose slowly. “As your friend, may I suggest a colleague of mine who comes highly recommended?” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a card and slid it across the counter. “It’s one of the reasons I stopped by. I thought maybe you’d need someone to talk to. She is offering her services at no charge for as long as you need.”

  “What?” She stared at the card. “Why free?”

  “Her sister was really sick, and I—it doesn’t matter. We’re friends, and all you need to know is that her name is Susan Jenkins and she’s at the top of her profession. Grief counseling is her specialty.”

  Anna couldn’t believe his kindness.

  “I’ll go now. But promise me you’ll see Susan?” He slipped on his coat. “Promise.”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, and I’ll leave my cell number.” He walked back to the counter, pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, and slipped the card from her fingers. In a bold scrawl, he penned out his name and number. “Just in case you need a friend. And I mean that.” He held her gaze.

  Anna could feel a palpable intensity. She glanced away to ease the sensation his piercing blue eyes created in the pit of her stomach. One look at the card and a smile broke through. “I see you live up to a doctor’s standard. Your handwriting is atrocious.”

  He smiled, stamping that beautiful dimple back into place. “Yep and proud of it!” He sauntered to the door and closed it behind him.

  Why am I noticing details … things I’ve never seen before … like the breadth of his wide shoulders? The sound of his rich baritone laughter … something this old house has not heard in a long time.

  Anna walked to the window within the safety of the shadows, and watched him drive away. There was a part of her that was sad to see him go. She enjoyed his visit, maybe a little too much. The sound of his deep voice echoed in her ears.

  Thoughts of Steven pushed in, and guilt surged. I shouldn’t be thinking of Matt that way, I just buried my husband, for heaven’s sake.

  Matt needed a wheel chair on the fifth floor and never waited for an orderly to do what he could do himself. He grabbed the extra one on floor two and made his way down the hall to the elevators. He felt the vibration of his phone yet again and slipped his hand into his pocket to pull it free. With a glance down, he almost ran into a colleague.

  “Hey, Carmichael … no texting while you drive.”

  Matt looked up and laughed. “Sorry, buddy.”

  “You can buy me a cold one after work as an apology.” They laughed in passing.

  Not at all surprised to see yet another message from Tamara, he regretted the day he gave her his private number.

  Why won’t she take no for an answer? And when will my obvious lack of interest get through? Try as he might, he could never go back to the way things had been with her. It took no more than a fleeting thought of Anna to reinforce the difference of what had been to what he now longed for.

  He hit the elevator button with a bang of his fist as an all too familiar hunger cut through.

  Idiot. What kind of fool offers friendship when …? He refused to let his mind formulate words.

  Anna’s too fragile. She needs time to grieve and I need to stay away.

  Besides, I’ve spent my life away from the entanglement of emotion. My parents cured me of that.

  All his self-talk did little to convince his heart. An ache settled in.

  Anna flipped through a stack of funeral bills and slammed them down on the counter. They scattered and some fell to the floor. How am I going to pay for these? I’m going to have to endure the embarrassment of asking Steven’s parents yet again. She sighed, stooped over and picked up the mail. She knew she should be thankful for their generosity but at the same time struggled with disappointment. Could thankfulness and anger toward God coexist?

  Anna plunked herself down at the computer determined to draft up a résumé, but what did she have to offer? She snapped her laptop closed and stared off into space.

  The only good thing she had accomplished in the past month was to visit the therapist Matt had suggested.

  The thought of him brought a peculiar disappointment, one she dared not dissect. She slid the card with his phone number across the counter and picked it up once more. She had not given into the urge to call, but his absence in the past weeks had unsettled her.

  What a fool to buy into the notion of friendship. He has better things to do and was only being kind.

  Anna tried to pray, determined to put the good-looking doctor and her worries to rest, but she felt like her words bounced off the ceiling right back to her. Giant tears rolled down her cheeks.

  The doorbell broke through her abysmal gloom. She brushed the wet from her cheeks and forced herself off the stool. If it was another casserole from the church ladies, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to nod her way through their platitudes and hear yet another, “God knows best,” or “it’s so good Steven’s suffering is over.”

  What about her suffering? Macaroni and cheese casseroles did nothing to address that.

  Or worse yet, it could be her twin sister, Lana. It was getting harder and harder to listen to her preach about the need to eat properly and return to the world instead of live in isolation. What did Lana and her charmed life know about misery anyway? How could she possibly relate with her high-paying job, perfect husband, and awesome kids?

  Anna pasted on a cardboard smile and opened the door. “Matt! Oh, I’m so glad it’s you. As nice as it is to have people care, I can only eat so many casseroles. I dreaded having to feign thankfulness for yet another one.” She attempted a chuckle, but it fell flat.

  “Can I come in?”

  She waved him in. “Sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners. I’ve been less than hospitable lately.”

  “Your sister called me and is concerned about you.” A frown puckered his brow. “You don’t look like you’ve eaten any of those casseroles. Have you lost more weight?”

  Anna bit at her lower lip. “It’s all the jogging. Your friend, Dr. Jenkins, told me that people do more of what they always did to combat stress. For me, it’s always been running. So, I run.”

  As he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him short. “And I don’t need another lecture on exercising too much. Lana has already given me that one, just yesterday in fact.” Both hands flew into the air. “And she has no right calling you, either.

  “Besides, Dr. Jenkins assured me that I’d work my way through this phase
and suggested I eat more … trouble is, I have no appetite.” Her sentences ran together in rapid succession as she tried to make light of the situation. “Most of the ladies at church tell me they’d love to have my energy and not have to work off extra pounds. They call me the ‘Energizer Bunny.’” Her forced laugh sounded phony even to her ears.

  He didn’t laugh, or even smile. Instead, concern deepened the furrows on his forehead.

  “Have you had supper?”

  “No, but I went for a run.”

  “Anna, your health is not something to joke about.”

  She turned from his intense stare.

  “What does it matter? You don’t have time to worry about every widow that comes your way.” Embarrassed that her thoughts of the past month tumbled out, she turned and headed for the kitchen. She felt a headache press in. Her fingers massaged both temples.

  She needed a diversion. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Anna, I’ve been a part of your family’s life for years now.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gently turned her back to face him. “That’s why your sister thought to call me. She’s worried about you.

  “And you’re right. I don’t have the time I would like to spend with everyone. I wish I did. But with you … it’s different. Right from the beginning, both you and Steven became more. His tone gentled. “I … I care. It’s why I’m here.”

  His kind words drew her gaze from the floor. Genuine compassion flowed from his startling blue eyes.

  He warmed her with a smile, which set the dimple on his cheek in place and accented his all too handsome features. Anna took in every detail. The strength of his six-foot-plus frame, the chisel of his well-defined facial features, the way his wide shoulders tapered—to perfection. Awareness coursed through the look that passed between them far outside the boundaries of friendship.

  He touched her arm tenderly. Heat seared through straight to the bone. A current of raw emotion she hadn’t felt in a very long time rippled up her spine. Her breath caught, and she forgot to breathe.

  Their eyes locked. Unable to face the intensity, she blinked and stepped back. The dishcloth seized her focus as she wiped at an imaginary stain on the unused counter.