Healed

by Tess Thompson

  He wore a pair of black jeans and a button-down shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. When he’d come by her room at the lodge to fetch her, his hair had still been damp and combed into obedient lines. By the time the antipasti arrived, those silky strands had dried and now fell over his forehead in rebellious waves. Occasionally he brushed the wayward locks aside with a quick flick of his wrist. However, other than to take a bite of food or to sip from his glass, his gaze never left her. Emboldened by this unfiltered adoration and attention, she chattered on, answering his questions and telling stories of her life.

  She told him of the summer she’d spent in Europe with her parents, recalling the apartment they’d rented in Paris and of high-speed trains to Italy, Spain, and Germany. She shared how the trip had changed her perspective and exposed her to art and history and awakened a deep love of historical fiction.

  Over the second glass of wine and the pasta course brought by the formal white-haired server with posture like a dancer, she told him the story of her short and unfortunate driving career. He doubled over with laughter as she described the terror on the instructor’s face when she hit the poor man. “I decided right then and there that driving was not for me.”

  “I could teach you. I taught my sister.”

  “I’d prefer to be driven, thank you very much.”

  That made him laugh again. “I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go.”

  Their server poured more wine into their glasses as they twisted the pasta around their forks and murmured with pleasure at the explosion of tomato and garlic on their tongues.

  “Tell me about New York,” he said. “I want to know everything.”

  She told him about the auditions, waitress gigs, her parts in the chorus of big productions, and of lean days of rice and beans with Lisa and Maggie.

  All the while, he listened and listened. She could almost hear him listening.

  And she loved it. She loved the feeling of being with this big, easy man. She basked in his attention and felt herself bursting open as if she were a flower too long in the dark. Her petals opened toward him, as though he was the sun.

  When the tiramisu arrived, she took one last sip of wine and watched him dig in with enthusiasm. The man could eat. He’d managed to eat his portion and half of hers. It made sense, given his size and the number of calories it must take to fuel those muscles.

  “What does a theater major study exactly?” he asked.

  She described the program to him in broad strokes: classes in vocal technique, dance, acting, audition preparations, and the more academic study of classic plays and history.

  Through it all, he nodded and asked intelligent questions. How did someone become an actress? Was it just talent or could a person learn? She told him about the Stanislavski method she’d studied at school. “The program strips away the layers of protection we develop over the years, breaks you wide open so that you tap into what it felt like when you were a child, before you learned to hide your weakness and pain. Once you tap into your own truths, you use them to convey the emotional life of the fictional characters you play.”

  “It sounds awful.” His brow furrowed as he dipped into a creamy layer of tiramisu. He held his spoon midair. A droplet of cream spilled onto the table. “In a strange way, it’s like the Marines. During training, you’re stripped of everything, tested physically and mentally to the brink of exhaustion. By the time you’re through, you’re fully indoctrinated into the fold. They made sure we were ready for combat and that we knew how to have one another’s backs.”

  “What was your job?”

  “I was an amphibious assault vehicle—AAV—operator. Give me any terrain in the world and I could drive over it.”

  The pride in his voice hit her right in the gut. She blinked away the sudden tears that gathered in her eyes. To hide her emotion, she took another sip of her wine. “What made you want to enlist?” she asked when she’d gained control.

  His face darkened in expression, like a shade snapped shut against the sun. He swiped the spilled cream from the table with his napkin. “It’s complicated. Growing up, we were poor. You may not have families like ours where you grew up, but we were those kids with the clothes that didn’t fit. We were scrawny because there was never enough to eat. A lot of times we didn’t have power because my dad drank up his paycheck. We went to school dirty and in clothes that hadn’t been washed for weeks. This will probably be hard to believe, considering how he is now, but Kyle was skinny and weak. Kids bullied him. They called him Pig because of the way he smelled. I’m sure they would’ve done the same to me, but I was always scrappy and tough. No one came near me. The minute I got big enough, I started kicking the ass of anyone who picked on Kyle. That evolved over time. I started protecting all the kids at school who got picked on, not just Kyle. The bullies backed down, and I loved it. I loved the powerful feeling it gave me, like nothing could break me. I could do something that mattered to other people, that made life easier for the innocent. I’ve always had this urge to fight. I don’t know if it was because of my childhood, or if I was just born this way. Then the Marines came to my high school and told me this craving I had to fight could actually be useful. I could serve my country and tame this beast that lived inside me at the same time. Marines are the first ones in, and we go in fighting. We root out evil and take it down.” He splayed his hands on the table and hung his head.

  “Do you still have the urge to fight?” she asked.

  The congenial expression returned to his face. “Nah. Ten years in active service cured me of that. I fought enough. I’m more interested in love now.” He grinned. She smiled back at him. His grin was infectious. Her mouth seemed destined to mirror his whenever she let the thing loose.

  “Were you ever scared?”

  “Sometimes, sure. But our training made us move without hesitation. A lot of times it wasn’t until later that I realized how close we were to death.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest and grinned. “There were some close calls. My buddies always said I had nine lives, like a cat. Trust me, some events I’d love to forget.”

  “Wouldn’t it be great if we could pick and choose our memories? Think of how free we’d be.”

  “One of the things they taught us in training was to always keep moving forward, no matter the obstacle.”

  “That’s a good philosophy,” she said. “But not always easy to do.”

  “For other people, maybe. But you’re tough, Pepper Shaker, with the heart of a Marine. I’m not worried. Whatever you want, you’ll get.”

  They shared another smile, and she felt as though she was in a club of two. Pepper and Stone against the world.

  She watched him eat the rest of the dessert, enjoying the way he relished each bite. “Did you ever think about going to college? Like after the military?”

  “Nope. Never occurred to me.” He shrugged and simultaneously raised one eyebrow. “It seems to me that unhappy people are often struggling to belong in a life not meant for them. The classroom is not for me.”

  “I can relate. I was a terrible student when I was young. Until I was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia, I could barely read.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  “But you’re an actress. Aren’t you all good at English class and deciphering poetry and stuff?”

  “I am now, but before they diagnosed me, everyone but my mother thought I was stupid.” She flinched, remembering her father’s reaction to her report cards.

  Stone pointed at her with his fork. “I would’ve pegged you for the smarty in the front of the class.”

  She snorted. “Even after I was successfully medicated, I wasn’t the smarty in front of the class. The only thing I’ve ever been good at is being a theater and dance geek. So you’re not the only one who hated school. I agree, sitting in a cubicle all day, stuck in a chair, would also be my personal hell.”

  “We have more in common than you thought.” His eyes seemed to dance i
n his rugged face.

  “Don’t look so smug. It’s very unappealing,” she said, laughing. “Anyway, it turned out that my problems led us to the best thing that ever happened. We went to see a respected pediatrician in the area. Dr. Mack. He diagnosed my learning problems and managed to get my mom to fall in love with him in one fell swoop.”

  “That sounds like a movie,” Stone said.

  “It kind of was. I fell for him big time, too. He started out as Dr. Mack and I kind of merged the D and the Ack into Dack. He’s the most romantic person in the world, like even worse than Lisa. He says he fell in love with my mother the first time he ever met her.”

  “If your mother’s anything like you, I’m not surprised.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Stone Hickman.”

  “Good to know.”

  She continued her story, despite the happy hum in her chest. “Unlike my real dad, Dack’s always been in the front row of everything with his recorder in his hand. The last time I saw my biological father, I asked him to come to my sophomore showcase at college. I trekked to his office and asked him right to his face, thinking there was no way he could refuse. He did.”

  “What was his excuse?”

  “He said he’d been to see me in the showcase the year before. I was shocked. I’d had no idea he’d even been there. He said, ‘I saw more than enough to know from last year’s horrendous performance that you’re as untalented as your mother.’”

  Stone gasped. “No.”

  She laughed at the shocked look on his face. “Yes. Dear old Dad’s quite the charmer.”

  “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. If he thought that would discourage me, he was dead wrong. It made me want to fight harder for my dreams. Not just to prove him wrong, but for my mother. When she had me, she had to give up on her acting career. My dad doesn’t marry the young actresses he seduces. His talents consist of making spectacular musical theater events and seducing young and naive actresses. My mom was just one of many. They met when she had a part in the chorus of one of his musical productions. She was the conquest of 1987, which subsequently resulted in me.”

  “The year of the Pepper. A great year.” He lifted his glass and tapped against hers.

  “When he found out she was pregnant, he turned the entire affair into a business deal.” Pepper patted her hands together in a gesture of efficiency. “Just like that he had us all packaged up into a monthly column on his expense ledger and sent off to live in the Hamptons. In exchange for discretion about the identity of her baby’s father, he gave her a nice allowance.” She took a sip of wine, thinking. “My mom doesn’t talk about that time much, but he broke her heart and killed her dreams. She’d come to New York from Minnesota at eighteen. At twenty years old, she was offered a role in what she assumed would be the catalyst for her career, and it ended up being the end of it. That said, she never once said she regretted having me. In fact, it was the opposite. She said my birth made everything that had come before trivial and meaningless. She always says I’m the best thing she ever did, which is kind of sad when you think about what a mess I make of things.”

  “That’s somewhat subjective,” he said, sounding both gruff and tender at the same time.

  “Maybe so, but I have high standards.”

  “It might help to cut yourself a little slack.”

  “By the time she was my age, my mom had a ten-year-old. I think about that sometimes and wonder if she’s ever resentful.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it.”

  “Things changed for us when Dack came along.” Her voice thickened with emotion.

  She picked up her wineglass and reclined in her chair, watching him set aside his dessert plate.

  “This has been a damn good first date, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “It’s been a wonderful first date.”

  “I can’t wait to get home and write about it in my journal.”

  “You don’t really have a journal?”

  Deadpan, he picked up his glass without taking his eyes from her face. “I totally do. Hello Kitty on the cover.”

  She burst out laughing. “Hello Kitty?”

  He continued with his poker-faced delivery. “I’m wounded. Just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean I can’t love that little white cat.”

  “I happen to love Hello Kitty. If you’re nice, I’ll show you my purse.”

  Finally, he broke character and laughed. “I’ve been looking for one of those.”

  “Had I known, I would’ve brought it on our trip.” She wiped her mouth and set her napkin aside as the server arrived with their check. For the first time, she noticed the place had emptied. They were the only table still occupied. “Have we kept you?” she asked the server.

  “Not at all,” he said with a gracious tilt of his head. “This is my place. We stay open until the last customers are satisfied.”

  “You’re Simon?” she asked.

  “That was my father. I’m Simon the second. It was my pleasure to serve you. It’s not every day I get to watch two people fall in love over my wife’s cooking.”

  Fall in love? She flushed and examined her nails.

  She reached for her purse, but Stone was way ahead of her. He slipped the waiter a card. “My treat. I asked you, remember?”

  Simon retreated with Stone’s card.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said.

  He held her gaze. “There will be a thousand more if I have my way.”

  Her breath caught. A thousand more. Was it possible they might have that?

  After Simon returned with their receipt and a plea to please come again while they were in town, Stone helped her into her jacket, zipping it up to her chin as he’d done earlier that day. While she pulled on her gloves, he put on his quilted navy-blue coat. Then they stood in the doorway of the restaurant, smiling at each other like two fools.

  “I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and came out with a white knit hat. “I noticed you didn’t have one, so I picked this up for you at the gift shop.”

  She touched the silky yarn with her fingertips. “Put it on me?”

  “Sure.” He slipped it on her head and tugged it over her ears. His fingers lingered by the side of her face. “Beautiful. The hat’s nice, too.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He broke away and opened the door for her and they exited to the sidewalk. Frigid air immediately froze the end of her nose. The fat flakes from earlier had thinned into flecks of ice. Under her feet, the sidewalks were slick. About six inches had accumulated since they’d first driven into town, but it appeared to have stopped.

  They set out toward the car. She walked with care, worried about slipping on the icy sidewalks. Other than her face, she was toasty in her down jacket, thick jeans, and tall boots.

  “It’s slick. Hold on to me.” Stone offered his arm and she took it, snuggling close to his side. Earlier, the street had been lined with cars, forcing them to park four blocks north of the restaurant. Now they took their time, stopping to gaze into dimly lit shop windows. The blanket of snow made the world quiet. Under the awning of a bookstore, Stone halted. He disengaged his arm from hers and turned to face her. For a long moment, he looked into her eyes until she looked away, shy under his scrutiny. He made her feel like a schoolgirl. A giggling hot mess of a girl.

  “I’ve had it bad for you since the moment I first set eyes on you,” he said. “Am I crazy to think I have a chance with you?”

  Her heart raced. She was grateful for the thickness of her jacket. No need for him to see how hard her little heart was working. She lifted her chin to look up at him. The lights from the display window gave her enough visibility to see the earnestness in his eyes. “Not crazy. Not at all.”

  He brushed her bottom lip with a gloved thumb. “Now that Pastor Jordan is home with his ovulating wife and cannot interrupt us a third time, should we kiss and see if I’m right?”

  “Right
about what?”

  “That we could light all of New York City with the electricity between us.”

  She was certain he was right, but she wasn’t about to suggest his theory go untested. “A science experiment, of sorts?”

  His mouth lifted in a slow, sexy smile. “I was never much for school, but this is the kind of science project I can get behind.”

  She laughed and buried her face in his chest, unexpectedly overcome with nerves. The slick material of his jacket was both yielding and cold.

  “This isn’t something I take lightly.” His voice had turned serious. “I’d walk the earth three times just to hold your hand, let alone kiss you.”

  Had anyone but Stone said it, she would have laughed. But he wasn’t like other men she knew or had known. He was utterly guileless and transparent—the opposite of the players she’d had the misfortune to fall for in her past.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and spoke huskily into her ear. “It’s been a while since I’ve kissed a woman, but I’m pretty sure it’s impossible with your face buried in my jacket.”

  She tilted her face upward so that he might kiss her.

  Kiss her he did, his mouth soft and warm and tasting of tiramisu and wine. She’d expected a tender kiss, but this was hard and demanding and awakened every nerve ending in her body. She put her hands in his glorious silky hair and kissed him back. Her breath caught when his arms tightened around her, and the kiss deepened, grew more urgent.

  When their mouths finally broke apart, he stroked the side of her face, then trailed his fingers over her mouth. “I guess I was wrong. That kiss would light both New York and Paris.”

  For the first time that night, she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “You scare the hell out of me, Pepper Griffin.”

  “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

  “I’m afraid of you,” he said softly. “Very much so. I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.”

  “If any heart gets broken, it’ll be mine.”

  He tugged her hat over her ears and kissed her nose. “No one will ever break your heart again if I have anything do with it.”