Paradox (Pearson Sisters Series Book 1)

by C. A. Harms

  For the next few hours, I gather all the strength I have inside of me, and I avoid going near Janelle. Every time I feel the urge to look in her direction, I take another drink order. When that doesn’t work, I busy myself with menial chores instead, wiping bar tops, polishing glasses, anything that keeps me from relishing in the gorgeous beauty of Janelle.

  She deserves more than I can give her.

  I already know what will happen if I let things continue between us. We’ll start something, get lost in the joy of each another’s company. Late nights, midmorning rendezvous, and the excitement that is in the beginnings of any relationship. Even though she says she won’t feel dismissed by my lack of time, she eventually will. She’ll grow tired of all the times she wants to go out, and I can’t. She’ll get sick of me only being able to give her a few hours here or there, and we’ll end faster than we started.

  It’s better if I call it quits now, before we end up truly hating one another in the end.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Janelle

  “Shouldn’t we say goodbye?” I linger near the door, looking back to the bar where Shane remains busy. “I feel bad just leaving.”

  “Why?” Janie has been trying to get me to leave for the last couple of hours. “He hasn’t spoken to you, much less glanced in your direction since he went back to work after his mini break.”

  “He’s been busy.”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it helps.” Normally, I can handle Janie and her truthful words, it’s actually a quality I’ve also admired, but tonight I hate it. “That man is bipolar or something.”

  I wait, hoping that he’ll glance in my direction. I ignore her excessive ramble of being a doormat and no man being worth the headache. At one point, I swear to it, he looks up, but it happens so fast before he gathers the next round of drinks as if I’m not standing there watching him.

  With a heavy heart, I place my hand on the door and push it open, giving one more hopeful glance in the direction of the bar. Still nothing, and I wonder if Janie isn’t right; maybe I let my heart get in the way of what is and has been in plain sight since the day I met him.

  Shane is unattainable, and I should just be thankful things haven’t gone further than they already have.

  Janie drops me off at home before heading home herself. The ride is quiet, and I think she understands that I don’t want to talk about it. Ignoring it feels better, at least for now.

  I sit up, only the light from above my sink in the kitchen giving a soft glow through the living room. I’m hopelessly staring out the front window, sipping on a beer that has long ago grown warm and flat. It is tasteless really.

  It is just barely after four in the morning when the lights of a big truck flash through my front window. Suddenly becoming more alert, I watch, feeling my heart race as the truck turns into Shane’s driveway. I wait, feeling a sense of hope when I see him glance over toward my house. He pauses in his driveway, looking from my house to his own before letting his shoulders and head sag forward almost in a sign of defeat. I wonder what he’s thinking.

  Then he begins to walk away in the direction of his front door, and I feel like a weight is pressing on my chest, making it difficult to breathe evenly. Remaining on my couch, still holding my beer in my hands, I stare out the window, my mind running off with so many different scenarios.

  I hate feeling this way. I hate the unknown. Things seemed great earlier, something was building, and now…I don’t know what happened.

  Placing the beer on the coffee table, I lay back and pull my blanket over my body. For what feels like hours, I go over everything from the second I entered the bar and still come up empty. There is nothing that explains the change in him.

  Maybe I read it all wrong?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shane

  I walk into Evergreen Estates at a little after six a.m. I’m feeling sluggish due to lack of sleep and the fact that I’m wound so tight with need and want it’s crippling. It took everything I had not to go to Janelle the instant I climbed out of my truck after getting home from work.

  Even this morning I felt a pull in the direction of her house the second I stepped out of my front door and glanced in that direction.

  It’s insane, I know it is, but damn it, I can’t seem to control it.

  I pass the front desk, and the familiar faces offer me smiles with a little wave here and there as I glide past them. Yet the deeper I get into the facility, the uneasier I become. The greetings grow gloomier; no longer am I being met with smiles that are genuine but now more forced.

  I spot Martha just outside my mother’s room, jotting something down in a file she holds in her hands. It’s almost like she feels me staring, and her head lifts, her eyes searching me out.

  That’s when I know that whatever took place last night wasn’t something minor.

  My feet begin to move fast, my hands shaking and emotions overflowing before I even know what is going on.

  “Shane.” The way she says my name hits me. Like she is offering me sympathy that I don’t want. I ignore her, pushing past her toward my mother’s room. I can hear Martha’s feet against the marble floor behind me, but I don’t stop.

  I pause when I find my mother’s room empty. As though I’ve just been hit with something hard and strong in my chest, my body feels weakened, and I sway on my feet.

  “Where is she?”

  “I tried to call you.” Spinning around, I find Martha with tears in her eyes, and my knees grow weaker as I wobble.

  “No.” I start to shake my head and feel my knees give out as I shuffle back to the bed and sit on the side to keep myself from falling to the floor.

  “No, no.” Martha rushes forward, dropping her clipboard to the floor. The loud bang of it as it hits echoes through the room. “Not that, honey. She was taken to the hospital about an hour ago.” I lock eyes with her, still unable to pull myself out of the instant dread I felt seconds ago. “Shane.” She says my name, forcing me to snap free and ensuring that I am hearing the words she speaks. “She had a stroke, and the doctor wants to run tests that he can’t run here.”

  I nod, though I’m still stuck on the word stroke.

  “They are worried about a brain bleed.” Again I nod, not fully comprehending the magnitude of what she is saying. I feel as though I am floating, having an out-of-body experience. Like I can see myself sitting there with Martha kneeling at my side but I can’t react.

  “My shift ended an hour ago, but I’d like to take you over to see her if I can?” The kindness in her eyes, the loving way she rubs my arm, seems to penetrate the fog, and I begin to stand from the bed.

  I allow her to guide me through the halls toward the exit. I walk alongside her as she leads me to her car, and I climb inside. She closes the door behind me, and I look up to see her walk around the front of her car before climbing in the driver’s side.

  As we drive to the hospital, she offers words of encouragement, and I nod when I need to, whisper okay when necessary, but none of it holds true to what I am feeling inside. I am falling apart, and I’m sure Martha knows it, too.

  I’m crumbling, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to do this all on my own. If I break, then who will my mother have?

  ***

  “I believe what has happened is your mother has suffered a stroke due to a small bleed.” I stare at my mother lying lifeless in a hospital bed and try my best to hear the doctor’s explanation for her current state, but it’s hard. “The cerebral edema caused swelling, which led to pressure on the brain tissue, leading to a reduction of blood flow.”

  Again I nod, still not understanding a word of what he’s saying. I’m alone in this, unsure of what I should ask, fearful of the answers I will be given. Unsure of my own strength and the inability to handle the truth, I remain silent. There is no one to lean on, no one to reassure me that things will be okay.

  Alone.

  After the doctor leaves and Martha too has gon
e home, I sit in the quietness of the room, with only the sounds of the machines to keep me company. I stare out the window to the sky above.

  I remember her vibrant laugh, the one I’d heard so many times growing up. As a young boy, I was always closer to my mother than I was ever to my father. A momma’s boy, I guess, but that’s okay. She took me everywhere, spent every moment she could creating memories and teaching me about life.

  My mother is the one responsible for the man I have become, not so much my current version, but the one prior to the hand we’ve been dealt.

  “Shane Miles Anderson.” The sound of my mother’s voice echoing through the dark backyard caused my body to freeze. “If you don’t get your hand off that young girl’s bottom, I swear I will beat yours right in front of her.”

  Vicky looked at me, her eyes widening in horror before hurrying out of my hold. She practically landed on her ass as she did her best to create as much distance between us as possible.

  I was fifteen, and Vicky was my first girlfriend, my first kiss. I was in that explorative phase, testing the boundaries, bowing the barriers.

  “I should go home.” Vicky’s voice vibrated with nervousness as she began to back away.

  When my mom reached us, she said her goodbyes to my girlfriend, and that’s all it took; Vicky was off like a rocket.

  Reaching out, she gripped my ear and gave it a little twist. “What have I told you about being respectful?”

  “I was…” My voice was whiny, but damn, that shit hurt.

  “Respect is not groping a young girl in your backyard while your parents are only a few hundred feet away. That is seedy, and I have half a mind to tie your hands behind your back and tape your mouth shut. Hormones raging…” She mumbled the last bit as she dragged me to the back door.

  I thought she was going to force me inside, but no, she stopped and guided me downward to sit on the back step. Then once I was seated, she took the space next to me and let out an exasperated breath.

  “You are so young, Shane, so curious I know, but still so very young.” It was that kind of talk, the one about waiting until I was in love and much older. Tell that to the constant boner I had; maybe he’d listen.

  “With sex comes a huge responsibility.”

  “Mom…” I hung my head, not wanting to relive this conversation for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Don’t you mom me. If you want to venture there, then you are going to listen to what I have to say.” I knew arguing was pointless. “I know what it feels like to want to be with someone, that pull inside of you that makes you say and do things you never thought you would.” Not something any son ever wants to hear from his mother. The idea of my mother feeling the things I felt was just wrong.

  “I was young once, Shane. Your mind gets all jumbled up, and your hormones overpower any rationality. But once you pass the point of no return, it changes you; it changes things between two people. The excitement soon wears off, and I’m not saying sex ruins a relationship, but if it happens between two people that are still not emotionally ready for such a step, it will. I don’t want you to be the boy running around banging every girl that will let you.”

  “Banging.” I wrinkled my nose. That word just sounded strange coming from my tiny, innocent-looking mother.

  “Whatever you call it, I don’t want it taking place. Do you want to be a teenage father? Because that will happen if you are not careful.”

  “I know what a condom is,” I said and instantly regretted it. Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hand to lightly smack the back of my head. “Ow,” I mumbled, though it didn’t truly hurt.

  “Condoms break,” she barked.

  “Okay, okay.” I held my hands up in a surrendering fashion. “I get it.”

  “Why don’t they make a contraceptive pill for men?” I don’t even attempt to inquire about her ramblings. We had reached that point of awkwardness when you just beg for it to end.

  A quietness settled over us, and I thought it was over until she spoke again. Only this time, her tone was much softer. “I want you to wait until you get older, and I know that I can’t stop you, I can’t watch over you to ensure you do, so please just listen to what I have to say.” She turned to me, her eyes glistening with tears, and I nodded. “One day you are going to meet a girl and you are going to fall so deeply in love that you won’t be able to take a step without thinking of her. You’ll want her to be by your side, to be the one person you turn to for all the good and the bad. You’ll feel like having her near completes you, and that may sound corny, but it’s true. I know the idea of you waiting until you find those feeling is a fantasy on my part, but please at least wait until you know that you and the girl you choose are completely ready to take that step.”

  “Okay.” This time I meant it. Seeing how emotional my mother had become would have had me agreeing to any request she made. I hated to see my mother sad or hurting in any way.

  “I love you, Shane.” She placed her arm over my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug.

  “I love you too, Ma.”

  Looking away from the window, I stare at my mother, remembering the many conversations we shared about love and relationships. There isn’t anything my mom was afraid of when it came to me. She taught me the birds and the bees; she taught me all the uncomfortable things you would think a father would teach a son. But like I said, my mother is my best friend.

  “God, I miss those days.” My voice is hoarse. Leaning over, I place my elbows on my knees and look at the ground near my feet. “I miss being able to come to you and ask you for advice. You always knew exactly what to say to make things feel like less of a mess. You gave me clarity, and right now, I need some so badly.”

  I bite my lower lip, feeling my emotions rising inside me.

  “I’m afraid to find that feeling you always talked about. I’m fearful that I will and then something will take it from me. Then what will I have?”

  I feel so raw, so empty.

  I want this ache to go away, and I want to feel something other than unbelievable sadness. I need to feel a spark, something that shows me that I’m still inside this mess of a man that I have become.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Janelle

  Stepping out of the shower, I dry my body and then wrap my thin housecoat around me. Allowing my damp hair to hang freely down my shoulders and back, I move toward the mirror and wipe away the fog to look at my reflection.

  All day, I’ve let my mind wander. I hate being this person, so wrapped up in a guy that I can’t seem to think about anything else. I barely know him, yet his thoughts of me, the impression he’s been given, it is all I can manage to worry about.

  Pushing off the vanity, I walk out into the hallway and toward the kitchen.

  I’ve had an entire day to do anything I want, but I spent it thinking of him instead. His house seemed deserted all day, and still at nearly ten p.m., it remains dark and almost eerie. I don’t want to think that maybe he is off somewhere with someone else telling them all the same things that he told me, yet my mind keeps doing that exact thing. If Janie or Jackie knew what I was doing, they would for sure take turns knocking some much-needed sense into me.

  Opening the fridge, I pull out a beer and pop the top. As I bring it to my lips, I hear the sound of a door slamming, and I freeze. Peering out the window over the sink, a rush of adrenaline courses through me when I see Shane climb out of his truck. He appears sluggish, moving in slow motion almost. Bracing himself on the frame of the door, it almost looks as though he takes in one big deep breath before pushing off.

  My heart rate spikes as he turns his body in my direction. Instead of walking to his own front door, he rounds the front of his truck and comes straight for mine.

  The adrenaline coursing through me changes to nervous energy that makes me feel a little woozy.

  I stand frozen, unable to move from the sink, and wait for the sound of him to knock, but it never comes. A strange silence settles
in, and it does absolutely nothing to ease my anxiety.

  I don’t know what possesses me, pure eagerness I am sure, but I place the beer on the counter and walk across the living room. Pulling back the curtain only enough to peek through the small window that overlooks my front porch, my hand shakes in the process. I can see his shoulder, his towering frame as he hovers near my door. Still there is no knock, no movement, really. I wonder what he is thinking; maybe he is questioning himself, wondering if he should turn back around.

  A big part of me wants to ignore him and go to bed, but I know sleep will never come as long as I know he is there.

  I’m met with a noise, not a knock, more like a slap on the opposite side of the door. Leaning in closer, I turn my ear toward the door and wait impatiently. Silence, just the sounds of my own breaths as I wait for his next move. A light scratching sound, or not so much a scratch but a brush maybe of his palm over the surface.

  My heart races, my stomach tenses, and just as I am about to pull the door open, I hear a light knock. Nervous energy soars through me as I contemplate my next move.

  Do I ignore him? Do I slip away and hide in the safety of my room until he leaves? After all, the last time I saw him, he was behind a bar ignoring the fact that only moments prior he’d been exploring my mouth with his tongue.

  Again there is a knock, only this time it’s a little louder.

  Standing tall, I take in a deep, calming breath, and then I lift my hand to the lock. I don’t miss the way my hands are trembling while I turn the lock and then move lower to the handle. Turning the knob, I focus on remaining calm until the second Shane comes into view.

  His arms are extended out, bracing the weight of his body on either side of the door frame. A towering dark figure hidden in the darkened entryway. His shoulders are slouching forward, his head hung. He appears tormented, lost in a sense.