Love Hurts

by J. J. Keller

Justin set one foot on top of the other making the light flash.

  “And who is this miniature man?” Beck queried. His knees crackled as he crouched.

  Anger rifled through her. Beck, a drug inundated ex-military officer, at first glance might not recognize his son, but he’d been staring for over a minute. Now he lowered to be nose to nose with his mini-me. He’d surely identify an image of his own face. Beck’s questioning gaze made contact with hers. She snapped her teeth together. The click of enamel hitting enamel vibrated through her eardrums.

  Justin slid behind her leg.

  “Beck, you remember meeting Shania’s son, Justin, before.” Too Many tugged on Beck’s arm. He hadn’t met Justin. Was Too Many providing a reason to excuse Beck’s ignorance?

  A confused expression rippled over his eyes. He glanced at Justin and frowned. “Sorry, I guess not.”

  Shania pulled Justin to stand in front of her, between her legs. “Justin, I’d like you to meet friends of Mommy’s, Beck Longview and Tom Moran. Beck and Tom, this is my son, Justin Miller. Soon to be Justin Hardwick.”

  The lie came swiftly to her lips. She justified her statement telling herself that if Morgan would fall in love with her, he’d marry her and adopt Justin.

  Beck jerked as if punched in the face. Too Many snickered, possibly to make Beck feel better or because he recognized her sinful motive. Her good sense had apparently remained in Briarwood and her evil-irrational-self stood in front of, and antagonized, the sperm donor for her child. She wanted Beck to regret denying her and her son. At the very least he could acknowledge their past.

  Suspicion set in and being a wicked woman she questioned why they’d come to Cyan. Neither Beck nor Too Many were from the area. Both of their families lived in the outer privileged region of Briarwood. “Why are you in Cyan?”

  “I’m dating…a woman from Cyan. We’re here for the weekend.” Too Many shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped side to side. “Not Beck, he’s going back to Briarwood tonight.”

  Too Many nodded to the gray-haired teller. “We needed some cash.”

  Shania’s glance shot to Beck. A tic vibrated in his jaw and his eyes narrowed. Was he irritated about Justin? Of the handful of times she’d seen Beck in the past year, he’d said no more than twenty words to her. What gave him the right to be angry? Her fear turned into rage, creating a fire in her belly and making her heart pound against her chest. Her knees weakened. She had to get out of there.

  Beck’s malevolence crept into her blood, freezing her lungs forcing tiny breaths instead of full-bodied puffs.

  Justin grabbed the edge of her fall jacket and gave a sharp tug. She hoisted him to rest on her hip. “I hope you have a nice weekend.”

  She forced her drooping shoulders upright, raised her chin a notch and strode forward. The sensor of the door picked up her emotionally chilled existence and opened. She carried her son into the future, leaving the past behind.

  * * * *

  Shania purchased a red rubber ball and a few other cosmetic items, and drove to the park. Despite the shining sun, the air was crisp and the play area had very few children. She tossed the orb to Justin and he kicked it a few times, making the monkey bars his soccer goal. He slid down the aluminum slide. She stood within reach in case he toppled.

  Justin ran out of energy around noon. She took him to a family-oriented restaurant where children were able to sit in artificial trucks or princess cars to eat a semi-healthy meal. Using the photo feature of her cellphone, she captured his bright smile as he turned the wheel of the pretend vehicle. Later she’d get it printed, and they could hang it beside his bed.

  En route to Morgan’s house, Justin quietly fell into a light sleep. She parked in the driveway and carried him into the house. After tucking him into the pullout bed, she retrieved her purchases from the car. Back inside she checked the front door to make sure it was locked. She got a bottle of water out of the fridge and leaving her coat on walked outside. A pair of Adirondack chairs with a table separating them had been placed near an oak tree at the pond’s edge. The wind cutting across the water’s surface chilled the air. Her fingers clasped the zipper to close her jacket. She moved the chair, allowing her to see the house and the lake.

  Her mind replayed the day she tried to tell Beck they’d had a son. Shania had left Justin with a neighbor and rushed to Beck’s side the minute he arrived at his parents’ house in Briarwood. Shivers ran across her skin as she recalled his blank stare. His overly bright eyes did not show emotion. He did not seem to recognize her, as if his vibrant outgoing personality had been sucked out.

  * * * *

  The Longviews’ family physician, Dr. Good, examined Beck. It was only Shania’s incredible timing allowed her to hear Dr. Good’s explanation about Beck’s condition. Otherwise, she would have been left out. Beck’s father, John, his mother, Tiffany, and his brother and sister were present. Although the family members were cordial, Shania feared being sent away so she kept quiet.

  “A textbook explanation is that Posttraumatic Stress Disorder--PTSD--is a disorder that can occur after you have been through a traumatic event. During this type of crisis, you think that your life or others’ lives are in danger. You may feel afraid or believe that you have no control over what is happening.” Dr. Good took a sip of his glass of water.

  “Because the human mind continues to be a mystery, recovery time cannot be determined. His recuperation is based on the intensity of the trauma. He can cope. We’ll get him treatment, and he can return to his everyday activities, work and relationships. However...” He glanced at Shania. She tightened her grip on the hard arm of the Queen Anne chair. Why did he look at her?

  “We’ll get a nurse, a physical therapist to take care of him.” Dr. Good glanced at each of them. “In order to recover he will need to avoid triggers that will cause flashbacks, but they can occur without any warning or provocation. Gunfire is the obvious. We’ll have to find out if other sights or sounds will cause a relapse.”

  Shania crossed her legs and tucked her hands under her arms as he pierced her with a black-eyed stare. “Hyperarousal is another symptom we want to avoid. Miss Miller, when or if you visit Beck you’ll need to be on guard to not cause him to become angry or irritable. He’ll have trouble concentrating and may act out.”

  She nodded. Why would he address her specifically? The good doctor had obviously been informed of Shania and her claim on Beck.

  “Dr. Good, I’ve read that people with Traumatic Brain Injury might not have positive or loving feelings toward people, especially from his past. He may forget parts of an earlier period because of the painful event. Is this true?” Mrs. Longview raised her tone at the end of the sentence, but her eyes never left Shania.

  “Yes, that’s true. Beck will have feelings of hopelessness and despair. Of course he’ll get consistent counseling, but family members should reassure him. Cognitive-behavioral therapy has proven to help. Generally, for PTSD, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing has recently been incorporated, but often we’ve found it’s not effective for military or combat related cases. Of course, antidepressants are valuable.” He finished his glass of water. “Do you have any questions?”

  As the queries were voiced Shania listened without comment. She was the interloper, an outsider.

  Beck’s mother dictated Shania could visit him for one hour the third Monday of each month. Mrs. Longview had more than likely anticipated that the six hours of driving time would deter Shania from seeing Beck. She hadn’t expected Shania’s determination and loyalty. She had made a promise to Beck before he left for Iraq and she’d honor it, although her emotions became turbulent and confused when he hadn’t recognized her.

  The first month, Beck had remained in silent stupor. She had kissed him and stayed the entire allotted time, holding his hand.

  The next month, he was in the solarium. She greeted him with a kiss.

  “Don’t,” Beck said.

  “What?”
/>   “Don’t put your mouth on mine,” he demanded.

  Hurt, she shook off the pain and glanced at his caregiver. Beck’s young nurse, dressed in jeans and a form fitting top, always hovered nearby.

  Shania showed Beck a recent photo of Justin she’d had taken a few weeks before at Memories, a Cyan photography studio.

  Beck gave her a blank eyed stare and returned his gaze to the nurse.

  “That’s not my son.” His robotic answer pierced her heart.

  Shania sniffed back the tears, packed her bag of mementoes, and left him. She’d failed. She couldn’t remind him or bring the love they once shared fresh to his mind. Downtrodden, she returned to Cyan.

  The following month she approached him with the intent to end their farce of an engagement. The maid showed her to the bright sun-filled conservatory. Beck’s usual daze seemed less invasive. He smiled, acting as though he was happy to see an old friend.

  She placed her bag beside his chair and kissed his thin cheek, as he preferred. His nurse wore a sexy white dress. Oddly enough, jealously didn’t wiggle into Shania’s system. She smiled and sat in the chair nearest Beck.

  “How are you today?”

  “Great. Feeling just great.” He watched the nurse bend to place an exercise mat on the floor.

  “Do you remember who I am?” Shania asked.

  “Of course. You’re a friend from my past.” He didn’t look at her.

  “No. Do you know how we’re connected, how we know each other?” She touched his arm.

  He glanced at her fingertips on his wrist and then into her eyes. “You’re Miss Miller from Cyan.”

  She hated that he called her Miss Miller.

  “Yes, you’re right, Beck.” She blinked back tears.

  He turned away. “Miss Miller?”

  “Yes, Beck,” she whispered. He glanced at her again, staring through her.

  “Before I forget, my mother said to ask you for the ring. Do you know what she’s talking about?” His unemotional tone matched his quick change from nurse-interest lust to cold lifeless eyes.

  She glanced at the engagement ring decorating her finger. Not once had she removed it, not even during the bloated days of her last month of pregnancy.

  Weights clanged together behind her. Beck’s physical therapy session followed her visit. She bowed her head and used the sleeve of her twin-set to wipe her eyes. Their time together had ended. A gripping pain squeezed her stomach, and her tongue felt swollen.

  The skimpily dressed nurse slithered in front of Beck, five pound weights clutched in her hand. Beck’s glance followed the woman.

  “Would you excuse us a moment?” Shania asked her.

  “I’m not to leave his side, especially when you visit.” A shadow of sympathy crossed over her dark eyes.

  How insulting. Yet again, validation that Mrs. Longview would never have accepted Shania into their family. “Please, today will be the last time I’ll ever see him.”

  She nodded, set the weights on the exercise mat and shuffled through the French doors to the outdoor garden. Beck continued to watch her beautiful sway.

  Shania dropped to the floor in front of his chair and placed her hands on his knees. “Beck.” Her voice came out throaty.

  His gaze shot to her face, his eyes searching hers. A memory had sparked, she was sure of it.

  “I do understand how your life seems out of your control. For the past three years I’ve experienced a similar condition as I waited for you and hoped you’d return to me.”

  “I’m here now.” He sounded like his old self.

  “Not just physically return to me, but mentally as well. I’d hoped we could become a family, you, Justin and me.” Her fingers shook as she removed the ring from her left hand and placed the insignificant token on his lap. “I know that’s never going to happen. You may never remember me, which makes me so very sad.”

  “I’m sorry,” came his cheerless reply.

  “Goodbye.” She broke the rule and kissed his cold lips. “Peace be with you.”

  * * * *

  Until today, that was the last time Shania had seen Beck Longview. The squawk of ducks grounded her into the present. Chilled, Shania shook off the memory. She grabbed her untouched bottle of water and reentered the house. With cold stiff fingers, she reached into her backpack, removed her books and settled onto the sofa. Today was a new day for her, and the past would remain lost. She had the love of a good man and a future with him.

  Justin woke from his nap. She arranged apple slices and peanut butter with a sippy-cup on a bed tray. He enjoyed the snack as he watched a Discovery Channel program about whales.

  Shania tried to focus on the marketing text, trying to commit the information to memory, with little success. Although business courses were an option, she wanted to know how to run her own art studio if the occasion would present itself. She looked as the kitchen door opened and Morgan stood in the afternoon light.

  * * * *

  Morgan removed his coat and hung it on the hall tree. He sucked in his stomach and walked forward, inches from her beautiful face.

  “How’s the studying going?” he whispered into her ear. Her scent excited him. He didn’t think he’d have the chance to smell, touch and love her. The mix of aromas of her womanly fragrance and the bottled perfume reminded him of last night and the awesome sex they’d shared. “You smell delicious.”

  “This text is mind-numbing, and thank you,” she replied and kissed his cheek.

  He threw his suit jacket over the back of the sofa, and then came around to sit beside her. She marked the page with her stack of notes. He glanced at the title, Sketching and Drawing: The First Steps for the Professional Artist by Monsieur François Barrett. The man was certainly an egoist, making his students buy his manuscript. Instant book sales for the professor. She placed the hardback on the sofa.

  Morgan wrapped his arm around her. He took her lips in a gentle kiss. She ignited, and he wanted to capitalize on her excitement. A moan escaped him as he drew in air. God, how he wanted her.

  “Daddy, play ball?” Justin stammered, touching Morgan’s knee with his small hand.

  Morgan broke the kiss and glanced at Justin. “Sure, buddy, I’ll change clothes and we’ll go outside. Maybe when we come in I’ll be able to eat whatever has that yummy smell?”

  He referred to the roast aroma coming from the kitchen, although the double entendre wasn’t missed by Shania. A beautiful color of red highlighted her strong cheekbones. Her fingers trembled as she smoothed tiny locks of hair behind her ear.

  Morgan gave her a light kiss. He rose from the sofa, grabbed Justin and tickled his sides. “Go put on your coat and gloves. Maybe your mom can get some bread crumbs, and we’ll feed those hungry geese.”

  “Do you have to work tonight?” Shania made her way into the kitchen.

  Morgan had modernized the cottage by removing walls and installing an updated kitchen. The new space was wider and with a woman’s touch it could be homey.

  “For a few hours, I need to leave at seven. I’ll try to be back around ten.” He lifted his jacket from the sofa, appreciating the sense of family created by Shania and Justin being with him. “My parents would like us to join them for dinner tomorrow night at their house. Will you go with me?”

  “Sure, I like your parents and love the warmth of their farm house.” She removed a few slices of bread, the heels and a few others from the end.

  Justin ran to her, holding the two pieces of his coat’s zipper together.

  “Great, I’ll let them know.” His parents couldn’t wait to welcome Shania and Justin into their family. Morgan ambled down the hallway to the master bedroom, singing a cheerful tune.

  He changed into jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt. Not wanting to work tonight, but obligated to do so, he ground his teeth together and laced his pair of work boots. After tonight he’d have enough to pay off Patty. Free of liability, his mind focused on the prize. Tomorrow he planned to ask Shania
to marry him in front of his loved ones. Tom Moran, his fraternity brother and best man, came to Cyan for the weekend to share in his happiness. Morgan had invited Shania’s parents, hoping to bridge the gap now that time had healed the wounds. One more night and Shania would be officially engaged to him.

  Excitement made his pulse rate increase as he reentered the family room to find her getting a sketch book from her portfolio. Justin waited by the French doors holding a red ball in his gloved hands. Sighting Morgan, he bounced up and down making his sneakers light. A few slices of bread lay on top of a paper towel on the brown, cream and black speckled counter top. He grabbed the bread, then unlocked the door.

  “You have an hour until dinner’s ready,” Shania said.

  Morgan glanced at the table set for three. One chair had a stack of thick business office catalogs and books on the seat. He’d need to get a booster seat for Justin. “Okay, honey.”

  “Okay, honey,” Justin piped.

  Morgan threw open the door and the energetic kid ran into the yard. The squawking and barking of the geese scared Justin at first. Morgan showed him how to tear off a piece of the square bread and toss it as hard as he could to the center for the flock. Feathers flew, beaks clashed and the harsh cries continued. A few more morsels sailed through the air and a scurry of pecking commenced. The feathered creatures made enough racket guzzling down the carbs, they could awaken the spirits living near the water.

  “Do you want to try the last piece?”

  Justin’s glance traveled from Morgan to the bread and then to the gaggle of geese. Justin tilted his blond topped head and narrowed his blue-green eyes. He didn’t resemble his mother in appearance, although in personality he was indeed her son. He blew out a breath and tightened his jaw as he lowered the ball to the ground. His gaze remained on the flock as he removed one glove. Morgan handed him a chunk of whole wheat bread. Justin took the slice and tore off a piece. He hurled it like a shot-put toward the sand. A goose ran forward, caught the bread mid-air, and choked the large portion. He just barely avoided other members from taking the treasure by scuttling backward.