“You have any idea what I went through when the waves hit, each one pounding and muddy and black, holding on, calling for you, seeing you swept away and gone, then searching everywhere, talking to everyone, not giving up…”
“Aaron, I…” she started, but he stepped forward and jabbed his hand toward her, his jaw set hard, pissed off.
“Yeah, I get it. You didn’t remember. Head injury.” He motioned to his head. Sarcasm laced with anger wasn’t a good combination. Then he turned and was walking away barefoot in the dirt toward the shed she’d seen him come out of the day she showed up, and she just stared, taking him in, taking in this man who had once been her everything.
“You may need to give him some time,” Vic said. “Can imagine he’s not thinking right now. Everything he once believed isn’t true. You’re here, alive, and he’s been one step from the edge for so long, fighting for a ghost. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling, but I remember all too well the image of him and how he was. He was an emotional wreck, and now I know that the worst thing for him was not being able to bury you. Without knowing where you were, what happened to you, and where your body was, he had only a ghost of you to mourn. Now you appear and tell him it wasn’t real, but why would you not reach out to him once you knew he was alive, knowing he was still here? I don’t get it. He has every right to be angry about that.” He was beside her, and she eased her stance. At times her leg gave her grief, a reminder of what had happened and would always be with her.
She nodded. How could she make him understand? She’d once loved Aaron with everything she had, but the time, the distance, and her family’s belief that it was best to move on had kept her in the shadows all these years. “How can I explain it to you?” she said, but Vic was already walking away, shaking his head.
“I’m not the one who has to understand, and he’s not ready to hear it.” Vic pulled his keys from his pocket, glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting. I’ll take you back,” he said, walking around his big black SUV, all fancy and leather.
She knew he was expecting her to get in. She touched the door, the handle, and then heard the sound of Aaron pounding away at the bag with everything he had. The sound was poignant, the moment haunting.
15
His arms were shaking after the last round of push-ups—one arm, knuckles only. He started the same routine he always did: shadow boxing after a few minutes of stretching, followed by bag work, circuit training, sit-ups, pull-ups. Usually he went for a run to warm up, but today he hadn’t, because today a bomb had exploded on him. Everything he’d believed, fought for, and died for a little each day had all been a lie.
He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fact Brittany had lived but had chosen to forgo reaching out and telling him or the fact that he’d believed for years she’d been taken from him. The first was unthinkable; the second had nearly killed him. Bitch!
“Wow, wait till I tell all my friends what a hottie my brother is.”
Aaron hadn’t heard Madison come in. He jumped to his feet, stretching up, sweaty, his hair wet and plastered against his forehead. “Didn’t hear you drive up.”
Madison was dressed in jean shorts rolled up just above her knees and a plain buttoned shirt, a washed-out color that did little for her. She had a nice smile, though. Her eyes were blue, he realized. His were brown.
“Sorry, I called but you didn’t answer. Hope you don’t think I’m being too pushy. Beau always says to me that once I make my mind up about something, nothing can change it. He told me to give you space, don’t push.” She shrugged, her expression giddy. “Sorry, can’t help it.” She was chatty. He realized she might be shy with him.
“It’s fine, just finishing.” He reached for a white hand towel from the stack he kept shelved here for just this reason, then wiped the sweat from his face, his head, and his chest. He was still barefoot. He reached for his water bottle, but it was empty. “Better get another. Let’s go in.” He started walking, and she fell into step. She wasn’t a short woman, as her head just topped his shoulders. “So what’s up?” he asked.
“Well, I hope you don’t think this is too forward of me or too much, and just say so if it is.” She was rambling, and he had to smile, because he’d never had family do that. Except Chase, who talked too much at times—but he had nothing on Madison.
“What is it?” he asked as he started up the steps and held the door open for her.
“Thank you.” She stepped inside, and he took in the mess he hadn’t cleaned up yet, the chair knocked over, the indent in the wall from where Vic had shoved him when he lost it earlier before he could destroy his house. He picked up the chair but could do nothing about the wall, and he saw it all in her expression.
“Bad morning?” She was watching him cautiously. He hoped she wasn’t scared of him.
“Just something I reacted not well to, is all.”
“You have a temper?” She stepped inside, and he hoped she wasn’t worrying. He couldn’t tell what he was hearing, as he didn’t know her well enough.
“I save it for the ring. You scared?” He kept walking into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and lifted out a bottle of water. He thought he should do something nice for his sister as he pulled an apple from the drawer and took a bite. “Can I get you something, a sandwich, fruit? Could make some coffee or tea.” He was babbling, and he didn’t babble. He realized he should shower. He had to smell pretty bad.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just seeing this…and I hope you don’t think I’m prying.” She waved her hand. “Okay, I am, but I’m a great listener. Is it your brother? Something happen?” she asked.
He was shaking his head. “No, not in that sense. Just learned something that turned out to be a lie after all these years. It was…”
“Ooh, that bad? Not because of me, us?” She seemed rattled.
“No, no, not that!” He tried to reassure her, gesturing between them, seeing her sense of hurt and responsibility again for him, for her family. “It’s just that there was someone I was really close to. I thought she died, but I found out she didn’t,” he said, then took another bite of his apple and chewed, seeing such sympathy.
“I’m so sorry. It just happened?” She gestured to the living room and frowned. Okay, maybe she and Chase shared a personality.
“This morning. Don’t really want to get into it. It isn’t something you want to hear,” he added.
“Of course I do. Anything about you I want to hear. That’s what family does, you know. They stick their noses in where they don’t belong because they care. That must have been hard. Were you in love with her?”
He was surprised at the chuckle that came up, more because of her persistence than anything else. “You don’t take no for an answer.”
She shrugged. “Beau often tells me I talk too much, push too much. I figure if you care about someone and they’re hurting, it’s best to not ignore it but to push until they talk, and I know you guys don’t like talking, sharing…”
Aaron finished off his apple as Madison kept talking, then unscrewed the lid of his water bottle and swallowed half of it down. He took in her worried expression again, but this time he was starting to figure out this was only her feeling her ground with him. Then he did something he’d never done with anyone. As he rested his water bottle on the counter and wiped his hands together, he began to share and said, “Her name was Brittany.”
16
Mary was walking the streets of downtown Greensboro when she popped into a bakery and picked up a chicken salad and cornbread sandwich. There was something about that specialty item that seemed to be iconic in this area. It was mouth watering and satisfying. She took a seat in the middle of town on a bench in the park and dug in, trying to understand everything that had happened.
Vic had driven her back to the motel. He was kind, but he warned her that Aaron deserved better, and an explanation needed to happen. She understood that.
Her cell phone was ringing. She put down the carton holdi
ng her half-eaten cornbread and lifted her phone from her tan bag, where half the fringes on the edge were pulling off. She saw her sister’s name and shut her eyes, looking up, wanting to let it go to voicemail, but Susan would just keep calling until she answered.
“I just talked to you yesterday,” Mary said, feeling the tension in her jaw. “Sent you an email, too. Why are you calling?”
“Excuse me, little sister, if I care. Just want to make sure you have everything you need and check on how the showings are going. Did you get some interest from the galleries you’re talking with? I mean, that would be so exciting if they carried your work. I want that for you so much, honey. You’ve got to know…” She was still going on and on as Mary lifted the phone away, dragging her fingers across her forehead.
“Susan, I need to ask you something,” she said. She was taking in the surroundings, the green grass, the walkways, the old buildings. This was really a quaint community.
“Sure, what?” Susan asked, and she could hear the wheels turning. Her sister was so invested in her, in every aspect of her.
“Do you remember when Dad came to get me in Bangkok?”
Susan hissed on the other end after a moment of silence. “Of course I do. That’s not something I can forget. We thought you were gone, lost to us. The day we got that call and then seeing Dad step off the plane with you was one of the happiest days of my life, and Dad’s too. Why are you asking this?”
“You remember where I was when I found out Aaron was still alive, when I saw his picture from a fight, saw his name?” It had been eight months after she’d purchased her first laptop, after she’d searched Aaron’s name and stumbled across his fights.
“You aren’t still stuck on him, are you? I thought you’d gotten past this obsession of yours. This isn’t healthy. Is that what you’re doing? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea for you to be going away alone.” Susan was like a mother at times, ready to scold her for any little thing.
“Susan, seriously, stop, never mind. It was just a thought, a question. Listen, I have to go. I have an appointment and need to get ready.”
There was a sigh on the other end. “I don’t need to be worried about you, do I?”
No, she didn’t, but Mary needed to be able to have space to breathe and not feel as if she were being smothered and having her life arranged for her. She knew where it came from, but now being away from that sheltered mothering, she needed answers, answers she wouldn’t get from her sister. “Of course not. Listen, I’ll call soon.”
“Okay, I love you,” Susan said, and Mary tucked the phone back in her purse, then picked up her forgotten sandwich and tossed it in the trash, her appetite now gone. She slung her purse over her shoulder, taking in the historic downtown, and started walking back to the motel. She had only one night left.
17
Aaron was hammering down the wooden seat in the rowboat at the edge of the pond, which he’d never used. Vic was in the house, packing up his things from the second bedroom, where he’d crashed with a double bed, sleeping bag, and nothing else. The other two bedrooms were empty, and Aaron’s was the only one with a bedroom set. He never planned on having company, and the bed Vic had slept in had been left by the previous owners.
He heard a thud behind him and took in Vic on the top step, his leather duffle bag at his feet. He hadn’t shaved, but he’d showered again and changed into a white shirt and dark jeans.
“You ready to go?” Aaron said.
Vic was watching him and seemed to be considering something. “I can change my flight, you know, and stay here for a bit with you, help you sort out some of this mess.”
“You’re sounding a lot like Chase there, Vic. Careful.” He stood up and tossed the hammer back in the toolbox he’d carried over, then wiped his hands on his faded blue jeans and lifted the hem of his gray T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.
Vic climbed down, walked over to his rental SUV, and tossed his bag in. “Go talk to her,” he said as he closed the door and walked over to the pond.
Aaron said nothing as he took in his brother, who seemed to be weighing a lot of things. “Your business go well?” he asked, not really sure what that business was. Vic was private with what he did and would share if he wanted. Aaron would never ask.
Vic nodded. “You ready for Nashville?”
“Will be.” He walked over to Vic, took his hand and squeezed, and then moved in for a quick hug. He slapped his brother’s back and pulled away. “Take care of that wife of yours and the baby, wow. Know I didn’t say it, but I’m happy for you.”
He stepped back, and Vic walked around the front of the SUV. The sound of a car had them both looking. He knew who it was as soon as he saw the silver Jetta. Maybe Vic did, too, as he hesitated and glanced to Aaron, who didn’t move.
“I can stay—should stay,” Vic said as the car stopped, the engine turned off, and the door opened.
Aaron shook his head. “You said it, Vic. Go. You have a plane. I’m a big boy. Can take care of myself.”
He noted the way Vic looked at the house, probably reminding him of this morning, when he’d gone ape shit and it had taken Vic everything he had to ram him into the wall and cool him off.
“Really,” Aaron said.
Vic must have believed him, as he nodded and then said something to Brittany, who was now going by Mary. It was such a mind fuck, all of it. Vic started up the SUV and lifted his hand to Aaron as the girl he didn’t know moved toward him. He pulled away and honked once as a cloud of dust settled around the front of the yard and the taillights disappeared around the corner.
Mary said nothing as she stood in front of him. Her dark hair was hanging loose, just past her shoulders. She’d changed into a pair of gray shorts and a black tank top, and one of her hands was shoved in her loose pocket as she held the strap of her bag over her shoulder with the other. “Can I talk to you?” she asked.
He took her in, trying to figure out the story in the scars on her leg, her changed face, her heavy eyes. He had no idea what had happened to her.
He held his hand toward the house, and she nodded as if understanding and moved around him up the steps. She hesitated at the door as if she shouldn’t open it, and he was right beside her, looking down on her and into eyes that were asking everything and nothing. He reached around her, so close he could feel her but not touch her. He opened the door, and she walked in. The purse over her shoulder was worn cloth, which had seen better days. She looked down at the floor and lifted her hand, tucked her hair back behind her ears. Nervous.
She slipped her purse off her shoulder, each movement deliberate as she turned around and dropped it on the sofa cushion before looking up to him, her hands pressed together in front of her. The tension was on her face. “You were never this quiet,” she said, but she didn’t smile, and he wondered whether she’d continue dancing around all of it.
He just stood there, keeping the distance between them, crossing one arm over his chest and resting the other over it, his hand clasping his chin.
“What happened to you?” she said. He wasn’t sure what to make of what she was asking. Maybe he frowned, as she gestured toward him. “I mean to say, after it happened, how did you…survive?” She touched her leg and then gestured to the chair. “May I?”
“Sit,” he said. “Your leg, it bothers you?”
Maybe there was more he didn’t know. He walked around the sofa as she took the chair he had righted but hadn’t moved back to its spot. It was off center, closer to the wall. He kept his distance so he could see all of her, watch her. Could he remember the little things about her?
“It’s fine. Just gets stiff if I’m on it too long or haven’t stretched enough.” She cleared her throat and looked up to him again, her gaze softening. The hazel of her eyes really stood out, but they weren’t the same now. “You didn’t answer me,” she said, her legs together, not relaxed by any means. At one time, he’d known every part of her body so intimately.
; “I don’t know,” he said, but of course he did. He had fought for her, holding on, keeping his head out of the water to find her, fighting against the hell that pounded against him. “I was in a tree. Don’t remember hitting it, but I hung on until it was over, and it seemed like forever. I searched for you everywhere. I walked miles every day to camps, hospitals. Talked with everyone but couldn’t even show a picture of you because everything I owned was gone. You said you woke up in the hospital after how long?”
“Eight days, I was told,” she said, and it wasn’t lost on him that as they talked about something that had ripped them from each other, Brittany and Aaron, once closer than any two could have been, they were now like two polite strangers.
“You didn’t remember before, you know, when you told me about the group you were with after the waves?”
“I knew then, but I remembered nothing in the hospital. I saw your face. It was the only thing I ever saw when I dreamed, when I slept, when I closed my eyes. I just didn’t know who you were. When I remembered, I was in Bangkok still. I thought you died. Didn’t think it was possible for anyone to survive that.”
He was nodding. “And how did you survive there for two years, doing what?”
She had been alone, and he’d been…what? So totally fucked up.
“One of the doctors there, an English one, knew I was from a Western country, but with the facial reconstruction, nothing had come from the photos they’d put out. There were too many unaccounted for, presumed dead. I helped at the hospital. The dialect the locals used came easy, so I translated for others. I stayed with a nurse and her family. They gave me a room. She cared for me and took me in.” She was looking around his house, and he wasn’t sure what she was searching for.
“I remembered you first, and it felt as if an anvil had fallen on my chest. The pain was almost too much. The nurse I stayed with took me to the American consulate, and they called my dad. He came for me. He was older, and he got me home to where he now lived, Los Angeles. My sister had married a nice man and lived in Lake Arrowhead. I learned only then that my mom had died—broken heart, my dad said, from losing a child. She went to bed one night and never woke up.”
Don't Run From Me Page 7
