The Picture

by Stephanie Taylor

  I pressed my lips together, but then mumbled, “She's not dead yet.”

  “What?”

  “I said she's not dead yet, Jessica. You still have time with her. And it's time you'll never get back once she's gone.”

  “Do you think I don't realize that? But you judge me because I'm choosing to remember her when she wasn't sick. So when I remember her smile, I won't think of her without hair and with those circles under her eyes. I want to remember her healthy!”

  I stood up so that I towered over her, my teeth clenched. “Maybe you should choose to remember her the way she is. It's better than to not have that memory at all.”

  “How would you know?”

  I looked away, disgusted and unwilling to share Victoria with her. “I've watched many people die, Jessica. Babies, toddlers, children, teens, and adults. There's nothing about any of it that's pretty or glamorous. It's sad. It's horrible to watch. I know you grieve for Emily. I know you feel helpless and staying away makes you feel like you can somehow avoid her sickness. But the truth is, it's happening. She's sick and she's desperate for you. I'm a sore substitute.” I looked at her and her fancy cloths and messed up, swelling face. I couldn’t stand what I saw, so I lowered my gaze.

  “But you know what?” I continued. “She never says a word. She wanted so badly for you to read to her last night but she never said one word to me. Not one tear. Not one pout...you've raised an amazing daughter.”

  Jessica's quiet had me turning my head. I saw the tears but she was too drunk to be ashamed. “You don't know anything about me, Sophie. Nothing. You don't know anything about Emily, either. And yes, you're a sore substitute. You have a morbid curiosity for the dying. You fill your life surrounded by people you don't have to impress with your sparkling personality. You don't have to do anything except take care of their needs. That way you don't have to commit and get too involved.”

  My eyebrows rose. The astute observation was impressive for a grieving drunk. Perhaps she wasn't as dead inside as I once believed. I realized, too, that she was probably right. But it didn't change much now.

  Jessica rose, triumphant, and stumbled to her bed. I was glad to see her nose had finally quit bleeding.

  Lying back down, I found sleep eluded me. Victoria's baby face usually haunted me during times like these. Instead, I saw Kevin's face telling me to let Victoria go. I saw him standing next to me at her graveside, holding my shoulders steady as I sobbed uncontrollably. I felt his rough cheek pressed against my temple, whispering what were intended to be soothing words but only served to anger me. He let her go far too easily. I never saw him cry.

  I could still envision Kevin's handsome face and see concern for me floating in the depths. His tender words tried to bring me back down to reality as I studied without end for my nursing exams. I only knew I had to help other people who were going through what I felt.

  But Kevin never told me what he realized from the day I started nursing school.

  I was, in my own way, running...just like Jessica.

  Chapter 10

  Nicholas stared at me for so long after telling him everything about Victoria and Kevin that I didn't know what to think. I fully expected him to run out the door, or at least ask me why I hadn't told him sooner. Accuse me of being a liar twice over.

  Finally, with a deep breath he stood and walked over to the fireplace, placing his hands in his back pocket. I felt like I could almost smile a real smile for the first time since Victoria left me. I never realized the weight I carried around because Nicholas was right. Letting him share the burden made everything seem a little easier.

  “Say something,” I said through my tears, because this time recounting my story to a man I suspected I loved proved more difficult than I imagined.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

  I rose from the couch, needing to look into his eyes. When I did, the tenderness and the understanding overwhelmed me. Tears burned my eyes and all I wanted was to feel him. My gaze dropped to those lips that stopped my heart every time they curved into a grin.

  He turned from me and contemplated the pictures on my mantle. He hadn't mentioned anything about the one I took from Jessica's house, which now sat at the end of the line of pictures, after Victoria.

  “I never thought to ask you who she was,” Nicholas said, picking up Victoria's hospital picture. “I just thought she was a niece or something.” He gently put it back.

  “I don't have any relatives I'm close to.”

  “No one has been here for you, huh? You've had to do this all on your own.” It wasn't a question but rather a statement of fact. I shook my head anyway.

  He went over to the next picture, Victoria's one year portrait of her smiling and digging into a birthday cake. Her thin hair reminded me that shortly after that picture it left her for good.

  “Emily hated her bald head,” I said, thinking of the numerous times she told me she wished her hair would grow back.

  “I know,” Nicholas said and closed his eyes for a moment. As he opened them, he settled his stare on Emily's picture. His brows furrowed and he stepped past me, snatching the picture off the wood.

  At first, I thought he was mad. He remained quiet for so long I mentally prepared myself for his lash-out. Placing my hand on his forearm as he contemplated mine and Emily's picture, I was unprepared for the shock in his eyes and the tremble I saw in his lips when he regarded me.

  His face was pale and his fingertips white from squeezing the picture.

  “How long have you had this picture?” he asked.

  “I got it when I was going through Emily's things.”

  “I mean when was it taken?” he clarified.

  “About a month before she died. We drove over to the park and took it in the lily garden.”

  “Lillies were her favorite,” he mumbled and turned his narrowed, intense eyes on me. “What did she tell you when she asked you to bring the picture to me?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “‘Take the picture of us to Daddy. He’ll know exactly why you’re giving it to him.’”

  His eyes were focused behind me. I didn't understand his mood. “Are you okay? Can you tell me why Emily wanted me to deliver it?”

  He shook his head a little, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he looked down at the picture again. He replaced it on the mantle and walked past me to the kitchen slowly, with his head bowed in thought.

  All I could do was wait. Whatever was wrong with him had to do with that picture. Was he remembering my lie the first night we met? Did he dwell on Emily's suffering? Or was it more than that? I couldn't fathom what went on, but he couldn't remain silent forever. I was a patient person.

  He strode over to the radio and adjusted the dial until a slow song filled the air.

  Now confusion filled me more than ever when he approached me, his eyes curiously void of emotion, and took me in his arms. I studied him but found nothing to give his mood away. I considered the fact that he didn’t yell or walk out the door a good thing.

  “Nicholas, what's going on?” I asked when he buried his nose in my neck. His arms held me against him as if he was desperate to feel me.

  “Not yet,” he murmured, pulling me closer. “Just dance with me.”

  Nicholas loved to dance, that much I learned in our short acquaintance. I loved it, too, when he held me close like this, as if I was his anchor to life. But as my body settled against his, I realized that he trembled. Even his deep inhale seemed shaky. What wasn’t he telling me?

  Being like this, so close together with our lives so intricately entwined by Emily made me think of her. One of the times she recounted her afternoon with Nicholas left me with a smile on my face now.

  “Daddy took me to the park today and I told him about how you always bring me there,” Emily told me.

  “You did?”

  “Yup. He asked me all about you. We talked all afternoon!”

  I grinned. All I knew about Nicholas was that he was
a musician. I didn't know the extent of his fame until later.

  “You didn't talk about anything else?” I asked.

  “Well, he sang me the song he wrote me. It was beautiful!” We stood in her bathroom and I watched her brush her teeth as she got ready for bed.

  “He doesn't have a girlfriend,” Emily stated with a sly glance my way.

  “No?” I didn't pay much attention to her childish matchmaking attempt, but I humored her, regardless.

  “Nope. And he said he wants to meet you.”

  Considering I worked the graveyard shift, it was a slim chance I would ever meet Emily's infamous father.

  “That would be nice,” I mumbled, inspecting my nails and leaning against the tiled wall.

  “I think he needs a girlfriend,” she stated as a matter of fact. “I think you should be his girlfriend.”

  Emily was a smart kid, but I didn't realize how much so until now.

  I rode the wave of silent emotion until the song was over, hoping that he would open up to me then. But I began to lose track of time as the radio blared on, song after song and yet Nicholas held me and swayed.

  When at long last he pulled away, his hand smoothed my hair and his lips curved into a tender smile. I searched his face, needing answers. He didn't seem angry with me, so I couldn’t gauge what emotion he felt.

  “I love you, Sophie,” he whispered.

  It was my turn to fall into a stunned silence. That wasn't what I expected from him. Anything but that.

  But the moment those tender, uttered words left his tongue, my heart returned them. Against all my better judgment, I knew I was lost where Nicholas was concerned. I knew I could fight it until I was weak, but the fact remained that I fell in love with him the second I kissed him on the roof. Everything in my life: Kevin, Victoria, Emily and now Nicholas had changed me, but it had also led me down the same road to get me where I was in that moment.

  I knew the moment he read my need. His tongue darted out and licked my full lips and they parted slightly.

  “Nicholas,” I whispered, hating how desperate I sounded yet still unable to return his words aloud. His lips were on mine before his name was finished. Every time we'd kissed until now, his control had been almost ruthlessly reined. This time, he gave me everything. I was so stunned, so taken with his intensity that he pulled back at my lack of response. Our breathing was heavy and restless.

  “Do that again,” I urged and he pushed against me once more.

  The evening was long gone, and it neared midnight. Nicholas kissed me and touched me in a different way than before, and I reveled in the knowledge that he was mine. I leaned into his touches, feeling a freedom to do so. He didn’t hold anything back. My body began to tingle, to feel alive for the first time in years.

  Not for the first time, his male beauty stole my breath. I found the hard planes of his chest underneath his shirt, and in reverence, I slid my palm up over his muscles. They stopped their journey at his shoulders when he pulled away, his gaze latched on my lips. My fingertips trailed along the chorded tendons in his neck until I was pressed against him, holding him close and pulling his head down to meet mine again.

  Could I really love Nicholas the way he deserved? I knew I was capable, but I feared how damaged my heart was after losing Victoria and being trampled on by Kevin. Everything about Nicholas was different from Kevin – from the way he dressed, to his eye color, to his manner. I knew Nicholas was nothing like Kevin, and tried to remind myself that lightning wasn't likely to strike twice.

  Nicholas traced the outline of my lips and smiled again. I returned his smile and I knew he understood my silent message. In a way, and as strange as it seemed, Nicholas gave me something I didn't know was his to give, and that was hope.

  He pulled away from me, leaving me feeling cold and empty. The fire was dying and he threw a couple of logs on top. I stared, mesmerized by the fiery ashes that shot upward to the chimney and then fell softly down, only to burn again by the rekindled fire. Back at my side, Nicholas took my hand.

  My gaze fell on our hands as Nicholas worked to entwine our fingers. Then we looked at each other and I read the expectancy not only in his eyes, but in the soft tug he gave my arm. The tangle of blankets and pillows on the floor that we’d shared platonically thus far now intimidated me. Would he push me? But I told myself my eyes were wide open. I knew Nicholas might think he loved me, but the harshness of reality could, at any moment, hit him between the eyes. I had to be prepared for that when and if it ever happened.

  Another tug snapped me out of my reverie and those blue eyes bore into mine.

  “I can’t sleep with you yet, Nicholas,” I said, unable to take the final step. But I needed to feel him; wanted him to hold me close and never let go.

  “I know. Sleeping together is only part of loving somebody. There’s a lot of other ways I can show you how much that doesn’t include getting naked.”

  With a hesitant smile, I took a step forward, following him to the floor.

  Chapter 11

  Nicholas propped his temple on the heel of his hands and smiled down at me. It was one of those times I took a mental picture to store away as a keepsake. A fire blazed behind him, the glint of the flames dancing across his dark skin. The love shining in his eyes forced me to return his smile.

  His fingertips trailed along my arm, tickling me. I squirmed a little and his smile widened. “What’s wrong?” he teased.

  A sigh escaped me as I shook my head. “Nothing. Everything is perfect.”

  And it really was.

  “Just for the record,” he began. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me you love me. I don’t want you to say it until you really feel it. And I’m patient enough to wait until you do.”

  I touched his lips, studying the little quirk as his lip tugged to the side when he stopped talking. Raising my eyes to his, I knew I had to tell him how I felt, too. “I already feel it,” I explained. “The problem is saying it.”

  “Why is it a problem?”

  “I never got used to saying it. My parents weren’t the loving type growing up. I don’t recall ever even telling Kevin that I loved him. I’ve just never thought it was necessary.”

  Nicholas rose from his propped position and towered over me, his body molding down one side of mine. “Sophie, everyone wants to hear someone loves them.”

  “Or do actions speak louder than words?” I shot back at him. “You doing things for me and spending time with me tells me you love me more than three simple words.”

  “Why does it have to be one or the other? Can’t we do both?” He smoothed my hair and followed it to the end, picking up a section and twirling it around his finger.

  I shrugged again. “I guess.”

  He thought for a minute as he gazed into my eyes. “If actions mean more to you, what do I have to do to prove to you I love you?”

  I chuckled even though I grew uneasy. “I didn’t say you have to prove it to me, Nicholas. I believe you love me. I just mean that after awhile, words just become words.”

  “Hmm.” He trailed his hand down my other arm, and glanced back at me as his mouth kicked up. Then he returned his attention back to his task. “So when we’re old and gray and I’m too feeble to show you how much I love you, you’ll stop believing me?”

  I closed my eyes against his touch and against his words. I hated it when people twisted my words until they were so convoluted even I couldn’t make sense of them anymore.

  “Is that right, Sophie?” Nicholas asked. He didn’t look at me and I was grateful. I knew I might lose my cool if he continued to push the issue this way. It was a sore subject.

  “Even when you’re old and feeble you can still show me you love me.”

  “How?” he countered, so quickly he must have anticipated my response.

  “I don’t know,” I said, my cheeks burning with frustration. “Holding my hand, kissing my cheek, buying me a new wheelchair...there’s plenty of ways.”
<
br />   A rush of air escaped his lungs in what might have been a laugh. “So buying you things means love.” Even though he wouldn’t look at me, his eyes were dark and thoughtful.

  “No!” I exclaimed and pushed him away, sitting up as I held the sheet to my breasts. “Things don’t mean love to me although it’s a thoughtful gesture. I mean the things you do for me. That lets me know you care.”

  He studied my handholding the sheet and spoke again, quiet and without malice. “So I shouldn’t assume you love me until you’ve done all of this for me.”

  I let out a cry of frustration and made a fist, turning to look at him. “Nicholas, you’re misinterpreting what I said. No one should expect anything from someone! That’s why we’re given a choice...either someone makes us happy or they don’t. We don’t have to do or say anything to someone unless we want to. It’s just that sometimes it takes more than words to convince me.” I shook my head to clear the confusion. “You’ve got me all muddled up now and I can’t think straight. I was only trying to tell you that I love you, too!” I practically shouted.

  Finally, his eyes met mine and he gave me a devastating smile. “And I was only trying to make you realize that sometimes words are necessary to make sure someone understands.”

  I deflated like a balloon stabbed with a paring knife. He had a point. But I wasn’t done with him yet. “Did you just trick me into saying it?”

  “No. We’re given a choice, remember?” Playfulness danced in his eyes as his smile faded.

  I glared at him but for the life of me I couldn’t be mad. The man was so handsome and so smart, my heart felt like hummingbird wings in my chest. Nicholas Cassidy loved me. And I loved him, too.

  “Then here’s my choice. I love you.” I whispered leaning in for a lingering kiss and enjoying the sensation that came with saying those words. “But now, I’d rather kiss you to show you how much.”

  ***