Where the Heart Lies

by Michelle Garren Flye

  “It might be a result of being separated from Gemma right after she was born.” She considered this, her finger touching her lips as if to stop him from speaking. She met his gaze and dropped her hand to her side. “I had a cesarean and they took her away right after they weighed her. I barely saw her. It had been a difficult birth and I had had a good bit of morphine as well as the spinal block. I told Ty to go with her when they took me down to recovery, thinking I’d be with them again within an hour.”

  Tears sprang suddenly to her eyes as she remembered.

  Ty holding her hand, torn between her and their daughter.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s all done now. Go with her.”

  His eyes were full of love and pride as he bent to kiss her. “I love you.” He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and pressed a plastic bag into her hand. She looked at it as he followed the nurses carrying the pink-wrapped bundle from the operating room. Polaroids of her new daughter. She placed them against her heart.

  Alicia shook her head and cleared her throat. “I was in recovery for three hours while they waited for a room to open up for me. That whole time, I kept those pictures right with me and looked at her from time to time. She’d been with me for nine months. I’d been closer to her than any human being ever would be again, and maybe I should have experienced the separation more, but all I felt was peace and love, like my heart had gotten so big it would reach her no matter where she was.” She broke off and looked at him. “That’s silly, I guess, but it was the same after I had Jason.”

  Liam looked stricken, as if her words had stung him in some way. “It’s not silly.” He took her hand in his. “If more people thought that way, love would be a simpler thing, wouldn’t it?”

  “You mean trust and faith?” She shrugged. “They’re inseparable from love. Without trust and faith, love is a useless indulgence.”

  “Indulgence.” His expression turned playful, as if he were intentionally trying to lighten the mood. “Christine would like that word.”

  Alicia threw back her head and laughed, the merriment clearing her sinuses of the sorrow. “She would probably say I’d gotten right to the heart of the tango. But then, knowing what it’s about and being able to dance it are two different things.”

  “Well, let’s see how much you remember.” He turned toward her and placed his right hand on her hip, pulling her slightly into him, his eyes fixed on hers. She giggled and he tsked. “Now, that’s not what we’re going for here. You’ve got to feel the spirit of the dance.” And he whirled her across the walk in a mock tango that had her laughing out loud. When they finally stumbled to a stop, he smiled down at her, still holding her against him. “You have such a nice laugh. You should do it more often.”

  Somewhere in the back of her head, an alarm went off, but it was faint and Alicia didn’t back away. She enjoyed the comfort of his touch, though she knew she had no business being in Liam’s arms when her heart still ached for Ty. She dropped her gaze just as he bent his head a little. Their lips just inches apart, their breathing intermingled, she spoke his name on an exhale. “Liam.”

  He dropped his hand from her waist, releasing her and backing away. “I’m sorry.”

  She caught his hand. “No, it’s just that I was thinking about Ty and missing him. I’m sorry. I’m sending so many mixed signals. I love being with you and it felt really good just now—too good.” She bit her lip, embarrassed but determined not to hide anything from him. “I’ve been feeling really guilty all night for going out with you, and maybe now I know why. I’m really not sure what to say right now, but I am sure you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

  He tightened his grip on her fingers for a moment as he brought her hand to his lips. “Yeah.” He sighed. “I do.” Turning away, his hand still holding hers, he started back to the car. “I’ve got to take you home.”

  * * *

  They spoke very little on the short drive from town to her home. In the driveway, he turned off the engine and paused a moment, gathering his courage to face her. Before he could, she cleared her throat. “If you, um, don’t want to have me look at your mother’s library, I totally understand.”

  “If I don’t want you…” He laughed. “I totally expected you to not want to have anything else to do with me.” He turned to look at her, wondering again at her beauty and courage as she raised her eyes to meet his. “I obviously can’t be trusted when I’m around you. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” She impulsively reached out to touch his arm. “I told you I’m sending out mixed signals. Nobody really realizes how long Ty has been gone, you know? Yeah, he hasn’t been dead a year yet, but he was gone for several months before that. Not that I’m trying to make excuses for myself, but, well, it was really nice spending time with you. I felt safe with you. Maybe I let my guard down while we were just having fun and relaxed and that’s why…”

  He put a hand over hers on his arm, shaking his head. “No. I’m the one who’s responsible. Maybe Penny’s right about me. Put me in the same room with an attractive woman and I stop thinking with my head entirely.”

  “Liam.” She stopped talking until he looked directly at her. She took a deep breath and said, “I don’t believe any of that, and anyway it doesn’t matter. I wanted—God help me, for a second there, I forgot everything and I wanted you to kiss me.”

  In spite of her obvious pain, he felt a rush of warmth at her admission. The kindness of her taking part of the blame on herself was equaled only by her honesty. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to help her, but she blushed and looked away. “I’m sorry. What does that make me sound like? I feel like I’m cheating on Ty.”

  He located her rings with one finger. Ty’s rings. She was still married to Ty. “Until death” were just words and didn’t really apply to the heart. No matter how lonely she was or how much she liked being with him, she wasn’t free until her heart released her from those bonds. He took his hand away from hers. “You didn’t cheat on anybody. You should feel safe with me. I want you to trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “I know that.” She looked at him. “Really I do. Maybe we were both just a little vulnerable at the same time. But I had a fantastic time tonight. More fun than I’ve had since—well, since Ty left for Afghanistan. And I hope we can do it again.”

  “We can.” He opened his door. “Another night, though. I’ve kept you out late enough.” He opened her door and placed a hand lightly on the small of her back as they walked up the steps together.

  She hesitated on the porch. “Thank you. For everything. I’ve had a better time than I deserved.”

  He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Me too.” He walked away, wishing he could convince himself nothing had changed, but it was too late for that. He wouldn’t be able to stay away from her now.

  Chapter Nine

  Liam struggled with himself over the next two days, purposely avoiding her house or anywhere else he might run into her, but she haunted him. He saw her each night when he closed his eyes and each morning when he opened them. He couldn’t believe how difficult it was not to think about her all of a sudden.

  On Sunday he gave in to an impulse in a moment of weakness and called to ask her if she could stop by to look at his mother’s library, rationalizing it as a good way to help her and himself at the same time. In this particular instance, he told himself, he didn’t have ulterior motives, and he was reassured by the professional tone of her voice. They discussed the state of the library, her rate of pay per hour and the possibility of him paying part of it in trade for some of the books if she found any titles she wanted for the store. Obviously she didn’t regard him as anything but a friend offering her a business opportunity.

  By Monday, Liam knew he was acting like a junkie suffering withdrawals. H
e honestly hadn’t believed he missed her so badly, but when he heard the light tap on the door, he threw it open and gazed at her with what he knew was ill-concealed hunger. With difficulty, he pulled himself out of the memory of her standing in his arms beside the river.

  “Hi.” In spite of his effort to sound normal, the strangeness of seeing her outside his house affected his voice. Ty’s wife. Her gleaming red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and she carried a briefcase. He noticed again that she was nearly as tall as he was, her eyes on a level with his.

  “Hi.” She cleared her throat. “Listen, I appreciate this and all, but I want you to know you really don’t have to—”

  “Are you kidding me?” He stepped out of the way, holding the door for her. “I’m lucky you moved here. Ordinarily I’d have to pay somebody to come down from Raleigh or at least Chapel Hill to do something like this. The Hillsborough economy doesn’t really support many rare books experts.” He motioned with his hand. “The library is down the hall to your left.”

  She moved with grace and assurance down the hallway ahead of him. “Well, I’d certainly have a hard time making ends meet on this salary alone.”

  “Are you saying I’m not paying you enough?”

  She laughed. “If I had my way, I’d do this for free, but if you insist on paying me, I’ll be happy to supplement my income.”

  Pleased and reassured by her light-hearted banter, he followed her into his mother’s study. She stopped just inside the door, her eyes sweeping the floor-to-ceiling bookcases piled with books and journals. She let out a low, soft whistle.

  “Yeah, you see my quandary.” He looked around. “I have no clue where to start, and very little idea what to do with what I find. Knowing my mom, some of these books are probably worth something, but which ones?”

  Alicia picked up a dusty volume. “Shakespeare.” She indicated the volume right next to it. “Darwin.” Her gaze traveled along the wall. “Mark Twain, James Joyce, Edgar Allan Poe. And that’s all on the same shelf. Your mother had good taste in books, but she didn’t have much of a system for organizing them.” She ran a slender hand along the binding of the book she held. “Good leather. This one was oversewn, so the binding will last forever.”

  “Oversewn?” He moved closer to peer over her shoulder.

  “The signatures of the book are sewn together using a method called lock-stitch. It’s the strongest technique of binding, but it has its drawbacks. Look.” She laid the book on the desk and opened it to an interior page. When she lifted her hand, the pages began to flip and the cover snapped closed. “You can’t just leave an oversewn book lying open to your page and expect it to stay there. Not a popular binding method for cookbooks, as you can imagine. Excellent for some other book types, though. Reference books like encyclopedias and dictionaries. Sometimes a volume like this one that has been built to last and not so much for reading pleasure.”

  “Interesting.” He peered over her shoulder.

  She looked amused. “You don’t have to say that, you know. I know it probably isn’t really a fascinating subject to anybody but a book lover.”

  She didn’t know that anything she said mesmerized him. He searched for something to say to keep her talking. “Why would you use it on a book like this? Shakespeare was meant to be read, wasn’t he?”

  “Oh yes, but a book like this was created less for reading and more as a storage vessel. A way of keeping the information safe.” She brushed some of the dust away. “Think pre-computer.”

  “Right.” He nodded and moved away, conscious of how close he’d been standing to her. “Well, you can see what’s here. There may be another box or two in the attic. I’m not really sure. What I want is a categorized list of the books, along with any value you can assign. And if you can put them on the shelves in the same order as the list, that would be great. I’ll pack them up later. Can you do it?”

  “I can do it.” She looked as if she didn’t want to say what she had to say next.

  “You’re wondering if I can afford it.”

  She laughed. “Not exactly. I’ll admit it occurred to me that you might not want to pay what it would cost.”

  Liam surveyed the collection of books. “My mom spent hours in here reading when I was a kid. On rainy days, I’d sit on a beanbag chair over there and read my Hardy Boys mystery. The only thing you’d hear would be the rain on the roof and our pages turning. This was the greatest room in the world. Except maybe the garage. That’s where my dad was when my mom was in here.” He fell silent for a moment, then looked back at her. “My mom loved books like an alcoholic loves booze. This was where I first read about Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity. She explained it to me. For that alone, I owe her.”

  Alicia put the book on the shelf, her fingers lingering. “It sounds like you and your parents were close. I didn’t get that impression so much the other night.” She looked over her shoulder with her brows raised in question.

  “Well, this is the room I felt closest to her in.” Liam looked away. He didn’t really want to get into his relationship with his parents or theirs with each other. “Do you have everything you need? I plan to be at the bar taking care of some paperwork, so I won’t be around most of the day. How long do you think it will take?”

  She was silent for a moment, looking around. “I don’t really know, but I should be fine. I’ve got everything I need.” She sounded business-like, and he was sorry he had shut her down. Discussion of his parents tended to do that to him.

  She focused her attention on his face and he drew a sharp breath. Much as he didn’t want to see anything but his old friend’s wife, he persisted in glimpsing the beautiful woman he’d danced with, laughed with and almost kissed. He saw the fierce independence that had supported her since the death of her husband and during his frequent absences. And in spite of everything he wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her and offer her whatever support he could, whether she needed it or not.

  Maybe it would be best if he kept this arrangement business-like. He cleared his throat. “Okay then. I guess I’ll make myself scarce and let you get to it.”

  As he turned, she was already taking out pen and paper. Silently cursing his own weakness, he grabbed his keys and left the house without allowing himself another moment of indulgence.

  * * *

  Alicia worked steadily for an hour after Liam left, pulling books from the shelves and categorizing them, separating out older volumes that looked like they might be of more value. She stacked those carefully on the desk to look up later. After several hours of work, she had removed the books from more than half the shelves. Her stomach rumbled as she straightened. She had missed lunch. With a sigh, she leaned against the desk, fatigue catching up with her. Jason had slept restlessly the night before in spite of the infant ibuprofen she’d given him for his aching gums. She decided to finish the shelf she was working on and call it quits for the day.

  As she pulled the next book from the shelf, a small notebook fluttered out, wafting through the dusty air and landing with a smack. Curious, Alicia picked it up and turned to the light coming from the window. It was a simple spiral notebook with no distinguishing markings. She flipped to the first page without thinking about what she was doing. The page was covered with a willowy, ornate script. The date at the top was thirty-eight years before. Alicia bit her lip, reading the first words out loud. “Dear child, today I found out about you. I won’t deny you are a surprise in my life. Even in dreams, I never imagined my life with you in it.”

  Startled, she closed the notebook. She thought of Liam’s reticence to speak about his mother and the few remarks he’d made about the obviously complicated relationship he’d had with both parents. Would this journal make his memories of his mother easier or more painful? With a sigh, she decided it wasn’t really any of her business, and though she wished she could
put it back on the shelf and forget she’d found it, she set it on the desk beside the books she suspected were valuable.

  The last book on the shelf intrigued her. Entitled Best Poetry, it was a magnificent volume with a heavy leather cover and gilt-edged pages. She flipped to the table of contents and ran her finger down the list, pausing at several of her favorites. She had at least two hours before Amy would expect her home, and the soft green leather chair in the cozy corner with the lamp looked too inviting to resist. Surely Liam wouldn’t be home for the next half hour. Settling into the chair, she opened the book and leaned her chin on her hand, soaking up the words she loved.

  * * *

  Liam tossed his keys on the table and walked into the study, looking up from his mail and opening his mouth to greet Alicia with some light-hearted joke about how hard she was working and how little he could pay her. He stopped short at the sight of her in his mother’s big armchair, her legs curled underneath her, a large volume open in her lap. At first sight, she might have been reading, but though her head was propped on her hand, she had dozed off.

  The sight of her arranged attractively in the late afternoon light temporarily took his breath away. Curious, he leaned forward, placing one hand on the arm of the chair and peering at the book in her lap. One of his mother’s favorite books of poetry. He started to straighten, not sure if he should wake her, when she stirred and he met her gaze from just a few inches away.

  She smiled drowsily at him. “Come here.”

  Her voice, soft and sexy, filled him with desire, and Liam almost leaned forward, holding his ground at the last second as he searched for a suitable way to reply. As he hesitated, however, she slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, her lips against his so suddenly he wasn’t quite clear how it had happened. Confused, he fought the urge to pull her into a deeper embrace. She was asleep and didn’t know what she was doing, and he dreaded her embarrassment when she woke completely. Yet he couldn’t resist raising one hand to brush back her hair as he began to disengage himself.