by Bree Dahlia
“I could see your drawings here. You’re just as talented—more so—than anyone I’ve seen so far.”
“Thank you. That’s… nice of you to say.”
He pulls me in, our faces inches from each other’s, the likelihood of combusting today increasing exponentially. I shiver against all reason.
“As of now, that word is banned.”
“What word would that be?” I tease, knowing damn well what he means. “Is it ‘thank’ or ‘you’ or—”
“Nice.”
I don’t see it coming when he hurls me into a misting station. Then he joins me. Plenty of others have the same idea. Water sprays down, and everyone’s laughing and dancing and cooling off. Soon I’m doing the same. My dress is soaked, runaway strands of hair are plastered to my face, my skin is dripping, but I’m having the most amazing time.
My cheeks are aching when he grabs my hand again, and then he’s tugging me out of the water, tugging me against him. He’s just as wet as me when our bodies slap together, but he can’t be as shocked. For he’s the one cupping my face and pressing his lips to mine, and I’m the one doing nothing but standing rigid as if an ice storm just blew in.
But God, it feels incredible. His mouth claiming mine, his chest hard against me. I begin to respond, allowing the kiss to take on a life of its own as droplets fall from my hair and get trapped in my eyelashes, escaping down my cheeks. He licks off the water as it hits my lips and I open for him, letting him inside.
We’re wet and sticky and moaning into each other’s mouths as his tongue circles mine. He cups the back of my neck, forcing himself deeper. I’m dizzy as I cling to him.
This kiss. Holy fuck, this kiss.
When we break apart, we’re panting, and I can’t speak for him, but I’m throbbing and my thighs are shaky and… I close my eyes. I am so unbelievably turned on.
He puts his forehead to mine and breathes with me. Hundreds of people surround us, but he’s all I see. And the only thought going through my mind is how badly I need to get naked with this man as soon as possible. And that freaks the shit out of me.
I pull away. I expect him to apologize because he has never done anything like this before, never pushed the friend boundary. But he doesn’t. He just kisses my cheek and takes my hand.
“I’m going to make you forget him.”
My pulse jacks up, but I don’t respond. I don’t know what to say to that. I’ll never forget him. How is that possible when my heart is still cracked and I’ll sometimes still cry myself to sleep reliving what happened?
He leads me back to the vendor booths, and we walk in silence. I’ve confided in him before, told him all about Jake during drunken nights out. And through it all, he’s still around. I don’t know whether to be thankful or terrified.
We’re checking out a row of hand-blown glass vases when my eye catches movement, a waterfall of stars. I take a closer look and see it’s a wind chime. Scattered within the dozens of golden stars are sea blue moons. I run my fingers over the translucent shapes; they feel like they’re made from shells.
Cain unhooks it and holds it in front of me. I’m not usually a chime fan—the clanging is too harsh—but this sound is more rippling, tranquil. I’m mesmerized.
“We’ll take it.”
I swivel to Cain speaking to the vendor, handing her the chime. I notice a price tag hanging off the arched top. “No, Cain. It’s too much.” I am not spending seventy-five bucks on a wind chime. Or letting him do it. He nods to the woman, giving her the go-ahead to wrap it up. “Cain….”
“It matches your beautiful dress.”
“That is not a good reason.”
He kisses the corners of my lips so softly I melt. “It’s a gift for my stellina. Accept it.”
“Your what?”
“Stellina.” He takes the pretty bag, filled with tissue paper and gives it to me. “My little star.”
I’m speechless. Not because he bought me an expensive present, but because I’m suddenly not feeling much like “just friends” anymore.
I snap out of it and whisper, “Thank you,” and we continue through the fair, one hand tucked in his and the other clenched around my bag. I can’t wait to get home and hang it up in the window.
When the sun goes down and the stars come out, we go back to the car and drop off my chime. He pulls a blanket from the trunk for the park square. He hasn’t kissed me again, but he never broke contact. I’m still not sure how I should feel. About any of it.
There’s a soft grassy patch within the square, and he sets down the blanket. We both lie on top of it and stretch out, our thighs touching. Between the temperature drop and the cool breeze coming off the lake, it’s the perfect night to be outside.
To be under the stars.
“Do you believe you’ll ever find love again?”
I turn my head toward him. “I don’t think so,” I answer honestly. “Sometimes I feel like he knocked me so far down, it’s impossible to get back up.”
He brings my hand to his mouth. “Look up, stellina.” I do, gazing at the twinkling stars. “When you’re at the bottom, remember to always look up. And as long as there’s breath inside you and a sky above you, nothing is impossible.”
Twenty-seven
The house is dead.
I feel it the moment I drive up, as I step out and crunch over gravel on my way to the porch. The white beast is still. No breath, no heartbeat.
The backdrop, however, is radiant. The explosion of reds and yellows from the autumn maples is almost too beautiful to stand. I sneak one more peek before opening the door. It’s taken me almost a month to come back to collect the rest of my things. I avoided it as long as I could.
It’s strange being back inside, strange how a matter of weeks can feel like another lifetime. I turn for the stairs, recalling how—
What the…? “Rose?”
“Hello, Madison.” She shakes her head. “Maddie.”
“Um, what are you doing here?” I didn’t expect anyone in the house. I probably would’ve freaked out if she weren’t so tiny and nonintimidating.
“I’m sorry. Cain didn’t mention anything?”
“No. We don’t talk very often.” She nods, her eyes not as lively as I remember. I point toward the stairs. “I should go pack.”
I take them up two at a time, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. A suitcase sits in the bedroom doorway. At least he went through the trouble for me. Now I won’t have to search up in the attic for one.
I haul the suitcase to the closet and toss in the rest of my clothes, then scan the room for anything of personal value. Most of the stuff I don’t need. The only thing required is a fresh start with zero baggage.
I load a couple canvas totes and lug everything down the stairs. Rowan offered to tag along and help, but I wanted to get this done during a weekday. I thought I’d be alone. I never imagined his aunt hanging around.
She puts a sour taste in my mouth, ever since Cain shared his memories. Instead of scoping out the lower level like I planned, I think I’ll just take off.
The suitcase drops a step and pops open on the hard floor. Shit. I hear her footsteps.
“Would you like any help, dear?”
“No, thanks. I got it.” I shove everything back inside and try to wrangle the busted zipper closed. “You never did mention what you’re doing here.”
“I’ve been coming around a few days a week, helping out with things.” Like what? Cleaning? Lawn work? I don’t ask. “Before you go, I have some papers for you.”
I glance up. “Legal papers?”
She nods. “Cain’s trying to manage everything to make it as easy as possible for you. I’m so sorry, Maddie.”
“Don’t be. He is making it easier. I appreciate that.” I did ask him to start the process, after all. I just didn’t expect it to move along this quickly.
I follow her into the kitchen, and she gives me a large envelope. “Take this with you and read it over
. When you’re ready fill it out.” She hands me a single page. “I’ll need you to sign this now, to confirm you received the paperwork.”
Admission of Service. I look over the straightforward document. Then I open my envelope to check that I have the Summons and Petition forms. I do, but that’s not all I have. I shake out my diamond and my heart skips. There’re times I swear I’m still wearing it. I have to look at my hand, I can feel it so strongly. A phantom ring.
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Let me spend the rest of my life giving you the impossible and proving that nothing is.”
“Yes, yes, yes. And you already have.”
“Maddie?”
I snap my head up, setting the ring on the counter. “I already gave this back.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know. Sign anything. Cain doesn’t want it either.”
I shake my head. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “We both want the divorce.”
“He only wants to do what he thinks is best for you. He doesn’t feel he deserves you.”
“You weren’t there, Rose. We both messed up. We both want to move on.”
She sighs. “At least keep the ring. It’s yours.”
I pull a pen from the drawer. “I’m not keeping it.”
“Then sell it.”
“I don’t need the money. I have a job.” Granted, teaching drawing classes to kids at the art studio barely pays anything, but I love it. And it’s temporary while I work hard at getting another shot with a publisher—one I will not screw up this time.
I set the paper down, push the ring aside, and sign. Then I hand it to her.
“I’ll make sure Cain gets this.”
“Thank you.”
I’m almost to the door, almost home free, when I stop and turn around. I tried. I really tried to let it go, but I know if I walk out without saying anything, I’ll never stop wondering.
“How could you allow all that to happen to Cain? He was just a child. You were supposed to protect him.”
She appears even tinier, even weaker than when I first got here. “Would you like to come sit down?”
“No, I’d like to know the answer to my question.”
“When Cain called and asked to see me, I was elated. I love that boy. And then when we began talking, I discovered how much he still needs me. That’s why I’m here as much as I can, to help. It wasn’t until very recently that I realized how much I need him as well.”
“That’s not really an answer, Rose.”
“As much as I loved him, I also loved my freedom. I was often busy with friends, charity events, what have you. It wasn’t fair to my husband, Charlie, who didn’t want a child, and it wasn’t fair to Cain to grow up without a mother.”
“Your husband was a monster.”
Her eyes mist over. “I’m only now learning half the stuff that happened. I had no idea. You see, Charlie loved me very much. He treated me well. I didn’t see the side of him Cain experienced.”
“So, either you were in denial, or you think Cain’s making it up. Which is it?”
Her mouth opens. “Neither. I was doing my best at the time. It’s only in hindsight where I see I could’ve done much better.”
“That’s an excuse.”
“Is it? We only know what we know at the time that we know it. I believe the majority of us do the best we can with the knowledge we have, and we never set out to hurt anyone. It’s only when reviewing our past that we see our mistakes. Cain is helping me just as much as I’m helping him. He’s giving me the chance to do my best with what I know today.”
My head spins. I don’t want to hear her philosophical jargon, but it still strikes a chord. I still listen. And I sit down and let her talk more. She tells me about the frightened little boy who came into her life, the night her husband died and how Cain screamed for her, then remained in bed for the next two days. How she encouraged him to leave as soon as he was of age in order to get out and experience life, even though she missed him terribly. How she thought she was doing the right thing by offering us the house.
I listen to it all and wonder if there’ll ever be a time when my heart stops cracking. When the pain stops coming. Day after day after day….
I say goodbye and haul my stuff to the car. Once inside, I don’t drive away. Instead, I sit tapping the envelope until I dump everything onto my lap. Then I pull out a pen and fill out every page. Next, I bring up the texts on my phone and proceed to delete every one of Jake’s, starting at Congratulations and ending with This can’t be goodbye.
Cain fixed me after Jake broke me. Jake strengthened me after Cain weakened me.
But my heart remains unwhole.
It’s time for me to fix myself.
Epilogue
cain
One year later
I set the roller in the bucket and back up to inspect my work. That second coat did it. I peel the tape off the trim. After adding new support beams and jacking it up, the walls still aren’t perfect, but at least the slant is barely noticeable. Nothing a new paint job can’t pretty up.
After squeezing out and washing the brushes, I jog upstairs to make sure all the windows are cracked open. Last time, I forgot to open one in my room and woke the next morning with a raging headache. All’s good, so I head down. The stairs still creak, but what do you expect? The house is nearing a buck fifty. But she hides her age well after the facelift I’ve been giving her the past year. I’ve been working my ass off, and it shows. It’s been damn therapeutic.
Restoring the place has unloaded a shit-ton of triggers. Believe it or not, this is a good thing. Memories are crawling out of the woodwork, and it’s forcing me to confront them one by one. No rhyme or reason, no pattern to the timeline. When something wants out, it gets out. I don’t stop it.
I go into the hall and pivot back around. The drop cloths need to be folded and put away, but I’ll get to that in a bit. Right now it’s time for a break. I grab a cold one from the fridge and step onto the deck. Not a lot of daylight left. Might as well enjoy it while I can.
I run my hand over the smooth white wood. Even the porches got a makeover. The pot of purple mums Aunt Rose brought over sits in the corner, looking right at home. Maddie would love it out here, how vibrant it’s become. I imagine her radiant smile, the way it intensifies her glow. I wish she were here, working right by my side, but I understand why she’s not.
There’s a rustling in the tall grass, and I lean over the rail to check. I never know what I’m going to find out here. Over the years, I’ve saved many a baby bird that’s fallen out of a nest from a farm cat.
I go around the side and peer closer. A cottontail hops off, leaving a nest of babies. My eyes dart around, checking for predators. The blood pumps harder. I can’t explain the urge. It’s strong, nearly uncontrollable.
I have to keep them safe.
A lifetime ago
Uncle is mad. He’s yelling again. He doesn’t see me outside in the grass. When he comes out, I hide under the porch. I’m supposed to do my chores, but I can’t leave the bunnies. The hawk wants to eat them.
I’m cold and hungry, but I have to save them. It’s my job. It’s a bigger job than my chores. I have a book about rabbits. I know all about them. If you find a nest, you have to not touch the babies. So I’m not touching them. But I’m protecting them.
The hawk in the tree is watching us. I can’t leave. He has to eat too, but they like to eat mice. Maybe he thinks the bunnies are mice because they don’t have fur yet.
I helped Auntie in the garden this morning. That’s when the mom rabbit hopped away. I saw the hawk flying then. He went in a tree and I got worried. When Auntie left, I took her long purple grass and made a wall around the nest. I think it worked. But Uncle turned red when he saw the grass dug up, so I took it down quick. If he finds the bunnies, he’ll find me.
I don’t care if Uncle gets mad. I don’t care if he yells and calls me bad and lazy. He can even break
my toys and make me sit in the closet. I don’t care if I get punished if the bunnies are safe.
It’s getting colder. I shiver. I wish I had my jacket. Or a blanket. But that’s okay. I’m not a baby. I’m tough. I’m going to stay here until the mean hawk leaves and doesn’t come back. Even if it’s dark. The mom rabbit isn’t home and the bunnies are too little. They need me to protect them. It’s my job. The most important job in the whole wide world.
I feel big and strong. I can scare the hawk away. And if I get scared, that’s okay. Because I can make myself better when it’s dark.
All I have to do is look up at the sky. The little stars will be my light.
Epilogue
jake
Two years later
I saw her last week. At the farmers’ market.
She had a bouquet of pink flowers in her hand. She was speaking and laughing with the musician who comes every Saturday to play her guitar and collect donations for the women’s shelter. Her smile was bright and joyful, and it wasn’t for me. She didn’t even know I was there.
It was the first time I’d seen her in years. I’m here every weekend, at our bench every chance I can get. Always with the hopes of seeing her again. I told myself I’d leave it to fate. That if we ever crossed paths again, that’d be my sign.
And when it finally happened, time stood still, like we had never been apart. My heart urged me to go to her. As long as it beats, it will always urge me to go to her. I knew if she would just set eyes on me again, our connection would erase all pain.
She looked happy, in love with life. That was such a pleasure to see after knowing how deeply I hurt her. But I also know how much fulfillment I can bring, how much we need each other. She’s the other half of my soul. My first and last love. My only love.
And then she was gone. Lost in the crowd. I began to panic. I couldn’t lose her again. Not a day, hour, minute goes by where I don’t think of her. Need her. Love her.
