by Ash Harlow
She said his name in a whisper that he tasted, so he closed his eyes for clarity, searching for something in the moment to give him a precise order. Right there he wanted to tell her his story, not with words but with his lips and tongue so she’d never forget it.
He started to move his head from left to right, a soft brush that painted her mouth, the first wash of mute color, the base coat. Then his tongue, tentative and tasting as if this was their first kiss, and instead of grabbing for him that way she did sometimes she stayed quiet.
Was she listening?
It wasn’t too late to stop but he’d lost count somewhere and resetting to zero never worked.
He swiped his tongue over her bottom lip in a quick move that left the tip tingling. When the point of her tongue met his, it asked for more of the story, but he’d never been a fast talker and this wasn’t an easy tale.
Inside her bottom lip was this small ridge, like a scar, and for a moment as he played with it he hoped she would one day tell him that story too. But a deep chill started a crawl through his veins, suspending him in time so that there was no counting, because he was right back there, tachometer jammed, poised in the terrible silence of the instant when you understand that everything is about to erupt. A stillness so pure and so frightening that the birds fall silent and the wind fails to blow.
Lulah’s tongue slid over his, slow and coaxing, drawing him out of the place in his mind that cracked open, and he returned once more to her ripe lips, sucking on the sweetness until the pressure became too much and she pulled away.
“Hurts,” she whispered into his mouth.
“I know,” he replied. Back at her mouth, recharged and unfinished, back from the isolation of that tiny moment his mind threw at him, he so badly needed to share the rest of his story. Perhaps if he shared it would go away forever.
In one move that started rough but finished with him cushioning her fall, he took her down, flat to the sofa. His fingers combed through her hair and she trembled beneath him.
She mouthed something at him, a single word, and he couldn’t tell if she said ‘more’ or ‘yours’. Either way, whatever the word, something was happening in his mind that scared the shit out of him.
He wanted to completely overwhelm Lulah with his love, his hurt, and his secrets which somehow blended in this cauldron of passion. He cradled her head, one hand at her nape, the other coursed through her hair, covering her crown, keeping her still. A light flush tinged her cheeks as she made eye contact.
Yeah, that’s what he needed, the eyes, because something had broken through his soul and Lulah was the one person who could smooth it back. “You’ve ruined me, imp. My walls are crumbling.”
“That’s good, yeah?”
He went back to her mouth now, carefully, so as to keep steady in the face of any more quakes and cracks, and she replied with such tenderness he thought he would break. Soon he pulled away, because if he carried on he would take advantage of her goodness and he couldn’t risk that. He swung to his feet. “Calliope needs to go out before bed.” The dog appeared at his side in an instant and he took her leash, clipped it to her collar, and left the room.
The following morning Lulah found Ray awake and able to talk. Somehow, conscious and sitting up in bed, her father seemed even more frail as he spoke carefully from behind the bandages and bruises.
“I’m sorry, Lulu, I’ve caused you so much trouble.”
Her anger with him deserted her the first day she’d arrived at the hospital. “It’s done, Dad. Nothing to be gained from dragging all that up. Let’s concentrate on getting you better, and your life back in some sort of order.”
“Sure, sweetie, I’ll do anything to sort out this mess. I was trying to keep out of your way, let you live your own life without a loser like me about—”
“Going into hiding and back into debt didn’t make my life any easier.” He looked genuinely contrite. “Dad, I love you, but this is the last time I’ll bail you out.”
Earlier, at breakfast, she and Vince decided the best course of action was to settle Ray into rehabilitation as near to Lulah as possible, in Washington. If he agreed, they would clean out Ray’s trailer and Vince would cart his gear back to Lulah’s place for storage until Ray was back on his feet. Now that it was time for Lulah to explain her plan, she wasn’t feeling so confident. She searched for clues on how he was taking the news, but Ray’s dressings hid the usual tell-tale knot in his brow that formed when he was thinking up excuses not to leave Nevada.
It took a couple of minutes before he answered her. “I’ll do whatever you think is best.”
Lulah nearly fell off her chair. She’d prepared to argue her case and leave the hospital if Ray showed his usual resistance. Perhaps the attack had finally knocked some sense into him. “Thanks, Dad. I know it’s hard for you, but we can sort this out and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be making the trouble in the family. Instead, it’s your old man.”
“Yeah, well, hopefully he’s turned over a new leaf. Now, I’m going to find Vince. It’s time you met your rescuer.”
Out in the corridor she could see Vince and Calliope down at the far end where a large window gave a view over the parking lot. Her relief at the way Ray so easily agreed with her ideas meant she almost skipped to meet them.
Vince smiled. “Good news, I take it?”
“So far. Come and meet him, then we’ll head off and clean out his trailer.” The matter of Ray’s debt still needed sorting out but Lulah decided not to mention that to Vince, in the hope that he would head back to Halo Peak before thinking about it again. That way she could deal with it the way she wanted to.
“Really? This is where Dad lives?”
Vince’s expression was non-committal. “Yeah.”
“It’s pretty rough, Vince. We didn’t stay anywhere this bad when I was a kid.” She let herself out of the pickup, walked over to a pile of trash and gave it a kick. “This is a dump. I mean, it’s literally a dump and somebody charges rent for this?”
“Uh-huh. Actually, Ray’s behind in his rent, too.”
“Of course he is.” She peered around again, taking in more of the piles of junk stacked around the yard. “A good daughter would feel ashamed on his behalf, but I let go of that years ago. It wasn’t easy, but I had to make the decision not to let him take me down the way he did my mother. Tough love came naturally to me. I love him, but he’s an addict, and the lying hurts.”
Vince started unloading cardboard boxes from the back of the pickup. “Of course you love him, and from what I can see you’ve done what you believe in your heart to be right. That’s all that matters. Come on, check around inside.”
She caught the key he threw to her and entered the trailer. A mere glance showed her there wasn’t much she recognized from her childhood. She didn’t recall having grown up with anything of monetary value, and if there had been, Ray would have pawned it years ago. When Vince stepped into the trailer she waved an arm about. “You see, Vince? This is why I need to be independent, because I refuse to get myself into a situation like this.”
“I can’t see you ever living like this, Lulah.”
“No, but it is where you end up when you borrow to support a lifestyle. Pity Dad never understood that the reason he had to borrow was because he couldn’t afford it in the first place.”
Vince opened the small fridge. There wasn’t much inside, but what was there would gag a maggot. “Wow, it’s lively in here. Pass me a trash bag and I’ll clean this out.”
She handed Vince a bag and as she did, something in the corner took her attention. She moved a pile of newspapers and found the stack of paintings on boards, on paper; he obviously couldn’t afford canvas and paints. She removed the top one. Lulah and her Mom shelling peas.
It was an image from her childhood and he’d caught it so well. The memory returned strong because it wasn’t usual for them to have
fresh vegetables but someone had dropped in a large bag of peas and she and her Mom sat together opening the pods, freeing the peas into a pot.
Where had Ray been that day? He’d obviously watched the scene, but she remembered her surprise at the extraordinary sweetness of the first fresh pea she tasted.
Stacked behind that picture sat a portrait of her mother from later in her life, when her mouth had set in a line of defeat, and her eyes, where there should have been vitality, clouded dull. The picture was honest, perhaps one of the most honest things Ray did in his life. In it could be seen an acknowledgment that his constant deception robbed her mother’s vigor.
Picture after picture followed a similar vein: scenes from her childhood and the ruin of her mother. “He started painting again.” A kernel of hope grew inside her that maybe he used painting to curb his compulsion to gamble.
“I hoped you’d be pleased when you saw them.”
Over her shoulder she saw Vince smiling at her. Who was this man who cared enough about the small gains of pleasure she could find in a broken gambler’s art? Was she lucky to have his attention, or was he like this with everybody? Taking notice of the small things in their life that were out of balance, so that if something came along that would help the pendulum swing back a little, an ounce weight to counter the tip of the scales, he hoped that person would see it and enjoy it.
“I am pleased.” That truth sent a rush of heat through her cheeks that surprised her. The trailer was stuffy, the Nevada dry desert heat relentless after the moisture-rich air of Washington. Perhaps she was sunburned…or the wind. Or, burned by Vince and that way he managed to dismantle her with a few caring words.
Yet he offered no explanation for his withdrawal and she had to be grateful that in a practical sense he not only saved her father’s life, but now, here he stood helping her clean out the contents of a less than immaculate trailer.
“When are you heading home?” After finishing clearing Ray’s stuff they were back on the road, driving to Vegas, having stopped first to pay the rent Ray owed.
“Probably tomorrow. I want to go back for Doc’s funeral.”
“Where will you go after?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Don’t just go, Vince. Don’t you dare.”
“One day at a time, Lulah. I can’t see further than that right now.”
Why didn’t she believe him? Sitting alongside him in the truck she couldn’t stop herself wishing they were back at Halo Peak, maybe coming in from town. Back to how things were before the auction, before Doc, before Ray. But she’d spent years with those sorts of wishes running around her head.
“You haven’t told me much about the auction.”
She met his glance. “The auction was fabulous, Vince. I wish you’d been there. I was nearly sick with nerves before I…” This was the sort of thing she’d resolved not to put on him.
“Lulah?”
“I talked about you. I used you—the fact you’d needed a break—as my motivation. Initially I thought I’d deliver the speech you’d practiced; I almost knew it by heart. Once we reached Seattle I decided to make my own speech in the hope that I could get the people at the auction to understand that there is no fairytale ending to all of this once a vet receives a service dog, but it sure helps. At one stage I looked out across the auditorium and there was this sea of faces, staring right back. I was nearly sick.”
“You’re incredible; I’m not sure now that I could have made that speech.”
“I bet you could. Anyway, once I saw them all, I pulled out my trump card, talked about Justice and how he suffered his own form of PTSD and that he was much better, but not cured, and you know what?”
“Tell me.”
“Hardly a dry eye in the house. And I think it worked, because they bid like crazy at the auction.”
“Marlo sent me a text to say that the Justice model raised forty-two grand. That can’t be right, she must have stumbled over the zeroes.”
“Nope, that’s what was bid for him. And there’s a whole bunch of people who want to commission you to make models of their own dogs. Plus there’s a gallery who want to talk to you. Adam has the details.”
“Hell…”
“People who can pay, Vince. You said how much you love carving, how it brings you peace. You could set up your own studio.”
“Something to think about.”
Despite the good news in the promise of more work, he sounded flat. It hit her. “Vince.” She said his name gently, wanting his open attention without any barriers, but as she spoke, his shoulders tensed. “You need to finish that break you started, huh?”
His focus stayed firmly on the road ahead, his mouth tight.
Lulah pushed on. “You came out of your break too early because you thought helping me by finding Dad might settle something inside you, an emotional debt you don’t want to owe.” She waited longer, giving him an opportunity to respond, but there was nothing more than a flexing of his jaw. “You thought if you came and found him, sorted him out so that he wasn’t a concern to me any longer, that you could walk away from us without any trace of guilt because you’d done something good for me.”
His response was one word that hung in the air between them; her name, expressed in a noisy exhalation peppered with need and pain.
“You only have one debt, Vince. It’s not owed to me, to Gable and Taryn, or your parents. It’s not an obligation to the families of your friends who didn’t make it back. That debt is to yourself. You owe it to yourself to find inner forgiveness.”
He nodded, glanced at her, nodded again before returning to concentrating on the road.
They were quiet until they entered the outer suburbs of Vegas and Vince suggested dropping her off at the hospital. “You let Ray know what we did today. I have some things to see to, so I’ll be back for you around five.”
Ray’s continued improvement was remarkable. That afternoon, Lulah found him sitting up in bed with most of the tubes removed. He seemed grateful for what they’d done for him and almost excited about Lulah’s plan to get him into rehabilitation as close as possible to her in Halo Peak. “Keep painting, Dad. Vince thinks you’re talented.”
“Sure, Lulu. Is he a good man, that Vince? Do you two have a thing going a dad should know about?”
“We’re friends, Dad. Nothing more than that.” The words stung something inside of her but she knew if she said them enough, out loud to people, she would continue to believe them. “He’s an artist, too, you know? He does amazing sketches and he carves these full-sized carousel animals. Horses, dogs, any animal. He’s restoring a horse at the moment and he carved a stunning replica, so lifelike, of one of the dogs at the Sanctuary. He put it on rockers so a child could play on it, or you could have it as a piece in your house.”
“That’s a real skill. I knew a guy years ago who used to run a carousel for a traveling fair. In between seasons I would help him clean up and repaint the ride. The work that goes into those things is amazing. I remember taking you along when we’d finished maintenance one time. All the other kids hanging around wanted to sit on the horses, lions, and tigers, but you only had eyes for the dog. One of those giant Swiss dogs, if I remember right. The fuss you kicked up when I tried to take you home. In the end I dragged you kicking and fussing, off the thing. You bit me.”
“I bit you!”
He smiled, crooked and bruised. “You had such spirit. Still do, don’t you?”
“Mostly, maybe. Sometimes it falters.”
“When people let you down.”
“Yes, when people…men, let me down.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Lulu.”
Lulah snorted. “You’re family, Dad. If you want me to stop feeling responsible for you, you’re going to have to take responsibility for yourself.” She watched him breathing, head back on the pillow, eyes closed again, and could see right there that she’d never stop looking out for him. She leaned in to give him a kiss and he too
k hold of her hand with a surprisingly strong grip.
“Promise me you won’t go feeling responsible for that Vince, either. Maybe let him take care of you for a bit.”
Unbelievable. “Sure, Dad, I’ll do that.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lulah stood waiting outside the hospital when Vince returned to collect her. Despite Ray’s improvement, he tired easily and fell asleep towards the end of her visit. Vince found a small restaurant for dinner and they headed back to the hotel to shower and change.
Once inside the hotel room, Calliope flopped down in front of the air conditioning unit. Vince pulled two bottles of water from the small fridge, unscrewing the cap on one and handing it to Lulah.
She tipped her head back to drink and he watched the rhythmic contraction of muscles in her throat as she drained the bottle without pausing. She wiped her mouth on her shoulder and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. “I needed that,” she said as her phone rang, and she stepped from the room to take the call.
Lulah paced the small balcony, pausing occasionally to run her fingers along the rail. The call took some time, and Vince fought the need to fidget as he ran through his speech. When she pocketed her phone and returned inside he beckoned her to sit alongside him on the sofa.
“That was the police. They’ve pulled in the guy who beat up Dad. It turns out the prick was a ‘collector’ for LoanStar who’d gone rogue. He was dismissed from his job, so he stole the contact details of people like Dad, with outstanding debts, and went on a two-day spree trying to beat the money out of his list before LoanStar and the police caught onto what he was doing.”
Jesus, she wasn’t going to like this. “I know.”
“You know? What? Did the police already call you? Why didn’t you say something?”
Her face screwed a little, puzzled, and he understood that she wouldn’t thank him when he told her what he’d done. Butting in on something she wanted to deal with herself would really piss her off. “I found out from LoanStar. I paid them a visit while you were with Ray.”
