LaClaire Groom

by Dori Lavelle

  I walk away from the easel and leave the studio, my heart pounding with each step I take across the long hallway, toward his bedroom. I knock softly on the door, but no one answers for me to enter, so I take a deep breath and push it open.

  “What are you doing here?” He looks different, his hair disheveled, his beard unkempt, eyes broken as he turns his wheelchair around to face me.

  I’ve always known why he never got rid of the wheelchair. There were other times I caught him sitting in it, often when he was upset about something. He has a love-hate relationship with it. It’s the thing that reminds him of his broken state, but at the same time, it offers some comfort. It was his home for years. It was in that chair that he fell in love with Alice. Now I have driven him to find comfort in his late wife’s memories.

  “I brought you your key back.” I close the door softly behind me and approach him.

  “Stop.” His tone makes me jump. “Don’t come to me. Put it on the bed.” He turns to the window.

  I glance down at the key. Feeling as though I’ve been punched in the stomach, I approach the bed, drop the silver metal on top of the covers.

  “I need you to leave now.”

  “I can’t do that. I can’t leave you like this.”

  “You’ve done enough damage. I want you to go.”

  I perch on the edge of the bed, my hands clasped tight. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

  “An apology doesn’t change anything. When I said it was over on the ship, I meant it.”

  I wrap my arms around myself. “At least look at me before I go.”

  “I can’t look at you when I don’t know who you are.”

  “You do, Lance. I’m no longer the person I used to be. I am the woman who fell in love with you.”

  “And I bet my money helped speed that love along, am I right?” This time he looks at me again. The heat of his anger scorches my skin.

  “I—”

  “Tell me one thing.” He bends his head to the side. “How did you choose the men you targeted?”

  “I didn’t. Kirk did that.” I swallow hard.

  “You were a team. I’m sure before you destroyed someone’s life, you spent hours discussing whether they were the perfect candidate.” He chuckles. “I was the perfect candidate, wasn’t I?”

  “It wasn’t like that.” My tears come to my rescue now, flooding my eyes.

  “I bet you went for the broken ones. You invested time in caring for them so you could worm yourself into their hearts. How many hearts have you broken, Jia? How much money did you make?”

  I jump up from the bed, driven by the adrenaline rush brought on by desperation. Even though he wants to keep me at a distance, I cross the space between us and drop to my knees in front of him. “Lance, I know I’ve hurt a lot of people.”

  “Hurt?” He scoffs. “You are responsible for someone’s death.”

  “I told you I didn’t kill him.” I swipe the tears from my cheeks and clutch his knees with my trembling hands. “You have to believe me.”

  “But you planned it with your boyfriend … husband. You were a match made in heaven, weren’t you? Bonnie and Clyde.” He’s trembling with rage now. “Tell me the truth. Did you plan on killing me, too?”

  My palm meets his cheek hard. I instantly regret it and draw my hand back in shame. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  He places his hand at the place I struck. “Get out of my house.”

  He’s too angry to listen to me right now. I might need to give him more time to calm down before trying to talk to him again—to explain that sometimes things are not what they seem. I shouldn’t have forced myself into his home. All I did was bring him more pain.

  I groan as I lift myself off the floor. “Do you want me to leave the car behind?”

  “No, don’t bother. You earned it after a job well done.”

  “I paid for my mistakes many times over, Lance. I regret the things I’ve done every single day. I shouldn’t have been so weak. I shouldn’t have allowed Kirk to talk me into doing those terrible things.” I decide to go ahead and tell him the last piece of my truth. “I went to prison … for one year.” I hang my head in shame. “I didn’t stay longer because the lawyers found evidence that Kirk was the mastermind. He got life because of what we did … together, and for murdering …” I pause. “I don’t want to put all the blame on him. I did my part. The law punished me for that. I paid my dues. When I left prison, I swore I would be a different person.”

  “You were in prison? This just keeps getting better.” He slams his palms together. “We’re done here. Please go.”

  “I’m not a murderer,” I whisper, moving toward the door.

  “Yes, you are. You murdered my heart.”

  He doesn’t need to say anything more for me to get the message, for me to feel even worse about myself.

  I stumble out the door without looking back and walk away from his life. I love him too much to hurt him even more.

  In the driveway, I glance at my car and think about what he said to me, that I earned it. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I pull out my phone and call a cab. I’ll wait outside until it arrives. A few minutes later, it starts to rain harder. I still remain outside. I can’t ask to go back in there, and he doesn’t come out to offer me shelter. I guess that’s all the closure I need. I wrap my arms around myself and sit on one of the steps leading up to the front door, my clothes and hair dripping wet, my heart bleeding to death.

  When my cab pulls up, I glance at the place that had come so close to becoming my home. Then I get into the car.

  As the cab pulls away, I say a silent goodbye. I will respect Lance’s wishes. I won’t disturb his life. I’ll even quit my job.

  The cab driver tries several times to involve me in a conversation, asking if I’m okay when he sees me wipe away tears. He finally gives up when he realizes he’s the only one speaking. He cranks up the volume on the radio and sings along to a pop song. At least one of us is happy.

  I lean my head back and close my eyes. Some minutes later, I open them again at the sound of screeching tires. Before I can figure out what’s going on, the car lurches forward, taking my body with it.

  My head slams against a hard surface. Hot, white pain slices its way through my skull. I hear another screech of tires, the sound of breaking glass, crunching metal, and a bitter scream. Then I don’t hear anything more as darkness takes over.

  18

  Lance

  I grab my hair and grit my teeth to contain the pain. Losing Jia is fucking with me. I lean my head back and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to focus on the darkness inside my mind. An image of her broken face flashes before my eyes.

  I threw her out of my house and yet she refuses to be banished from my mind. What the fuck has she done to me? Why can’t she get the hell out of my head, so I can move on with my life? Why did she have to come here?

  Good thing Rose isn’t home and won’t get to see me in this messed up state. I have to pull myself together before she returns home in a couple of hours.

  When Jia walked out of my room almost an hour ago, my mind had told me to stop her, to hear her out, but on the other hand, every word that came out of her mouth was like a bullet hitting me in the chest. A war is raging inside my mind now. I don’t want to believe she’s the person she said she was.

  I open my eyes and look around, taking in the clothes scattered around me. Her clothes. She stayed here so often that a couple of months ago when I gave her my spare key, I made space for her in my spacious closet. I told her to bring some of her clothes over. She hasn’t even bothered to take them with her. I guess she would have if I’d given her a chance. But she doesn’t deserve a chance, not from me. She doesn’t deserve another moment in my life so she can hurt me more.

  Her clothes lay neglected on the floor, yanked from hangers by me, ten minutes ago. I wonder whether I should ask Dominick to drop them off at her place. I could call her to
come for them but seeing her again would be a mistake.

  How could everything have gone so wrong? Fate is so full of shit.

  I pick up a silk top from the floor and hold it to my nose. I wish I’d never met Jia, never got to know her scent. I wish I’d never allowed her to steal my heart. I should’ve held on to the pain Alice left behind when she died. I should’ve made a vow to stay single for the rest of my life.

  I fill my lungs with the smell of Jia, then I toss the top aside, pissed at myself for being weak.

  The days after the cruise had been torture, especially when Rose kept asking where Jia was. My little girl’s face crumbled when I told her Jia was not coming back. Her pain had magnified my own. I’ve been a crappy dad since we arrived in Boston, snapping at her when she brings up Jia’s name, asking questions too complicated to answer.

  I press my thighs against the bottle of booze between my legs, glance down at it. Could it be the solution I need? A few minutes of oblivion would feel like heaven right now. But, at the same time, I want to be present when my daughter comes home. The idea of her seeing me as the person I used to be before she was born, shreds my insides.

  I wrap my hands around the cool bottle. It’s closed, but my mind tricks me into thinking I can smell the alcohol drifting up my nostrils, drugging my senses, knocking me out. I want it so bad. At the same time, I don’t. I close my eyes and lift the bottle to my chest, holding it against me, drawing comfort from it without tasting a drop.

  When I open my eyes again, I’m surprised to find Bryant standing in the doorway of the closet. Grace is behind him, shifting from one foot to the other. She’s wearing the clothes she normally has on at her spa.

  “What are you doing here?” I tighten my grip on the bottle.

  “Put it down, Lance.” Bryant takes several steps into the spacious room. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

  “I’m your brother, and I know you don’t want to go back there. You know what I’m talking about. Think about Rose.” When he’s close enough, he yanks the bottle from my hands. I don’t fight him because he’s right. I need to think of my daughter.

  Bryant hands the bottle to Grace who disappears with it. Seconds later, I hear the water running in the bathroom. I can only guess what she did with the alcohol. I don’t give a damn, though. I wasn’t going to drink it anyway. She returns empty handed and comes to stand next to her husband.

  “Lance, we have something to tell you.” Grace fidgets with her blonde braid.

  “Fine,” I say. “Say what you both came to say and leave me alone.”

  “We know you’re going through a hard time now ... with Jia.” Bryant’s voice has thawed. “I hate that we have to make your day worse.”

  I cross my arms. “What’s this about?” I can’t help a snort escaping my lips as I look at Grace, who has gone pale. “Has she stolen money from your business?”

  Grace shakes her head. “No. No, she hasn’t.” She glances at Bryant. When he says nothing, she gets to her knees next to me and takes my hand in hers. “It’s about Jia.”

  “I don’t want to talk about her.” I try to remove my hand from Grace’s grasp, but she tightens her fingers around it. “If you’re here to convince me to give her another chance, you’re wasting your time.”

  “That’s not why we’re here.” Bryant pushes his hands into his pockets. “Something terrible happened to Jia.”

  “She ...” Grace’s shoulders slump forward. “There was a car accident.”

  My head snaps up so fast, my skull meets the wall behind me. I narrow my eyes up at Bryant. “What are you talking about?”

  His face turns grim. “Jia was involved in a car accident. They tried to call you from the hospital, but your phone was off.”

  “No.” I shake my head, blood draining from my face. The word hospital never fails to send shockwaves driving right through me. I’ve avoided the place like the plague since Alice died. I drag a hand across my mouth. “Grace, tell me it’s not true.”

  “I’m afraid it is.” Grace gets back to her feet. “We’re so sorry.”

  “Is she … How bad is it?”

  “She’s unconscious. We don’t know more than that.” Grace wipes a tear from her cheek. “A cop showed up at the spa to tell me the news since I’m her employer. As soon as he left, I called Bryant, and we came straight here. But Derrick and Brooke are at the hospital.”

  Bryant clears his throat. “I know you guys have been going through a rough patch, but we thought you might want to go and see her. You loved her once. You wanted to marry her.”

  “We’ll respect your decision if you don’t want to visit her in the hospital.” Grace’s lower lip quivers. “But we are going. She has no one.”

  It takes a while for me to find my voice again. When I do, I offer Bryant my hand. “Help me up.”

  Bryant grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. My body sways until I find my balance, but only for a second before I slump against the wall.

  Bryant picks up my cane and hands it to me. “What do you want me to do for you?” he asks.

  “Take me to her,” I say.

  A few minutes later, we’re in the car. Grace and Bryant are in the front, and I’m at the back, gazing out the window. The angry part of me reminds me of what Jia has done, urging me to turn back and forget her. Another part won’t let me do that.

  I curl my hand into fists. “What if she’s …?”

  “No, Lance.” Grace’s voice is harsh. “Don’t even think it. We have to stay positive.”

  I don’t know what more to say to Grace after that. What I know for sure is that, even with a heart buried in anger, I don’t know whether I can handle another death. But Grace is right, we have to be positive, even if it’s damn hard.

  “I wanted her gone,” I say to the car window. “If she dies, it’s because I never wanted to see her again.”

  “I have some good news,” Dr. Garry Stevens tells me when we get to the hospital. “Your fiancée will be fine, Mr. LaClaire. She wasn’t unconscious for long. She suffered a concussion and has some bruises, but she’s alive. We expect her to fully recover.”

  “She … she’ll be fine?” Air bursts from my lungs in one whoosh.

  “At the moment it looks like she will be. She was very lucky.” He smiles, revealing a crooked front tooth. “Her vital signs are stable, but we want to keep her here for a few days under observation.”

  “Do everything you can to help her recover, no matter the cost.”

  “We will. She’s in great hands, Mr. LaClaire. We’ll keep you updated on her progress.”

  “I … I want to see her.” The words break apart on my tongue because I’m not sure I really want to. I’m well aware of how much it will hurt.

  “She’s asleep, but I don’t see why you can’t. Come with me.”

  Before I walk out of the waiting room, I glance at my family. Their eyes are on me, relief reflected in them. My heart swells to the point of bursting. After what Jia did to me, I know they’re not here for her, but for me. As they had been there when Alice died.

  My heart is at war with my mind as we walk through the white hallways. I want to turn back, to leave the hospital. After all, she’ll be fine, right? I don’t have to be here to make sure she gets all the medical attention she needs. Yet I keep walking, following the doctor. Maybe I want to see her with my own eyes, make sure she’s really not dead.

  We finally arrive at her door, and Dr. Stevens pushes it open. My heart is knocked out of place the moment my eyes land on the pale, broken state of the woman I fell in love with, the woman I wanted to marry. She looks so small underneath the sheets. But her rising and falling chest tells me what I needed to know. She’s alive.

  I remain in the doorway, emotions spiraling through me. The urge to enter the room, to touch her skin is strong, but my will to stay away is stronger.

  “Do you want a moment alone with her?” the docto
r whispers.

  “That’s not necessary.” I rub the back of my neck. “I need to go. I’ll get her a change of clothes.” Before Doctor Stevens can respond, I walk away.

  I lock myself in the nearest bathroom, where I slam a fist into a mirror, leaving a crack to match the one on my heart.

  19

  Lance

  I use my shoulder to push open the front door to Jia’s apartment building. Grace, who insisted on coming along, tries to help me, but I shake my head.

  As the door slams shut behind us, the one to the tiny elevator opens. A heavily made-up woman dressed in red from head to stilettos sashays out. The moment her eyes settle on us, she comes to a halt. Her ruby lips part.

  I’ve seen her before during one of my few visits to Jia’s place.

  “Hi,” Grace says to her, but no word comes out of her mouth as her gaze follows us to the elevator.

  We enter inside, and the woman starts to walk away, eyes still on us until the doors slide closed.

  I wrinkle my nose when the stench of cigarette smoke hits my nostrils. Next to me, Grace coughs, then presses the button to Jia’s floor.

  “Lance, I’m so sorry about everything,” she says, leaning against one of the elevator walls. “I can’t even start to imagine how you feel right now.”

  I’m unable to respond, my mind too numb to come up with words.

  I nod at the same time the elevator jolts and starts its journey upward.

  “I think you should stop fighting it.” Grace places a hand on my arm. Her kind touch brings me no comfort. “Stop fighting your love for her. I know she lied to you, and I was also pissed at her for doing that, but I think she really loves you.”

  I want to tell her to stop talking, that every word she utters is like a punch to my gut, but I don’t want to be an ass. She’s only trying to be kind.

  She goes on to explain why she thinks Jia loves me, and I block out her words and focus on the graffiti staining the mirror on one wall of the elevator.