Loving You Is Easy

by Wendy S. Marcus

  She wrapped her arms around herself. A moment later the car’s heater grew louder and blew stronger through the vents.

  “A night at an important fund-raising event took a bad turn. I told him no. He plied me with sweet champagne to make me more agreeable. Either the alcohol or something he put in it made me groggy.” She rubbed the fingers of her right hand along the smooth surface of Grandma Ellstein’s pearls, and read a roadside sign advertising an upcoming restaurant.

  “It wasn’t a brutal assault like you’d hear about on television,” she said. “I have a vague memory of not being able to move, of other people in the room, of being told not to tell anyone or my dad or I would be sorry.” And a very vivid memory of his face looking down at her, of regaining consciousness to an intense burning between her legs, of finding blood there…and three empty condom wrappers. Three. Along with a tube of lubricant. He’d come prepared to steal her virginity and had made no attempt to hide what he’d, and God help her, maybe others, had done, like he’d known she wouldn’t talk.

  “Jesus Christ.” The car swerved to the right. He got it back under control then slammed a hand on the steering wheel. “I’ll kill the son of a bitch,” Shane said in a deep, serious voice that made her thankful she hadn’t shared the man’s name. “Unless, of course, your father took care of it.”

  She liked to think her father would have done something had she told him. At the time, however, she’d chosen not to.

  “What happened to him?” Shane’s voice came out tight, like he was barely holding on to his anger.

  “Nothing.”

  “How the hell—?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.” She spoke over him. When he quieted she added, “Only Neve. And now you.”

  “You didn’t tell the police? Your parents?” He shifted angrily in his seat. “Why the hell not?”

  Because people finding out what’d happened to her would have been absolutely mortifying. “What was the point?” She clasped her hands together and set them in her lap. “My mother would have had a fit if I accused the son of a wealthy benefactor of wrongdoing. It would have caused a scandal, focused negative attention on my family. It would have been his word against mine, and he’d made sure there were others present who would no doubt have supported his version of what happened. And did I mention his father was a very powerful man? At the time he could have ruined my dad’s political career.”

  “It shouldn’t have mattered.”

  “Back then, it did. Entering politics was all my dad wanted—all he used to talk about.” Another motorcycle sped by. “If it happened today, I certainly would handle things differently, but back then, at the age of seventeen, I made what I thought was the right decision.” Then she’d refused to move to Albany with her parents so she could remove herself from high-society political events and the predators that prowled around them.

  Her mother had accused her of being self-centered, of abandoning her family, and Brooke had gone from her mother’s proudest achievement to her biggest disappointment, a blight on the Ellstein family name. And once someone got on her mother’s bad side, it was next to impossible to get back into her good graces, although Brooke continued to try.

  During that difficult time she’d suffered her first panic attack.

  “And that’s why I avoid letting my mother set me up on dates, because the type of men she chooses for me remind me of that night. Of Jack—” she stopped herself from saying his name, “and his friends.” Who’d watched and/or participated, offering her no assistance. To this day she still wondered who’d been there, if she interacted with any of them while out with her family, if any of them had had business dealings with her father. “Men who can’t be trusted who live a lifestyle I want no part of.”

  “And you think someone like me is a safer alternative?”

  “I just want a thoughtful, honest, decent guy who enjoys spending time with me for me, and not because of my political connection.” She glanced over. “Try finding that when your face is on television commercials and billboards portraying my dad, the Republican candidate for New York governor, as a happy family man. And it has nothing to do with feeling safer.” She told him the truth. “It’s not that I’m scared. I’m older and wiser. I know what precautions to take when going out on dates and how to protect myself.”

  “Is what happened the reason…why you don’t want to have sex?” he asked, his voice filled with understanding as he glanced in her direction.

  She turned in her seat to face him. “For the record, it’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you. It’s that I think sex should be part of a loving, committed relationship. And I’m willing to hold out for that.” She reached out to lower the heat. “Thanks to a very caring boyfriend in college, I’ve moved past what happened. No residual hang-ups except that I’m very choosey.”

  “Which is a good thing—make them work for it.”

  And just like that, the mood in the Jeep shifted. “Is that what you like? For a woman to make you work for it?”

  His smile faded and he cleared his throat. “We’re not talking about me. What I like doesn’t matter.” He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. The engine revved and the Jeep sped up.

  “Why not?” Granted, the barriers between them seemed almost insurmountable: Different religions, beliefs, and backgrounds. Geography, goals for the future, and, of course, there were her parents, who would never approve of a relationship between them. Even though she was twenty-five, she still harbored an unrealistic need to someday garner their approval. But his character combined with his strong body and masculine good looks tempted her like nothing else ever had.

  “Because as much as I may wish things were different, right now I have nothing to offer you,” Shane said. “I can barely take care of myself, let alone take care of someone else.” He took a quick look in the rearview mirror. “I’m living with my parents, for chrissakes. I’m out of a job. At this point in time my future is a vast nothingness.”

  “First of all, you don’t need to offer me anything, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, physically and financially. When my name is cleared I’ll find a new job.” God willing. “Until then I have money saved and an inheritance from my Grandma Ellstein if I need it.”

  She rested her hand on his thigh. “When you’re ready you’ll find your own place. When you’re able you’ll find a job. Your life is not over simply because you’re out of the military. You can go back to school.”

  “I hated school.” He removed her hand from his thigh.

  “I love school. I’ll help you.”

  “I don’t want your help.”

  Tough. “We can research job opportunities for veterans, for when you’re medically cleared to return to work. Do you know when that might be?”

  “Exactly who do you think would want to hire a half-blind gimp with a bad attitude?” He glanced her way. “I’m not the man for you, Brooke. Never was.”

  His “never was” caught her by surprise. “Then why did you ask me to wait for you? Why did you suggest we revisit the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation when you got home?” Why did he let her get her hopes up? Why did he let her think they had a chance at a future together?

  “I thought…” He let out a breath. “I thought maybe when I got out, with a good job making good money, maybe, just maybe, I could pretend to be good enough. But now…”

  He sounded so beaten down it made Brooke’s heart ache. “But now nothing,” she said. “And for your information, all you have to do is love me. Loving me is enough.”

  But if a good job making good money would make him feel better about himself, then she’d put her Ellstein grit and determination to work helping him find one. A plan started to form. Step one: Take his focus off of his limitations and reacquaint him with his potential. Step two: Determine his temporary versus permanent limitations. Step three: Investigate VA programs to help injured veterans reenter the workforce. Step Four: Research th
e GI Bill. Step five: Identify potential employers/job opportunities.

  Chapter Ten

  Shane turned onto Main Street, happy to finally be close to home. The old part of town looked even more run-down under cloudy skies and with a rain-soaked landscape. Even on the nicest of days, it was no match for the upscale storefronts and beautifully manicured plazas in Brooke’s neighborhood.

  She’d been quiet for the last hour or so. Not a bored or brooding quiet, more of a thinking quiet. And each time she stopped staring out the window to jot something down on a pad she’d taken from her purse Shane’s curiosity grew. What the heck was she up to?

  He found the store he wanted and parallel parked in front of it.

  Brooke looked around. “Why are we stopping here?”

  “My compromise.” He pointed out her window.

  “Sassy’s Stitch-N-Knit?”

  “Yup.” He unsnapped his seat belt. “If anyone knows what’ll make Ma happy, it’s Sassy.” He checked his side mirror; seeing no cars coming he opened his door. God-fucking-damn his left leg felt like someone was stabbing him with red-hot pokers when he tried to move it.

  Brooke got out, rounded the back of the Jeep, and reached his open door before he’d even managed to turn in his seat. “Anything I can do to help?”

  He hated her seeing him like this. “No,” he said. His curt reply made him feel like a totally unappreciative dick. He tried to ignore that fact as he used both hands to lift and slide his worthless piece-of-shit leg out of the car and set his foot on the ground.

  She leaned back against the Jeep. “I didn’t think so.” She checked for oncoming traffic. “So your mom likes to knit?” she asked, as if it were perfectly normal to stand at the side of a Jeep, in traffic, and carry on a casual conversation. He appreciated it more than she could ever imagine.

  “And quilt,” he said, proud that it didn’t come out as a grunt as he pushed to stand. A searing pain shot from his knee up into his hip. He steadied himself on the door.

  “Tell me what to do.” She reached for him.

  He twisted away. “Keep talking.” Talking would take his mind off…God help him, right now he would kill for a pain pill.

  Luckily Brooke’s voice broke into his thoughts. “So your mom likes to knit, quilt, and bake. What else?”

  “She likes to do laundry.”

  “Be serious. No woman likes to do laundry.”

  Shane looked at her. So damn pretty. And sweet. “Wrong.” He moved a couple of hairs that’d blown across her face. “My mom is a woman and she really does like doing laundry—folding it, too. No one is allowed to touch her washer and dryer. Hey”—surprise, surprise, despite how shitty he felt, he actually got the urge to tease her a little bit—“Ma would probably like some of those dryer sheets that make the clothes smell nice. Maybe we should—”

  Brooke gave him a playful slap on his arm. “Absolutely not.”

  Her smile dulled his discomfort and lifted his mood. “Oh, and while we’re talking about my mom, a word of warning: She likes to keep a clean house.” He stood and put his full weight on his left leg but kept right on talking to distract Brooke from noticing how heavily he had to rely on his cane. “Don’t even think of walking on her floors or carpets with shoes on. She’ll whack you with her wooden spoon.”

  The appalled look on Brooke’s face brought an unexpected smile to his lips that felt kind of good. “Don’t worry. She probably wouldn’t whack you, since you’re a guest and all.” He took a tentative step. “I think we’re good.” He closed his door. “Let’s go.”

  Shane hadn’t been in Sassy’s small store in years, but it looked and smelled exactly as he remembered it.

  He glanced at Brooke, expecting to see a look of distaste, or maybe her politely holding a tissue to her nose to combat the musty smell of the old store. But she just stood there, looking around.

  Cluttered cubbyholes lined the walls, one side stuffed with colorful yarns and the other with fabric squares. In the center were displays of knitting needles, threads, and a lot of other crap he had no clue about.

  At the ring of the bell over the door Sassy’s raspy voice carried from somewhere in the back. “Be out in a minute. Don’t touch anything.”

  When she saw Shane she stopped short, looking him over, hesitating at his glasses, eye patch, and cane. Her face softened and she touched the ever-present tissue in her hand to the corner of each eye. “About time you got around to stopping by.”

  She’d aged—had to be up past seventy-five by now—but she kept her thinning hair a short jet black. And she still made it a point to wear her own knitted tops; today’s creation a dark pink sweater that came down to her upper thighs. “Looking good, Sass.” Too wrinkled, too skinny, and too old for her tight leggings, but she laughed at whatever life threw in her way and he loved that about her.

  “What are you waiting for?” She opened her arms for a hug. “I’m an old woman. I don’t have much time left.”

  She’d been saying that since he was a teenager coming by to look for odd jobs around her store to make some quick bucks. He bent to give her a big hug, careful not to squeeze too tight for fear he’d crack her ribs.

  “I came to visit a few times,” she said in his ear.

  “I know.” He released her. “I wasn’t up for company.” More like he didn’t want to see anyone until he’d gotten stronger and closer to his old self.

  “I’m not company.” She pushed at his chest. “I’m family.”

  Not in the blood sense. But while the ladies in his mother’s knitting and quilting groups—which met twice a week at Sassy’s—might not have much in the way of money or frills, they all looked after one another like family.

  “You don’t want to upset me, boy. I know you used your key to bring girls to my back room, and I never told your mother.”

  Holy hell.

  She turned to Brooke. “But don’t you worry, honey. He hasn’t done it in a while.”

  “Since I was in high school.”

  Brooke looked back and forth between him and Sassy, amused.

  Sassy tapped her forehead. “I have the memory of a thirty-year-old,” she said proudly.

  Just his luck, she chose to drag out stuff stored in there for years. Time to change the subject. “Thank you for all the baked ziti you brought over for me. You know I like yours best.”

  “It’s the sauce.” She smiled. “But don’t you tell your ma.” She wagged an aged finger at him. “It’d break her heart.” She turned her eyes to Brooke. “Don’t you think it’s about time you introduced me to this pretty little thing?”

  Shane limped back to Brooke’s side. “This is Brooke.”

  She stepped forward, politely held out her hand, and said, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  Sassy looked at Brooke’s outstretched arm, then at her sincere expression, then at Shane, who she asked, “She for real?”

  Shane whispered in Brooke’s ear. “Sorry. I should have told you. Sassy’s a hugger.”

  Sassy, who apparently also had the hearing of a thirty-year-old, held open her bony arms again. “Come on, doll. Shane’s girl is family, too.”

  “Oh, I’m not—”

  Sassy clamped her arms around Brooke. “Great to meet you, honey.” Then she peered up at Shane and said, “She’s a classy one. Smells real nice.”

  “She’s a friend.” He helped Brooke extricate herself. “She’s going to be staying with me for a few days.”

  Sassy’s eyes went wide.

  Damn it. He should have stopped after “She’s a friend.” “Stop it,” he warned.

  “You’re bringing a girl home to meet your ma?” She turned to Brooke and whispered, “First time ever.”

  “It’s not like that, Sass. We’re. Just. Friends.”

  But Sassy closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples as if channeling some psychic ability and started to moan. “Don’t,” Shane said, wasting his breath because Sassy never listened.

&n
bsp; Brooke stared at Sassy and whispered, “Is she okay?”

  Before he could warn her, Sassy’s eyes shot open and she declared, “I predict you two will be married within the year.”

  Sassy and her damn predictions. “You also predicted I’d make five-star general and be responsible for ending the war.”

  “I have no doubt you would have done it, too, if you didn’t get injured.”

  “You predicted Charlotte would become a physician.” He turned to Brooke. “She’s my older sister.”

  “She had the smarts, that girl.” Sassy shook her head. “Would have made a fine physician if she didn’t get involved with that louse Danny with the last name no one could pronounce. Getting her knocked up, ruining her future, then leaving the way he did.” Sassy’s hands turned into veiny fists. “If he ever shows his lopsided face around here again…”

  “Down, girl.” Shane put an arm around Sassy’s shoulders to calm her as he explained to Brooke, “She’s very protective of the people she cares about.”

  “They’re lucky to have her,” Brooke said softly. Sincerely.

  “Speaking of people Sassy cares about,” he said, removing his arm. “Brooke would like to get a hostess gift for Ma.”

  “A what?” Sassy scrunched her face.

  Brooke explained. “A little gift to thank her for having me. Something special.”

  Sassy looked at Shane. “She’s as sweet as she is pretty. A real keeper.” She wagged her finger at him again. “Don’t let her get away.”

  Lord help him.

  Luckily the one thing Sassy loved more than making predictions and giving relationship advice was helping her customers find exactly what they were looking for, which was a good thing because there was no way they’d be able to find anything in particular on their own.

  While Brooke shopped, Shane stretched his leg, thrilled beyond belief to be out of his Jeep. Then he wandered into the back room and smiled, remembering some mighty fine times on that plastic-coated gold sofa, which looked a helluva lot smaller than he remembered it.