The Man She Knew

by Loree Lough

  “Well, well, well. Look who’s here,” Gladys said.

  Using his good hand, Ian knuckled his eyes and finger-combed his hair. He couldn’t be awake, he decided, because unless hallucinations were a side effect of the meds, there stood Maleah, looking like a cover model in a long black coat and snug knee-high leather boots. “Go on in and make yourself at home,” his aunt said, taking her coat, “and I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

  “No deliveries yet?” Maleah asked.

  Gladys’s brow furrowed. “Deliveries?”

  Leaning closer, Maleah whispered something that put a smile on his aunt’s face. Both women looked his way, and when Maleah’s gaze locked on his, Ian did his best to sit up straighter.

  “Well, it isn’t noon yet...”

  And then she began walking toward him. Cash got up to greet her and happily accepted a pat on the head. Ian grinned. She sure did look cute, snuggling up to the dog’s muzzle. Sounded cuter still, telling him what a pretty boy he was...in high-pitched baby talk. Good ol’ Cash, he thought, watching the dog lap it all up.

  Any minute now, he’d come to. It would take a concerted effort not to be in a bad mood, considering who’d starred in his dream, but—

  “Does it bother you to talk about it?”

  She moved to the couch, and Cash followed her.

  “Talk about it?”

  “The building collapse that put you in this condition.”

  He’d take last night’s pain pill earlier, so it had an extra hour or two to wear off before morning. This was bordering on a nightmare.

  “You look better than I expected.”

  Meaning, she’d thought about him? Ian shook off a sudden urge to grin and said, “What do you want to know?”

  “Were you scared?”

  Ian rubbed his eyes again, then picked up his coffee mug. She looked genuinely concerned.

  “No more than during any other rescue,” he said, “until the ceiling caved in.” Cash, chin resting on one of her knees, used a paw to tap the other. His way of saying It’s okay to pet me some more, lady...

  And she did.

  Now that the fog had lifted, he wondered how she’d heard about the accident.

  “Did Gladys call you?”

  Maleah glanced into the kitchen and, seeing what he saw—his aunt, busily putting cookies on a plate—she bent nearer to him to say, “I heard about your...accident...on the morning news the day after the house collapse.”

  “Ah, so you already know the details.”

  “Actually, the broadcast barely touched on the ‘what happened’ aspects of your...” Her compassionate gaze slid from his swollen face to the bandage wrapped around his head, the sling that protected his left arm, the cast on his right thigh. He must look a sight. “So really, all I know is that you and Cash had been dispatched to a search and rescue mission, that you saved one of the people trapped in the house, and ended up in the hospital trying to save the second.”

  At the sound of his name, Cash flashed his best doggy grin. Who knew you were such an outrageous flirt? he thought.

  “An elderly couple,” he said. “Soon as I’m able, I’ll make a few calls. See how the wife is making out.”

  “I can do that for you, if you like...”

  Had the offer been prompted by her inherent do-gooder tendencies? Or was it a sign she still cared?

  “I appreciate it,” he said, “but by the time I’d get you all the information, I could do it myself.”

  Gladys delivered her coffee. “I have laundry to fold. You two play nice now, y’hear?” she said, and disappeared down the hall.

  “I’d almost forgotten what a lovely woman she is.”

  Ian nodded. “My dad compares her to a toasted marshmallow. Crusty on the outside, warm and gooey on the inside.”

  Maleah laughed, and oh how he loved the sound of it.

  “Coffee’s good.” She took a sip.

  “You’re lucky my dad didn’t make it.” Ian winced.

  Smiling, Maleah said, “Will you need much therapy?”

  “In-home nurse walks me around the apartment couple days a week. For now. When she gives the thumbs-up, I’ll start the real stuff.”

  “If you ever need a ride to the rehab center, let me know.”

  If he took her up on the offer, was it possible to mend fences, prove to her that he was a changed man? He’d bet patients prolonged their recovery all the time thanks to such offers from former sweethearts.

  “I should go...”

  In a hurry to escape, are you?

  “Yeah, I’m sure you have a mountain of work waiting for you back at the Institute.”

  “That isn’t the reason. You look tired. And unless I’m mistaken, you’re in a lot of pain, too. I just don’t want to wear you out.”

  “You aren’t. I’m glad to see you. Really glad.”

  The doorbell rang, and Gladys called out, “That’s probably for you, Maleah...” Those whispered comments earlier made sense now. She’d arranged a get-well gift of some sort. But why not save the delivery fee, and bring them over herself? Don’t read too much into it, stupid.

  A middle-aged man stepped inside, put a cardboard container and what appeared to be a box of candy onto the kitchen island, then handed Maleah three Mylar balloons. GET WELL, one said. CHIN UP! said another. And the third was a gigantic yellow smiley face.

  Maleah tipped the guy, who hurried on to make his next delivery.

  “Any dietary restrictions?” she asked, placing the candy box on his side table. She returned to the kitchen to get the cardboard container. “I remember how much you love truffles...”

  “No restrictions,” he said. “And thanks. You didn’t have to do this.”

  “It’s no big deal. Just a little something to cheer you up.”

  Oh, she’d done that all right, in spades.

  “This is easy to care for. Just soak it well once a month, keep it near a sunny window. Don’t use tap water, though. The chlorine and fluoride will kill the plants...and leave an ugly white residue on the sides of the pot. No need to buy distilled. Bottled is fine, or you can fill a pitcher with tap water and let it rest for about twenty-four...”

  Another trademark Maleah Turner trait: Rambling when she felt out of place, nervous or afraid. Which of the three provoked her cactus care lecture? It didn’t matter, really because Ian felt like a heel for making her feel anything but welcomed.

  “You’ll get a kick out of this,” he said, grinning. “I was dead to the world when you first got here, and thought you were a mirage or something.”

  She aimed a maternal digit in Cash’s direction. “Don’t touch this, or you’ll be sorry, okay?” She patted his head and pointing at the plants said, “No, no, no...”

  Maleah moved the garden to the shelf unit beside the TV, well out of his reach. Returning to her place on the couch, she smiled at Ian.

  “Better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Definitely.”

  “So...you were...you were dreaming? About me?”

  A remark like that from the old Maleah might indicate that she felt flattered. But the new Maleah had changed a lot, and Ian couldn’t get a read on what it meant now.

  “I guess you could say that.”

  A tiny smile lifted the left corner of her mouth. “Don’t know if I’ve ever been the star of a guy’s dream before.”

  She’d stood center stage in hundreds of dreams during his years at Lincoln. What would she say if he admitted it now?

  Only one way to find out...

  “It probably won’t surprise you to hear that I thought of you a lot while I was...away.” The smile disappeared, and in its place, the all-business expression he’d seen her aim at people like Stan, the Institute’s administrat
or, her supervisor.

  Maleah began to fidget—another telltale sign that she felt uncomfortable. He searched his mind for a topic to divert the conversation.

  A two-note chime interrupted them. Saved by the bell.

  “I’ll get it, Gladys...”

  Terri and Avery stepped into the apartment, and were promptly greeted by Cash. The boy got onto his knees and hugged the dog’s neck, and paid no attention to the adults in the room.

  “You look awful,” Terri said.

  She’d baked something, and placed the foil-covered plate on the island.

  “Man. Aren’t you good for a guy’s ego.” Ian smirked. “I hope that’s your world-famous brownies...”

  “She made three batches,” Avery said, looking into Cash’s eyes. “One for you, one for Mom and me, and one for the teachers and aides at my school.” The boy crossed the room, sat on his heels next to Ian’s chair, and Cash flopped down beside him. “What did they do to you?”

  Ian pointed at each injury and provided a tip-of-the-iceberg explanation for each bandage and cast.

  “Does it hurt much?”

  “Nah. I’m tough.” He flexed his good bicep and winced, which sent Avery into a fit of giggles.

  Ian faked a frown. “Make yourself useful, meanie, and get us both a brownie.” He looked at Maleah and Terri. “You guys want one, too?”

  “They’re not guys, Ian.” Avery rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

  “Use a plate,” Gladys said, joining them. “And get one for the rest of us, too.”

  She zeroed in on Maleah, sent what Ian recognized as an approving nod. It made Maleah blush, and she looked pretty cute doing that, too. Ian worried if she didn’t knock it off, he’d say something stupid, like I love you to pieces, Maleah Turner. Always have, always will.

  He clamped his jaw shut.

  Avery handed Ian his brownie. “I’m real glad you didn’t die. You’re one of my best friends.”

  Ian laughed and clutched his aching rib cage. “I’m glad, too.” He wiggled a forefinger to invite the boy closer. When Avery leaned in, Ian added, “You’re one of my best friends, too.”

  Through all of this, Maleah had stood near the kitchen island, quietly observing. If he had to guess, he’d say the conversation between him and Avery gave her something new to consider: Ian Sylvestry, convicted felon, enjoying a positive interaction with a special needs child; maybe he’d changed for the better, after all. Quick as a blink, the affectionate expression dimmed. Memory of her cutting remark on the dance floor came to mind. If she believed he could steal from kids like Avery, was Maleah also suspicious of his friendship with the boy?

  “You aren’t eating your brownie,” Avery said.

  Ian took a huge bite and chewed, mostly to buy him some time to think without someone thinking he might be planning some new crime.

  “Good, isn’t it?” the boy said around a big bite of his own.

  Nodding, Ian replied with a closed-mouth smile. He needed to quit dwelling on what she’d said. What did it matter if she’d meant it or not when there was no hope of a future between them?

  Ian glanced at her. The sweet, tender look had returned. Man, what he’d give for the power to read her mind, just for a few minutes.

  You’ll drive me stark raving nuts, he thought.

  “We have to go,” Terri said, extending a hand to her son.

  “Aw, Mo-o-om, do we have to go already? We just got here.”

  “I know, but we need to get you to school. You’ve already lost hours, thanks to the dentist appointment. And besides, Ian looks tired.”

  Avery gave Ian a judicious once-over and, shoulders slumped, trudged to the door.

  “Good thing I didn’t take off my coat.”

  “Thanks for stopping by, guys,” Ian said. “It was good to see you, and I know Gladys and my dad will think so when they get hold of those brownies.”

  “Don’t let them eat too many,” the boy said. “Mom baked ’em for you.”

  Hand raised as if taking an oath, he said, “You bet.”

  Maleah, acting as hostess, thanked them, too, and closed the door behind them.

  Gladys broke a brownie in half. “That was sweet of her.”

  Then she was pressing her fingertips to her lips, dark eyes wide and blinking as Maleah calmly made her way to the row of wrought iron coat hooks beside the door.

  “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

  “Ian looks pale,” she told Gladys. “I’m afraid I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

  “No,” he said, “you haven’t. And I’m fine. But I understand that you’re busy at work. Thanks for the gifts.”

  Gladys poked around in the box the cactus garden had come in. “Good grief, nephew. You didn’t read the card?” She fanned her face with it. “That’s the first thing you do when opening a gift.”

  “I, uh, didn’t realize there was a card.” He looked at Maleah. “Sorry.”

  “It isn’t his fault, Ms. Syl—Gladys. I forgot to give it to him.”

  A peculiar glint sparked in Maleah’s eyes. What reason would she have to leave the card for him to find later?

  Gladys slid the card from its tiny envelope and placed it on his open palm. She stood beside his chair, hands on hips.

  Ian looked up at her. “What...”

  “Aren’t you going to read it?”

  It consisted of two, brief lines. “Already did.”

  She snapped it from his hand.

  “Holy smokes, Gladys. You trying to add paper cut to the list of the things wrong with me?”

  “Oh, hush. No harm done.” Moving her reading glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose, she read aloud: “‘While you rest and recover, I’ll be thinking of you, and praying you’ll be back on your feet soon. Fondly, Maleah.’”

  Maleah looked at him—studied him was more like it—no doubt to see if he’d read more into her signature line than she’d intended. He couldn’t very well admit that the word fondly stuck out like the thumb of his thickly bandaged left hand. Would’ve been nice if she’d written love instead, but he’d take what he could get.

  For now.

  “That’s so touching, Maleah.” Gladys pressed the card to her chest, then made eye contact with Ian. “Isn’t it sweet, nephew?”

  Hardly the word he’d use.

  Maleah hitched her purse strap higher on her shoulder and opened the door. “Thanks for the coffee, Gladys,” she said. And turning toward Ian, Maleah added, “Don’t eat all that candy in one sitting.”

  The door had barely clicked shut behind her before that day—a lifetime ago—resurfaced in his mind: He’d bought her a heart-shaped box of inexpensive chocolates. She ate one nougat-filled treat...and he devoured the rest in less than fifteen minutes. Maleah would have been well within her rights to say “I told you so!” when his stomach started churning and his head began to pound. Instead, she found a nickel-sized white tablet at the bottom of her purse, dropped it into a bottle of water, and made him drink every last drop. The vile fizzy stuff did help settle his roiling gut. Got rid of the headache, too. But nothing made him feel better than when he said “Do you know how much I love you?” and she responded with “About as much as I love you, I suppose.” There’s something seriously wrong with you, Sylvestry. Why else would something like that hurt so much after all this time?

  “Think I’m going back to bed,” he said, grunting as he lifted himself from the chair.

  “Great idea. Maleah was right. You do look pale. A nap will do you good.” Ian put his back to her as fast as he could, because one look at his face and the woman who’d been more mother than aunt to him would demand to know why there were tears in his eyes.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MA
LEAH COULDN’T GET Ian’s face out of her mind. The furrows on his otherwise smooth brow told her he was in considerable pain. And his usually deep strong voice had sounded as weak as he looked. It made her wonder if he might be bleeding from one of the surgery sites. The fact that he’d smiled in that approachable way he had before the whole Lincoln incident was the only reason she hadn’t picked up the phone to get more details from Gladys.

  She never should have gone to his apartment. The gifts, the reasonably comfortable conversation might have given him false hope, and that wouldn’t be fair. Ian had put his life on the line for total strangers, and look how he’d ended up. That wasn’t fair, either.

  They’d been alone at least fifteen minutes before Terri and Avery arrived. Why hadn’t she asked all the questions that had been swirling in her head? Questions about life at Lincoln. Were the guards cruel? Was the food horrible? How dreary was the place? Did he have enough blankets to warm him during the cold winters? A fan to cool him in the summertime? How did he busy himself while alone in his cell? Letters in, letters out were probably the only way for him to hold onto memories from home. And from what she remembered of his father, Brady didn’t write often, if at all. How sad that Gladys was the only person Ian could truly count on in life. Well, Gladys and Cash.

  Even if she’d taken advantage of the opportunity, she wouldn’t have asked her most bothersome question: How often had he thought of her? A silly question, since in every one of the fifty-two letters, he apologized profusely for the self-centered actions that put her in a precarious position with friends and family, and he repeatedly said that he missed her.

  He’d never know the full truth.

  Because she’d never tell him...

  Maleah stared out the window behind her desk, across the lawn and gardens. Two swans slid across the aqua surface of the pond, leaving ripples in their wake.

  Ripples...like those Ian’s crime had caused.

  It seemed wrong to continue punishing him for one crime that took place so long ago. A crime he’d paid for by sacrificing ten years of freedom. She hoped that eventually, the time would come when people saw his slate as wiped clean. People like Eliot, her father and grandfather. Even her mother and grandmother. And most of all, herself. “Pointless,” she said to herself, stacking and restacking papers on her desk. What’s done is done, and what happened is ancient history. She’d have to learn to live with her guilty conscience, just as she’d learned to live without him, because her family would never approve of a renewed relationship with Ian. Her family meant the world to her, and she couldn’t do anything that might upset or disappoint them.