by Monica James
“So, I was thinking…” I gulp because this is how this morning’s conversation commenced. “Did you want to grab dinner tonight?”
A better proposition than sex, but still not inviting at all. “Dinner?” I vaguely say, continuing to look over my supplies so I can avoid eye contact. “I’m not really hungry.”
“It’s 1:30 in the afternoon,” he replies, not concealing his hurt.
“I had a big breakfast,” I counter.
“Lucy, please look at me.” His pained tone has me sighing and meeting his grief-stricken eyes. “I really am sorry for the way I acted, but I’m trying now. It feels like you’re not even meeting me halfway.”
He’s right, I’m not, but just like he did, I need time to grieve. I had no other choice but to be the strong one, but now, it’s my turn to be a little selfish. “You’re right, Sam. But you have to understand, you really hurt my feelings. It’s going to take some time for me to forget what you said and did. How do I know this change will last? You’re like two people at times, and I don’t know which one I’ll wake up to.”
It feels good to express my fears because it’s the first time he’s really wanted to talk.
“I understand that, but how many times do I have to say sorry before you cut me some slack?”
“For as long as it takes,” I quickly reply. “You owe me that. I was patient with you…it’s now your turn to do the same.”
He nods unhappily, but doesn’t argue.
The rest of the afternoon we work in silence, both wishing we were anywhere but here.
* * * * *
True to my word, I didn’t go to dinner with Sam. I did go to dinner with myself, however. I couldn’t stand to see him moping because although I don’t know how I feel about him, I hate seeing him sad.
I could have called Piper, but I’ve been avoiding her because I can’t stomach to hear about her sexcapades with Saxon. The only person I want to be around is me, as I need to do some serious soul searching, and I can’t do that at home.
I’m being pulled in so many different directions—I don’t know which way is the right way to go. I really want to talk to Saxon, to get it all out on the table and then see how I feel. But how do you talk to someone who doesn’t want to listen to what you’ve got to say?
One thing I’ve decided is that I’m no longer eating meat. I used to be a happy, healthy vegetarian, and I intend to be one once again. Too bad I decided this the moment I walked into Anna’s BBQ. This place brings back fond memories of when Saxon and I ate here after our kiss. Regardless of what happened, we were still able to break bread and be civil towards one another. Now, I doubt he can stand being in the same room as me.
As I’m pensively picking through my salad, a familiar, magical laugh catches my ear. Turning to my right, I choke on my half chewed tomato when I see Saxon and Sophia sitting two tables away from me. Their hands are entwined on top of the red and white checkered tablecloth as they look longingly into each other’s eyes.
I thump my chest, wheezing for breath quietly, as I don’t want to draw any attention my way. Finally, I swallow past the lump in my throat and huddle low in the booth, turning my back so they can’t see me. I need an escape route and I need one now.
Looking ahead, I see a middle aged, robust woman with rosy cheeks, flipping burgers in the kitchen, smiling broadly and looking at home. I’m assuming this is Anna. Most days, I would appreciate what she’s done to the place as she’s definitely brought Texas to Montana. But today, all I can appreciate is the exit.
Behind me are the bathrooms, so that means the only way I’m getting out of here is walking past Sophia and Saxon. From the brief look I got, it appeared they’d only just arrived, as there was no food on the table. The tablecloth looked way too clean, as Saxon would have caked it with remnants of his ribs if they’d already eaten.
A small stage is set up next to the bar and when I hear a twang of a banjo, and see the lights dim, my heart leaps, as this is the distraction I need. “Don’t be shy, folks,” a man with a long southern drawl says over the microphone before he begins playing a Hank Williams song.
Peeking over my shoulder, I see cheerful diners taking to dancing by their tables. I scan over to Sophia and Saxon. He’s smiling at something she just said. I suppose I should be happy that he’s smiling. I can’t help but wish I put the smile there instead of her.
Turning back around, I psych myself up, certain that I can blend in with the crowd. If worse comes to worst, I’ll just dance my way out the door. Counting to three, I take a deep breath and leap out of the booth and…into a wall of muscle.
Dang it.
Saxon steadies my arms, a gut reaction to someone barreling into him. But when I raise my eyes and curse whatever gods are looking over me, he drops his hands. “Lucy?”
“Hi.”
The music is quite loud and the lighting a blue tint, but I can see and hear him perfectly. Nothing else exists but us. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating,” I reply, grimacing. “I was just leaving.”
“Where’s Sam?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, looking behind me.
“At home.”
“You’re here by yourself?” He doesn’t seem to believe me.
“Yes, Saxon, I am.” I want to talk to him, to blurt out how I feel. But I’m not doing it with his date a few feet away. “Enjoy your date.”
He appears guilty for a fraction of a second, before the smug, offensive Saxon emerges. “I will. I don’t plan on coming home, so don’t bother leaving the porch light on.”
My heart dislodges and sinks downward in a spiral of despair. I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me, but I bite my tongue and decide to be honest. “I liked being your friend.”
Not the reply he was expecting. And his response is not what I expected either. Stepping forward, he blankets me with his rage as I walk backwards, trapped between the booth and him. “We were never friends. Stop kidding yourself.”
An acknowledgement, a cruel one, but an acknowledgment nonetheless. This is the first time he’s said aloud what I’ve been feeling all along. He sees the hope in my eyes, but crushes it a second later. “Go back to your lies, Lucy, and I’ll go back to mine.”
He turns his back, leaving me slumped against the wooden booth. I watch in horror as he reaches his table and swoops forward, kissing Sophia on her perfect mouth. She jolts back, stunned by his aggression, but doesn’t question it as she matches his passion a second later.
I’m going to be sick.
Running through the crowded room, I push past happy patrons, wishing I could dance my troubles away. The crisp breeze is exactly what I need, and my need to vomit subsides—for now, anyway. Leaning against the brick wall, I’m half hoping Saxon will come to my rescue, apologizing for being a gigantic asshole and that he wants to talk. He does neither.
A concerned passerby asks if I’m okay, the worry in her warm eyes is enough to set me off. I sprint to my car, tears leaking from my eyes. I feel helpless, useless, and so alone. I don’t know where to go. I can’t go home because home isn’t where my heart is anymore. I left my heart in Texas.
Starting the Jeep, I tear down the road, wiping the avalanche of tears with the back of my hand. I sob harder than I’ve ever sobbed before. I sob for me, for Sam, for Saxon—I sob for the Lucy Tucker who no longer knows who she is.
I drive on auto pilot to the only place I can call home.
I kill the engine, but don’t bother to turn off the headlights or close the door as I run across the green, manicured lawns. The white home set amongst the hills is my palace, my happily ever after.
“Lucy?” my mother says, the door opening wide. “What—”
The wind gets knocked from her lungs as I throw myself into her outstretched arms.
She comforts me for several minutes while I stay nestled in her embrace, weeping. I can’t stop. I know how irrational I’m being, but I’m crying months’ worth of tears.
When I hear
my parents’ hushed, concerned voices, it reminds me so much of when they delivered the news about Samuel. The day this all started. Choking back my heaving breaths, I will myself to calm down.
“Honey? What’s the matter?” I don’t know what it is about a mother’s soothing voice, a tender touch that provides her child a medicine that cures all wounds.
I don’t feel better, but I feel human. “Mom, I made a big mistake,” I mumble into her shoulder, afraid to look at her. I’m ashamed.
“Simon, can you make us some hot cocoa? Lucy and I are going up to her room.”
My room.
And just like that, I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.
We amble up the stairs to my bedroom, a place which was my sanctuary, my safe place—a place I need to be right now. We sit on the bed, my mother giving me all the time and space I need.
Looking around, I realize I haven’t been here in months. I haven’t felt the need to, because my home, Whispering Willows, was my safe place. But now, it’s just a vacant house filled with regret.
My pastel pink room hasn’t changed a bit. My iron cast queen bed still has the same pink butterfly print duvet, the one I chose when I turned thirteen. Stuck to the walls are posters of horses, and places I so desperately wanted to visit—India, China, Australia. So many dreams, but none of them lived.
A small desk sits against the wall. Travel brochures, poetry books and my copy of The Catcher in the Rye are strewed on top of it. I remember sitting at the wooden desk, dreaming about my encounter with Samuel the night it happened. Everything seemed so simple back then. But now, nothing makes any sense.
“Did you talk to Saxon?” my mom asks gently.
Sniffing back my tears, I nod. “But it’s too late,” I confess. “I’ve lost him, and I feel like I’m dying inside.”
She reads my shame instantly and her face falls. “Oh, Lucy.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I cry, “it just did. It’s not an excuse and I’m disgusted at myself.” I cover my face with my hands, unable to look at her and see the disappointment.
After a poignant silence, she speaks. “Your father and I fell in love with you the first moment we saw you. I may not have given birth to you, but you are my child. I know you. We have watched you grow into a beautiful, caring, considerate young woman and your heart, Lucy, it’s so big. It’s always been too big. So it doesn’t surprise me that you find yourself in this predicament. In love with two people.”
The moment she says the words I’ve been dreading to accept, I uncover my eyes. I’m afraid I’ll see disappointment in hers, but I don’t. All I see are the same kind, gentle eyes that rescued me when I needed saving. Just like I do now.
“What do I do?” I ask, desperate for the answers.
Leaning forward, she brushes the hair from my face. “Follow your heart, honey.”
“My heart is torn, Mom. Right down the middle. I love Sam, I always will. But I don’t know who I am anymore.” I fall into her arms, sobbing.
She rubs my back, reassuring me that everything will be all right. “Love doesn’t make sense. Love happens when you least expect it. It’s inconvenient, messy, and reckless, but that’s the beauty of it. It isn’t a decision; it’s a promise—a promise to chase inconvenient, messy, and reckless love with someone who embraces the chaos with you.”
I continue crying, her wisdom cementing what I’ve known to be true. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“Honey, you can stay for as long as you like.” Settling into her arms, I close my eyes and allow sleep to overcome me. I can only hope when I wake, the chaos subsides and I can see through the confusion.
Twenty
My head feels clearer when I wake. I even feel semi-human when I shower and sit at the counter and enjoy my cup of coffee.
Mom’s words were exactly what I needed to hear. Love doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense for me to love Saxon, but I think that I do. I thought I knew what love was. But when I met Saxon, he turned my beliefs upside down.
I know I can’t hide out here forever, but it’s nice to pretend that I can. Mom and Dad have gone to run a few errands, so I have the house to myself. My family home is a stunning, old-world style house set on five acres. After growing up in squalor, this home was a palace—my real life castle.
As I roam from room to room, still in awe of the arched walkways and barrel ceilings, I stop when a picture hanging off the feature wall in the family room catches my eye. It’s a photo of Sam and me at our engagement party. The day was perfect. Stroking over the glass, I smile, remembering how proud I was to be wearing his ring. Now, however, looking down at it, I feel foolish.
A car’s tires crunching over the gravel makes me walk to the bay window, wondering who it could be. When I see the red Chevy pickup, I do a double take, incredulous when I see Samuel emerging from inside.
What’s he doing here?
I want nothing more than to hide, but I’ve done enough of that. This problem isn’t going to solve itself and the sooner I try and walk through it, the better. Exhaling, I wait for Samuel to ring the doorbell before I answer the door. The moment I open it, I get hit with a serious case of the guilt’s.
He looks visibly upset, which is a nice change from looking visibly pissed off. “Hi.”
“Hi, Sam.” I lean against the doorway, trying my hardest to stay strong.
His sea green eyes peer up at me from under a black beanie, which is a new look for him. “Is everything okay? You didn’t come home last night.”
“I thought it was my turn to stay out all night,” I reply, directing my comment at him and Saxon.
He lowers his eyes. “Are you coming back?”
Am I?
Instead of answering, I cock my head to the side in interest. “How’d you get here?” I know he doesn’t remember, which can only mean one thing.
“Saxon is in the car.” I look over his shoulder and see Saxon sitting in the driver’s side. I’m surprised he agreed to drive Sam, seeing as he’s the reason why I’m here in the first place. “He’s worried about you, too.”
His comment has me scoffing, folding my arms defensively. “I highly doubt that. I know you can’t remember, but I’m sure my diaries alerted you to the fact that Saxon hated me. Not much has changed,” I add, unable to hide my sadness.
“There’s something I want to tell you, Lucy. I didn’t remember it; well, I didn’t think I did until the other day when you were so quick to jump to his defense.” He’s captured my full attention and I nod, silently beckoning him to go on.
“When I was in a coma, I was neither here nor there. I was floating. I could hear voices, sounds, but I couldn’t distinguish who they were, or where they were coming from. But there was one voice which I’d always recognize. It kept me grounded.”
“Saxon’s,” I whisper. He nods.
“All the days, hours, minutes, seconds—they all melded into one. But one night, my voice sounded back at me. It said I was to come back to you, Lucy. I didn’t know what that meant, but I now know my voice was Saxon’s, begging me to come back to you because you needed me.”
I cover my mouth with a trembling hand.
“The pain was so clear in his tone, I felt like maybe he was the one who had lost you. He said that you were a good person, and that I was to take care of you because he couldn’t. He cried. I’ve never heard my brother cry. And then, he was gone.”
Saxon went to talk to Samuel before coming to see me, knowing that I believed he was the key. He did that for me. Even though we fought and his family treated him like shit, he still did all of this for me.
Saxon brought both Sam and I back to life. He didn’t believe he could make a difference, but he did. He changed our lives forever.
“So you see, he doesn’t hate you. Neither of us do.” Samuel’s apology is heartfelt.
“Thank you for telling me that.” I sniff back my tears.
“I haven’t told Saxon.”
“Don�
�t worry, your secret is safe with me,” I quickly reassure.
I don’t know what all of this means. There is something I’m missing. Just like Samuel, I’m missing pieces to a puzzle which becomes more unclear with time. And hiding away isn’t going to help me solve the mystery.
“Let me just grab my things,” I say, stepping backward and welcoming Sam into my home.
He stands in the foyer, waiting politely for me to return. It reminds me too much of prom. Writing a quick note for my parents, I stick it to the fridge with a horse magnet. It’s ambiguous, but I know my mom will understand.
Gone to chase the chaos.
Grabbing my things, I lock up and follow Sam to the truck. The closer we get, the clearer it becomes that Saxon is still angry at me, which pisses me off. If anything, I’m the one who should be angry at him for sleeping with Piper and then discarding her like some random fling. But I squash down those feelings as I open the door and slide across the bench seat and sit near him. It makes sense for me to sit in the middle, I’m the smallest, but being sandwiched between the two brothers feels awfully wrong. Sam closes the door, sealing my makeshift prison.
There is a gap between Saxon and me, as I can’t stomach touching him without wanting to scream or cry. But as Sam’s leg touches mine, I quickly scoot over. It really is the lesser of two evils. Our legs press together, and I whimper at the contact. This is ridiculous. I pull my leg away and curl in on myself so I’m not touching either brother. I’m now Switzerland.
Saxon doesn’t acknowledge me as he starts the truck and speeds down the driveway. Johnny Cash blares over the speakers, hinting there is no room for talking in this truck, which suits me just fine. Sam thankfully keeps his distance, looking out the window, taking in sights which should look familiar to him, but don’t. Saxon keeps his eyes focused on the road, his fingers gripping the wheel, his nostrils flared.
It appears he can’t even stand being in my presence. I can’t help but compare his response to how it was when we were growing up. No doubt, if he decides to acknowledge me, it’ll be with a grunt or blank nod. I absentmindedly toy with the necklace around my neck, deep in thought. Saxon peers over, looks down, and scowls.
