After the Storm

by Faith Andrews

  Our sexual connection is more than enough to persuade me, but it’s not just that. It’s the whole package. Everything I’ve ever longed for. Well, everything that’s available to me without a miracle. But this second chance at love is so much better than what I was given the first time, I find myself reborn in a way I never imagined. Whoever’s in charge of life, whether it be God or whatever higher power we’re supposed to believe in, He may have cursed me in one way, but He blessed me when He put Noah in my path. I’m certain of that.

  Letting go of Noah’s calming grip, I walk over to the children crying in their playpens. Noah busies himself while I try to make myself useful. I walk around with my hands crossing my chest; I don’t want to get too close. This sort of thing is obviously a sore spot that will never fully heal, but if I can help in any way, it might soothe someone’s ache just a teensy bit.

  There’s a little boy, ringlets of dark hair and bright blue eyes, sucking his thumb but whining to get out. Next to him are two girls, definitely sisters, keeping themselves occupied with iPods and iPads, ignoring their crying brother. I tap the oldest one on the shoulder and manage to startle her from her daydream. She removes the buds from her ears and smiles up at me from her place on the uncomfortable-looking cot.

  “Hey, is your mom around? Your brother—that is your brother, right?—seems to be hungry or wet.” Unfortunately, I don’t know much about the baby species, but from what little I’ve heard, it’s usually one or the other that gets them this way.

  “She’s over there.” The pretty little girl with the same mesmerizing eyes as her baby brother points towards the wall behind me where I spot a blonde woman making beds and tidying up. “We’re not poor or anything, you know. We have no power at our house so Mom decided to come here and lend a hand. We’re bored out of our minds and EC here is a cranky pants who just won’t sit still. I’d get Mom, but she warned me not to bother her unless it was an emergency.”

  I laugh, but I remember what it was like to be her age and second-guess everything my mother said. Such is life—a vicious cycle. Holed up in this stuffy gymnasium while she could be home watching MTV or Disney channel, or whatever it is they watch these days, is so much better than anything her mom has her doing today.

  “My name’s Willow.” I extend a hand. She takes it reluctantly and then smiles when her eyes meet mine.

  “I’m Cara. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but everything’s strange since the hurricane blew it all upside down, so I guess it’s okay to talk to you. You’re really pretty, by the way.”

  “Why thank you. So are you. Is that your little sister?” I point to the other girl—she has similar features to Cara, especially those ice blue eyes and the curly blonde hair. They’re adorable. Precious. Something I’ve always wanted for myself.

  “Yup. That’s Charlie. She’s watching the same episode of iCarly over and over and over again. Don’t know how she’s not bored out of her gourd yet.”

  “Little kids, what can you do?” I try to get down to her level of understanding. She’s been removed from her home to come here and help. No school, no fun, limited technology in the age of technology overload. She’s got to be going out of her mind. “So, did Mom go to this school when she was younger?” I ask, curious about the woman making herself at home in the crowded gymnasium.

  “Class of ’97 I think. Sounds old, right? But she’s so young and beautiful all my friends’ dads always say how lucky my daddy is. They make the perfect couple too. Everyone loves them.” Her smile reaches her eyes as she watches her mom. To have a kid so grateful and appreciative at her age must be a true blessing. I do my best not to let my feelings get the best of me as I enjoy my little chat with this wise young girl.

  “So, is there anything I can do to help?” Her brother is still whining and Charlie is totally engrossed in her DVD player. “Should I take your brother to your mom?”

  “Have a blast. He puked on me before, and I have no desire to get globbed on again. Right now, I just wish we could go home. But Dad’s on his way to bring us more stuff and then we’re headed to the elementary school a mile down the road. Mom says it’s nice to give to people less fortunate. Some of my friends lost everything. They don’t even have clothes left. Can you imagine?”

  No, I can’t. She can’t be more than ten, and to have to imagine something so horrific—my heart bleeds for this kind little lady. “Tell ya what. My boyfriend and I have a stash of cool stuff in the car. Before we leave, I’ll make sure you get the good stuff. You’re a good girl, helping Mommy this way, even if your brother has been begging for his big sister’s attention all this time.”

  I glance over at the boy—probably not even a year old yet—and that familiar pang pricks my heart. I reach in to grab him and he comes willingly. As I lift him, he throws his arms around my neck and points to his mother. “Ma-ma, Ma-ma!”

  “Cara, want to come with me or are you still too busy listening to One Direction or whatever that new boy band is?”

  “One Direction? Pssh!” She waves her hand. “I don’t waste my time on that stuff. I have the entire Beatles discology on my iPod, but I’ve been through that already. This is my dad’s album. I know every word to all the songs he wrote for Mom. He’s working on a new one now. Even wrote a song for me. Charlie and EC got one too—by default, of course. He told me he has to be fair so we don’t wind up in therapy.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Smart man, your dad.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” She eyes a squirming EC in my weakening grip and arches a brow. “You better take him to her. He’s got that look again.”

  “What look?”

  “The I’m-gonna-hurl-my-stinky-formula-all-over-this-nice-lady look.”

  I scrunch my nose, stretch my arms out and hold him at a distance. “Good heads up. I’ll get him to your Mom. It was nice to meet you, Cara. I’ll be sure to get those things I told you about before we head out of here.”

  “Awesome!” She returns the buds to her ears, closes her eyes and relaxes on the limp pillow with her arms behind her head. To be that young and innocent again. The world is spinning around her in twirling madness and she’s content as pie with her iPod. Wish it were that simple again.

  “Come on, little guy. Let’s go see what you need from your Mama.” Before I can make it to her, the blonde woman notices me carrying her son and narrows a disapproving gaze my way.

  “Everything okay?” She takes him from my arms, and blows her long bangs out of her face. She’s beautiful, just like her children. Gracefulness, youth, and elegance exude from this woman all from one moment’s glance.

  “Sorry to intrude. I’m Willow. I came here with my boyfriend to volunteer and I saw your little guy crying. I thought I’d make myself useful.”

  Still seemingly confused by my overbearing need-to-be-motherly attitude, the woman shakes her head when she notices her daughters lost in their own world. “I swear to Christ, those two. They’d probably sell him to the devil himself just to get away with not changing a diaper.”

  I bring my hand to my mouth to hide my amusement; I was given that exact impression of Cara. Charlie didn’t so much as bat an eye when I scooped her brother away, either. “I’m sorry. I just figured—”

  “No, don’t apologize. You did the right thing. Thank you. He’s due for a nap, and come to think of it—I don’t think I’ve slept one flipping wink since this Sandy bitch rolled in.”

  Sympathy erodes all my other emotions, and I remember why we’re here in the first place. “Your daughter told me that you were volunteering, but is your house okay? Did you lose anything?”

  “If you count my sanity and the three nights’ worth of sleep, yes. But all kidding aside, we were lucky. My husband should be here any second. We’re just doing what we can to help our neighbors and the community. We’re a tight knit little village of sorts and I hate seeing so many in need of things we have no use for anymore. Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?”

>   “Oh, yes.” I admit. “I mean, I’m not from here so I can only imagine, but I’ve seen enough to empathize and want to give back. My boyfriend and I are in from San Diego. It was his idea to come here first. I wonder if you know him. I think he graduated around the same time as you. He was quite the guy around here too, from what he’s told me. Noah’s his name. Noah Matheson. Does that ring any bells?”

  The woman’s eyes pop wider than humanly normal. Her rosy, healthy complexion turns ashen. “Um. Yes, I know him. He’s here? Are you sure? He hasn’t been back in—”

  “So you do know him!” I interrupt. “Oh, how funny! I bet he didn’t even consider he’d run into any old friends. This trip has been such a journey down memory lane for him, and a get-to-know-more-about-my-man experience for me.” I beam with excitement, bursting at the seams to find out more about Noah and reintroduce him to his old classmate. “What’s your name, hun? I’ll run over and grab him.”

  I turn to find Noah to bring him to the kind woman who’s dropped her own life and brought her whole family here to do good for her community. She’s a lot like Noah. I wonder if they knew that back then. I’m curious to see how he reacts to seeing a blast from his past. Maybe he won’t even remember her. Or maybe she’s one of the many girls he ignored because of baseball. Either way, as I spin around to call for my boyfriend, the shock on his face as he stares at the woman toting her son warns me all is not kosher.

  “Mia?” Noah asks, all color lost from his usually tanned face.

  “Noah?” Mia—I assume—responds with the same lost-puppy distress.

  And then it hits me, as these two stare at each other as if something is pulling them together yet keeping them far apart. This is Noah’s Mia. The Mia. His past. The woman who broke his heart. The reason he left New Jersey and moved to California.

  I’ve been shooting the shit with the one woman I hoped I’d never encounter. I feel like the consolation prize in her presence. She has it all—the looks, the heart, even the children I can never have. My feet fight the urge to run like the wind, but my thick skull keeps them planted to the ground in a frozen statue-like state.

  Time seems to stop as silence reigns between the three of us. Blood pumps like rapidly beating drums in my ears. My palms become sweaty, and unwanted tears prick the back of my eyes. Don’t you dare cry, Willow. This is nothing to cry about! I convince myself that this is true, take a deep breath, and hold on to my smile. But I remain innocent to the totally cruel reality before me.

  Before I can hurl the way Mia’s son did on his sister, a voice breaks through the silence from behind us. My ears welcome the disruption.

  “Mia, babe, I went home and managed to get—” A man with piercing blue eyes, a rugged five o’clock shadow, and dangerously sexy hair approaches and stops dead in his tracks when he sets his sights on Noah. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  A disaster pummeled through these parts a few days ago and wrecked many, many things. Without seeming heartless, that disaster was nothing compared to what this coincidental meeting has done to wreck any faith I had in my relationship. Something’s about to go down. I can feel it in my bones. There’s too much history here to ignore. Too much hurt to avoid. These three have unfinished business to attend to, and I have the extreme misfortune of being given a front row seat.

  I’m being fucking punked. Ashton Kutcher, would you kindly emerge from your hiding spot and put down the goddamn cameras?

  Only—this is no prank! This is reality. Real fucking life. Cruelty in its sickest, ugliest, unrelenting form. My woman was chatting with the one who got away. The one who got away with the man staring at me as though I’m about to eat his woman whole. I haven’t felt this pigeon-holed since the night at that bar when Douchey McFloppy Hair serenaded my girlfriend and turned her back into his wife.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Declan barks, and it’s now obvious to Willow that this ain’t no homecoming parade.

  “What everyone else is doing here,” Mia says, calm as the lull before any shit storm.

  Declan’s glare never leaves mine. If a dude could combust from rage, he’d implode right on the spot and make a pretty decent mess, all for nothing. “Hiya, Dec. How’ve you been?” I smirk with a wiseass tone. His get-the-fuck-away-from-my-wife glower doesn’t faze me. So much time has passed, this chance encounter shouldn’t be an issue—at all. He got his woman back, what’s his fucking problem I was the one left with nothing, who picked up and took off with all the extra baggage losing Mia weighed me down with.

  “Life’s been perfect. Can’t complain about a thing.” He’s so smug, I want to rip the obnoxious grin off his face.

  No matter how much time has passed, this feels like having a scab picked at. I’m over it. I have Willow—the gorgeous woman looking at this fucking mess with pure innocence and concern in her caring eyes. I’m no longer a slave to the what-ifs and could’ve beens, but I’ll be goddamned if Declan Murphy will ever make me feel like a schmuck again.

  Mia addresses Willow and gives us a chance to get the testosterone level back down to a healthy minimum. “I’m Mia, by the way. This is my husband, Declan and my son, Edward. I see you’ve met Cara, and Charlie is the one oblivious to the world over there.” I can tell Mia’s nervous, just making small talk and playing it cool, but deep down she’s got to be all tangled and frazzled. No two ways about it—this is fucking awkward. The possibility of running into her here was something that flitted in and out of my head, but the possibility of it actually happening—and this way?—come on! That shit is slim to none.

  Willow’s gaze darts between me and Mia, her sharp eyes appraising our reaction to each other. I’m withdrawn as much as possible. I don’t want Willow—or douchey Decky—getting any ideas. I won’t lie—this brings back a ton of unresolved emotions, but I’m happy now. I’m where I’m supposed to be, with whom I’m supposed to be. No need for dramatics, it’s time to say ‘nice to see ya’ and move on. We’re not friends. I never intend to be anything more than part of her past, so it’s time to hightail it outta here and move on to our next stop.

  I take a silent Willow by the hand, and smile at the baby boy. I had no idea Mia had another child. For one split, outrageous second a part of me contemplates something farfetched and foolish. If Mia and I had stayed together, I could have been the daddy of that little boy. I’d be a part of Cara and Charlie’s lives too. I’d be here, where I came from, living out the dream I once wanted with all my heart.

  The thoughts and visions flash before me and then disappear just as quickly, almost as if the part of my brain that imagined them was told to shut the fuck up. Caressing Willow’s hand with my thumb, I relish what I do have and scold my wistful memories. Time to leave before this goes somewhere it doesn’t need to. “Well, while it was fun running into you like this, we have a few more stops to make. Our time is limited and we want to make sure we get as much done as possible. Goodbye, Mia.”

  It’s equal parts final and refreshing to be the one to say it. I should have said those words a long time ago—even if just to myself. A freeing serenity floods my veins as I turn to walk away from my past, holding the hand of my future.

  “I’m surprised you came back at all. I thought I got rid of you for good.” Declan’s words stop me in my tracks and my head spins around like I’m possessed.

  “What did you say?” I squint. Dude clearly needs to repeat himself. “You want to be a dick, own it. Don’t whisper it.”

  His chest puffs up, his neck thickens with pulsing veins.

  “Declan, stop.” Mia places a hand on her husband’s shoulder, obviously trying to charm him into submission.

  Willow entangles her fingers with mine, keeping her head down. If only I knew what was going through her head. Poor thing must have eight thousand questions. “One minute, baby,” I whisper, then kiss her forehead and wait for Declan to speak up.

  Cupping his hand over Mia’s, Declan’s eyes burn with spite. The kind of spite that on
ly a possessive man retains. He knows what his wife and I did together, had together, felt together. One look at me and it’s eating him from the inside out all over again.

  “What’s the matter, Dec? Cat got your tongue? I’d like for you to explain to me how you had anything to do with me leaving. I left that bar out of respect for your wife. I left this state for a job—a calling, if you will. You had nothing to do with that. So feed yourself all the bullshit you want—whatever makes you feel more like a man. But we’re done here so again, goodbye. Have a nice life.”

  This time I’m hell-bent on getting the fuck outta here before another wise remark spurts out of his jealous mouth. Newsflash, bozo. You won! Get over it! But—yep, another but—the idiot can’t keep his mouth shut. His laugh echoes loudly through the gym. Mia’s cries to let it go are drowned out by his maniacal chuckles. “You’re wrong again, Matheson, and all these years later, I guess it’s time the truth came out.”

  Truth? What the hell’s this clown talking about? “You obviously have something to say to me, so just get on with it. Enough with your games, I have things to do.”

  Willow sighs and gnaws on her lip, clearly uncomfortable with this unpleasant reunion.

  Dropping his grip from Mia’s hand, Declan gets in my face. I let go of Willow’s fingers and she backs away to collapse on a nearby cot. My fists tighten into white-knuckled balls as I confront this asshole once and for all. “What the fuck is your problem, bro?” I want to shout it, but instead, I keep my cool. His kids are here, our women present, no need to get physical and start a scene—even though he’s picking a fight.

  Never faltering from my angry glare, Declan arches a brow with so much confidence I can almost smell it. “I made that call to Habitat for Humanity, you know? It was me who got you assigned to that job. For a while I felt like shit about it, but seeing you again now—sneaky move or not, it was the best thing I ever did. For both of us.” His arms wraps around his wife again in a he-man move to claim her.