by Laurie Lewis
The muscles in his tanned forearms tensed and rippled as he gripped the wheels and forced them to turn. His hands surprised her. They were not the soft, manicured hands she would have expected from a business titan whose daily work involved lunch meetings and business negotiations. They were clean, but calloused, marred by recent scrapes and a few healed scars. Hudson was still a hands-on man.
Once the chair was free, Hudson rolled her down the hall. She caught her first glimpses of the welcoming touches he had added to the house to ease her move. Three vases of yellow tulips brightened the bathroom sink, the kitchen counter, and the living room coffee table. She didn’t know how to thank the giver standing behind her, the very man named in her pending lawsuit.
“The flowers are beautiful,” she said, with a practiced coolness.
He replied with a detachment that was equal to hers. “Your favorite, as I recall. One of the first flowers in the Maryland spring.”
Yes. Another thing he had remembered. He parked her in the living area, and she scanned the cheerful space. “I’ve always loved this house. Why did your parents move out?”
“These old wooden houses require a ton of maintenance. I own it now and manage the upkeep so they can just enjoy it when they’re here, which hasn’t been much since they’ve gone to Africa.”
“Do you spend much time here?”
“Not as much as I should, but I’m glad you’re going to be here for a while. You spent a lot of time here before. One by one, we’ve all abandoned the place. I think the house feels lonely now.”
Hudson’s voice carried a sad, melancholy tone. The same feeling burdened Olivia’s heart. She wondered if being here was the cause—in this house with its memories.
“I placed your bags in the master and moved my parents’ things into the guest room. I also emptied my closet in case we need the other room for Laurel or the night nurse once we hire one.”
“I’m sorry to be a nuisance.”
“My mother will probably thank you. Now my college ‘junk,’ as she refers to it, is neatly packed in labeled containers and stowed in the storage closet with my elementary school paintings and my junior high shop projects. Her dream has come true at last.”
Laurel giggled from the sofa.
“And Liv, the fridge is stocked with what I remembered as your favorites—vanilla soy milk, tropical fruits, and bread with as many grains as I could find. It feels like a brick, so it should be pretty healthy.”
Liv … She hadn’t been called that in years. Jeff had picked up on Hudson’s nickname for her and referred to her as Liv when they were single, but he began addressing her as Olivia on the day she became his wife. She asked herself whether the change was meant to usher in a future with Jeff or to slam the door on the bitter break from Hudson. Olivia still had painful questions for Hudson, but this return to the beach house was also unearthing happy memories. as well.
“I should be going. I’ll arrange for a night nurse, but I’m just a call away if you need anything.”
“Can you stay?” The words escaped her mouth without thought, apparently catching Hudson off guard. His head tipped sideways, and he looked askance at her.
“You’re asking me to stay?”
She immediately wished she could withdraw the words. “I thought we could talk.”
He drilled into her with a look that seemed intent on extracting further clarification. Neither of them spoke until Laurel broke the standoff.
“I’ll go unpack Olivia’s bags,” she said, as she veered down the hall to the master suite.
“I can stay for a while if you’d like.”
“Could we sit on the porch?” Olivia felt his hands twist on the chair’s handholds.
“Of course,” but his voice sounded anything but sure as he wheeled her onto the deck to view the churning sea.
She tipped her head back, enjoying the sun’s warmth and drawing in a long breath of salty pine-tinged air. Her heart relaxed with each breeze that riffled her hair and the wild ferns in the brush along the edge of the lawn. She studied Hudson as he leaned into the rail and watched the revelers below.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. For the flowers, for the gifts, for this view.” Olivia looked down at her battered hands. “I’m grateful to be here and out of the hospital.”
The rigid set of Hudson’s shoulders relaxed as he turned her way. “You’re welcome. I wish you weren’t in this situation at all.”
She fingered her wedding band. “We have a lot of old ground to cover.”
“No need to dredge up the past today. All that matters is how you are right now.”
The sting of tears began again. “They say I’ll be as good as new in a few weeks.”
“No.” The wistful reply was long and drawn out. “You’ll be a new you. Hopefully, a happy you again, but your life has changed.” He moved to the covered Adirondack chair near her and sat. “I heard about the baby. I’m so very sorry, Liv.”
The words were right, spoken with an ache similar to her own. Hudson was also in pain, but was it from empathy or guilt? She muttered a thank-you and segued to a new topic.
“Tell me about you. What does a day look like for a business mogul? I can’t picture you glued to a desk.”
“Neither could I. I leave the day-to-day operation to talented software developers, lawyers, and MBAs.”
“So what are your days like? Don’t tell me you’ve taken up golf or something.”
Hudson leaned his head back and laughed. “No golf.” He gave a final chuckle. “I travel, looking for new talent and ventures.” Growing more animated, he adjusted his position and leaned closer. “I’ve been to some of the most unforgettable places you can imagine, Liv, and met the most inspiring people. There is a wonderful, complex world out there, and it still needs dreamers and optimists.”
Dreamers and optimists. “Doers.” That was the term she and Hudson coined in their freshman year to refer to themselves. They were going to be doers who would tackle the great problems of the world.
“I don’t know if you still have an interest in humanitarian work, but there are opportunities for you—when you’re ready, of course.”
His eyes sparkled as he spoke. Hudson not only remembered their plans, but it sounded as if he had been following through on them. The realization brought a pang to her heart. And then she remembered Arena Corp and the way Hudson cast her and Jeff aside. She was not ready to nominate him for sainthood yet.
She nodded. “Since I’ve commandeered your home, where will you stay tonight?”
“I have hotel interests in the area. They’ll find a room for me or a utility closet somewhere.”
An image of Hudson in a broom closet came to her, and in an effort to suppress her laughter, Olivia ended up snorting, which caused them both to laugh out loud.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“To laugh?”
His index finger stabbed the air, a token from a shared memory, their first real taste of the human cost of war. They had received news of the death of a college friend whose National Guard unit was attacked in Fallujah. For days, they didn’t know how to appropriately distance themselves from their grief until one night when they were watching a movie with a scene that made them laugh. As if on cue, they stopped and stared at each other, each fearing they had sinned by feeling happy again. Liv started to cry, saying, “We’re already forgetting him.” Hudson’s reply had changed everything. “No. We’re just poking a hole in the sadness.”
Liv poked her own hole in the air.
“Jeff would want you to be happy again. Anyone who loves someone would wish that for them.”
A hidden message seemed included in his comment, but she was too weary and pained to sort it out or argue. “I hope you and I can find our way back to being friends again.”
“I’m still here, just like before.”
Again, a thousand unpursued meanings floated on that simple sentence. They each seemed to move back into their
respective corners as they stared out at the sea, watching the gulls dive and sky-dance. She shifted in the chair in response to the increasing pain in her leg.
A look of panic overtook Hudson as he glanced at his watch. “I’m an idiot. You’re an hour late for your meds.”
He leapt to his feet and rolled her inside to give her the appropriate pills, with Laurel reading from the sheets.
“We need a chart to track your meds schedule,” he said, as he pulled out his laptop and started typing. “I’ve contacted an online agency to hire a night nurse.”
Olivia could feel him detaching, preparing the terms for his withdrawal. As conflicted as she was about him and his role in Jeff’s downward spiral, he was also familiar, and somehow she felt safe with him. Once he left, her entire world would be reduced to one person, Laurel, a woman with whom she had spent less than ten total hours.
“Mr. Bauer,” chimed Laurel, “Ben has to work late, and I promised my mother we’d pick Joey up by six. I can get him and come back if you can cover things here for an hour.”
Hudson’s voice softened again. “No, just go. You’ve been great. I’ll wait for the nurse. And Laurel? Just call me Hudson, okay?”
She smiled shyly and nodded. “I’ll work on that.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Olivia, I’ll be back first thing in the morning before the nurse leaves. See you then.”
The bang of the door echoed in the silence that hung in the room.
Hudson pushed back from the table and moved to the open kitchen area. “You’re probably thirsty … or hungry.” He opened and closed cupboards and the fridge door as he rambled off suggestions. “What can I get you? You always liked salad. And I have sandwich fixings. Or soup? We’ve got several kinds here—” He stopped and shook his head. “My menu is about eight years too old. Why don’t you tell me what you like now?”
The choices overwhelmed her. For so long, with their tight budget in mind, she shopped for what Jeff liked, adopting his preferences over hers. She didn’t know what she preferred anymore, and that realization unnerved her. “I’m not hungry.”
He closed the fridge door. “You’re probably tired. Would you like to rest?”
She felt pushed. Another man was “managing her.” “Thank you, but I don’t need you to wait on me. What I would like is a way to repay you for your help. There must be something I can help with. I would like a chance to work.”
His face twisted in absurdity as he studied her braces and wraps.
“If I’m well enough to sit at a table, I’m well enough to use a computer. I’m quite good at programming and design, if you recall.”
She hoped he caught her reminder that she was the one who brought his vision to life years ago. To her amazement, Hudson turned the memory back on her.
“Oh, yes. I remember.” His response came in a slow, dramatic cadence. His eyes focused on an undetermined spot in the air, as if his thoughts were entirely somewhere else. Moments passed, and then his gaze drifted to her face. “I remember everything.”
He turned to the sink and filled a glass, draining it with pained slowness, as if his thirst was merely a way to delay answering her request.
Calm had returned to his face by the time he turned back around. “All right. I’ll bring a new phone and laptop for you tomorrow. If you’re having a good day, we’ll talk about work. I actually need to step outside and return some calls, so you’re welcome to use my computer to contact people. Folks must be worried about you.” He turned for the door then stopped. “You’ll need passwords. The Wi-Fi password is my mom’s name and my birthday—joan4386. My computer password should be familiar. It’s KwanjaiThai4u. Use the numeral four and a small-case letter u.” He exited and closed the door.
The password released a flood of memories that washed over Olivia. Food from the Kwanjai Thai restaurant fueled their brainstorming sessions while she and Hudson hammered out the details for the sports program. Whichever one of them picked up the food also delivered it, along with the “Kwanjai Thai for you” line spoken in a horrible Asian accent. The idea that he had hung on to that corny saying both touched and dismayed her.
Fatigue pounded her. Adding to her distress was something else Hudson had said. Folks must be worried about you … The error of that statement hollowed her. She and Jeff had mastered evasion to the point that she couldn’t think of one person who would notice her silence for weeks. Her isolation was too much to face tonight. Gratefully, the doorbell rang; the night nurse Hudson hired had arrived.
Hudson strode in from the deck and let portly, middle-aged Nurse Maggie in. After exchanging pleasantries with her new patient, the conversation shifted right into business—charts and medical questions.
“I gave Liv her pain meds about an hour ago.”
“Yes. I saw that in her chart.”
“I can fill you in on her discharge instructions if you’d like.”
“Is my patient impaired and unable to speak for herself?”
A flush of red rolled up from his neck to his cheeks. “N-n-no, ma’am. She’s perfectly capable. I just thought—”
“Yes?”
“I suppose I’m leaving now.” He nodded in Olivia’s direction. “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow. Rest well.” And then he was gone.
* * *
With a quick glance over his shoulder, Hudson realized he had been railroaded by a WWF-worthy opponent disguised as a nurse. He smiled and shook his head. Moments like these reminded him how unimportant he really was in the total scheme of things.
The humor was momentary, gone even before he reached his Range Rover. He sat on the leather seats and stared at the house, just now noticing how shallowly he had been breathing, as if holding his breath in Liv’s presence had become his new normal.
First loves … Everything the lyricists said about their effect on a man was true. He felt like a wide-eyed dreamer in her presence. There were so many similarities to their college days. Once again she was alone, a stranger without a home. He wanted to shelter her, protect her. But that didn’t appear to be what Liv wanted from him. She was an unknown now. Not just because she was widowed, hurt, and confused, but because of how she had left him in the first place and how she and Jeff had conducted their lives in the interim. Hudson wanted to believe that Jeff was the wizard behind the McAllister Marketing façade. He had a history of sabotage—bailing out on the first critical client presentation they had spent months setting up and then stealing the woman his supposed best friend Hudson had confessed to loving. But as unforgiveable as Jeff was for his part, Liv had said yes to his instantaneous proposal, and she left without a word.
Maybe Hudson never really knew her at all …
He had built an impressive empire around helping people, but that required insulating himself from opportunists and frauds, almost never appearing socially and then, only in the company of his few trusted associates. He had met his share of false friends and conspiring women. He hated to admit that those experiences had left him mistrustful and solitary. Those unflattering characteristics could likely be about protecting the Bauer name, but they had also left him lonely and with a narrow circle of trust. And now there was Liv.
He reminded himself that he had come to her. She had not asked for him and in truth, made her dislike of him quite clear. So why was he hanging around?
An examination of the situation revealed that Hudson’s pride was at the core. He would not be her crutch, but he needed to know a few things. Why had she set aside all they had been together, all he hoped to build with her, for a man who barely regarded her before asking for her hand? Had his judgment about Liv really been that flawed? That was the question that truly gnawed at him; a man who lived life more by his gut than by his balance sheet. And the bigger question pressing on him was, could he trust his instincts now?
6
Maggie, the night nurse, was efficient, professional, impersonal, and in charge. Olivia’s meds were administered, her wounds checked, and she was readied for bed in hal
f an hour. There would be no dawdling on Drill Sergeant Maggie’s watch.
The morning also ran on an efficient schedule, with breakfast and morning meds at seven followed by bathing and dressing. With Nurse Maggie’s encouragement and watchful eye, Olivia performed as many of the tasks as possible by herself.
As soon as the switchboards opened, schedules were set for physical and occupational therapy, but Olivia balked when Sarge tried to schedule recommended counseling.
The barrel-chested nurse softened for a moment. “You’ve lost a child and a husband, Mrs. McAllister. I know the pain of widowhood. I cannot imagine facing both. Please. Think about it.”
A softball-sized lump formed in Olivia’s throat at the mention of her losses. She knew she was compartmentalizing her grief, boxing it up to be faced another day after her body was healed. Perhaps that avoidance was why the idea of speaking to a counselor terrified her. She nodded her agreement to consider Nurse Maggie’s request just to avoid the subject a while longer.
Instead, she chose to tackle what she could manage—work. After daring to check her personal email, which was devoid of anything personal, she opened the MMM email account and felt a sweep of pressure as unmet deadlines and printers’ bills bombarded her.
She had designed this quarter’s coupon, but Jeff handled the receipts, and he hadn’t arranged for distribution before the accident. Their small business clients were depending on the revenue the ads would generate. The responsibility was now hers alone, and it was crushing.
