Nora's Guy Next Door

by Jo McNally

  She shook her head. “No, not alone. She has me. Because I’m not a coward. And we don’t need either one of you.” She walked past him without touching him. Her words shredded him. All he could do was breathe out her name. She turned when she reached the door.

  “Don’t call me. Don’t come into my shop. Fix your own damned coffee. You told me you wanted no part of this baby, so you’ll have no part of it. No part of me.” She faltered on the last sentence. She shook her head sadly. “Except for the part I’ve already given you.”

  And she was gone. He stood there in the unfinished house and thought about the wreckage of his life. The shadows grew longer, and still he stood there. He didn’t move until darkness had taken over, and even then all he did was light a fire and open a bottle of bourbon. He sat on the floor in front of the fireplace and drank.

  He sat there the next day, too. And the next night. Just trying to kill the pain. Once in a while he’d pull something out of the freezer to eat, but the booze was killing his hunger. If only it would kill his pain. On the third day, or maybe the fourth, he was dimly aware of a door opening and closing somewhere.

  “Nora?” His voice sounded like a croak. He hadn’t spoken in a while.

  “Christ, man. You’re a mess.”

  Strong hands grabbed him under the arms and Dan pulled him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get some coffee and food into you. It’s time to snap the hell out of it and get your head out of your freakin’ ass.”

  * * *

  THE FIRST THOUGHT Asher had as he walked up to his ex-wife’s home was that her new life seemed to be going pretty well. The sprawling midcentury home sat high in the hills overlooking LA. On a sunny day like today, the Pacific was visible, blue and glittering in the distance. Michael had told him once that Amy’s new husband was a producer or something.

  She opened the door before he got to the front steps. She looked different—thinner, with shorter hair—but she was still the same Amy. Tall and tanned, she leaned against the door frame and folded her arms, probably ready for a fight, since that was all they’d done at the end of their marriage. But when she spoke, her voice brought back memories of times when her laughter, as she played with their boys in the yard, had been the most precious thing in his world.

  “You came to take Michael back.”

  Asher stopped at the base of the steps.

  “He’s a grown man, Amy. I can’t take him anywhere. But there’s a girl in New York who needs him.” It was too late to salvage his relationship with Nora, but he could at least save his son from making the same stupid mistake.

  She nodded. “I figured. He won’t say much about it, but he’s miserable. What happened?”

  “I happened. Michael followed my sterling example, and he ran. I have to make it right, Amy. He belongs with Becky and the baby.”

  “So you’re into family reunions now, after all this time.” The words were sharp, but her voice softened the blow. They’d loved each other once. Really loved each other. They just hadn’t been able to love each other through the death of their son.

  “You’re happy here?”

  She nodded. “It took some time, but yes.”

  “We gave up too easily, you and I.” Her eyes went wide in surprise at his words. “We were tired and angry and sad and we just gave up on each other. We should have fought harder.”

  The only sound was the breeze pushing through the palms. Amy straightened and motioned for him to come inside.

  “We should have. But we didn’t. There’s no going back, Asher.”

  “No. But we can help our boy learn how to fight instead of giving up like we did.”

  Michael was by the pool, fully dressed, sitting in a lounge chair and staring off into space. Asher watched him from the doorway and saw the tight set of his jaw beneath his beard. The hands that clenched and unclenched over and over. The eyes, sunken and dull.

  “Holy shit, it’s like looking in a mirror.” He muttered the words softly, and Amy squeezed his shoulder.

  “He’s his father’s son. Stubborn and proud.”

  He met her dark-eyed gaze. “You should see him with Becky, the way he loves her. He has your heart, Amy. Thank God, because my heart’s not worth a damn.” And he’d given it away to Nora.

  “I appreciate that, Ash. But you were that guy when we met. You were our protector.”

  “I couldn’t protect us from everything.”

  Her face was solemn. “No. And I shouldn’t have expected you to. You’re right—we gave up on each other too easily. But that’s done, and we still have one son left. And as much as I love seeing him, he doesn’t belong in LA.” She gave him a sad smile. “Take him home.”

  Michael did a double take when he saw Asher walking toward him. In his worn jeans and plaid shirt, he was out of place on the elegant poolside patio, surrounded with palms and exotic flowers.

  “Dad? What are you doing here?”

  Asher sat at the tile-topped table nearby, gesturing for Michael to join him in the shade of the brightly striped umbrella. He started to protest, but Asher just pointed to the chair nearest him and arched a brow, daring his son to push his luck.

  Michael moved to the table. Neither spoke, setting an undeclared challenge to see who’d break first. Asher finally shook his head. Age could easily defeat youth on this one, but that wasn’t why he was here.

  “I think the bigger question is—what are you doing here, son?”

  Michael swallowed hard. “You know why I’m here. It was your idea.”

  “Damn it, Michael, I didn’t want this. That’s why I wanted to meet with you the day of the accident. I saw you with that blonde, and I knew I’d been steering you wrong. You fought me all this time to stay with Becky. Don’t quit on her now.”

  “Did everyone in the whole damned town see me with her?”

  “Who was she, anyway?”

  “She was from Atlanta, trying to cause trouble in some political campaign down there.”

  “She was looking for dirt on Becky’s father? His gambling? His cheating?”

  “You knew about that? Oh, of course. Nora told you. Why did everyone assume I was cheating on Becky? I’d never do that!”

  “And yet you had no problem walking out on her.”

  “No problem? You’re kidding, right?” Suddenly Michael became Asher’s little boy again, his voice dropping to a plea. “How is she, Dad?”

  “She’s okay. But she’s unhappy, son. She doesn’t understand your actions. No one does.”

  “You understand.”

  Asher sighed, staring at the ground while weighing his next words.

  “You told her you left because of me.”

  “Not exactly. But I did tell her you were right about me not being ready. Dad, when I saw her in the hospital...when I realized we could have lost the baby...I couldn’t take it. All I could hear was you telling me I didn’t know what I was getting into. And you were right. I’m not ready. I can’t be what she needs.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Michael didn’t hesitate. “More than anything.”

  “Do you love the baby?”

  “So much it hurts.”

  “Does the thought of losing them terrify you?”

  “It’s a fucking nightmare.”

  Michael’s face fell, and tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. Asher’s heart was heavy. He’d led his son so far down the wrong path, sharing everything he’d learned from loss without sharing anything he’d learned from love.

  “Do you wish you’d never had a brother?”

  Michael bolted upright, his jaw rigid, eyes blazing. “What a shitty thing to ask, Dad! I loved Dylan.”

  Asher nodded. “We all loved Dylan. And you and I have let him down.”

  “No. That
’s a lie.”

  “Michael, I’ve told a lot of lies, but that’s not one of them. I’ve lied to myself. I’ve lied to you. I convinced myself the pain I felt was because I’d loved. There’s some truth to that, but I carried it even further. I convinced myself I could avoid that pain by never loving again. And I tried to protect you by convincing you of the same thing. I lied when I said you weren’t ready for love. We’re born ready for love. It’s how we’re wired.”

  A warm gust of wind rustled through the palms above them. “Here’s the thing, kid. Love is risky. But without it, we’re just... We’re nothing. We’re empty. We’re cowards who end up hurting people.”

  He looked up to the sky and choked back the emotion that suddenly clogged his throat. Where had those greeting-card words come from? Why was Nora’s face the only thing he could see? And Dylan’s voice the only thing he could hear? Was he losing his mind? No. Conviction settled over him. He was getting it back.

  “We loved Dylan. Imagine how disappointed he must be watching the two of us scurrying away from love like it’s some kind of monster.”

  Michael’s brows came together as he worked through what Asher was saying. “So you tried to get me to leave Becky because of Dylan? You were afraid I’d lose her or the baby, because you lost him? But, Dad, you were right. It could happen, and I don’t know if...”

  “Can you live without them?”

  He blew out a long breath. “I don’t think so, Dad. It’s killing me to be away from Becky.”

  “Then go back to her, Michael.”

  “But the risk...”

  “Is worth it.”

  They sat in silence for a while before Michael spoke again.

  “I’ll go back. I don’t know that I have a choice. I love her that much.” He looked at Asher. “And what about you and Nora?”

  His heart squeezed so tight he thought it might just stop. He tried to sound unconcerned.

  “What about me and Nora?”

  “Come on, Dad. I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other. Have you told her yet that you love her?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She left me.”

  Michael looked stricken. “Because of me? Because of what I said to Becky?”

  Asher shrugged one shoulder. “She called me on all my bullshit. The unfinished house. My unfinished life. The way I tried to bribe you to abandon her pregnant daughter. She was pretty pissed off in general. And the whole coward thing came into play.”

  “But you love her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what the hell, Dad? Practice what you preach and fight for her.”

  He shook his head slowly. “It’s too late.”

  “Really? Quitting again, Asher?” Amy walked up with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses on a tray. “So you’re enlightened enough to recognize your mistakes but not enough to keep from making them again?”

  “Amy, you don’t understand.”

  She settled into a chair. “We let our love story die. If either one of us had bothered to fight for the marriage after Dylan died, we’d be together today. So if you’ve got a second chance at love, you’d better grab it.”

  “Just showing up won’t be enough. She’s had it. She’s tired of my issues.”

  “Then fix your issues, Asher. Show her you know what went wrong and you’re ready to change.”

  There’s no family here. There’s no love here. No warmth. Nothing soft. Nothing kind. No memories. No pictures on the walls.

  He looked at Michael and smiled. “I may need some help, son.”

  “Whatever you need, Dad. It’s what Dylan would want.”

  Nora wasn’t the only Fixer in Gallant Lake. He could fix a few things, too, starting with himself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “NORA? ARE YOU trying to test the paint job on that thing?”

  She flinched, snapping out of her scrambled, shadowy thoughts. Her hand was moving a cloth in small circles, wiping the espresso maker in the same spot over and over. Cathy stood at the doorway to the kitchen, shaking her head. It wasn’t the first time Cathy had caught her completely zoned out this week. Between all the time she’d been spending with Becky trying to lift her daughter’s spirits, running the café and missing Asher with every breath she took, she was exhausted.

  Cathy had been annoyingly upbeat today, as if she could cheer Nora up just by being cheerful herself. She couldn’t see that Nora’s pain was soul deep. She’d given her heart to a man who’d turned his son against her daughter and ripped two relationships apart.

  And she missed him. What was wrong with her?

  “Who’d have thought I’d ever be lecturing you on cleaning?”

  Nora gave Cathy a thin smile, trying to calculate how many hours were left in the day. This week had seemed endless.

  “Yes, you’ve come a long way, Cathy.” Nora tried to maintain the light tone, but she didn’t have the heart for it, and her voice dropped an octave. “Or maybe I’ve just gone backward.”

  “Oh, sweetie, don’t think like that.” Cathy gave her a quick hug. “You’re doing just fine. That idiot neighbor of yours has to come back sometime, and...”

  Nora stepped back, shaking her head vehemently.

  “I don’t care if he comes back or not.” Liar. “It makes no difference to me.” Liar. “He’s nothing to me.” Double liar.

  “Wow, you’re, like, the worst liar in the world, cuz.”

  Amanda stood at the counter with Blake by her side, his arm casually draped over his wife’s shoulders. That small act of affection was enough to prick Nora’s heart, but it was just one of a million similar injuries that organ had received over the past week. Seeing couples together. Hearing some random love song. Seeing Asher’s darkened furniture studio, or his back door locked up tight. Having someone order black coffee with raw sugar and a shot of espresso, the way Asher liked it.

  “Jeez, she’s even worse than you said, Cathy.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty sad to watch,” Cathy agreed.

  Blake’s voice was solemn, but there was a glint of humor in his eyes. “Maybe we should come up with a plan.”

  Were her closest friends and family mocking her?

  “I’m glad you all find this so terribly amusing!” She threw the cleaning cloth down on the counter and started to walk away, but Amanda ran around and caught her arm, pulling her in tight.

  “Sorry, sorry! You know we all love you. But seriously, girl, you are a hot mess! Your skin looks like you’re half zombie. Those dark bags under your eyes could hold my weekend wardrobe. Have you even changed your clothes this week? And your hair! Come on, we’re going upstairs and putting you back together.”

  “First, thanks for the pep talk, which you suck at, by the way. Second, there is no ‘putting me back together.’” Nora swallowed hard. “Look, I know you guys are trying to cheer me up or snap me out of it or whatever. I practically invented fixing things, remember? I’m the original ‘smile and a plan’ girl. But this is different. In my head I know time will make it hurt less and someday I’ll look back on this and laugh...” She hiccuped as her throat filled. “Oh, God, Asher was right. I do sound like a greeting card!” The tears that had been threatening all week finally overflowed.

  Amanda chuckled. “That’s pretty funny—you do sound like a greeting card a lot of the time.”

  Nora started to cry in earnest, sloppy and loud.

  “Okay, let’s get you upstairs and bring you back to the living, zombie princess.”

  Nora allowed herself to be led away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, too tired and sad to argue.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, she had to admit it did feel better to be freshly showered and wearing clean, pressed clothes from her closet. She’d been staying at Becky’
s place while they debated what to do, and she’d packed the bare minimum. Should Becky move here to the apartment, or should Nora move to the house and take over the lease there? She forced the question from her mind. She wasn’t going to deal with any of that now. She was just going to sit here at the kitchen island and let her cousin take care of her.

  Amanda seemed downright thrilled to be there, warming up some soup and grilling ham-and-cheese sandwiches. She kept humming to herself and sneaking glances at Nora, then smiling before turning back to the stove. She’d all but dressed Nora herself, insisting on skinny jeans and a dark gold sweater when Nora would have preferred sweats. But it was so nice being pampered that she hadn’t argued.

  When Amanda set the plate in front of her, Nora suddenly felt guilty. It wasn’t easy for Becky to prepare anything with her arm in a cast.

  “What are you fretting about now?” Amanda asked, sitting next to Nora with her own plate.

  She took a bite of the sandwich. “This is great, but I’ll have to run as soon as I eat. Becky needs dinner, too.”

  “Becky’s being taken care of, so slow down and enjoy the meal.” Amanda grinned at Nora’s questioning look. “We’re having a meal delivered to her from the resort.”

  Her cousin was practically bouncing in her seat. Something was going on, but Nora couldn’t imagine what...

  “Oh, my God, Amanda, are you pregnant?”

  Amanda nearly choked on her soup, looking horrified.

  “Me? Pregnant? Uh, no. Two kids are enough, thank you very much.” She set her napkin back in her lap. “But rumor has it Bree may be expecting.”

  Nora nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not what has you anxious as a long-tailed cat on a porch full of rocking chairs. You keep looking at the door like you’re expecting someone. Is Blake coming up?” Amanda had prepared only two plates. They both took another bite of their sandwiches.