by Kahlen Aymes
You’re with me. Those words resonated like no others.
From that moment, Caleb made Wren his responsibility in every way, and he still felt as strongly about it now as he had then. He blinked to regain focus on the two women as they talked, the memory causing pain, pleasure, and pride.
“Are all ballerina’s as tiny as you are, Wren? I’ve been to a ballet or two and I don’t remember the girls being so small. From a distance you must look like a child.”
Macy seemed like a nice woman and their conversation up to that point, had been good. Wren had regret at the possibility that the earlier scene had hurt her, but these last words felt like a thinly veiled jab. Even though Wren could understand how Macy might resent her presence, it still hurt. But, what was worse; her presence was an obstacle to being alone with Caleb and she desperately wanted to talk to him. She was worried about him, and she longed for some time to reconnect. As long as Macy was here, she couldn’t get close to Caleb.
“Do you mean that I’m short?” Wren began hesitantly. “I’m a little shorter than average, I guess… but then, I’m always en pointe, so that adds a few inches.”
“Oh. That makes sense. It must destroy your feet, though. I always imagine really nasty feet under those beautiful shoes. ”
“Macy.” Caleb was annoyed with Macy’s obvious slam of Wren, and pissed she felt the need to say something like that. “Really?”
Macy had the grace to flush but looked incredulous. “What? I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s okay,” Wren reassured Caleb, then turned her attention back to Macy. “I have had my share of blisters, and bloody tears in the skin, broken toenails, that’s for sure.”
“You had that stress fracture, too. Right?” Caleb interjected almost absently, and Wren’s eyes narrowed on him. She couldn’t ever remember telling Caleb about that: it had happened not long after the debacle with Sam, when she was refusing Caleb’s every attempt to contact her. She’d been pushing herself harder in practice in attempt to forget her misery at another thing standing between them. It didn’t matter that her relationship with Sam had been destroyed over it. She decided she needed to ask Caleb how he knew about it when they were alone.
“Don’t things like that make you want to stop dancing?” Macy asked, demanding Wren’s attention again. “I mean; surely there’s something else you could do?”
Wren smiled and shook her head, choosing to ignore that particular comment. Apparently Macy never had a dream or something she loved as much as Wren loved to dance.
Her lips lifted in a wry smile and she shook her head slightly, causing her curls to move gently around her face. Caleb noticed and then looked down, hoping neither of the women noticed his rapt fascination with Wren.
“Not so far. That reminds me of something.” She looked at Caleb who now was staring into his wine glass. “Cale?”
He didn’t answer and looked deep in thought. The conversation must be boring him silly.
“Caleb, did you hear me?” Wren’s voice registered for the second time and this time he looked up at her.
“Hmm? What?” He lifted his glass and took a swallow of the rich Cabernet.
“I asked; when is the service?”
“Oh. Monday.”
Despite the driver saying he was at her beck and call, she’d rather drive herself. “Is that white Toyota outside yours? Can I borrow it tomorrow? I’ll need to get a dress and shoes. I was in Bali and I have nothing appropriate to wear to a funeral.”
“Bali!” Macy said. “I’ve always wanted to go there. How marvelous. Maybe someday we can go, Caleb. I’m sure Wren would be happy to give us tips on where to stay or what to see there.”
A small huff escaped Caleb, and his mouth flattened in disgust. He was silently cataloguing every time Macy tried to stake her unjustified ownership on him, and every time she came off callous in light of the reason they were in Denver. His eyes landed back on Wren to gauge her response.
“It was pretty, but I was only there two days when Jonathan called with the news of Edison, so I barely have anything to offer.” Her eyes darted across to lock with Caleb’s. “In any case, all I have with me are shorts, swimsuits and a couple of sundresses, so I definitely need to go shopping.”
“It’s Macy’s rental,” Caleb returned. He’d hired the driver to be on call for Wren, but Caleb capitalized on the opportunity. “But, I’ll be glad to take you. We can use one of Dad’s cars.”
Wren offered a wide smile for Caleb. It would be nice to spend some time with him like they used to. She’d rather they take Caleb’s old motorcycle like they often had when they were younger, but with Macy along, that wouldn’t be possible.
“I’d love to explore the shops with you!” Macy said enthusiastically, quickly deciding there was no way Caleb was going off alone with Wren while she was anywhere in the vicinity. No. Way. She could see the intense way Caleb studied Wren and the she was anything but stupid. She needed to find out the true nature of their so-called relationship, so she planned to ask him the first chance she got. “Is there any area of Denver notorious for the best shops?”
“If I remember correctly, I think Cherry Creek has a couple of big stores. Honestly, I just need a simple black dress. I’m not really in the mood to spend hours at it.”
“I adore shopping.” Macy yawned, putting an elegant hand to her mouth, her vibrant red nails perfectly manicured. “And what else are we going to do, anyway? As Caleb said, the funeral isn’t until Monday, and Jonesy has everything arranged.”
Caleb glanced at his watch then stood up, holding his hand out to Macy. The conversation was giving him a headache. Macy’s lack of sensitivity was grating on him, and he could tell it made Wren uncomfortable, too.
“It’s getting late, Macy. Why don’t you head on off to bed?”
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked innocently as she placed her hand in his and he pulled her up.
Caleb’s mouth pressed into a firm line. He hated games and this was definitely a game. Given she had her own room and he’d already told her he wouldn’t be joining her. The comment was solely to stake her claim on him for Wren’s benefit.
Wren stood and smoothed down the denim covering her thighs, preparing to say goodnight and go to upstairs to her room.
Caleb shook his head, then leaned in and placed a short kiss on the outside of Macy’s mouth. “No. I’m taking Wren to the kitchen to get her something to eat. She missed dinner, remember?”
Macy opened her mouth to speak, but Caleb directed his words to Wren before Macy could respond.
“Jonesy made a plate for you. You have to be starving.”
Wren was hungry, but more that that, she wanted a moment or two alone with Caleb.
“Yes. I didn’t want to impose by asking.”
Caleb frowned, shaking his head incredulously. “This is your house, too, goof. Come on.”
When they left the room that was off the foyer and staircase he nodded in the direction of the kitchen and said goodnight to Macy a final time. Macy didn’t look pleased, but if she didn’t want to make a scene, she had no choice but to turn and walk down the long hall to the other end of the big house. No doubt an unpleasant confrontation was in front of him, but Caleb wanted to spend some time with Wren. Alone.
“Ready?” Caleb nodded in the direction of the kitchen, and they walked side-by-side in silence. Caleb set his almost empty wine glass on the marble countertop of the freestanding island and then opened the refrigerator.
There was a covered plate containing juicy roast beef and perfectly mashed potatoes. The smell made Caleb hungry all over again. The large plate was accompanied by two smaller ones, which he knew would contain salad, and a slice of the delicious strawberry cake. When the roast beef and potatoes were warming in the microwave, he returned to set the smaller two in front of Wren.
She was studying him as he removed the coverings from the plates.
He felt her eyes watch every movement he made, as i
f her long, slender fingers were touching his skin. He could literally feel her. Not much had changed, in that regard. He was overtly aware of her at all times.
When the steaming roast beef was sitting in front of her, she spoke. “This looks amazing, and it smells delicious.”
Caleb nodded. “Good old Jonesy. There’s strawberry cake. Your favorite.”
“Yes. She’s amazing. I’ve missed her.”
“Me, too.” Have you missed me, too? He wanted to ask.
Now that they were alone, words were harder to find. Even though there was much to say, the years and distance, combined with their last painful argument hung between them.
Caleb opened a drawer and handed Wren a fork, then grabbed the unopened bottle of red wine sitting on the counter. He took the corkscrew that had been sitting next to it and made short work of opening it.
Wren had forgotten her wine glass in the library, so he pulled another down from the cupboard and filled it, and then added some of the rich red liquid to his own. He glanced up at Wren who was just beginning to slowly fork up some of the mashed potatoes.
“Caleb—” Wren began hesitantly. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
He sat down across from her, his brow knitting as he contemplated her words. “What for?”
“Well, interrupting you and Macy, sleeping through dinner. And, about your dad.”
Their eyes met and locked. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
“Nothing?” she asked softly, needing the reassurance only Caleb could give.
He knew she didn’t mean for what happened tonight. She was talking about surprising him with Sam to San Francisco. “No. What happened was my fault. I should have done as you asked.”
Wren’s throat tightened involuntarily. There was so much to clear up between them and she wanted all of their misunderstandings and missteps to magically disappear, but she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. She opened her mouth to ask him to elaborate, but didn’t get the words out in time.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Caleb took a drink from his wine, leaning back in his chair. “Aren’t you hungry anymore?”
“Yes, I guess; but I hate eating alone. Do you want some?” The corner of her mouth lifted in the start of a smile. They needed to talk it all out, but she just wanted things to fall back into the easy way they used to be, first.
“Remember the first time I found you hiding under this table?” He huffed out a small laugh. “God, you were so different, then.”
“We both were, I think.”
Caleb stood and went to get another fork, then sat in the chair next to Wren’s. He dug his fork into her food when she shoved the plate a little closer to him. “That’s true. I was a punk.”
He was sitting so close she could feel the heat radiating between them, emanating a small healing that Wren soaked up like parched earth in the rain.
She laughed softly. He was right, he was, but his toughness was part of what she loved about him. “You had a little chip on your shoulder, maybe. Macy seems nice. Have you known each other long?” She finally took a bite of the delicious food at the same time as Caleb did.
“A few months.” Caleb shrugged off the question, but Wren had to acknowledge that if Macy was here, in Denver, with him, then it had to be more serious than he was letting on. “Sorry she was so nosy. I haven’t told her that much about you, so naturally, she’s curious.”
Wren hated the way she had to search for things to say. They hadn’t spoken since the phone call on her birthday, and Wren found herself struggling. She wanted to blurt out that she was sorry for bringing Sam to San Francisco, that she knew he remembered their night together, and so much more.
“I understand.”
They fell silent for a minute or two, both of them eating from the same plates, leaning toward each other, eyes meeting for a brief second once or twice. It was nice, and some of the strain between them melted away.
When she pulled the cake toward her and took one bite, her eyes sparkled at him. “Go on. Help me. You know I can’t eat all of this.”
Caleb chuckled softly. “If you insist.” He dug in with her.
When she’d had enough, Wren reached out to touch him, her fingers wrapping around his left wrist, causing him to pause.
“Are you okay, Cale?” Her blue eyes searched his. “I mean, really?”
“Yeah, sure.” One shoulder lifted in a half-assed shrug. “Sorry about before.”
Wren shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry with me.” Hasn’t our history taught you that? Her mind screamed with all they’d been through and all he meant to her. “You’re obviously hurting. Hatred is as fragile as love… isn’t it?” Her soft words, though soft, held the hit of a hammer.
Caleb set down his fork, and turned his hand so his fingers could close around hers, and nodded. “How’d you get so smart?” His eyes glassed over and he swallowed hard. “I just wish I’d known the whole story, before.”
“I don’t think you were ready to listen.” Their faces close as they both leaned on the tabletop, the situation intimate, and their voices low.
“Probably not.”
Wren knew him better than he knew himself. So much, it sliced right through him.
“What about now? Do you know how he felt?” Her eyes were soft and imploring, her voice sweet and searching.
“Do you?” Caleb asked, his brows elevating a bit. How much had his father told her when he’d refused to listen?
She nodded slightly, leaning on her arm, her eyes never leaving his handsome face. It was easy to see how exhausted he was. His hair was shorter, but he was still the same beautiful, golden Caleb. His arms, shoulders, and chest were bigger; his legs stronger; his presence even more intimidating, if that were possible. Her heart stopped in her chest at his strength and good looks.
“A little, I suppose. Don’t be angry with him. He told me about your mother, and how much he loved her. I know he loved you, too, Cale. He wasn’t great at expressing his feelings, that’s for sure; but he only married my mom so you wouldn’t be alone. He knew he wasn’t present in your life and… well, I’m really thankful he did, Caleb.” Wren’s voice caught and a tear tumbled down her dewy cheek. “I only wish he could have told you some of this when he was alive.”
“How long have you known?” He backed up a little, angry that she would keep something like this from him.
“Last year. His health was failing, and I think he knew he wasn’t going to be around for long.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Wren could feel him emotionally pulling away and she reached out again, this time holding his hand. “I should have. I know that, but I was afraid of hurting you, and we had issues of our own to clear up, first. We still do.”
“I know we do.”
“I was hoping we could talk while I’m here.”
“Me, too.” His fingers closed around hers and squeezed slightly.
“But, with Macy here—”
Caleb huffed impatiently. “We’ll have time,” he promised. “I’ll make time, Wren.”
He wanted to get this thing with his dad and the estate out of the way first, unwilling to let it influence any personal conversations that were in front of them.
He pulled the letter from his back pocket, pain welling up inside his chest. In another life, he would have gotten angry and disputed anything good anyone would have said about Edison Luxon, but not tonight. Not after… the letter and his time with Wren.
“All this time, I’ve blamed him for everything, but now—” He stopped and leaned back, breaking their connection, and used that hand to rub the back of his neck, then reached back and pulled out the letter. “I’m not so certain.” He held it out to her. “Read it.”
Wren hesitated to take it from him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He set it down in front of her and pushed his chair away from the table and scrubbed his face with both hands. “I want you to read it.”
Given the lateness of
the hour, Caleb hadn’t turned on the recessed fixtures and the only light was from a small one over the sink and the moonlight streaming in from outside. It cast a low blue glow through the multi-paned windows: each with an ornamental arched pane at the top. They framed a curved alcove that bowed out and created the quaint nook where the kitchen table sat and added elegance to the space.
The house was quiet and Wren could sense Caleb’s apprehension as she reached for the paper and unfolded it, unsure if she should read it to herself or so he could hear her.
“Do you want me to read it out loud?” she began, glancing up to gauge Caleb’s reaction.
Caleb shook his head. “I’ve already read it,” he said shortly, with a shake of his head. He was feeling uncharacteristically emotional, and he didn’t need, or want, to get sappy in front of Wren. “I don’t need to hear it again.”
“Okay.”
Caleb moved away from her to pace slowly around the kitchen, finally stopping to lean his hip against the granite countertop on the opposite side. He studied her features as she read his father’s words. Her face took on a pained expression and a tear tumbled from one eye, then the one from the other. She used one hand to wipe them from her cheeks. She closed her eyes and small cry broke from her. “I’m so sorry, Cale.”
“How much did you know?”
Wren shook her head, and looked up into Caleb’s face, her eyes sad. “Only that he had major regret about his lack of relationship with you and he missed you. I think he struggled for a long time, but was unsure how to reach out to you in a way that you would respond to. He should have tried harder.”
Caleb’s mind flashed to the drawer full of letters sitting in his apartment in San Francisco. “He did. He tried for years.” Caleb stopped to look out the window, his face hard, and a muscle working overtime in his jaw. “I was a prick. He sent a bunch of letters, but I never read them,” he bit out. “Never opened any of them. I figured it was just money and I wasn’t going to help him assuage his conscience by taking cash.”
Wren felt her heart break, his sadness palpable; as if it were her own. She knew he couldn’t change anything and beating himself up wouldn’t help.
