The Heart Between Us

by Lindsay Harrel

  “We were going to check the scavenger hunt off the list.”

  Her friend pulled the napkin from his lap and tossed it onto the table. He dug in his pocket, producing his wallet. “Scavenger hunt?”

  She nodded. “Amanda wanted to complete a text message scavenger hunt.”

  “I guess I’m behind the times. What’s that?”

  Megan chuckled. “You get in teams of two to four people and follow clues that are texted to you. Once you solve one clue, the next is sent. It seems like a cool way to see parts of the city you might not otherwise.”

  “I’m all for exploring.” Caleb placed his credit card in the billfold with the ticket. Megan started to protest and he waved her off. “My treat.”

  Always considerate. And the way he lounged in his chair, so casual, reminded Megan of countless hospital stays where they’d talked for hours. But she had a hard time reconciling the Caleb who had been there and the Caleb who sat here. He’d always been confident, but this Caleb—he was simply aglow with life.

  And once again, his scar peeked from the top of his shirt. He never seemed to hide it.

  Her fingers moved to the top of her own shirt, an adorable flowy button-up Crystal had loaned her for today. Her sister had looked at her askance when she’d insisted on doing up all the buttons, even though undoing a few wouldn’t have been immodest.

  But her scar was so ugly and she wanted to feel pretty, especially today. It was easier to keep it covered.

  Megan ducked her head and cleared her throat. “We’re registered already, so we can start whenever.”

  Rubbing his hands together, Caleb leaned forward. “Let’s do this.” Their waitress came to take his payment.

  Megan pulled out her phone and texted START to the number she’d stored in her contacts. A few seconds later, the first clue popped up. “Across the street from luxury, a loving symbol of remembrance rests where the flowers walk. What is the sculpture at the bottom called?”

  Caleb tapped his chin. “How much of this do we have to figure out, and how much can we use Google?”

  “I think we can use our phones to find GPS information but not the actual answer to the question. We have to physically go to every location.”

  “All right then.”

  “Anything jumping out at you? You’ve been here before.”

  “True, but you’re the real expert. How many times did you read that book I gave you?”

  Megan smiled at the memory. “Too many to count.” She stared at the clue. “Luxury could be a castle. There are plenty here.”

  “Good thought. But maybe they’d use the word royal to tip us off.” The waitress brought back his card and he signed, then tapped the pen against the table as he stared off in the distance. “What if it’s talking about a specific borough? Isn’t Kensington one of the most expensive places to live?”

  “Here, let me record our ideas.” Megan pulled out her notebook, flipped to a blank page, and wrote. Then she snapped her fingers. “Look at this part of the clue: where the flowers walk. Obviously, flowers don’t walk. But I remember reading something about a flower walk in Kensington Gardens.”

  Caleb snatched her map off the table and dragged his finger until he located something. He swiveled the map toward her. “Harrods is right across the street. What’s a bigger symbol of luxury than that?”

  She took the map back and pointed. “And look. The Albert Memorial is in the gardens right next to the flower walk: a loving symbol of remembrance. Prince Albert died at age forty-two of typhoid, leaving behind Queen Victoria as a grieving widow. They were so in love.” For a moment she wondered what that would be like—but then she refocused. “I say we head that way.”

  They walked to the nearest underground Tube stop and took the subway to the gardens. When the monument came into view, Megan gaped at its opulence. A golden house-like structure covered the statue of Albert, angels ringing the top. She read the plaque explaining the monument. It said Albert was holding the catalogue of the Great Exhibition, which he helped to organize in 1851.

  “Here.” Caleb pointed to the plaque, where it explained the long stone frieze sculpture at the base of the podium. “It’s called the Frieze of Parnassus.”

  She’d gotten caught up in the grandeur of the work and had forgotten for a moment about the hunt. Megan typed the work’s title into her phone and replied to the clue. An almost instant response came through. “Congratulations. You are correct. Here’s your next clue.” Megan couldn’t keep herself from whooping. “We did it. Our first clue completed.”

  Caleb held out his hand for a high five. “Good teamwork.”

  Grinning, she slapped his palm. “Want to hear the next clue?”

  “Oh yeah. I’m just gearing up.” He bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, Rocky-style. “Hit me.”

  No wonder everyone in the hospital called Caleb the class clown. She shook her head, biting her lip, and held up her phone. They continued their hunt, which took them to an obscure pub T. S. Eliot used to frequent, a bookstore with a map of the world on the floor, a fudge shop where Caleb bought four different kinds of chocolate—and where Megan refused even a bite—and several other locations.

  Their final clue pointed them to find the last word on the plaque at the entrance to “a treasure of another country forever entombed in this monument.” Megan had assumed that meant the mummies section of the British Museum.

  But here they stood, after inputting the last word of every plaque they could find, and still they received the same reply: “I’m sorry. That’s not correct.”

  “Guess we’re not in the right place.” Caleb ran his hands through his hair, holding them there while he put on his thinking face: lips screwed up to the left, eyes staring at the floor.

  She plopped onto a bench, frowning. “Seems that way.” But what was the right place?

  He joined her, then took her hand in his and squeezed. It was a casual, friendly squeeze of encouragement—but her heart couldn’t help but wish for more. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

  “You think?” How silly she was getting so frustrated over a game. They could always request a hint.

  “Hey, if we can survive heart surgery, we can do anything.”

  How did he do that—take such an obvious statement, one meant in lighthearted jest—and turn it into something her heart profoundly needed to hear? She studied him for a few moments, and the silence between them became palpable, a living, breathing thing.

  Her eyes once again focused on his scar. And of their own accord, her fingers reached out tentatively to touch it.

  He froze.

  What was she doing? “I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand back into her lap.

  “I don’t mind.” He tilted his head. “It’s just . . . I’ve never seen yours.”

  If any other guy had said that it would have sounded really creepy. But not Caleb. Because he got it. He got her. “Funny you should say that. I was just thinking this morning about how free you are showing off yours. Don’t you ever get stares?”

  “Sure, sometimes. I don’t really notice anymore.” He shrugged. “But it’s my badge of honor, I guess. It’s part of me, part of my story. Why pretend we’re like everyone else when we’re not?”

  Oh, this man. She mulled his words over in her mind. “Good point.” Megan hesitated. Trembling, her fingers found the top button of her shirt and pulled it through its loop. Then one more. She pulled the lapels of the shirt wider, exposing the thick, puckered skin below. Megan grimaced and resisted the urge to redo the buttons.

  Her eyes moved to Caleb, who watched her with a look she couldn’t quite interpret.

  He reached for her hand again. “Meg.” The word was nearly a whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  “I hope you know . . . You have never been more beautiful than you are right now.”

  Tears built in her eyes and she blinked them back. One fell, then another. His words found the raw places in her and soothed
them like aloe.

  “And there I go, making you cry. I’m always making you cry.”

  She laughed, wiping away the tears. “It’s a good cry. Don’t worry.”

  “Okay.” He shifted in his seat. Her tears must still make him uncomfortable, all these years later. “Also, I think I’ve figured out the clue.”

  “What?” Oh yeah. The scavenger hunt.

  Funny how she’d been here looking for one thing, and had found something else entirely: her courage.

  Chapter 26

  Amazing how a day with her husband could feel like a first date.

  Crystal shoved her hands into her jacket pockets as she and Brian walked down the lane at Hyde Park. They’d spent all day taking in various architectural phenomena, like the Gherkin and the Houses of Parliament. In New York, there were some wonderful feats of architecture, of course, but inspecting such old treasures here for the first time brought something alive in her.

  And seeing them wasn’t just about work anymore. It was like that first trip to Washington, DC, all over again. She could feel the passion oozing back into her soul, refreshing what had been dry inside, refilling her tank of inspiration little by little.

  In fact, even though ideas for the Lerner project swarmed, she didn’t really want to think about work. Brian was only able to be with her for a week, so she was going to make the most of their time together.

  “Thanks for not calling me a nerd when I drooled over Big Ben.”

  “If I didn’t know that was a clock tower, I’d be jealous.” Brian looked good in his brown leather jacket and red beanie. The temperature had dipped into the forties, and only a few people lingered in the park. “And you are a nerd, but at least you’re a cute one.”

  “Why, thank you.” Her nose tingled with the cold, but laughter burst through her lips and warmed her. Her stomach rumbled.

  “Are you okay?” He’d been protective all day, making sure she took her medicine and didn’t overdo it with the sightseeing.

  “No.”

  “What?” Brian’s eyebrows lifted. “Should we head back to the hotel?”

  She giggled. “I’m not in pain, just hungry.”

  “Oh.” His gaze swept the line of storefronts across the street. “Maybe that Mexican place is open.”

  “Mexican food in London?”

  Brian shrugged. “Depends on how desperate you are.”

  “Not that desperate.” Her eyes locked onto another storefront next to the restaurant. “But that—that, I can do.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You love ice cream.” She tugged on his arm. “Come on. I’ve got a sudden craving for chocolate chip cookie dough, and I won’t rest until it’s satisfied.”

  “Your hands are freezing.” But Brian followed her across the street and into the shop. It was small, with a green-tiled counter and stainless steel display case showing off the variety of ice cream flavors they served. In the corner sat two tiny tables and some red plastic chairs.

  The worker behind the counter looked up. “Closing in five minutes.”

  “That’s okay, we’ll be quick.”

  “I still say you’re crazy.” Brian leaned in to whisper against her hair, sending a shiver down her spine. All day they’d been flirting, but they hadn’t so much as hugged since their initial greeting. Perhaps they were both feeling out the situation, seeing how or if their time apart had changed anything between them.

  “You married me, so what does that make you?” She flashed a coy grin at him, then made her ice cream selection—a two-scoop cone with one scoop of cookie dough and one scoop of cookies ’n’ cream. Megan would probably tsk at her for being so unhealthy, but considering Brian’s selection of a waffle bowl with chocolate and sprinkles, he wouldn’t judge.

  They paid and thanked the cashier, then headed back to the park, sauntering down the dirt path, which was flanked by huge flower bushes. Every fifty feet or so, a wooden bench with slats sat waiting for company.

  She watched Brian out of the corner of her eye and felt a splat on her shoe. Crystal glanced down and groaned. “Aw man.” Her top scoop of ice cream had fallen from her cone and onto her leather boot. She kicked the ice cream off into the bushes. Her shoes would be ruined if she didn’t get this cleaned up now.

  Brian looked around, then gave her his ice cream to hold. “Be right back.” He hustled off toward the nearest bench, where an older woman in a patched jacket sat. She grinned at him, then rummaged in her knapsack for something. He came back toward Crystal holding a huge stack of wipes.

  He bent down and cleaned off her boot until all traces of sticky cookie dough ice cream were gone. He tossed the wipes into the garbage and took his ice cream back in hand.

  Her boots were good as new. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Crystal licked her cone. The sweetness coated her tongue, and she begged it to hang on for a moment longer. They continued down the path, past the woman, and Crystal threw out her thanks. The woman smiled—her front two teeth missing—and waved.

  Brian took another bite of his ice cream and then tossed the rest into a garbage bin. “I was right. It’s too cold to eat ice cream.”

  “I love it.” Yes, the cold bit into her lips, but it reminded her of something she’d forgotten all these years. Instead of numbing her, the cold woke her up. She was coming back to life, and she liked it that way.

  “I hope Megan doesn’t mind that I stole you away today, though it sounds like she was pretty well occupied.” Brian stuck his hands into his pockets. “How have things been going between you guys?” Though she and Brian had managed a few brief calls over the last few weeks, there hadn’t been much opportunity for deep discussion.

  “Things have been . . . better.” Crystal took the final bite of her cone, crunching it, cold from the remaining ice cream seeping into her gums. She filled him in on Pamplona, the fight in the airport, and the aftermath. Ever since that day in the Irish hospital, when Crystal had opened up about the scholarship opportunity, they’d been closer. Not perfect. But it was a start.

  “Good.” Brian’s right hand snuck out of his pocket and pulled Crystal’s into his, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  A sudden ache hit Crystal—because it should have been. But sometime in the last few years, they’d stopped holding hands. Their relationship had become a series of one-off nights together and a few scattered dates here and there.

  She’d been starving their relationship because she’d been starving herself emotionally. If she didn’t let herself be vulnerable, let herself feel, then she had nothing left to give her marriage. The connection seemed clearer to her than ever before. How had she not seen it?

  Brian continued. “It sounds like you’re making good progress. I know it can’t have been easy, but I think you did the right thing in coming. I can already see a change in you. Today I really was able to see your passion for architecture. You were like you used to be, back when we first met.”

  “I feel the change too.”

  Brian stopped and turned to face Crystal, his eyes searching hers. He took a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. The tiny action nearly undid her. “I came here to check on you, but also because I couldn’t stand the waiting and the wondering. It was torture, Crys.”

  “I know. I’ve hated being apart.”

  “Me too, but it was more than that. It’s not easy to admit, but I’ve been so afraid that you’d come home and you wouldn’t have changed.”

  She reached up and caressed his cheek. “I’m trying. I promise.”

  “I know. Today has been such a relief. You have no idea. For the first time, I have real hope again.” He leaned in and kissed her, a kiss that spoke of passion simmering below the surface. Then he hugged her to his chest. “But I’ve realized something else. Maybe my expectations aren’t fair. I can’t put all the responsibility for change on you.”

  “You’re not the one who needs t
o change.” Brian had always been the most caring and generous man she’d ever met. “I am. And I’m doing it. It may take me longer than I’d like, but slowly I’m letting myself be freed from the past.”

  And she was. But a fear niggled. How was it all going to translate when she returned to work, to life as usual? Would fixing things with Megan really be able to fix everything else? Or would she and Brian find that the same old problems persisted between them?

  July 17

  Blog Post Title: Hidden Treasures: Exploring London (continued)

  Post Content:

  . . . The London Eye brings a whole new perspective. And it sure makes everything a lot clearer.

  Megan was about to fly above London—although, really, hadn’t she been flying all day?

  Caleb gestured toward the doorway to the open pod on the London Eye, the city’s iconic Ferris wheel overlooking the Thames. “After you.”

  “Thanks.” She quick-stepped into the enclosed pod and he followed, along with about ten other people. She and Caleb snagged spots standing at the front of the pod where research had shown her the best views could be had. Once their pod rose into the sky, they’d see practically the entire city, including every site they’d already visited together. Like Trafalgar Square, where their scavenger hunt had come to a close a few hours ago.

  Once everyone was loaded, the pod door closed and rose into the orange-and-pink sky. The pod provided a 360-degree view of the city, and the others inside crowded the windows, pointing and exclaiming in a variety of languages. Two little kids pushed their noses against the glass, their breath steaming it.

  Megan couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She turned to find Caleb watching her. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He faced the window once again, and their shoulders brushed. “I can’t believe these last few days have gone by so quickly.”

  “I know.” She watched the skyline rise before her eyes. The Thames flowed past, strong and bronze in the waning sunlight. Beyond that, Big Ben stood at attention and the House of Parliament seemed to watch them. “It’s been so incredible seeing you again.” More than incredible.