Full Circle (Shattered Lives, Book Five)

by Rissa Blakeley

  “I’m not going to stand here and listen to this.” Elaina placed Nicky in his high chair and headed into the kitchen to get him breakfast.

  “Why?” Anne asked, crossing her arms. “Did it strike a nerve?”

  Elaina slammed a box of cereal on the counter. “Do not go there with me, Anne. I’ve been through just as much bullshit with him as you have. I’m allowed to mourn my husband.”

  “You are being petty and acting like a spoilt brat.”

  Elaina turned and faced her. “I watched him go from a confident, settled man to a fucking wreck. I spent two years with a man I thought I knew.” She threw her arms up in the air. “Then, on my wedding day, everything in my life changed. I’ve lost so many people I love, I can’t keep up with the body count anymore. So not only did my husband put a bullet in his head, he put one straight through my heart, shattering it. My life has been nothing but turmoil. I am devastated. It’s cruel for you to stand there and get all pissy because I’m depressed over my husband committing suicide…” Her throat caught, halting her voice. She swallowed hard before continuing, “leaving me and his perfect little boy. I loved him more than most could ever understand. I will always love that wreck of a man, no matter what he did or how he treated me.”

  “You have a son to raise. Make Henry proud as he watches from above.”

  “I need time. I need patience. I need you to understand this is me and how I do things. I don’t have it in me right now to take care of my son.” Elaina closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning the perfect penmanship in the letter Henry wrote to his mother. She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m asking you to be patient with me because that’s what Henry would want.”

  “You do not have a choice, Elaina. To dump your son off on me is not fair.” Anne motioned to Elaina’s body. “I mean… Look at yourself. You are wearing his dirty gym clothes. You haven’t showered in days. I don’t even know the last time you ate. I can tell you’ve lost weight.”

  “Have you ever lost a husband?”

  “What?” She dropped her hands, balling them into fists at her sides. “Why on earth would you ask me something like that? You know what happened to me.”

  “Then you don’t understand what it’s like to lose your husband, best friend, and lover. We were finally getting back on track after all the insanity. The night before he left us, we made love for the first time in ages. He crafted the night that way because he knew what he was going to do. He manipulated me yet again. I feel like a fool.” She swiped away her tears, then let out a loud exhale. “I’m to blame for that. That’s on me, but it doesn’t mean I don’t hurt for him.”

  “My son was a great actor. When we had dinner that night, he was all smiles, all laughs…all of it fake. I could see the pain in his eyes. For someone who knew him so well, I am shocked you couldn’t see it.”

  “Because I wanted to believe he finally found his happy. That he was able to step forward in his mind, laying to rest all the terrible things going on in there. I wanted to believe in my husband, instead of doubting his every intention and action. I’m part of the reason he was so hard on himself. I wasn’t always the best wife, and now I can never tell him how sorry I am for it.”

  Hearing Elaina beat herself up over Henry’s suicide left Anne feeling guilty for being so upset with her. “Elaina…” She reached out, watching the tears running down her cheeks.

  “No,” she said, stepping back. “I’m finished with this conversation.”

  In astonishment, Anne watched Elaina turn and grab a bowl from the cabinet and pour the cereal for Nicky, who pounded on his tray. She added a splash of milk from the container Anne had out for her coffee, then picked up a spoon from the dish rack. Walking out of the kitchen, she slid the bowl in front of Nicky, not even stopping to talk to him. She stomped back up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

  “Unbelievable,” Anne whispered, walking to the table to sit with her grandson.

  She smiled, recognizing the intense expression as he worked hard at using his spoon to feed himself. Henry used to have a similar furrowed brow and concentrated stare when his determination took over.

  “What will we do, Nicky? Your mummy is as lost as I am.”

  “Mumma,” he said, a piece of cereal stuck to his chin.

  Anne chuckled. “I hope to be around long enough to tell you stories about your daddy.”

  “Da-da.”

  Smiling, Anne swiped her hand over the toddler’s black hair, brushing it aside. Moments later, she found herself weeping. She didn’t think a day would go by that she didn’t cry.

  Once Nicky finished, she cleaned up the mess, then carried him upstairs so she could get ready to go pick up Henry’s ashes.

  Chapter 16

  Gunther walked into the kitchen, stopping abruptly when he got a good view of Cora’s ass.

  Bent at the waist with a slight, teasing sway, she looked through a cabinet. It was all he could do to stifle the groan building deep inside his body. It was bad enough he had to pull one out in the shower after her early-morning donation.

  As he cleared his throat, she straightened and spun around, smiling when she saw him.

  Fucking hell… he thought when he saw the low-cut tee showing off her plump breasts. Doing his best to divert his heated gaze, he went to the refrigerator and yanked the door open, hoping the non-sexual appeal of food would calm his dick.

  His gaze landed on a variety of vegetables—zucchini, cucumbers, eggplant—reminding him how much he wanted to fuck. He slammed the door shut and opened the freezer. Maybe the cold air would be the answer. Of course, there had to be a couple bags of bananas trying to look innocent, antagonizing him all the same, reminding him of his growing arousal.

  A shiver coursed through his body when her warm hand gripped his bicep. “Do you want a smoothie?”

  Shutting his eyes, he tipped his face toward the ceiling. Suffering fuck. Everything he saw and heard was just another poke at his wants and desires. Focus, Erikkson. She’s offering breakfast, not her mouth for a thorough fucking. He slammed the door shut, rattling everything inside the appliance.

  “No,” he managed before heading to the cabinet to grab a protein bar.

  He kept his eyes focused on the label. Reading… Almonds… Don’t look at her. But the cleavage… Honey, vanilla… No room for vanilla anything in my life. Stay quiet, J.T. Reading…

  “How about I sauté zucchini and tomatoes, then make a couple eggs along with some toast? We may have an avocado left, as well.”

  He turned just enough, still able to hide his arousal. She had one hand on her hip, the other waving the squash around. Quickly spinning away from her, he said, “I think I’ll just have cereal.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He let out a loud breath, then turned to her once more. “No.”

  Her gaze traveled down his well-maintained body, landing on the large bulge at the fly of his jeans. Her tongue slipped out, then she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Fuck me,” he whispered.

  “Oh, um… Do you want me to leave you alone?”

  “Yes,” he bit out. “Because if you stay, I will throw you over my shoulder and take you upstairs to fuck you until you’re hoarse from screaming.”

  A slight smirk lifted the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be upstairs, lying in bed, if you need me.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “That is not funny.”

  She snorted and walked off.

  “Christ, that bird will be the death of me,” he whispered, passing on the cereal, putting the protein bar into his pocket.

  Minutes later, Gunther knocked on Anne’s door. When she opened it, the sight of her made him purse his lips, forgetting everything that happened back at his house.

  Stepping inside, he asked, “How are you doing?”

  Her response was nothing more than a shake of her head. He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, running them down to her hands. “Anne, allow me
to take some of the grief off your shoulders. You helped me yesterday. Today, it’s my turn to help you.”

  Tears trickled down her face. Breaking his hold, she swiped them away before he could do it himself. “It’ll just be me.”

  “She’s definitely not going then?”

  “No,” Anne said. “It’s fine, though… I guess. We shouldn’t bring Nicky to a funeral home anyway.”

  Staring into her eyes, Gunther wondered if she had allowed herself to grieve yet. The want to make Anne feel better was almost overwhelming.

  She stood in front of him, eyes welling, refusing to let another tear fall. After a firm nod, she grabbed her jacket and purse from the coat rack next to the door. He spun around and helped pull the garment around her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she said in a rough whisper.

  “Anne…” He turned her to face him. “Take a moment to grieve. You can cry your heart out on the way to pick him up.” She let out a hard breath. “Come here.” He wrapped his big arms around her body. “I’m here for you. Lean on me.”

  She choked out a few sobs, quickly pulling away. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t always have to be the pillar of strength.”

  “I’ve been left with no other options, Gunther. My heart is broken. At this rate, I feel like it will never mend.”

  He stared into her tired, sad eyes. “Please, don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

  “I’m doing what I can.”

  “You should drop by more often and visit with Cora. The three youngest would love to have Nicky over to play. It’ll give you a small break.”

  Nodding, her eyes welled again. She managed a “Thank you” before walking out the front door.

  He followed behind, the anger bubbling. “Elaina shouldn’t drop everything on you. It makes me furious,” he grumbled, tapping the UNLOCK button on the key fob. He opened the passenger door and helped her into the truck. “I’d love to give her a piece of my mind. She needs to step up and stop behaving like this.”

  “I know…but, please, it’s fine. I will take care of it.”

  “Anne, look in the bloody mirror! You’re a wreck. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Gunther, please. Let me handle this.”

  Shaking his head, he closed the door, grumbling all the way around to the driver’s side. He whipped open the door, hopped in, and slammed it shut. After pounding his fist on the steering wheel a couple times, he started the truck and backed out of the driveway.

  Gunther continued to glance at Anne, worried for her. “I apologize for my anger. I shouldn’t show you that side of me.”

  “It’s fine. You’re allowed to feel that way.”

  “It’s not healthy to hold in all your emotions. You need to let yourself go. It’s just you and me here. No need to be strong for anyone.”

  Slapping her hands over her face, jagged sobs wracked her body. He pulled over so he could offer a little comfort.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I shouldn’t be doing this to you.”

  “You’re not doing anything to me. This is what you need.”

  “But I’m burdening you.”

  “The hell you are. We’re a family, Anne, and this is what family does. We help one another.”

  She wiped her cheeks. “I didn’t think I would lose him again. I was certain I would go before he did. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m hurt.”

  “It’s understandable, love,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, and I wish I could change what happened. I keep kicking myself over not coming back home when Cora called about a gunshot.”

  “There would’ve been no saving him,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she added, “You’ve done well by him so many times. You cannot save everyone.”

  Knife, meet gut. He cringed, feeling the pain. It hurt not being able to save another loved one. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  Anne tugged at the front of her jacket. “I’m ready to get this over with.”

  Gunther situated himself back behind the wheel and put the truck in gear, not another word spoken. He was certain even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crying.

  The funeral director, Kurt Kimball, waved his hand toward the chairs in front of his desk. Gunther and Anne had already waited in the reception area for an hour, and both were ready to get out of the depressing place.

  Like a gentleman, Gunther waited to sit until Anne did.

  “Forgive me for my lateness,” Kurt said, lowering himself into his chair. “It’s been very hectic here being the only funeral home and crematorium open in the area.”

  Gunther stared into Kurt’s beady eyes, dark circles and bags tracking down his sunken face. His hair looked a little greasy, sticking out like a ducktail in the back. As the director lifted a mug of coffee to his lips, Gunther noticed a few stains on the cuffs of his shirt. It became readily apparent this man not only wasn’t sleeping, but also rarely had a moment to collect himself.

  “That’s quite okay,” Anne said.

  “My receptionist indicated you are picking up the ashes of…” He paused, looking through the notation on the paperwork, “Henry Daniels today?”

  Gunther gazed at Anne, her eyes welling. She swallowed a few times, then shook her head. He reached out and grasped her hand. “Yes,” Gunther said. “Henry Daniels.”

  Still looking through the paperwork, Kurt methodically flicked the edges with his thumb. “Elaina Daniels called in a special order. Is that correct?”

  Anne rested her palm against her chest. “She did?” she asked, squeezing Gunther’s hand.

  “Yes. She ordered a special urn and asked for an inscription.” He stood and walked to the back of the office.

  Gunther tried not to stare at the pink elephant in the room, but Kurt walking in that direction forced him to get a good glimpse of the coffins on display. He watched as the director opened a large, two-door cabinet. Urns of all different shapes and sizes lined the shelves. He squeezed Anne’s hand a little harder.

  As the director returned to the desk, he tipped the bottom of the light gray urn toward Gunther and Anne. “The inscription and dates. I found it odd that she wanted two names engraved, but I stopped asking questions long ago regarding deaths after the virus. Are the spellings correct?”

  Anne leaned forward slightly and examined the engraved metal plate attached to the bottom.

  LOVING SON, HUSBAND, FATHER, BROTHER, & FRIEND

  LUKE AARON RICHARDS – LIAM ‘HENRY’ DANIELS

  MAY 5TH, 1986 – OCTOBER 25TH 2018

  I LOVE YOU WHOLE, AND I LOVE YOU BROKEN.

  She stroked the edges of the urn, as if she could feel him through the cold ceramic. “The spellings are correct. My son was a government employee who needed an alias at times.” The director raised his brows, but before he could respond, Anne turned to Gunther. “The quote… Is that from a movie or a book?”

  “I don’t know. It must’ve meant something to them. Maybe it was something they said to each other in private.”

  “Maybe,” she whispered, running her finger over the glossy white tree wrapping around the sides of the urn. She nodded once, carefully reaching to take the container. “Thank you. This is beautiful,” she whispered. “Worthy of my son. His wife picked well.”

  “It is beautiful,” Kurt agreed, smiling.

  Gunther reached around to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Anne, why don’t you go out and sit in the waiting room while Kurt and I settle up on the final bill.”

  “No. We can pay.”

  “I know you can, but that’s not the point. Allow me to do this for you…for Henry.”

  Anne sat for a moment. Finally, she stood and carried the urn out of the office, leaving Gunther and Kurt to finalize the expenses.

  Chapter 17

  -East End of London-

  “Ugh… Fuck me…,” I moaned after finishing another round of vomiting. It had been
a few days since my last treatment, but the sickness was going strong. My weekly agenda included brain scan, anti-serum, puking, puking, and more fucking puking.

  My intention was to shower. Instead, I lay over the loo, buck naked, cheek pressed to the seat, arms dangling over the sides. No matter how many times I heaved, the demons did the tango in my belly, hysterically laughing in my ears.

  A slight knock on the door interrupted my heave. “For fuck’s sake…,” I mumbled, drool dangling from my lips.

  “Are you okay in there?”

  The daytime nurse, Michelle. “Shit,” I whispered, then spoke a little louder. “Yeah.”

  “You’ve been in there a while. Do you need help?”

  “Christ. Don’t come in,” I moaned. I lifted my head and looked for a towel. It hung from a hook next to the shower stall…all the way across the room.

  After a slight dizzy spell, my bare ass plopped down on the unforgiving tile floor. Beyond weak, exhausted, and burnt out, my heart did this weird flip-flop thing in my chest. After it fluttered, then sputtered, it pounded so hard, I could see my chest move with it.

  That can’t be good, I thought.

  “I’m coming in,” she announced.

  “No… Shit…” I swiped away the sweat, my hand trembling.

  The door opened and she peeked in. “Let me help you.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, I needed her. “Yes… Fine.” She walked into the bathroom, wearing horrid bright purple scrubs donned with giant white kittens. “Fucking hell… You could at least tone down your neon brightness.”

  She gazed down at herself. “I like it and it makes me happy.”

  “Good for you,” I grumbled.

  “Can you get up?” she asked, approaching.

  I sighed, not out of fatigue, but out of sheer embarrassment. “No. I’m too weak. I wanted to shower, but the minute I stripped, I felt the desire to pray to the porcelain god.”