Hearts Key

by Marianne Evans

Instinctively he longed to ease her reaction by offering comfort. But he didn’t. Something told him she needed this, desperately.

  “Today brought everything back,” she said, her voice shaky, her eyes distanced by memories. “It was sunny, and humid and hot. And I carried groceries.” She didn’t look at him. Instead, she rested her cheek on her knees and stared out at the yard and the sky. Tears glittered, rolling occasionally against her hand, and knees, but she swiped at them. “I came home from the store and he was there. Drunk out of his mind and a bottle of whiskey left open in our living room right next to the ice-filled tumbler he was using. Nice, huh?”

  Tyler braced himself. “Where was Pyper?”

  “In her room. Being punished by Mark for some random, meaningless reason so she’d be out of his way. She was trapped and terrified in a stuffy, hot bedroom so he could drink, and let his temper build. He had just lost his job so he was in a bad place to begin with, but I reached my breaking point. I just didn’t care anymore. I fought against him in ways I never had before. It was like a reflex. Instinct.”

  He kept his touch rhythmic, his presence steady and open. On the inside, however, he absolutely raged.

  “That day, he turned the full brunt of his fury on me. For the first time ever, I shoved right back. Oh, he’d always demean me, and make me feel worthless, but this time, it was physical, and horrible beyond anything I had ever gone through before. He shoved me, he destroyed our kitchen; he shattered a camera he knew I needed for a freelance photography job that weekend. I had dumped out his whiskey. I threw the tumbler in the sink so hard it shattered. That’s when he struck me across the face. A blinding backhand. He shoved me again, this time against the edge of a counter so hard I saw stars. He was big, and strong, and he pushed me around like a rag doll when I said I was leaving.”

  “But Amy, thank God you did. You obviously weren’t safe around him any longer.”

  “True.” She drew in a deep breath. “But you see, the leaving was fine by him. The day I left, all he cared about was keeping me away from Pyper. Because he could. Because he knew I was out of my mind with worry and fear for her. Because he was stronger. At one point, he deliberately blocked me from Pyper’s room. When he was finished toying with me, he just pushed me out the front door of our home and dead-bolted it.”

  Without a thing to her name. Tyler’s stomach clenched. He was sickened, but for the sake of Amy’s chance at openness and healing, he swallowed back the bile. “You got her, though. How?”

  Only then did she turn her head to look at him. She sniffled and blinked tiredly. “I pulled her out of her bedroom window after I tore the screen away.”

  The queasiness threatened to overwhelm.

  She moistened her lips, and she sighed. “I left Pyper alone with him too often, and that was wrong. I see that now. But, I was so eager to embrace anything, like my freelance work, that would keep me away from him. He married me out of pity because I was pregnant, and at first he was tolerant. But after a while, even that token piece of emotion vanished. Bitterness grew, and instead of love, a sense of injustice filled him up.”

  She began to cry again; for the second time, Tyler didn’t halt the flow. He wanted her to let go of a gut-wrenching past.

  “Mark never looked at Pyper and saw our gorgeous, precocious little girl. Instead, he saw obligation and an unwanted commitment that came along way too soon in his picture-perfect life. Our marriage and Pyper’s arrival crimped his ambitions, and his dreams, without any kind of warning.”

  “Making love is a warning, Amy. He can’t plead ignorance on that count.”

  “And neither can I.”

  Tyler had to cede the point, much as it tore him up inside to think of her with anyone else but him. Still, he hadn’t meant for the statement to hurt her.

  “That’s why I stayed with him for so long. I was in it right along with him, but I believed everything would work out. That happiness would happen.”

  “Amy.” He spoke her name like a command. As intended, the tone re-centered her focus. “The big difference here—and I hope you listen to me carefully when I say this—is that no matter what the circumstance, you honored your marriage as best you could, and while he neglected Pyper, you never, ever did. Don’t buy into the whole he-got-mad-at-me-for-getting-pregnant argument. It doesn’t wash, honey. If he realized what he had, if he took care of the treasures he was given—namely you and Pyper—there’s no way on earth he could be so filled with anger and bitterness, unplanned pregnancy or not.”

  Her gaze trained on his. “I feel like a failure, Tyler. I failed at the most important relationship we’re called to create.”

  “Are you taking responsibility for what Mark did to you? And to Pyper? Because if you are, you need to adjust your thinking. Seriously.”

  Her lips curved; she gave him a wry look. “That’s almost exactly what Kiara said to me before I left.” She shrugged, and blew out a puff of air. “The statement rings with truth, but somehow, no matter how hard I try, it refuses to sink into my mind, and my heart.”

  He couldn’t stand being distant from her any longer. Tyler slid his arm against her shoulders and drew her to his side, nuzzling her hair, savoring its silky texture against his cheek, and lips. “Keep trying. Like everyone else, you’re a beautiful work in progress.”

  “I wanted it to work. It was supposed to work. It should have worked. What does it say to my level of commitment that I walked away?”

  “That you had to maintain your welfare, and that of your daughter.”

  “To a degree, sure. But, how could I ever expect a man to have faith in me, and believe in my Christian convictions? Could you ever trust me, Tyler? Really trust me?”

  He paused, and looked her straight in the eyes. “I already do.”

  Amy cleared her throat and shifted, relaxing against him completely. The feel of her body next to his became the completion of a season in his life that would forever revolve around Amy Maxwell. Darkness deepened, drawing in around them like a cocoon, seeping into the atmosphere with a sense of velvet intimacy. Tyler stretched his legs, nudging the swing again to maintain their motion.

  Amy took in a deep, stilling breath. “You know what I keep thinking, ever since the concert? I keep thinking about how much I wish I had made different choices; that I had been smart enough to realize your worth instead of focusing on Mark with all the narrow-eyed, single-mindedness I possessed back then. Now I feel broken. I feel like such a failure…not just for the divorce, but for not seeing people as they really are. I relied on my own perceptions, and images. That was such a huge mistake. You and Mark are a perfect case in point. Look at what I could have had with you.”

  With that, the words were finally out in the open, heartbreaking, but a fissured pathway to everything that might be re-found. The words provided hope, in a chipped, but sturdy bottle. Tyler reached for her hand and held it tight. “I have a better idea. Don’t look at what you could have had. Look at where you’re at now. Let’s look at the chance we’re being given. After all, that’s the whole reason I asked you to come here. And keep something else in mind.”

  She searched his eyes. “What’s that?”

  He thought about Pyper, and the breakthroughs he had made with Amy’s daughter today. “Sometimes it takes the pain of a bee sting to bring about a world full of change, and a heart that’s finally ready for happiness.”

  Hearts Key

  14

  Slowly, Amy climbed the stairs to her bedroom; Pyper had just disappeared into the bathroom to change into her pajamas and brush her teeth. Amy’s mind still spun at Tyler’s words. All day he had laid out tantalizing breadcrumbs of come-toward-me emotions she found impossible to refuse. Since high school, his heart had belonged to her alone. Over the span of five long years apart, his feelings remained steadfast and true. Meanwhile, Amy’s had taken time to emerge. It was a tentative process, but no less definite.

  Sometimes it takes the pain of a bee sting to bring about a he
art ready for happiness.

  Do you have any idea at all what a wonderful child you’ve raised?

  Tyler’s words soaked into her soul and found rich, nourishing soil. Under his influence, her heart moved dangerously close to a complete meltdown. She gave over to him—unable to help it—and furthermore, she didn’t even want to stem the tide.

  A heavy gust of wind whistled through the window, billowing the curtains, smelling vaguely of rain. Amy turned, glancing outside. A late-night thunderstorm had been forecast, but up to now, the weather had held. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

  Amy waited for her turn in the bathroom, pulling out lightweight fleece pajamas and preparing supplies. Her mind refused to rest as she hunted for a hairbrush, her toothbrush and some face cleanser. An ache of wanting pierced her heart. She closed her eyes and saw nothing but Tyler. The ache uncurled through her chest, prompting a mix of love and reverence toward the image now held in her heart of a man who was a devoted, tender Christian full of a giving spirit. She kept her eyes closed, going still as his handsome features swirled into even richer clarity, drawing her further into a world she hadn’t dared to hope for, or dream of, until now.

  She could almost taste him—feel him—in the escalating wind that moved through the room. Rolls of thunder rumbled, echoing upward through the valley in a somber vibration that literally moved against the house. Amy sat on the bed and promptly sank against its plush surface, stretching out while she continued to do battle against old demons while trying so hard to embrace new angels.

  The bedroom door banged open, and Pyper entered the room at a run, charging toward the bed with happy gusto.

  “Mama, I heard thunder! We’re gonna have a storm! And I get to not be scared ’cause you’ll be with me!”

  Was it just Amy’s imagination, or was Pyper picking up a southern twang after less than a week? The thought left her to grin while she grabbed for her daughter. “You bet I will. Come here, snug-a-bug.”

  Amy pulled her squirmy, giggling daughter onto the down comforter of the bed. They laid side by side, cushioned by feathery softness, both of them happy, for the time being, to simply look into one another’s eyes and rest in contentment. Amy’s mind slowly eased as rain came down in a soft downpour that played like a lullaby to her soul.

  Yes, this whole contentment thing was contagious. It was addictive. Beautiful and beneficial. For the first time in ages, Pyper looked and acted as innocent and carefree as any five-year-old should. That fact applied a necessary balm to the long-standing scar across Amy’s spirit.

  All of a sudden, Pyper smiled big, and cupped her hand against Amy’s cheek in a way that she always did when she simply wanted to connect and touch her mother, heart to heart. Her other hand was presently tucked beneath her chin.

  “You like Tyler, huh, Mommy?”

  “Yes. Yes I do.”

  The smile grew even bigger. “A really lot?” Pyper’s eyes twinkled, alive with playful mischief—and the first signs of a little girl beginning to recognize matters of the heart. No sense hiding from the most important person in her life. That was another life-lesson Amy had learned the hard way.

  “Yeah, Pyper. A really lot.”

  Pyper blinked a few times, her long, inky lashes fluttering a bit tiredly over eyes of palest, most luminous blue. “Me, too, Mommy.” Pyper yawned, her eyes closing as she moved in close. Amy wrapped her arms tight around her daughter who drifted promptly to sleep.

  Conversely, Amy came to life. Despite every doubt and fear, her heart began to race, beating in time to an influx of battered but stalwart hope.

  ****

  Pyper was down for the count, oblivious to the continuous strobes of lightning and the aftershocks of crackling energy that rippled through the air. Rain intensified; the rooftop drumbeat a strong and steady pound. Amy glanced at the bedside clock and groaned softly when she registered the time. At just after midnight, she was nowhere near the realm of sleep. The hissing voices of doubt kept crowding in.

  Old demons, or new angels—what’s it going to be, Maxwell?

  Tyler deserves better than the damaged spirit you present, doesn’t he? And what about Pyper? Amy, you can’t possibly consider pulling her into yet another new version of life, in a place that will remove her from everything, and everyone, that’s familiar. Get a grip on this situation before it runs you over!

  Then, a new thought crept in, pushing more disruptive ripples against her psyche: she hadn’t heard from Mark in ages—not since the divorce—but perhaps all it would take to make a desperate man reemerge is finding out his ex-wife and daughter were now an important part of Tyler Brock’s life. A media push of interest and excitement, especially if they emerged as a couple, would put her past under intense scrutiny. Not only would her battles with abuse and an alcoholic husband come to the fore, they would be broadcast everywhere. How would that affect Pyper? What if Mark picked up on the idea of trying to stake an exploitive claim on their daughter?

  That’s why we pray.

  The simple phrase she had exchanged with Tyler rolled through her troubled mind. Amy tried hard to find the words; all that came was a sense of devastation. A reconciliation of her life with Tyler’s refused to materialize, no matter how hard she petitioned God.

  There was just no way to remain in this idyllic world and relationship. No way at all.

  Giving up on sleep that refused to come, Amy slipped out of bed as carefully as possible. She padded across the floor and looked outside for a moment, wondering what she could do to doze off and leave all that negativity behind.

  She had never tried the warm-milk antidote, but decided to give it a go. She moved with light steps down the darkened stairwell, tip-toeing her way to the kitchen. By now, she was familiar enough with the layout to pull open a lower cabinet door and fish out a small saucepan. Next, she lifted a jug of milk from the refrigerator and poured.

  Amy lit the burner beneath the pan.

  “Storm keeping ya up?”

  She gasped and nearly upended the saucepan. She turned fast, instantly nervous, and took a hard swallow at the vision before her. Sleep-tousled hair, a rumpled, plain white t-shirt and black sweats were an absurdly adorable combination on Tyler. He yawned, walking into the kitchen nonplussed…and barefoot.

  Amy’s muscles went tight; need slid into place with unraveling speed and efficiency. She fumbled with the cap of the milk jug and cleared her throat when she brushed slowly past Tyler to return it to the fridge. But then, his arrival, and what might be behind it, prompted her to put her sensual cravings into simmer mode rather than boil. “Are you having trouble sleeping, too? Would you like me to make you some?”

  Tyler gave a small shake of his head. “Nah. Thanks, though. You OK?”

  “Yeah. Just a little restless I guess. Couldn’t quite settle for some reason.”

  “My fault, maybe? I didn’t mean to rip open your heart tonight. You comfortable enough?”

  His earnestness touched her heart, and made her smile when she looked into his eyes. They struck her as being a touch sleep dusted. And he was so cute…

  The simmering ratcheted upward again. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Sorry if I woke you.”

  “No problem. I’ve been sleeping light the last few days.” He moved to the spot next to her and peeked into the pot where bubbles began to lift upward and pop.

  “Thinking about Kellen’s representation offer? Your work?”

  He shrugged. “Partly. Mostly it’s just…” He shrugged again and the t-shirt bunched and flexed around his shoulders, which were broad and perfectly toned. Amy drifted into that image as he paused. How easily she could imagine the feel of his warm skin, the texture of downy hair and sinew. “Mostly it’s you and Pyper. Having the two of you here.”

  Amy centered back on the conversation in a hurry. “Oh?”

  “It’s a good thing—a very good thing—but it’s–it’s complicated.”

  “How so?” His comments took her aback.
Now she wanted answers.

  He moved in close enough to rest a hand against her arm and give it a squeeze. “It’s important to me. It’s like a picture of everything I’ve wanted for so long. But it’s going to be over within a few days. I don’t want it to be. Please—tell me it won’t be.”

  Amy took a breath, lost in his eyes as a breaking point came and went, dealt with by nothing more than the power of her heart.

  She found enough courage to remain close to him. “I don’t want it to be, either,” she whispered. “You didn’t want our first kiss to be a kiss goodbye.” It’s not goodbye. Not yet. Amy trembled. “Kiss me, Tyler.”

  She saw his surprise. Wishing on a hundred dreams, she looked at him with wide, but steady eyes. Waiting.

  “This isn’t casual for me, Amy. Never has been. Never could be. You understand that, right?”

  His warning didn’t trouble her at all. Slowly she nodded. Her world blurred at the edges with a delicious warmth and dizziness, with feathers going wild against her senses. “That’s why I want it so much. If you do, too, that is…”

  Tyler breathed out. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against hers. “Only since I was seventeen years old.”

  He slid his hand against her neck; not once did his eyes leave hers. Amy took strength from that. He cupped her face so gently, with such soft, reverent care that her eyes fluttered closed, and she sighed. Tyler’s lips skimmed softly against her neck, her cheeks, her chin, in a smooth, tantalizing glide. His caress tickled her skin. He continued to nuzzle and seek, and Amy gave a pleasured, almost desperate sound. She could think only of his kiss—their kiss.

  “Remember,” he murmured against her now trembling, waiting mouth, “you asked.”

  He claimed her lips fully, exploring her in touch and taste as his fingers slid down her arm. The modest covering of her long sleeved pajama top didn’t diminish the warmth, or the tingling. Tyler pulled her snug against him as the kiss continued, blooming amidst a love that had been denied for far too long.