I Picked You

by J C Hartung

  She stopped; because this would only be the second time outside of therapy she’d shared many of these things out loud. She wondered if it was absolutely necessary to open her soul or if he’d already heard enough and decided she just wasn’t worth the trouble.

  He had no idea what that meant, that she didn’t know what happened, but he sensed a battle in her. He could see she needed to do this in her own time. He felt his hands were tied, and as much as he didn’t want to hear what came next, he needed to. He had to know if he had a chance with her, or if he just had to walk away.

  “I’d like to hear the rest, if you want to share. The three times I’ve seen you, you had moments where you seemed to disappear. I’d like to know where you go when that happens.”

  Her mouth pulled at the corners into a sad smile.

  “Linc, I liked that this was fun, or the start of what might have been fun. I don’t know who I am right now, but this sad and heavy person I appear to be isn’t who I want to be. I’ll tell you the rest. But you should know I understand that this is a lot for someone you’ve had one date with. I’ll understand completely if this is where it needs to end.”

  Her last statement sparked hope in him. He figured she wasn’t aware that she had given it so freely, or offered herself so unwittingly.

  She rose then and excused herself. She climbed the stairs and took a moment to check in on Oliver; to smell his hair and tuck him up safely in the cocoon of his blankets. She knew in the rational part of her mind that he was fine, but she needed to see him, to hear him breathe, to smell his sweet innocent scent; to know he was wrapped up tight in her protected world.

  She needed a moment to collect herself, to put herself out there, and wait to see if she would be received.

  Chapter Twenty

  He assumed it was bad, and he hated it. He could see that it still tore her up. He paced the porch, trying to find distraction with the craftsmanship of the house. He even went so far as to draw up mental plans for furniture he could build her, but it didn’t help. With the mood he was in, he only saw flaws. The exterior door of the porch needed a fresh coat of paint, and its hinges cried at movement. The cheap chipboard material of her side and coffee tables, though perfectly viable, were a pet peeve of his, not to mention the mass marketed toy bench. He threw a hand through his hair and thought, it was definitely not helping.

  When he heard the top stair creak behind him he froze and turned slowly. She’d put on a sweater, and the way the thick weave of the knit hung over her tights mid-way to her knees, she looked even smaller. He crossed to her in three short steps.

  She was again level with his eyes. What she needed was a friend, he knew that plain and clear, what he wanted was something else entirely. He swore silently to himself because what he was about to take from her was more than friendly.

  He had wanted to touch the smooth skin of her face since the first time he saw her months ago, and now when she was more fragile and exposed he felt the same; only stronger. He brushed the back of his fingers down the side of her face, and she closed her eyes at his touch.

  She didn’t stop him, so he drew her closer until she placed her hands on his chest. He leaned in and that’s where his conscience hit a snag. He leaned his forehead on hers and trailed his hand down her back while he aimed a litter of silent, harsh words at himself.

  Her heart was hammering in her chest, she was sure he could feel it. Why did he stop, she wondered? He didn’t shift or move after resting his forehead on hers. But she could feel he was holding her still as well, she couldn’t move away.

  “Lincoln,” she whispered.

  He could only make a short and barely audible humming sound as he looked into her eyes.

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  He saw truth in her eyes with no traces of the haunted, hollow absence; or that’s what he told himself, because he didn’t need much encouragement.

  He pulled her close again and this time he didn’t stop. Unlike the other day when she’d planted a kiss on him without warning when he wasn’t prepared, he went about this with serious intention. He lingered near her face, brushing his cheek across hers, his lips slowly following until they found hers.

  She hadn’t been kissed in so long, or had understood what she’d been missing, or allowed herself to think about it until that moment. It wasn’t long and drawn out, but he had knocked her back far enough for her to realize even before they parted, that she didn’t want to live without it anymore.

  He thought he could have stayed in that moment forever and he would have been happy. But it wasn’t the time, and it wasn’t their moment. She had a story to tell, and he needed to hear it.

  “Raina,” he started, and then stopped to clear his throat. He stepped aside so she could pass, and he watched as she wrapped herself on the couch and settled in for part two.

  She didn’t want him to look at her like that, the way she often felt everyone else did; like a pitiable victim. She hoped by some miracle after she shared with him the rest of her life that he wouldn’t, because if he did, she knew she couldn’t handle it, not from him, the first person to see her as something other than broken.

  She was silent in her thoughts for a moment, and he waited so patiently. He had an impressive ability to be still without causing her to feel pressured.

  “I’m told that after we dropped off Oliver we picked up groceries.”

  She saw how his brow creased from the lack of understanding, but when he opened his mouth to ask, she raised a hand to stop him.

  “Please, just listen. If you have questions at the end, I’ll do my best to answer them.”

  He had to respect her request. But watching her trying to explain was painful. He could feel her agitation across the room and he wanted to make it go away; to stop the hurt.

  In response, he rubbed his hands over his unshaved cheeks and leaned on his knees.

  “It was just after lunch and we were nearly out of the city. It was snowing and I’m told visibility was reduced. They said we slid through the light. When the first truck hit us, Mark was killed instantly, and as far as they can understand the car spun and was hit a second time in the back. When I woke up everything had changed. That was two and a half years ago.”

  Her eyes were wide when she looked at him. She sat silently and simply looked at him, and the look sent a shiver down his spine. What had it been like?

  Only he still didn’t understand, and the way she had worded it didn’t help. He shifted to sit at the edge of his seat, so he was just a bit closer. She said she’d answer his questions, but he didn’t want to hurt her more than she already had been. The first question jumped into his head immediately and he thought there was no better place to start.

  “How badly were you hurt?” he asked as softly as he could, while being certain she heard him.

  She looked away and her hand brushed into her hair as she squirmed slightly in her seat. When she spoke her voice sounded clinical and detached.

  “I had three broken ribs, a broken arm and collar bone. I had 78 stitches in my head and scrapes and bruises everywhere. They kept me sedated for a long time because of my head injury. They said I was lucky.”

  He stood, walked to the other side of the porch and back. She was right; it was a lot. Instead of returning to his seat, he walked around the small table and judging it stable, he sat. He was close enough to touch her, but he couldn’t.

  “You said, you were told. What does that mean?”

  Her mouth pulled at one corner in a half attempted smile. She knew if to this point it had been hard to hear or imagine or brought about questions, this was where the real intrigue was buried.

  “I don’t remember what happened,” she said simply. And when she saw the surprise she braced herself for his reaction.

  “You don’t remember which part?”

  “The whole day. When I woke up in the hospital wrapped up and in pain, I had no idea how I got there, or what had happened. Dave, the dark haired man with
dimples; you spoke with him at the party. He and his wife Trish were sitting with me when I woke. Mark was Dave’s brother. He told me what happened.” She finished and looked down at her hands as the first tears slid from her eyes.

  He understood love, and until this moment he thought he understood grief. How much of her was wrapped up in a day she couldn’t even remember? Probably too much.

  “How long after did you come here?” he asked, motioning at the house or the town.

  “Not that long, it was months before my body healed and I could take care of Oliver by myself, and at two he was a handful. I also knew I had to change my whole life. I couldn’t work evenings anymore because childcare would have been a nightmare. So while I figured it out and healed we were here, and then after it was just easier to stay. Mark’s family wanted us to stay, but they also knew how much help I needed and they all have their own busy lives.”

  She kept talking, explaining, and he could literally see her fighting her way through it all. Making decisions alone for her and her son, picking up the shattered pieces and making a new picture that worked. It sounded familiar to him, though more extreme.

  “He’s an amazing kid, your Oliver.”

  He picked up a mini car that was half hidden under the couch she sat on. He held the back wheels and spun it around in his fingers. She smiled and with the back of her hand wiped her face dry.

  “Yes, he is. My Dad told me how amazing you’ve been with him. I hope this won’t change that. I had no idea he’d slipped you an invitation, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately,” she smiled down at her hands and then looked up again to meet his eyes.

  “Whatever you feel about me, please don’t leave here tonight and let this change that. School will start this week and then he’ll be busy, but if you didn’t treat him the same he’d be heartbroken, he---”

  He grabbed her wrist firmly but with a gentle touch and she stopped talking when he interrupted.

  “It doesn’t change anything, okay?”

  She nodded, and he released her wrist once he saw she understood, but he only moved her hand to rest in his open palm.

  “It’s a rough road you’ve been on the last while.”

  Her somber, wide, magnetic eyes held his. He knew if he could have chosen a moment to walk away this would be it. He could stand, say goodnight, walk to his truck and rid himself of this complicated, barely healed woman who would likely cause him more trouble than he had either the time or the inclination to fill his life with. He could do it; he knew he possessed a cold streak that would wipe her from his life completely. He didn’t like that part of himself, but he knew it was in him.

  Only, he couldn’t. He didn’t think he had the power to consider it, nor did he believe he wanted to walk away.

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” she said, interested by the way he worded it.

  “Do you mind if I sit there?” he asked, pointing to the cushion next to hers. He didn’t give her a chance to respond, he simply made himself comfortable, put his arm behind her so she had to shift in order not to fall into him. “How do people usually look at it?” he asked, as he adjusted their position.

  “Well I try to avoid most situations where I have to talk to them about myself. But in the past, it’s usually pity, insincere interest followed by shallow sentiments. For the most part, people need something to talk about, and it fascinates them that I don’t remember. I can understand that, it’s crazy to imagine.

  “My families don’t talk about it, or at least not when I’m around. They tip toe around me, trying to make everything easier, and I guess I didn’t really see them doing it until recently.

  “What happened to change all that recently?”

  He shifted in the seat next to her.

  “Stuff,” she said, as her lips curled and she shrugged.

  “Stuff.”

  She nodded.

  “Fair enough. Look, Raina,” he began, but it was her turn to interrupt.

  “Lincoln, please don’t say anything, not yet. I know I have a lot to work through. I also know that I am a mom and I can’t just go out whenever I please. It’s all complicated, I know that too well, so you don’t have to make excuses, or placate me. You can get up and walk away. There’s no harm done, though I am truly sorry if I led you to believe something that isn’t.”

  He sat quietly, strumming his thumb on the back of the couch while he listened to her offering him an easy way out.

  “Hmm, sure. That would very likely be the easier choice. Only I met a girl at the start of summer and she still hasn’t let me buy her a drink.”

  He turned to her and her eyes widened. She really thought he would walk away, he could read that in her eyes clearly.

  “A drink?”

  “To start, but first let’s talk about two things. Can I get some of those cookies to go?”

  She stared silently for two full beats, and then her laughter floated through the porch and into the night air. He pushed to his feet and offered her his hand. She hesitated but put her hand in his. He led her back to the garage, where he watched her put half a dozen cookies into a small bag and pass them to him.

  “And the second thing?” Her eyebrow arched as she spoke, and he knew she was interested.

  “When we get that drink, it’s a fun night. Like break into the neighbors and swim in their pool, skinny dipping optional, sort of fun. No serious business, clear?”

  She laughed and walked with him towards the door.

  “Clear! When do I get to hear your story?”

  “Later,” he said, and he pulled her close to him. He paused to watch the way her eyes creased and sparkled when she was happy. He couldn’t have walked away if he’d tried.

  “We’ll have time, I’m not done with you, cookie-queen!”

  He keeps his promises; he wasn’t nearly done with her, not even close.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He was on the floor fixing the last sticker on his new Lego car. It was blue and yellow and it was the fastest car ever. Next he was going to get some of those black plastic things that water goes in under the sink, and he was going to make a super cool tunnel at the bottom of a huge ramp.

  Linc walked up and nodded over at Martin who was helping a customer a few feet from the computer.

  “That is some fancy looking car you’ve got there, Buddy!” Linc said, as he snuck around the corner of the desk when he heard the car sounds coming from the floor.

  “Linc! It’s from my birthday!”

  “I figured! You got some pretty cool stuff.”

  “I know! Yesterday mama and me made a track, but it broke right away. I don’t think she put it together right,” Oliver said, frowning and looking down at the track he was building with the black tubes.

  “Hmm,” was all Linc could say. He’d seen the pieces stacked in a corner when he’d been there, but he didn’t think the kid needed to know that.

  “Are you getting some stuff today?” Ollie asked, not moving from his ramp on the floor. Linc bent down and pushed a car down the tube and watched it spin out when it hit the floor on the other end.

  “Nope, not today. I’m just here to see you.”

  Linc watched as Oliver’s eyes widened, and he had to laugh. Maybe there was a resemblance between the kid and his mom, or at least in some of their mannerisms.

  “I hear school is starting this week and then you won’t be around as much.”

  “Yep! I get to go on the bus just like Brady!”

  “No kidding! I always wanted to go on the bus when I was a kid.”

  “How come you didn’t?”

  “I lived close enough to walk to school,” he said with a shrug. “I just wanted to say good luck on your first day!”

  Linc stood, brushed his hand over Oliver’s head and spoke briefly with Martin.

  Oliver watched the short exchange, his concentration split between his car and the business world. Granddad nodded his head and Linc looked back over at him. Then Linc ra
ised his hand, waved.

  “See you later, Buddy!”

  He wanted to stop in at The Bakery when he drove by but he thought it was too soon. Maybe she needed more time to settle into the idea of him, or into the idea of a date. He could only begin to imagine where her head was in all of this.

  Thankfully, with the birth of his niece earlier that morning, he had the perfect excuse to take a trip into the city to pump the women in his life for information; surely they’d know how much space was enough space in this situation. Plus, a few days away without the constant temptation of driving over to her house or her restaurant would hopefully help to clear his own head.

  He fell in love this easy every time. It was unfair really, to succumb with such shameless abandon; to give his heart, unrestrained to another, and in this case to one who was yet to be named.

  She was pink, and soft, her fingers curled around his, snuggling her close as she fit into the crook of his arm so perfectly. He watched and marveled, and as her little lips pursed she made the most angelic squeaking noises, he could almost see those love tendrils float from his heart to tighten around her little finger.

  When Chris had called at 5:30 that morning, he sounded like a man on the edge of sanity. Now he sat with his head tilted at an unhealthy angle as he snored. It was just as well. This way he’d get these precious moments with this new angel.

  He stood and swayed back and forth as Tracy looked on, already settling into the role of doting mother.

  “So, what are you going to call her?”

  “We thought we knew, but now that we’ve met her, it’s more difficult to imagine what she’ll be like when she grows. We’re not sure if the name we’ve chosen will fit.”

  “Whatever you choose, she’s perfect!”

  Linc adjusted his stance as she squirmed in his arms. He’d been alternating sitting and swaying with her for the past half hour and he knew his time was nearly up. Tracy was looking tired and he had a few other things to do before the day was through.