by Lucy Clark
After she’d left, Arthur sat down in his chair and reflected on the newest snippet he’d learned about Maybelle. He really couldn’t comprehend what she’d been through in any way, shape or form and yet here she was, trying to make a new life for herself…on her own. She really was…the most amazing woman he’d ever met.
*
Maybelle felt very strange walking into Arthur’s apartment without him being there. Then again, the only other time she’d been here she’d felt just as strange. She turned on the light and quickly closed the door behind her as Fuzzy-Juzzy started barking and running in her direction. The dog almost stopped short when she realised it wasn’t Arthur walking through the door but after a moment seemed to be pleased someone had come to feed her.
She trotted to the laundry where her food bowl stood empty. She even tapped the bowl with her nose as though to give clear direction of exactly what she was wanting. Maybelle couldn’t help but laugh at the dog’s antics and dutifully gave her food as per Arthur’s instructions. When the dog started eating, Maybelle crouched down and stroked the soft fur.
‘You really are gorgeous,’ she told the dog, who didn’t miss a bite. It only increased the longing for a pet of her own but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that level of normal. What if there was another threat? What if she needed to move? She wouldn’t be able to take the animal with her and that sort of heartbreak was one that could be avoided. For now, though, she could spend a bit of time with Juzzy and let herself dream.
She sat down on the floor and waited until the dog had finished eating, delighting in watching the Pomeranian’s every move with her curly little tail and twitchy little nose. What stunned her further was when the dog decided to climb onto Maybelle’s lap and seat herself there.
‘This isn’t your bed,’ Maybelle told the dog, but she didn’t seem to care.
She raised her head to look at Maybelle as if to say, I’ll sleep where I want, thank you very much, and I choose here.
Maybelle stroked the soft fur and rested her head back against the cupboard, her legs stretched out in front of her. She could get used to this, having someone accept her and love her unconditionally, just as Juzzy was. There were no questions, no censure, no recommendations on what she should do with her life. There was just…love, and Maybelle absorbed it.
She continued to rhythmically stroke the dog, the action proving far more relaxing than she’d anticipated. Given she was sitting in Arthur’s apartment, stroking Arthur’s dog, she couldn’t help but ponder whether Arthur would be like Juzzy, able to accept her unconditionally. She knew she was broken, damaged and even a little shell-shocked, and that she had a long way to go before she could really let herself relax, but it was possible, wasn’t it? She would get to her goal in the end, wouldn’t she?
For so many years she’d told herself that happy endings weren’t for everyone and she was one of the people who was missing out. Sitting here, stroking Juzzy’s fur and relaxing—far more than she could ever remember before—Maybelle began to let the faintest glimmer of hope start to ignite. It was possible. Why shouldn’t she have a happily-ever-after ending? Hadn’t she been through enough already?
Not only had her life been uprooted at the age of sixteen, she’d had to watch her mother die in the most horrific way possible. Then, recently, her heart had broken as she’d seen the utter despair and regret in her father’s eyes not long before he’d given up the fight.
Although she’d felt alone for so many years, she now was truly alone. Being in witness protection had bonded her family together even more, which only made the loss of her parents even greater.
Closing her eyes, Maybelle continued to draw comfort from Juzzy’s warmth as she stroked the dog. For so long she’d wanted nothing more than to be out of witness protection but now that she was, it was incredibly scary. She was facing her future all alone, and it was that loneliness that made a few tears slide down her cheeks. Sniffing, she wiped them away, annoyed at herself for not controlling her thoughts better.
These past few days with Arthur had been wonderful. Yes, the beginning had been a bit rocky but now that he knew her true identity, and seemed happy she was back in his life, the two of them had managed to rekindle their friendship. Naturally, it was different from how it had been all those years ago as they’d both had different experiences that had moulded them into who they were today, but the essentials of their friendship seemed to have remained. Arthur had told her that she was like family to him and even early today he’d mentioned the possibility of taking her to see his parents.
‘They’d be delighted to see you again.’
‘But…how do I tell them who I really am?’
‘You just tell them, Maybelle.’ He’d shrugged as though he wasn’t sure what her problem was.
‘It’s not that easy, Arthur. For far too long I’ve had to hide who I really was. I had to change my name, my hair, my eye colour.’
‘Was the threat really that bad?’
‘That bad?’ Tears had welled in her eyes and she’d been far too aware that they had been at the nurses’ station, in the middle of the ED. Shaking her head and doing her best to get her emotions under control, she’d swallowed and said in a vehement whisper, ‘My mother was murdered. In front of me.’ With that, she’d excused herself and headed to the women’s changing rooms in an attempt to get herself under control.
The next time she’d seen him had been just before she’d left work, when he’d been carrying all those files to his office. Her offer of help had been rejected and she couldn’t help but feel that Arthur was already putting distance between them. If she hadn’t told him about her mother, they might well be sitting here now, enjoying pizza, laughing together as they managed to sort out the ridiculous amount of paperwork that was attached to the administration of a department.
Arthur had wanted time away from her. Away from her because she was far from a normal woman. She was emotionally scarred—and she hadn’t even told him that the instant her mother had been killed she’d been drugged and held to ransom for the next two and a half days. Although it had happened ten years ago, she still had nightmares about it, often waking up thinking someone was after her, trying to kidnap her again.
‘That’s all in the past. That’s all in the past. That’s all in the past.’ She spoke the words over and over again, trying to calm her mind, forcing herself to focus on the rhythmic movements of stroking the dog, concentrating on how the soft fur felt against her fingers, of how she seemed to be patting Juzzy in a pattern. Two strokes one way, a touch under first one ear, then the other, then several long strokes down Juzzy’s body.
As though Juzzy wanted to reassure her, the little tongue licked Maybelle’s hand, tickling her and making her smile. It helped the constriction in her chest to ease and her breathing to even out. Juzzy’s body became heavier, the licks now few and far between as the dog settled into a secure and comfortable sleep.
She followed suit, her hand slowing in its movements, but the dog didn’t seem to mind. Finally, she rested her hand on the dog’s back, both of them content within the long moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity.
*
‘Maybelle?’ Her name was like a caress on Arthur’s lips and she could have sworn she felt his hand on her shoulder. She tried to open her eyes but they were just too heavy. Her hand automatically started to stroke the dog’s soft coat again but stopped after two short strokes, exhaustion claiming her.
‘Hmm?’ She felt herself warmly enveloped in his big strong arms, being held firmly as he picked her up and carried her. Then she was placed on a comfortable bed, one with a nice warm doona that seemed to cocoon her, locking out the bad dreams, the fear and trepidation that had hounded her life in the past. ‘Safe,’ she whispered, then turned her head into the pillow and slept.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ARTHUR WENT INTO the kitchen and checked on Juzzy, unsure how he felt at having Maybelle so close. Where he hadn’t wanted to spend
time with her, doing paperwork and eating pizza, because he simply hadn’t been able to trust himself not to grab her and kiss her, he now had to fight the way she’d felt in his arms, the way her scent seemed to be permanently swirling around him, confusing his logical thought process.
Since she’d made a reappearance in his life, his thoughts had been continually drifting back to the past, pleased he now had some answers to the questions that had sat at the back of his mind for far too long. They may not have been the answers he’d been expecting, especially the bombshell she’d dropped earlier today, telling him that her mother had been murdered.
He’d always had mixed feelings about Maybelle’s parents but most of them were from an adolescent perspective. He’d thought they should have paid more attention to their daughter, that they should have spent more time with her, but now, as an adult and as a medical professional, he could understand their dedication to their profession. Add to that everything Maybelle had told him about their work and he had a new appreciation for Samantha and Hank Fleming. To think of Samantha being killed and then to think of Maybelle witnessing that incident—his heart ached for them both.
In fact, it had made it almost impossible for him to concentrate on his paperwork and in the end he’d given up and left the hospital early, wondering if he could drop by Maybelle’s apartment and offer her a hug. He wanted her to know he was there for her, as a friend, as a sounding board, as a guide in finally obtaining the normal life she wanted. He doubted, given what she’d told him, that her life would ever be completely normal, but then a lot of people in the world managed to make it through very traumatic experiences to achieve a new level of normal. That was what he wanted to help Maybelle to achieve. After all, deep down inside she was still his May and she was still most definitely beautiful.
What Arthur hadn’t expected was to find Maybelle sitting on his laundry floor, the dog on her lap, both of them asleep. How long had she been there, sleeping in such an awkward position? When he’d moved the dog from her lap, he’d expected Maybelle to stir, but she hadn’t. That was when he’d realised just how exhausted she must be. Had she been sleeping at all since moving to town? She’d said that her father had died a few months ago, so had she managed to have a decent night’s sleep since then? This entire week she’d been at the hospital long before her shift began, which usually indicated the inability to sleep or settle.
With Juzzy all tucked up in her little bed and sleeping soundly—just like Maybelle—he made himself a cup of tea and took it to his bedroom, pausing momentarily outside the door where Maybelle slept. Should he check on her again? Was that creepy? What if she woke up and didn’t know where she was? Perhaps he should leave her a little note, telling her not to panic?
He closed his eyes and shook his head, continuing on to his own bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind him. Even the sight of her cocooned beneath the doona, snuggled deep and murmuring the word ‘safe’, had been enough of an undoing for him for one night. The need to hold her close, just as he used to, to talk quietly with her, just as they used to, to offer his support and to listen to what she had to say, was becoming more intense with each passing second he spent in her company.
Instead, Arthur forced himself to get ready for bed, deciding that tonight it might be advantageous for him to sleep in pyjama bottoms and an old T-shirt…just in case of an emergency or in case Maybelle sleepwalked or—
His thoughts stalled on the fact that she might very well sleepwalk. Sleepwalking was often attributed to stress and anxiety, the subconscious attempting to deal with what the conscious found difficult, and Maybelle had definitely had her fair share of anxiety and stress. What would he do if she sleepwalked right into his bedroom? He swallowed at that thought and sat back on his bed, resting against the headboard. He could well remember the last time she’d been in his bedroom, although that time she’d come through the half-open window rather than using the door. He’d been studying for an exam and although it had been late, he’d only managed to get through half of his notes. Then she’d appeared.
The memories that he’d locked away so many years ago came flooding back as he recalled the events of that night. The window had been right next to a large tree, one he’d climbed up and down several times over the years. The screen from his window had long since been removed to make covert access to his room easy when he’d arrived home past curfew.
The cool summer breeze had brought welcome relief from the oppressive heat they’d been enduring, but the last thing he’d expected to come through his window that night had been the girl who had been constantly in his thoughts for the past few months. Ever since they’d kissed at her birthday party, Arthur had found it difficult not to think about her, not to want to kiss her again and again and again…and to his dismay he had. They’d shared inviting looks across the dinner table while the rest of his family had been eating dinner; they’d allowed their fingers to touch when doing the dishes together; they’d sneaked kisses when no one had been around. And then she’d appeared in his bedroom.
Drawing in a long, deep breath, it was as though the smells of that night were re-creating themselves around him now. She’d been dressed in light sandshoes, three-quarter-length summer jeans and a light blue T-shirt. Her hair had been loose, the long strawberry-blonde locks floating around her shoulders, enticing him to reach out and run his fingers through them. It was her eyes, though, her bright blue eyes that had reflected her emotions of eager, wild, urgent desire.
‘May!’ He’d placed a hand over his heart at her sudden appearance, although even now he wasn’t sure if he’d been startled by her or desperate with desire for her. ‘What are you doing?’ He’d stood from his desk and drunk his fill of her.
She hadn’t given him an answer, except to walk purposefully towards him, wrap her hands around his neck and pull his head down so their lips could meet. The action had been done as one fluid movement and the grip she’d had on his neck had been tight, as though she was never going to let him go. Her lips had been demanding, insistent, desperate.
For a brief second he’d kissed her back, because how could he not? She was warm and inviting and tasted like strawberries mixed with pure sunshine. Intoxicating and addictive, he’d wanted more, he’d wanted everything she could give, to greedily have his fill of her. The hunger inside him had been met and matched by her, something she’d never done before, and a part of him had been delighted at this turn of events…but the reasonable part of his brain had begun to make itself known, begun to question why she was there, why she was kissing him in such a fashion and why she was manoeuvring them towards the bed.
Finally, he’d come to his senses and put his hands on her shoulders and eased her firmly from him. ‘What…?’ He’d swallowed, slightly breathless and captivated by the sight of her. ‘What’s going on? What are you doing here?’ He’d glanced towards the door, afraid that his parents or his sister might walk into his room and find her here. Yes, it had been late. Yes, his parents had retired to bed, but still, the fact that he’d had a girl in his room at such an hour had been something that had made him feel skittish.
‘I want you, Arthur.’ Her words had been firm, with no hint of hesitation, and as she’d spoken she’d made a move to kiss him once again.
‘Whoa. Wait a second.’ He’d dropped his hands from her shoulders and taken a few steps away, needing to put some distance between them. ‘What’s going on?’ He’d tried again, hoping this time to get some sort of sensible answer from her.
She’d shrugged her perfectly sculpted shoulders and had started to twirl one finger in her hair, a sure sign that she’d been nervous. ‘We’ve been sneaking around for a while now, stealing kisses here and there, talking on the phone and having some very unsuccessful tutoring sessions.’ She’d smiled at him then and he couldn’t help but return her smile as he’d recalled the two of them sitting at the kitchen table while he’d tutored her in mathematics. His father had been at work and his mother had taken Clara t
o her violin lesson, which had left the two of them alone for twenty minutes. They’d made good use of the time, enjoying a make-out session rather than an algebra session.
‘That still doesn’t explain why you’ve sneaked out of your house and into my room.’
‘And here I thought the words “I want you, Arthur” would be all the explanation you required.’ With that, she’d made her way to his side and started kissing him again, her sweet lips enticing him to give in to the powerful urges he’d been desperately trying to fight. This time, though, they had been much closer to the bed than before and when she’d eased herself down to sit on the mattress, he’d been too captivated to resist following.
His fingers had tangled in her hair and his mouth had matched the intensity of hers. She’d smelled so good, as though she’d just had a shower and blow-dried her hair. The strands had been as soft as silk and touching them had only added fuel to the fire already raging inside him. He’d wanted her. There had been no question of that. For the past two and a half months he’d become increasingly infatuated with her, so much so that he’d been considering throwing all caution to the wind and suggesting they tell his sister and their parents they were dating.
It had been her idea to keep their burgeoning relationship a secret from everyone. Initially he’d understood her reticence with their parents, but Clara had been her best friend and he hadn’t wanted to be the person to splinter that long-standing friendship. Having May in his room, in his arms, on his bed had meant that things had become far more serious much quicker than he’d anticipated and if anyone—family, friends, strangers—had asked him if he’d had strong, romantic feelings for her, there was no way he’d ever be able to deny it. In fact, he’d been positive that what he’d felt for her could also be defined as being in love.
He’d been so caught up in the heat, in the pheromones, in the realisation that this was really happening, that she was really in his room, really wanting him to make love with her, that he’d almost missed the slight hesitation as his hands had slipped to the waistband of her jeans. Almost.
