Entitled: The Love Duet: Book 1

by L. M. Carr

  I call his name when I knock, but the pounding of percussion seems to be louder and even more pronounced than earlier. Filling my lungs with air, I muster up some bravery and turn the door knob. Facing the wall, Andrew sits shirtless and beats frantically on a huge drum set. A thin sheen of moisture covers his back as beads of sweat fall like rolling teardrops and disappear into the band of his black boxers. His broad shoulders move, following the beat he’s creating with the sticks in his hand. Moisture soaks his unkempt hair, making it appear even darker and wavier than normal. Bobbing his head to the tempo, Andrew continues to assault the instrument, his right foot stepping on a pedal to create a loud interjection of bass.

  Exhaling forcefully followed by a loud groan, Andrew suddenly stops drumming. I freeze, my body becoming a statue as ice fills the veins leading to my heart. I gulp and wait for him to turn around and berate me with his angry wrath. Instead, he raises his arm with the drumsticks still in his hand and swipes it across his forehead. His head drops, giving the appearance of solemnness as if in the state of prayer. I am mesmerized, hypnotized by the sight of him when his strong back curls and he drapes his body over the drum set. With the room filled only with silence and the sound of my thundering pulse, a violent and unmistakable sound slices across my chest and pierces my heart. My hand reaches up to cover the hole I feel in my chest, preventing my shattered heart from exploding when the sound again echoes against the four walls.

  The cry of a grown man. The anguish with which he sobs decimates my heart, splintering it into a million tiny shards. I cover my mouth to prevent my gasps from being heard. Sorrowful tears fill my eyes and stream down my face when I hear his desperate appeal to God, asking Him to bring them all back followed by his uttered words of apology and promises to do better if given the chance. Eventually his pleas fall silent and he stammers a final, whispered request for forgiveness.

  A broken heart lies within Andrew Darling.

  Instinct tells me to rush to him, but my feet are cemented to the floor, preventing them from carrying me over to him and wrapping my arms around him in solace. Suppressing the words of comfort I want to offer, I swallow the silent sobs that nearly rival his. Never in my life have I seen someone so distraught. So tormented. So remorseful. So broken.

  Indecisive about what to do, I take a small step back and exit the room, careful to go unnoticed, leaving Andrew to grieve and mourn privately.

  Just before I close the door completely, Andrew uncurls his body and sits up, looking around the room before turning in my direction. With less than a fraction of a second before his tear-filled eyes land on mine, the door closes.

  Please God, don’t let him have seen me. I didn’t mean to invade his privacy.

  Bolting down the front stairs, I offer a prayer of gratitude that I made it out undetected, having not disturbed Andrew’s private moment.

  Then it happens.

  I sneeze horrifically and drop the flashlight.

  Daring not to look back, I run blindly, letting my legs carry me as fast as they can across the yard and into my house. With a pounding heart and damp feet, I stand with my back pressed against the closed door and pant, struggling to catch my breath.

  Jesus, Morgan. Mind your own business I chastise myself.

  ♦♦♦

  Andrew doesn’t show up to work for the rest of the week. Because I am overcome with an inexplicable need to protect him, I spin a deceitful tale and tell the staff that he had to return to Colorado to tie up some loose ends but should return within a few days. I hate lying to these people; they’re like family to me, but the truth is that he is holed up in the house and won’t answer the door. I hear him at night when the rest of the world is quiet and still. I see him leave and return in the middle of the night. While the stars twinkle, a heavy cloak of restless torments plagues Andrew Darling.

  I scour my desk, searching for the small rectangular card. “Where is it?” I grit as I look through the stack of sealed envelopes and manila folders housing new projects. “There you are!” I pick up the business card, reach for my cell phone and dial the number listed. After several rings, I’m sent to voicemail where Andrew’s voice suggests the caller leave a brief message or not.

  Andrew doesn’t want to talk to me on the phone? Fine! He’ll have to face me in person then.

  That afternoon, I bang my fist on the back door and even walk around to the front of the house.

  “I know you’re in there! Open up the door!”

  Peering in through the living room window, I can tell that Andrew is alive and eating based on the boxes of takeout food from various local restaurants.

  “I’m looking for a place so you won’t have to see me anymore!” I scream as I trudge across the yard to the pool house.

  Another week goes by with no sign of Andrew Darling.

  CHAPTER TEN

  While things seem somewhat normal around the office considering our employers are no longer with us, things at the Darling residence are anything but, and I’m starting to get very worried about him.

  I realize in hindsight that I probably shouldn’t have slipped several notes, each with handwritten thoughts about grief and hope, in through the little pet door. I needed to do something to show him he’s not completely alone and since he refuses to speak to me, I’m hoping he knows I care.

  “What are you doing next weekend? I heard a new Goodwill just opened in Elmsford.”

  Toni shrugs as a quick apology slips from her lips. “New?” She laughs. “I still don’t see the appeal of buying other people’s used things.”

  I huff, slightly annoyed at her comment because thrift store shopping and yard sale hopping was something my mother and I used to do almost once a month until Sean came along. His protests and complaints about how he made more than enough money won over my claims of spending time and enjoying the activity with my mom.

  “Melissa and I are heading down into the city to see a show.”

  “Oh.” The single word contains my dismay and disappointment. Throughout my marriage to Sean, most of my close friends had been replaced by his and when we divorced, they chose him. Toni was the one person he couldn’t keep away from me since she and I worked together.

  “Wanna grab drinks tomorrow night?” Toni asks as we part ways at the end of a long week.

  I shake my head. “Dinner, maybe, but drinks? I don’t think so,” I sigh, remembering the last time we went out was the weekend Andrew came back. “No worries. Maybe I’ll just get up early to head out for a visit with my parents. I haven’t seen them since the memorial service and before that...” I scratch the back of my head. “I can’t really remember. And Cooper’s off this weekend and I haven’t seen him in forever.”

  “Well, if you don’t go to see them, we’re going out!”

  Just before Toni rounds the corner, I ask about Romeo and Juliet.

  “They’re great! They’ve adjusted nicely to their new home. You should come for a visit.” She smiles knowing how allergic I am.

  “Yeah, Benadryl and I will be over real soon,” I laugh just before I lower myself into my Acura and drive over to A-1 pizza to grab my dinner.

  Carrying the box and two cupcakes from the Sweet Shoppe, I struggle to open the front door while managing dinner in one hand and the mail in the other. Kicking off my shoes, I step into my house and shriek when I find Andrew sitting on the chair adjacent to the couch with his elbows resting on his thighs. My eyes swing to his fingers laced together, a tight ball of nerves and tendons. His head snaps up and his angry eyes bore into mine. He’s dressed casually; a marked difference from the three-piece suits he’s worn to the office.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” I bellow, demanding an answer. My frustration is displayed by the snarl on my face. “Why the hell are you in my house? You’ve got some nerve showing up here like you haven’t been the biggest dick to ever walk the face of this planet!” My anger grows exponentially. “And...who fucking goes in someone else’s house without permi
ssion?”

  Wearing a gray Henley and jeans, Andrew’s body stiffens and his face hardens, evidenced by the clenching of his strong jaw and the reproachful glare from his serious blue eyes.

  I swallow nervously and wait for him to respond.

  Seconds tick by until he directs his attention and his articulated words at me. “I could ask the same of you.”

  Andrew reaches down to the space between his leg and the material covering the chair. Assuming he’s reaching for his phone, I continue to wait. But when he places an object in the center of the coffee table, a gasp emerges from my mouth and my eyes widen. Sitting prominently on full display as if it were Exhibit A is my yellow flashlight with the name Montgomery scribbled in big, bold black Sharpie marker.

  My lips part to justify a response, but I have none. I’ve been caught and now it is time to face the music. My body sags in defeat. I toss the flashlight aside and set the pizza down on the coffee table. Silently, I walk to the couch and fold my legs beneath my body. After a momentarily battle of whether I should lie or tell the truth, my father’s voice of reason rings in my ear.

  “Shit,” I breathe, expelling air from my lungs. I meet his eyes as my heart beats frantically. “Andrew,” I sigh, my voice a fraction of a whisper. “I’m so sorry. Honestly.” I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m just...” I stammer.

  Swallowing thickly, Andrew remains silent as he waits for me to continue.

  I spread my hand over my eyes and rub my temples with my thumb and index fingers, partly to shield my guilt, but mainly to wipe away the moisture forming in the corner of my eyes. When my eyes close for just a moment, my mind wanders, conjuring up the image of his strong body trembling with sorrow as his voice cried out for answers, second chances and forgiveness, allowing his brokenness to reveal itself.

  “You’re just what?” he asks sharply, his patience exhausted.

  Inhaling deeply, I confess. “I’m worried. I didn’t mean to intrude. I never would’ve gone in if I knew...” The words lodge in my throat. I shrug my shoulders and explain why I went there in the first place. “You kept me awake night after night with the noise and I just wanted to sleep.”

  “Ever hear of a phone?” he asks harshly.

  My lips twist at his tone. “I tried calling you a few times, but you never answered. I even banged on the door. I figured you didn’t want to talk to me.” My head tilts subtly and I offer a look of apology.

  “You had no right to come into that house,” he hisses angrily.

  “I know,” I agree adamantly, nodding my head vigorously.

  “You need to mind your business. Who trespasses on someone else’s property? Into someone’s house? Do you know that I could’ve had you arrested?” he spits condescendingly with a strained voice.

  I crack a slight smile and tip my head downward, suppressing an inappropriate chuckle from rising.

  “What the fuck is so funny?” Gritted words escape through his lips. “You think invading my privacy, spying on me and seeing me like that is a goddamn joke?” His jaw ticks and the veins in his neck bulge.

  Sucking my lips together inwardly, I contain the smile from fully emerging and shake my head. I meet his eyes and soften my expression as well as my voice. “No, of course not. Andrew, everybody mourns.”

  The clenching of his jaw reveals otherwise. “I don’t.”

  Time slips by quietly.

  “I don’t think this is funny. That’s not why I laughed. You said something that reminded me of a funny time.”

  “Really?” he asks warily. “Tell me what the hell you consider so funny!”

  “It’s nothing, I’m sorry.” My nerves get the best of me, and I chuckle again.

  “No, now I want to know,” he argues.

  “It’s just...” I sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, “when I was little and my entire family would go to church on Sunday, to be funny, my eldest brother used to say ‘trespissed’ against me when saying the Lord’s Prayer. Of course, my two other brothers and I would laugh like a pack of snickering hyenas.”

  I rub my face and shake my head. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t even know what was so funny. I really just laughed along because my brothers did.”

  Leaning onto the armrest, I ramble on nervously. “And because my dad always sat at the end of the pew so he could help collect the weekly tithes and offerings, he never heard it, but my mom did.” My eyes widen and I shake my head, remembering the look on her face. “She would get so mad and give him a mean side-eye which meant he was going to be in big trouble when we got home.”

  Judging by the blank expression on his face, Andrew clearly doesn’t find the situation as humorous as I do.

  “What happened to your brother when you all got home? What was his consequence? Did he get hit? Sent to his room?” Andrew asks quietly as sadness washes over his face.

  I flinch then scoff. “Hit? No, my mom wasn’t like that. She grounded him or took something away like she always did, but then he would sweet talk her and she’d let him off punishment early. He was her first-born so I think she had a soft spot for him.”

  “Figures,” he mumbles before allowing his cheek to pull back into a small grin. “What do you mean he ‘sweet talked’ her?”

  I nod and grin crookedly, regaling him with the story of how my brother would rave about Sunday dinner and help with the dishes so she could rest. Memories of my brother’s bright smile and fun-loving nature along with his love for his baby sister crash over me, sending warmth to envelope me in a sweet embrace.

  “What does he do now?”

  Andrew’s voice pulls me from my reverie and I blink, bringing myself back to the here and now. “Who?”

  “Your brother. What does he do for a living?”

  My jovial spirit takes a nosedive and I look down. “He doesn’t.” Taking a deep breath, I quietly recount the details of the event which occurred a few weeks later on what should have been the happiest day of the year for me. “He was killed by a drunk driver when he was sixteen.” I gasp because it’s taken me years to be able to say those words without breaking down in tears. “He’s the one who died on my birthday.”

  Andrew rises and sits beside me on the couch.

  “Fuck, that sucks. I’m sorry—” He reaches out for my hand but then pauses, letting it drop gently to his leg.

  I nod in agreement. “He had just gotten his license a week earlier and the town drunk blew through a stop sign. My brother never saw it coming.”

  “Sixteen,” Andrew considers quietly.

  “My parents were devastated as you can imagine. Losing a child is something no parent ever wants to face.”

  “I know.” He nods.

  “I think I was too young to truly understand what happened, but my brothers, they knew.”

  Lost in our own thoughts, Andrew and I sit next to each other yet are separated by millions of miles.

  “I...I don’t think I’ve been to church since I was baptized as an infant.” Mumbling he adds, “I’m probably going to hell anyway.”

  My face scrunches in wonder at his comment, but I ignore it. “You’ve really never been to church?” I yelp as I turn my head to look at him, expecting to see a hint of witticism.

  “Nope.” He chuckles dryly then corrects himself. “That’s not true. I went when Rob and Emma got married and then one other time.”

  “Wow. Not even on Easter or Christmas?” I quip, ignoring the Catholic guilt settling in for my poor attendance in the House of God even though there’s a parish on almost every few blocks.

  “God and I don’t like each other very much,” he whispers.

  Silence befalls us.

  “For what it’s worth, Andrew, I am really sorry. I just wanted to help. Be a friend.”

  “Your friendship isn’t what I need.”

  I sigh sadly at his comment. “Well, like I said, I am sorry.”

  After several beats, Andrew glances away from me, noddin
g in quasi acceptance of my apology then stands to leave.

  From his back pocket, he pulls out several folded sheets of white paper and holds them in the air. “Did you write these?” I notice the expression on his face changes subtly.

  I look away briefly before returning my gaze to his face. “Yes and no.”

  His eyes dart to my midsection when my stomach growls. The faintest hint of a smile appears. “I’m a little hungry.” Inhaling quietly, I tell him about the notes. “I found the poems online, but I added the sketches.”

  “Why? Why’d you leave these for me?” he asks with a softer tone.

  I shrug in embarrassment. “I guess I wanted you to know you weren’t alone. I know death is a lonely and dark place. I wanted to give you a little hope and some light to help guide you.”

  Because the lunch I’d eaten earlier is gone, my belly groans, demanding to be fed. Inhaling, I fill my lungs with the aroma of pepperoni pizza and glance at the man sitting across from me. “Are you hungry?” I ask quietly, with hesitation before adding, “because I’m starving.”

  Without waiting for his reply, I stride into the kitchen, grab two dishes and a bottle of water and a can of Coke.

  “Since you’re already here, you might as well eat.” I lift the top of the box, separate the triangles then hand him a dish with two slices of pizza on it. “I mean...only if you want to.”

  He accepts my peace offering as I settle in across from him and enjoy my dinner. We eat in awkward silence as I debate my next move.

  Inhaling quietly, I decide to take the plunge.

  “So...do you,” I commence, asking carefully, “want to talk about your parents?”

  Andrew’s eyes flash to mine and he frowns, forcing a deep breath. “Not really.”

  I commend myself for trying, but I won’t push him so I opt to change the subject...sort of.