Sacred Hart

by A. M. Johnson

  The song was about suffering a loss of love. The guitars were sad, and the female’s voice was fragile. I leaned against the counter and let the rhythm of the drums run down my spine. I closed my eyes and remembered how I’d once had a fire in my heart. I let the numbness fade, and I let myself really feel what I’d been trying to push down. Need. Longing. I was still a man, and the man in me wanted Maggie, wanted the small touches to turn into more. My subconscious fed the blood pumping through my veins. It was confusing. I wanted my peace. I wanted to keep my solitude, but with every tease of her skin, every glance, every shared word, it became harder to keep myself in check. I pushed off the counter and turned the music down. The memories, Maggie… it was too much for one day, and I was ready to clean up and go to bed.

  The counters were still covered in flour, and I sighed as I grabbed the rag from the sink. The diner was about to close, and I could hear Tony chatting with a straggling customer. His voice carried through the kitchen door, and his laughter made me smile. He balanced his loss so well with his future. I envied him.

  The kitchen door swung open. “There’s someone here to see you.” He smirked and raised his left eyebrow conspiratorially.

  “Tony, we’re supposed to be closed.” I exhaled. “What do you need?” I wasn’t in the mood for his games. He always tried to sweet talk me into making something for some “starving” customer after hours. Normally, I would shrug it off, but today, I was just too exhausted.

  “No.” He laughed. “I’m serious this time. Maggie. She’s out in the diner. She was hoping you were still around. I told her of course you were. I think she likes you.”

  I smiled, and Tony’s eyes lit up. “I’ll leave you two alone then. I’m playing pinochle at Bernard’s tonight. I think his wife is sweet on me.”

  “Cheryl?” Cheryl Bernard was a local regular. She came in every morning for coffee and a donut… and apparently Tony.

  “Her husband is older than dirt.” Tony grinned, and I laughed openly.

  “So are you, old man.” I laughed harder as his eyes narrowed. “Not to mention, I’m sure your God frowns upon infidelity.”

  “My God?” He huffed. “I’m dragging you to church one of these Sundays.” He pursed his lips and gave the kitchen a quick glance. “Want me to send her back or have her wait out there?”

  “Send her back.” My stomach felt light. I hadn’t seen her since Sunday, and she really hadn’t stopped by on the weekdays as much anymore.

  “See you in the morning, kid.” He moved as if he was going to leave, but thought better of it. He paused mid-step and turned his head to face me, his brow creased. “Let Maggie in.”

  “I said to send her back.” I cocked my head in question.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He exhaled a rough breath and moved toward the kitchen door; his meaning hit me straight in the sternum. “It’s okay to be happy.”

  He held open the kitchen door and motioned for Maggie to come back. She stepped passed him with an easy smile, and her light eyes met mine. I couldn’t help the broad grin that stretched across my face. All the doubt I had, once she was near, it was easier to bear.

  “Hey, Maggie.” I exhaled a long breath as she moved closer. The tension in my shoulders relaxed, and the steady thrum of my heart increased with each step.

  “See you kids later.” Tony left, and the kitchen door swung shut.

  “Hope it’s okay I stopped by. I got called off work early, and Beth is staying the night with the babysitter and… I figured… I’d come say hi.” She pulled at a loose string on her scrub top nervously. Her hair was down, and the straight golden strands hung over her shoulders as she peered down at her feet.

  “I was just cleaning up. Calling it a night.” I smiled as she met my eyes. “It’s good to see you.”

  She smiled too and stood taller. My words gave her confidence and, even if I shouldn’t, I liked that what I’d said affected her.

  “I can help if you want.”

  “Nah. I got it. Are you hungry? I just made apple pie.” I grabbed a small plate from the drying rack before she answered and walked over to where the pies were cooling.

  “That sounds really good actually. Thank you.”

  I plated up the pie as she perched on the countertop.

  I chuckled. “You’re going to get flour all over you.”

  She looked down and grimaced. “Oh well.” She dusted off her hands and took the plate from mine. She took a small bite, and her eyes closed. She quietly moaned, and my jaw clenched. The sound stirring something inside of me that had been hidden for years. She licked her lips, and I had to look away.

  “How was your day?” I grabbed the rag off the other counter and began to wipe it down.

  “Not too bad. I never get called off, so it was a nice surprise. But I hate going home to an empty house. I’m so used to having Beth around, so when she’s not there it feels… off.”

  My hand stilled, and I had to swallow down the lump in my throat. “I can only imagine.” The lie hung in the air; my voice wavered, and my hand balled into a fist.

  “What about you? How was your day?” Maggie’s tone was cheerful, oblivious to the way her statement hit too close to home. As I turned to look at her, the creases around her eyes deepened and a smile split across her face.

  “Same ole. Just another day at Red’s.” I hadn’t meant to sound so negative, and her smile waned. I had to fix it. “I’ve missed you.”

  She locked her eyes on mine, and I felt the charge of my honesty flow through me. It was a relief to say something I felt, out loud, for once. She placed the plate down next to her on the counter and brought her fingers to her lips.

  “You have?” Her question held hope, and I wanted her to have it even though it scared me.

  I nodded and her mouth pulled up at the corners. It was then I noticed she had a smudge of flour on her lower lip. “You have…” I motioned to my mouth. “A little—”

  Her eyes widened, and she quickly rubbed at her lips. “Did I get it?”

  I suppressed a laugh. She’d made it worse. Without thinking about it, I moved to where she was sitting on the counter. “Here.” I lifted my hand and brought my thumb to her chin, attempting to wipe away the flour. Her lips parted with a whispered gasp, and my eyes fell to her mouth. Her skin felt too good, and the silence between us was weighted as I took that last, final step. The momentum of the moment couldn’t be stopped. She was pulling me in. The effect I had on her was noticeable in the rise and fall of her chest and, as my gaze followed along the slope of her neck, my heart began to hammer.

  I brought my thumb to her lower lip and pulled it slowly across the soft curve, removing the remaining flour. Her head tilted back naturally and her eyes closed. My thumb continued a path along the line of her jaw until her head was cradled in my hand. I inched closer hesitating just a breath away. I shouldn’t want this.

  Maggie’s eyes opened. “Ryan?” Her breath smelled sweet, and it was that one final thing that sent me over the edge.

  I brushed my lips against hers, and the contact caused me to close my eyes. In this second, I let myself remember who I’d once been, and I found my flashpoint. Our lips met slowly, and the cinnamon and apple flavor of her mouth made me groan. I tasted her lips one at a time and held her heated cheeks with my hands. She opened up for me, and her lips moved smoothly against mine as her arms enclosed around my waist, drawing me closer. I hadn’t forgotten the touch of a woman, but in all of my memories… nothing felt like this… like Maggie. I wanted to take my time — it was all I had — and I wanted to fill it with her. I wanted to fill every hour with her mouth, her hands, and her body pressed against mine.

  She pulled away and brought her hands to my chest. Our eyes remained on each other’s mouths. She bit her bottom lip and lifted her gaze. We silently watched each other as we caught our breath. The absence of words only fueled the need building in my stomach. The shy smile that eased across her lips made me grin.

 
“I can feel your heart…” the heat of her palms permeated through my shirt, “…it’s beating too fast.”

  I dusted my thumbs along her cheeks, her face still between my hands. I brought my lips to hers again and kissed her deeply. When I pulled away I asked, “What about now?” I dropped my hands to hers and increased the pressure of her touch against my chest.

  She nodded.

  I lifted her hands to my face and her eyes closed. Her breathing amplified, and when she finally opened them again, the blue sparkled with wonder or fear, I couldn’t be sure which. But if she was feeling anything like me, I’d imagine it was a little of both. I released her hands, and she lowered them to my waist again. I brought my forehead to hers for a brief instant, unsure of what I needed to say, and then pulled away.

  “Maggie, I…” She stared at me, her upper lip trembled, and I gave in. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “You haven’t?” She anxiously played at the frayed thread on her top again.

  I took her hand with mine stilling the motion. “I haven’t.” I used my free hand and pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear.

  “Me either.” She puffed out a short laugh, and I smiled. “I’ve got Beth, and the last time I… I mean… I can’t even remember the last time I kissed…” She groaned and shook her head. “It’s been too long. Let’s just leave it at that.” A slight nervous giggle parted her lips as I lifted my hand to her cheek.

  I wanted her to know the last kiss I’d had before her had been a lie. I wanted to tell her she’s the first person in a very long time that I wanted to open up to. I wanted her to know that this kiss… her touch… was the first thing in ten goddamn years that meant something to me. I wanted to speak the words, but instead the words closed my throat, the fear churned in my stomach, and I dropped my hand from her face.

  Maggie laced her fingers through mine and hopped off the counter. I wasn’t ready for her to leave, but I had no clue how to get her to stay, so I figured I’d just ask. “Will you stay for a little while longer?”

  She nodded and her lips pulled into a dimpled smile. “I’d like that.”

  Maggie was like the needle of a compass. No matter how hard I tried to get lost inside myself, she pulled me north, up, toward the light… toward her.

  Should a man be allowed to taste that sweet? Ryan’s warm hand was in mine; my heart still fluttered in my chest, and the taste of vanilla still lingered on my lips. He’d kissed me with a slow resolve, a simmered confection of sugary bliss. My jaw ached with need. He kissed me like I was fragile, precious, like he was honored. I’d never felt so special in my whole life. I would’ve spent all night kissing Ryan Hartford, but as his hand dropped from mine, the fantasy of being lost in time with his mouth on mine faded. My cheeks were still heated as his gaze feathered along my skin.

  “I should clean up. It won’t take me long. If you want… you can wait in the diner or—”

  “I’d be more than happy to help.” I smiled, and he shook his head with a quiet laugh.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, something I noticed he would only do when he was nervous. “I was going to say, I should only be about fifteen minutes…” He swallowed and dropped his eyes. “I don’t have much to do, but you can wash up at my place.”

  I looked down at my flour covered hands and scrubs, and a smile spread across my face. “I think that might be a good idea.” I wiped the flour off the front of my pants, but I was sure my butt was covered too. Great.

  “The door should be open. I’ll walk you, though. I don’t want you to head back by yourself in the dark.”

  “Thanks.” My shy smile made me feel like a teenager again. It was nice to feel light, admired, and as he took my hand in his again my heart kick-started.

  We walked through the front of the diner and around back in a mutual silence. His thumb trailed along mine, and I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered if he’d kiss me again, if he even wanted to. The lines he traced up and down my thumb with his sent a pleasant shiver up my arm.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, just as we stepped up onto his porch. Fresh cut firewood filled the space around his front door on either side. I nodded, and he opened the door. “I’ll start a fire before I head back.”

  “Okay.”

  I hadn’t felt uneasy. If anything, I was excited, but as I stepped over the threshold and into his private world, the excitement turned to a swell of anxious butterflies in my stomach. The space was small — a galley kitchen opened to the left and a wood burning stove sat off to the right. A large bookshelf, filled with old books and quite a few new ones as well, ran along the right wall. There was a worn looking leather sofa that rested against the center wall. The floors were a light pine, and the walls were in need of fresh coat of paint. I assumed the pale tan color, at one point, had once been a warm mocha.

  “It’s not much, but it’s mine for now.” Ryan squeezed my hand gently, and I smiled. He motioned to the short hallway that was just off the kitchen. “That’s the bathroom, and my room is to the left. Feel free to wash up. I’ll start a fire in the stove. I have one in my room, too. It’s my only means of heat.” There were only two doors that I could see in the hall. The bathroom was open, and I could see his khaki colored shower curtain that had an outdoors theme. The bottom was covered with blue spruce, moose, and deer.

  I suppressed my giggle. “It’s charming.”

  He laughed openly. “It’s a dump, but it’s a home, so it’s fine with me.”

  “I’m serious. I like it. It’s a man’s man kind of place, you know?” I let go of his hand and moved to the bookshelf. There was a large oversized brown chair that sat in the corner next to the bookcase. The fabric looked soft, and I tried to imagine Ryan sitting peacefully, reading, his long legs at ease as his eyes poured over the words. I inspected his collection and noticed there were at least two rows of old Louis L'amour books, a few classics, some poetry, but most of the newer books were contemporary fiction. I pulled out a favorite of mine and flipped through the pages.

  “I love this book.” My smile was wide as I looked over my shoulder. Ryan was kneeling in front of the wood stove placing kindling inside through the open metal door.

  His gaze fell to the cover and his smile pulled across his face, the creases around his eyes deepened. “The Secret History. It’s one of my favorites as well.” He grabbed the matches off the top of the stove and struck it across the box. The smell of sulfur filled the air as he dropped the match into the stove. He stood and closed the small door as the fire grew inside.

  “Are these all yours?” I asked in awe as I placed the book back on the shelf. I loved books, all things bookish, and men who liked to read got a few extra points as far as I was concerned.

  He moved just behind me and placed his hand on my right shoulder. His fingers massaged the muscle, and I almost groaned. “No. All the new ones are mine and a few of these.” He pointed to a small section of paper-backed classics: The Catcher in the Rye; To Kill A Mocking Bird; Paradise Lost; The Count of Monte Cristo; Wuthering Heights… the basics. He chuckled. “It’s all I really spend my money on, that and stuff for my truck.”

  His hand moved slowly down my arm, and I turned to face him. He was so close, our bodies almost touched, and as he brought his other hand to my left arm, I held my breath. I lifted my chin and my eyes eagerly found his. I brought the palms of my hands to his chest again, and the feel of his heart was profound. The longer we watched each other, the faster it beat. He lowered his forehead to mine, and I finally allowed myself to exhale.

  “I want to kiss you again,” he spoke softly and placed his lips just above the crease between my brows. “But, I’m afraid.” His breath tickled my skin.

  “Of what?” I whispered.

  “You can’t save me, Maggie.” His words were a prayer as his lips grazed the corner of my mouth.

  Ryan’s hands rested on either side of my neck, his fingers at the nape and his thumbs pressed lightly against my jaw as h
e leaned my head back further. We were nose to nose, and his stare sent heat down my limbs. He was begging me to save him. “I don’t want to. I just want you… as you are.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, his jaw tight, and when he opened them again, they were filled with resolve. Ryan’s mouth met mine in a tender collision. A slow pulse. His teeth pulled across my bottom lip, and a shock shot down my spine. Our mouths were seeking, tasting, needing. The pads of his thumbs pressed firmly against my jaw. The touch commanded, it melted the sweetness and created a fire in my chest. His heart was pumping a furious pattern under my palms, and my fingers curled at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to have him closer. His hands slid from around my neck, down my arms, causing me to shudder. He kissed me once and then again as he took my hands in his, breaking our connection. The resolve in his eyes flickered as the space grew between us.

  “I thought you had a diner to clean.” I smirked in an attempt to lighten his changing mood.

  Ryan’s eyes lit with humor, and his laugh softened his features. His smile was broad as he shook his head and his hand ran through his hair. “Give me fifteen minutes?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck again, and it almost made me laugh. I was grateful I wasn’t the only one treading water hopelessly. Ryan was awkward, and I liked it.

  “I’ll get cleaned up.”

  “I have some T-shirts and sweats if you want to get out of those scrubs.” His eyes widened. “I mean… I figured—”

  “It’s okay. I think I got most of the flour off.” The corners of my lips lifted into a small grin.