Let's Do It

by Ann Christopher

  The backseat of that car had been quite the eventful place.

  She’d lost her virginity there.

  She and Adam had learned to be lovers there.

  She sighed and sank a little deeper into the memory, remembering his unskilled but fervent touch with a sweet ache around her heart.

  She’d been with him when he picked that car up from the used car dealer. What a fun day that had been! Drunk on the sudden infusion of freedom, he’d announced an impromptu field trip to the city for the two of them and a couple of their close high-school friends. They’d laughed and cranked Motown tunes on the car’s pitiful speaker, singing at the top of their lungs until the radiator overheated and they had to wait by the side of the road, engine steaming, until Adam’s father came to rescue them.

  Adam hadn’t let the incident dampen the happiness of the day.

  Reeve stared into the picture Adam’s eyes, remembering the boy he’d been, the boy who'd grown with her into adulthood and become a man she didn't understand who couldn't understand her. She’d loved him with a childish love that wasn’t meant to go the distance, she now realized. Their career ambitions took them in different directions; they had nothing in common but their high school and hometown; they'd barely known who they were as individuals, so how could they have known what they needed from each other?

  But it'd still been love.

  It was all she’d had to give, and she’d given it happily.

  He felt so close in that moment, so real, that she could almost smell his sporty aftershave...hear that crazy barking laughter of his...feel the tickle of his mustache and heat of his breath as he kissed her cheek.

  I’m sorry, she helplessly told the Adam in the picture. I did the best I could. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry I hurt you.

  The Adam in the picture, so young, handsome and carefree, stared back at her, frozen in that one wonderful moment, forever silent.

  But the Adam in her head answered her, his voice the tiniest, gentlest whisper: It’s okay, Reevie.

  She cocked her head, listening with all her senses, not sure she’d heard anything at all and wanting him to speak again. But there was nothing.

  Except the sudden, spasming clench of Mrs. B’s hand beneath hers as she gripped her fingers, hanging on tight, more alive than she’d been a heartbeat ago.

  “Alyssa,” Reeve said.

  But Alyssa had noticed and was already easing forward in her chair, putting a hand on Mrs. B’s shoulder. “Mama?”

  Mrs. B’s eyes flickered open, blinked, and hazily fixed on something that Reeve couldn’t quite pinpoint. The foot of her bed? The mantelpiece? Adam’s picture? Using her free hand, Mrs. B reached up and, after a couple of fumbling attempts, pulled the oxygen mask down from her mouth.

  “It’s okay,” she said, her voice as strong and clear as Ella Fitzgerald's or Sarah Vaughan's.

  With that, her lids widened, then eased down to half-mast.

  There was one final exhale, ragged and endless, the grip eased up on Reeve’s fingers, and she was gone.

  “Bless her heart,” said the nurse, sniffling into her tissue before listening to Mrs. B’s chest with a stethoscope. Looking to Reeve, she shook her head. “Bless her heart.”

  “Mama?” Alyssa frowned and stared down at her mother’s still figure, clearly searching for some sign of life and finding none. Standing, she shook Mrs. B’s frail shoulders. “Mama!”

  Reeve got up too. “She’s gone, honey. She’s gone.”

  Alyssa snatched her hands back and turned to Reeve, her expression confused and trusting as a child’s. “She’s dead?”

  “Yes, honey.”

  “My mother’s dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my God. Mama? Mama!” Alyssa clamped a hand over her mouth, trying hard to choke back the sobs that clearly wanted to run free. “What am I going to do now? What am I supposed to do if I’m not taking care of her?”

  What am I going to do now?

  Reeve had eaten, slept and breathed that question for years after Adam’s death, trying to figure out who she’d been, who she was now and who she wanted to become.

  She thought about her absolute determination to become a doctor, how she’d worked so hard to make that dream come true and how she knew she’d made the right decision and followed the right path.

  For her.

  She thought about Edward, and his image—the feeling of him—was like an infusion of liquid sunlight to her veins.

  What am I going to do now?

  It occurred to her that she didn’t belong here, in this dark house, or in her own dark past, anymore. She wanted some light. She wanted Edward. Maybe things wouldn't work out with him but, in her heart of hearts, she thought they probably would. Maybe it was way too soon, but she really thought they would.

  What was she going to do now?

  She was going to be with Edward, where she belonged.

  “I don’t know what you’re going to do now, honey,” she told Alyssa. “All I know is that you’re strong and you’ll get it figured out. Like I did.”

  * * *

  Chapter 19

  There was no point bothering with the light, Edward decided. There was nothing he needed to see, and the yellow glow would only attract bugs. He stepped out onto his front porch, slumped into the nearest Adirondack chair, sipped his Guinness and moodily watched the rain splatter his hanging ferns. It was after ten now, and the night was in full bloom, a sensual delight of balmy breezes saturated with the earthy scents of cut grass, mulch, mud and his hydrangeas.

  It all made him think of Reeve.

  Was she okay?

  What was she doing right now?

  When would he see her again?

  Did she understand that she left him suffocating inside a knot of uncertainty every time she walked away from him? Did that matter to her at all? Did she know he’d all but lost the ability to breathe when she wasn’t there?

  His phone rang from the depths of his pocket and he snatched it out without bothering to check the display, galvanized by the possibility that it might be Reeve and she might hang up if he didn’t answer quickly enough.

  “Hello? Reeve?”

  Long pause, during which all the muscles in his body tightened like a high wire at some circus. And then, finally, a deflated female voice.

  “No,” she said. “Amber. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Amber—?

  Shit!

  “Hey,” he said, screwing up his face because he was an idiot on too many levels to count. “Sorry about that. Everything okay with Ella?”

  “Yep,” Amber said, her voice clipped now. “I’ll drop her off Sunday afternoon, okay?”

  “Great.”

  Another long pause.

  “I’ve been thinking...We should probably work out a formal custody agreement since we’re not together now. Just to make things easy.”

  “Okay...?” he said warily, his mind immediately filling with nightmare scenarios of all the ways and means she could now use his desire to be an active part of his daughter’s life as a weapon against him, if she wanted to. And, let’s face it: given current events, he could hardly blame her if she wanted to.

  But he didn’t think she was that person. Prayed he hadn’t turned her into that person.

  “Shared parenting,” she said. “Same schedule we’re on now. That’ll work, right?”

  “Yeah.” He breathed a huge sigh of dizzying relief. “Thanks.”

  “We might have to tweak it a little. I’m moving to Journey’s End. I was going to tell you the other day, but...the conversation went in another direction, didn’t it?”

  His jaw hit the floor, probably because they’d discussed the possibility many times over the years, but Amber had never shown any particular enthusiasm for moving back home.

  “You’re moving here?”

  “Yep.” She made an indistinct sound that may have been a wry smile. “I thought if I was closer, it might speed
up the whole...” She trailed off, leaving an awkward silence while he fumbled around for something to say. Luckily, she collected her thoughts before he did. “Anyway, dumb idea.”

  “I’m sorry, Amber.” Well aware he was beginning to sound like a parrot trapped in an echo chamber, he said it again anyway. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be,” she snapped.

  The weight of his shame and sorrow made Edward drop his head.

  Amber sighed harshly.

  Edward waited, praying she wouldn’t start crying.

  “I’m not going to let you turn me into some bitter bitch that can’t get over being dumped and can’t move forward, Edward,” she finally said. “Just so you know.”

  He almost grinned. “I do know. You’re way too strong for that.”

  Another long silence. Another harsh sigh on her end.

  He waited, gripping the phone tight and pressing it hard against his ear.

  The conversation wasn’t over. He knew—and dreaded—what was coming.

  “I swore I wasn’t going to ask you this, Edward—”

  “Amber—”

  “And I keep telling myself that men don’t do closure, and you can’t give me any good answer, but I have to know. I have to know. Why her? Why not me? What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t do that to yourself, okay? You can’t look at it like that.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to look at it, Edward? That you’re just not that into me? Please give me something I can understand! You can’t just leave me like this!”

  Edward scrubbed his free hand over his head and repressed a frustrated roar. He thought about his conversation with Sofia earlier and wondered how the freaking hell he’d become the local expert on explaining the inexplicable moves men sometimes made in relationships.

  “Think about it like this, Amber. We’re not right for each other. I just realized it a minute or two before you did.”

  “What?”

  “I’m no great prize for you, and it has nothing to do with Reeve. Think back. And I’m talking way back, before Ella even came along. Think about all the times we didn’t hang out together on a Saturday afternoon because we have no hobbies in common. All the times when we didn’t see each other all week, and we should have been dying to get together on Friday night, but we opted to hang out with our friends instead, and we were both okay with that. Why was that okay? Why wasn’t that a clue?”

  Amber said nothing.

  “Think of all the times we ordered in and ate in front of the TV without really talking to each other,” he continued. “Did we eat in so we wouldn’t have to talk to each other? Because we never have anything much to say to each other? I don’t know. I mean, think of all the silent meals we’ve had together. And not the comfortable silence, either, but the kind where I was wracking my brain trying to think of something to say that would spark some common ground, or some fun interaction or some...something. Don’t tell me you never noticed that.”

  More silence from Amber.

  “When was the last time we really had fun together without Ella, Amber? Do we make each other laugh any more? I’m not sure we do. Aren’t we great people individually? Don’t we deserve to be with the person who’s the right fit? Why do we have to work so hard with each other? Why would we want to? Just because it was good once, years ago? Is that enough? Don’t you want to be with someone who thinks the best part of his day is seeing your smile? Who can’t wait to be with you again and doesn’t care if he has to drive all night to get to you? Hello? Am I talking to myself here? Are you there?”

  “Oh, my God. Do you realize that’s more than you’ve ever said about our relationship?”

  “Yeah, well, does it make any sense?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” She paused. “I’m trying to decide if I want to kiss you or kill you.”

  “This is not my lucky night,” he muttered, rolling his eyes closed and leaning back in the chair as emotional exhaustion set in.

  “Are you going to marry her?” she asked quietly after several long beats.

  He hesitated, not wanting to rub salt on any of Amber’s wounds. But, on the other hand, he’d been honest throughout this conversation, and she deserved to know.

  “I want to, yes,” he admitted.

  She sniffled.

  He kept quiet while she absorbed this information.

  “Ella only has one mother,” she said flatly, her voice hoarse. “You know that, right?”

  “Of course I know that.”

  “Does she know it?”

  “Reeve knows it, yeah.”

  “You make it hard to hate you, Edward.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not sure I can put my heart in it anyway.”

  “Please don’t hate me. I think you’re a wonderful woman and we’ve got a daughter to raise together.”

  Another sniffle. “Good night, Edward,” she said softly, and hung up.

  He hung up and reached for his beer, wondering how to characterize their conversation. It’d gone reasonably well, he decided. No cursing or recriminations, and she hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night with a baseball bat to smash his car windows.

  They’d always gotten along, he and Amber. Always been friends. Hopefully, with a little nurturing, patience and understanding, that would never change.

  He certainly intended to try his hardest to make sure it never changed. And he wanted Amber to find the person she was meant to be with the way he’d found Reeve.

  Reeve.

  Finishing the last of his beer, he set the glass on the porch, rested his elbows on his knees, dropped his head into his hands and lapsed into a massive funk. He’d spent all week living for tonight. Looking forward to just being with her again. Making love with her again. Instead, he was Reeve-less once again and, worse, drowning in frustration.

  This was not good for him. He knew that. He could not just cede his life to her and mope around in between those miraculous moments when she decided to show up again. What was he going to do? Sulk in this chair until she eventually called or reappeared? Yeah, sure. Good plan. He needed to get a grip and live his life, the same as he’d been doing before he ever knew that a Reeve Banks existed out there in the world.

  Too bad this common sense part of his brain was as inaccessible to him right now as she was.

  Well, he couldn’t stay out here all damn night. That was for sure. The breeze was starting to drive the rain into his face and bare limbs, and he’d be soaked— Light footsteps made the floorboards vibrate as someone came up the steps.

  Jerking his head out of his hands, he looked up, and there she was.

  “Reeve.”

  Funny how he’d thought he needed her back here with him so he could breathe again. Now she was within touching distance, and the crushing weight of his tension—his maddening uncertainty—kept his lungs from operating at anywhere near full capacity.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  He waited, watching her, not daring to blink. Her hair and dress were soaked and bedraggled, reminding him of their interlude by the side of the road, but her eyes were luminous in the waxing moonlight, almost hypnotic.

  “My mother-in-law died,” she told him, not bothering to wipe the rain out of her face.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. She’s not suffering anymore, and it was very peaceful.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She nodded, hesitating. “I really felt Adam’s presence.”

  Ah, shit. His entire body tensed up while his brain floundered around for something to say and came up empty. If she said Adam’s presence didn’t like her sleeping with Edward, there was a real possibility he’d head over to the driveway and start banging his head on the cement.

  “I felt like he was telling me it’s okay,” she continued.

  Hang on.

  What’d she say?

  What?

  Dread was really doing
a number on his vocal cords, but after clearing his throat, he got them working again.

  “What’s okay?”

  She shrugged helplessly, but the light in her expression brightened until it almost became a glow. “Me. Living my life. Without the past chained to my ankle like a cannonball. So I’m giving this box I have of his mementos to his sister. She needs it now. I don’t. I feel like Adam wants me to do what I need to do.”

  Edward frowned, refusing to let himself speculate about where all of this might be leading, or to hope.

  “And what do you need to do, Reeve?”

  “I need to be with you,” she said, staring him right in the face. “Without reservations.”

  He sat up straight, rewinding that to make sure he’d heard correctly. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  With a sharp bark of relieved laughter, he lunged to his feet, reaching for her, but she put up a hand to hold him off.

  He cursed, backing up a step and, by some miracle, managing to keep his hands to himself. “What, Reeve? You’re killing me here. You have to know that.”

  “I have to tell you.” She paused, her voice becoming husky. Vulnerable. “You’re the only man I’ve been with other than my husband. In my entire life. You’re the only other man I’ve wanted to be with.”

  “Jesus, Reeve,” he muttered, his heart skittering to a stop. “Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?”

  “No,” she said with a shaky laugh.

  “Well, that’s what you’re doing.” He reached for her again. “Can I touch you now?”

  “One second.” Grinning now, she shivered as she reached into her pocket. “I’m getting cold.”

  He looked her up and down, noting the prominent beads of her nipples and the way her filmy wet dress dipped into the vee between her thighs. Between his own legs, an erection stirred to life and went from zero to sixty in about half a second.

  “Come here. I can help you with that.”

  Another laugh. “I’m sure you can. Can you tell me what this is first? I found it on my mantel a few minutes ago when I stopped in to check on Sofia. I haven’t opened it.”

  And she held out the red velvet jeweler’s box he’d left there earlier.