by J. L. Berg
I smiled at the compliment, but his words were still echoing in my head.
“Is that why you did it? So you wouldn’t have to feel?” I questioned. We hadn’t talked much about his checkered past since his divorce two years ago. The gory details had been skimmed over a bit, but he knew I was familiar with it.
“Yes,” he admitted. “When Melanie left, I felt relief. Pure and utter relief. She’d done the one thing I was too much of a coward to do. Then the guilt came and I felt sick. Shouldn’t you be torn up when your wife leaves you for another man? I should have felt rage, but I didn’t. I’d lived every day of our marriage with this overwhelming sense of guilt. Seeing the way she looked at me, her eyes filled with such love and devotion, and I couldn’t return those feelings. I’d always been so fearful I couldn’t love someone and there was my proof,” I tried to interrupt him and tell him he was wrong, but he just continued.
“After a few months with all those emotions running rampant, I just became numb. The only thing I held together was my career. It’s always been a type of solace for me. Like I said, following a random stranger home from a bar requires a lack of feeling, and that was me.”
He laughed for a brief second, and I could hear the pain echoing in the sound.
We pulled into the driveway and he shut off the engine. Grasshoppers chirped in the nearby bushes, and the dozen air conditioners that lined the street hummed in unison. Summer was coming to Virginia and the air was growing more humid with each passing day.
“What Declan said,” he started to say before I cut him off.
“Logan, it doesn’t matter,” I tried to assure him.
“It does matter. I need you to know. I haven’t been a saint. I can’t even count the number of women I’ve slept with and used to avoid my own pain since my divorce. Declan was my only friend who supported that type of behavior. He was my enabler, and he has been for the majority of my life.”
He looked defeated, dejected.
I didn’t know what I had to say to make him understand. I didn’t care what he had done or who he’d done it with. As hard as it was for me to picture, I didn’t even care if he and Declan were out picking up bar trash the night before we met. He was mine now.
I didn’t judge him for anything. We both had pasts. Yes, they were vastly different from each other, but they were still baggage with both carried into this relationship.
Just like in the garden, words failed to show the depth of my feeling at that moment. So I leaned across the seat, looked in those gorgeous blue eyes, and kissed him. It was a kiss completely opposite of the frenzied passion we had just shared. This kiss was slow, meaningful, and was meant to be savored.
When he walked me to the door that night, his mood was lighter and happier as if a heavy weight had been lifted. I seriously think he had been waiting for me to run for the hills and every time I didn’t, he became a bit more secure. Logan could hold his own and walk circles around anyone when it came to anything remotely sexual, but a two-sided relationship was new territory for him.
As we reached my front door, I turned, my lips curving into a smile.
“Sure you don’t want to come in?” I teased.
“Temptress.”
“Ok, don’t say I didn’t off−” Before I could finish my sentence, his mouth was on mine, our tongues twirling together in a punishing rhythm. His arms wrapped around my waist pulling me closer, as I coiled mine around his neck.
His lips left mine, trailing kisses over my chin, down my neck and then up to my ear. His voice low and seductive, he whispered, “Find another night for Maddie to spend with Leah or your parents. Because the next time we’re alone, you’re mine.”
Chapter Ten
~Clare~
“Clare Elizabeth Murray! You little slut!” Leah nearly screamed as we made our way through the aisles of one of our favorite clothing stores.
It was a Monday morning, and I was enjoying a few hours to myself while Maddie was at preschool. Leah had the night shift today, so she and I decided a little retail therapy would be nice. Leah searched the clearance rack, her long blonde hair pulled to the side in an artfully designed braid that would have taken me hours to create. Today she wore a short summery dress that made her look like she’d just stepped off a runway in Paris. God, I hated that woman.
“Leah, would you freaking shut up! I think China heard you!” I scolded.
“News flash! They probably heard you moaning in the back of that car Friday night!”
I groaned, completely embarrassed. The store clerk was seriously trying to ignore our conversation but I could hear her muffled giggle behind the rack of clothes she was pretending to sort.
“Okay, we are done talking about me. Let’s talk about you and how you totally bailed Friday night. And don’t tell me it was to go to some lame cemetery,” I said, changing the subject and calling her out on her one-nighter.
She opened her mouth and shut it again, speechless. What the hell? Leah was never speechless. Like never. She always had something to say about everything. Sometimes I wish she came with a muzzle.
“We went to the cemetery. He’s working production on this film, apparently that’s his true love. Acting is just something he fell into ‘cause he’s got a pretty face. But that’s it. He took me home.”
“You are a goddamn liar, Leah.”
“Am not,” she said. I could tell she was lying by her sudden interest in a ridiculously ugly dress. There was a reason it was on the clearance rack. There was no way Leah wanted to buy it. She was avoiding me.
“Are too.”
“Am not!” she repeated.
“Are too,” Annoyed now, I said, “Oh my God. Are we children again? Have we reduced ourselves down to Maddie’s age now?”
She looked at me, trying to give her best poker face. Problem was, Leah didn’t have a poker face. She was usually an open book, willing to tell anyone virtually anything. Sometimes I wondered if her thick skin came from being raised by an alcoholic dad, but she always brushed it off and said this was the way God made her.
“You mean to tell me you left a bar with a Hollywood celebrity who is hotter than fuck, which by the way, if you tell Logan I said that, I will kill you, and you didn’t sleep with him? That’s like your ultimate fantasy!” I confronted her.
“Okay, fine! Yes, I slept with him!” she snapped, before pulling us to into a dressing room and closing the door with a huff.
“And it was amazing. Like five times amazing, okay? I’ve been having sex with vibrators for so long I’d forgotten what an actual man felt like...and this one? Holy shit! He was like an Olympic gold medalist for orgasms.”
“So why didn’t you want to tell me?” I asked, still wondering why we were hanging out in a dressing room. And if we were, I was at least going to start trying on the dresses I picked out.
I start stripping down for my first dress as she took a seat in the corner and explained.
“Because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it. You’re in that ‘I just fell in love!’ stage, and it’s radiating off your damn body in waves. You’re naturally going to want everyone around you to feel that same exact thing. And this is the exact opposite of what you have. It was purely physical and a one-time thing. Okay?”
“I’m in love?” I asked, completely forgetting everything else she just said and focusing on the one thing I still hadn’t come to grips with.
“Well duh,” she snorted.
“Isn’t it too soon?”
“Does love have a time restriction?” she asked.
“Then why haven’t I opened the letter, Leah?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know,” she said, standing to pull me into a tight hug. We stood there in the small dressing room, holding and supporting each other, like we’d done for the last twenty years. With her head resting on my shoulder, Leah whispered, “You’re rack looks fabulous in this dress. You should wear this one. He’ll lose his shit when he sees you in it.”
/> “You always know the right things to say,” I joked.
“I know. I’m like a super-hot version of Yoda.”
I snorted, giving myself a long pause before saying, “You’ll be there Wednesday morning?”
“There’s nowhere else I’d be, Clare.”
I tiptoed into Maddie’s room, hoping to catch a few moments alone with her before she woke. The clothes I had carefully laid out the night before were laying across her rocking chair, and the CD I put on repeat was still chattering on about sheep and numbers. I gently sat on the edge of her bed, looking down on her tiny face, trying to remember how it looked three years ago today. She was barely into her toddler years, just starting to leave infancy. When I held her in my arms sobbing, I thought she looked so big compared her to the tiny baby we’d brought home. Looking down at her now, I felt that overwhelming lack of control every parent has watching their child grow before their eyes, unable to stop it, or slow it down. How had she gotten so big? She would start kindergarten next year, and he wasn’t here to see it.
He was gone.
It had been three years, today.
Maddie shifted in her sleep and made an incoherent noise before her eyes fluttered open and focused on me.
“Hi Mommy,” she mumbled, her voice still sleepy.
“Hey, baby.”
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Just looking at how pretty you are,” I smiled, reaching down to smooth out her tiny red curls.
“Are we going to go visit Daddy today?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do I get to wear my pretty dress?”
“Of course, baby,” I choked out.
“Do you think Daddy would like my pretty dress?” her voice filled with curiosity over a man she would never know again.
“Oh definitely. Green was Daddy’s favorite color.” It was the color of my eyes.
Just breathe, just breathe.
She remained silent for a second, pondering something before saying, “Mommy?”
Yeah, baby?” I said, my voice coming out in a whisper.
“I miss Daddy.”
Holding back tears, I nodded. It was all I could do. I pulled her in my arms and nodded again, because I did too. I missed him. So damn much.
We met in the late afternoon, which is the same time we met every year since we lost him. I don’t know who came up with the idea, but it was a tradition we had kept. That first year is a bit of a haze, but every year, on the anniversary of Ethan’s death, we gathered at the cemetery and grieved. My parents, my brother, Leah, and a few of his friends. Everyone who was still living and mattered in his life.
We huddled together, hands linked, and our heads bowed, letting the silence be our opening hymn. My father was the first to speak.
“Thank you all for coming again. Ethan wasn’t just a son-in-law to me, he was my son. He came to us without a family, and we gave him one. In return, he loved our daughter and gave us Maddie. He loved them with everything he had until his very last breath.”
His voice quivered as he struggled to continue, “So, with that...I think I’ll start.”
Every time we gathered, we each told a memory of Ethan, and then placed a seashell on his headstone, a small symbol of the surfer boy who left us all too soon.
“The first time I met Ethan was when Clare brought him home during Thanksgiving break. When she called us to say she was bringing home a boy from school, the warning flags went up, but she assured me he was just a boy from out of state who didn’t have any family. So, when I caught him in the kitchen with his hand up her shirt, I turned to Clare, asked her to exit the room to give the men a few minutes to chat.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t believe he was telling this story. I thought he was going to kill Ethan that day. It was just a good thing it was that moment he chose to catch us that weekend. There were several other worse occasions he could have walked in on.
“So, I walked up to the boy, expecting him to look scared shitless.”
I gave him a stern look, and he just looked back confused before understanding blossomed across his face.
“Oops, sorry Maddie. Papa has a potty mouth,” he snickered.
She let out a little giggle as she gripped my hand, looking beautiful in her lightly smocked green dress.
“But he just stood tall and said, ‘I know what you’re thinking, sir, but I want you to know I love your daughter and I plan on making her happy for the rest of my life.’ I looked him over, shrugged and said ‘Okay, but keep it clean in the house, will ya kid?’”
Everyone laughed the pained laugh people do when they were wavering between laughing and crying. Many tears would be shed today, but we tried to make sure the good memories were kept alive as well.
We went around the circle, sharing stories. Some were funny, some were a bit sad. Leah was next to last and told the story of Ethan becoming a father.
“He was scared to death. I thought he was going to pass out,” she laughed, shaking her head and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Then he saw Maddie and it was love at first sight.”
Tears dripped down my cheeks, remembering that moment when we became parents. It was the scariest and happiest moment of our lives.
When everyone had finished their stories and placed their shells, only two remained. Mine and Maddie’s.
Everyone’s eyes focused on me. I was always last.
“When you plan to share a life with someone, you never for a second stop to wonder how long that life may be. Even if I had known I would only get a handful of years with him, I still would have said yes and never looked back.”
Looking down at Maddie, I squeezed her hand and took a deep breath, centering myself before I continued.
“Before the cancer and the chemo. Before the headaches and the tests, there was Ethan, me, and our little surprise Maddie. Ethan was the most laid back and carefree person I’ve known, except when it came to finances. He was meticulous.” A couple knowing chuckles filled the air in agreement.
“When we got married, we had a plan. A financial plan. We both would work for five years, save, buy a house and then start talking about kids. His entire plan was reduced to a pile of rubble when I took that pregnancy test one morning. We went from having everything planned to nothing, and I’d never seen him happier. We bought a house and watched my belly grow. It was the best time in our life.”
Looking down at the simple headstone, I took another breath and finished.
“I look back and think about how different his last couple years would have been if we had actually been able to follow through with that God awful plan. We would have wasted them working ourselves to death, saving money for dream we would never see. Instead, our lives became a blissful combination of chaos and joy when Madilyn Grace entered our lives. She was the gift we never knew we needed, and she gave Ethan the one thing he needed before he left this world, to become a father.
Looking over at Maddie, I held up my shell, and asked, “You ready?”
She nodded and we took a final step forward, placing our shells on Ethan’s headstone together.
“I love you, Ethan,” I said at the same time Maddie said “I love you, Daddy.”
The crowd began to dispense, hugging each other as they went. Everyone asked if they could do something, take us out, or bring us food. It was like this every year. I politely declined.
No, Maddie and I would be fine alone. We always were.
When everyone had gone, the only people that remained were Maddie, Leah and me. And the shells. Ten in total, all lined up.
We said one last goodbye, linked arms and headed for the car.
I saw him a split second before Maddie yelled, “Logan!” and took off in a run, catapulting herself in his arms, and burying her face deep into his chest.
Stunned, I temporarily forgot how to breathe. What was he doing here? And why did I have the sudden urge to do the exact same thing as Maddie, and bury my head into his chest willing him to make th
e hurt go away. Tears blurred my vision again as he made his way to us. Leah motioned for Maddie and she reluctantly pulled away from Logan to join her, “Come on, short stack. Let’s go home. We’ll meet you there?” she asked, looking to Logan. He nodded briefly, turning his attention back to me.
A few moments of silence passed, the only sound coming from the sway of the trees and birds flying above. He looked at me intently, waiting for me to speak first.
“What are you doing here? How did you know?” I asked, the words stumbling out of my mouth in a rush.
“Leah told me. Why didn’t you?” he questioned, pain clearly echoing in his words.
“I don’t know,” I answered, “I figured this was too much, too soon. I didn’t think you’d want to be here for this...for a woman you’d just started seeing. I mean, we haven’t even slept together,” I threw out the last part in a rush, hating myself for even saying it.
“Jesus, Clare. Do you think I’m only here for sex?” he hissed, clearly hurt.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t. I just, I don’t know...I thought you wouldn’t want to be here,” I admitted.
Breathing deeply, he took a step forward, angling my chin so he could look me in the eyes. “Clare, this...what we’re doing. It has to be all or nothing. And I want all of you. When you cry, I want to be the one holding you. No matter the reason. So please, let me hold you,” he whispered.
I went willingly into his arms, doing exactly what I wanted to do since the moment I saw him. I buried my face in his chest and let out a sob I had been holding back all day. It felt cathartic and supremely overdue, like a dam spilling over after years of neglect.
“I still love him, Logan,” I confessed.
“I know, baby. I know. It’s okay,” he soothed.
His arms wrapped around my small frame, his large hand cradling my head as tears flowed. I don’t know how long he held me like this. It could have been minutes, hours, I don’t know, but he didn’t waver. He just held me, letting me have this day to grieve, to remember.
~Logan~
Holding Clare while she grieved for another man was probably the hardest thing I had ever done. While logically, I understood it, and could convince myself it was normal and healthy, and exactly the way it should be. The man, the Neanderthal male inside of me was screaming. He was banging his chest, growling, and yelling because I had just spent the last hour holding my woman, yes mine, as she grieved another man that she still loved. Insecurity threatened to take over as we drove back to the house in silence and I wondered if she could ever love me as much as she loved him. Would I ever measure up? As if sensing my unease, Clare’s hand covered mine, calming me. She had become my constant when everything else was a chaotic mess.
