Love Me Forever

by Muriel Jensen

  She looked up into his face in the gray light and saw... She wasn’t sure what it was. Not judgment, but maybe disappointment in her lack of business smarts.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She wasn’t shaking anymore, but some strange darkness was overtaking her. Actually, it wasn’t strange at all. It was self-condemnation. She hadn’t bought insurance!

  Her life had finally gotten to where she’d always dreamed it would be. And now it was all going away because she’d made a stupid mistake.

  “You will survive, Sandy,” Hunter said, rubbing her shoulder. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but we’ll find a way to get through this.”

  At his car, she drew away from him, unwilling to climb inside, needing air, room to move. The enormity of what she’d done had her by the throat. She strode to the end of the parking strip, all the shops still closed, the occasional passerby slowing to see what all the lights and vehicles were about.

  “Sandy Evans was stupid!” she wanted to shout at the gawking traffic, but her throat was constricted with self-blame.

  Hunter tried to catch her hand. “Sandy.”

  She pulled away, began walking in an aimless circle, infuriated by what she’d done. “I will get through this! But I’ll do it!”

  He stood apart from her, seeming to realize she was dangerously volatile. “I know you will. I just said that.”

  * * *

  HUNTER DIDN’T LIKE the turn this was taking, but he couldn’t quite figure out what was at work here. She didn’t have insurance, and neither did the other driver. The accident was the perfect storm of bad luck. He understood she was probably upset with herself and the situation, but not why it suddenly shifted the solution to the accident from something he and Sandy would tackle together to something she would do herself.

  “So...you couldn’t afford insurance?” he probed gently.

  She took a few agitated steps away from him, then back as the morning breeze blew her hair around her face. “First there was all the start-up stuff, licenses, taxes, all those things. Then the fridge failed and I had to replace it and all the product that was in it, then daycare fees went up and...”

  He opened his mouth to say something supportive, but she shouted at him, “I know insurance is important, but everything was important.”

  “I was going to say that you can’t control all events. Rotten things happen. But if anyone can figure a way out of this, you can. And I’ll help you.”

  “No!” She said the word so vehemently that if he’d been a weaker man, she might have blown him down. Fortunately, he was the progeny of a tough cop, and a woman who had no fear. And yesterday, he’d had an epiphany. He was invincible. She repeated more quietly, “No. I did this. I will deal with it.”

  “Maybe you should have some breakfast first.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  “All right. I’ll fix you some—”

  She folded her arms and looked at him directly. “I want you to drop me at home. And leave me there.”

  “Okay, why?” he asked as directly. “I understand this is devastating to you. You’ve lost everything. I get that. What I don’t get is why you’re pushing me out of the picture when we were finally getting ourselves together.”

  A scary calm came over her. Finding the woman he knew in that unimpassioned, level stare was hard. “Because I’m responsible for this. And it’s going to take me down for a while. You’re just getting your life back. There’s no reason for you to be involved in my mess.”

  “Really. Not even my being the man who loves you? The man you just promised to marry?”

  She pivoted away from him and walked toward the end of the parking lot again. He followed her, caught her arm and turned her around. Her eyes were miserable but her face was set. “This isn’t the place to argue this,” she said.

  Seeing where this was going, he was determined to stop it.

  “Why not? Is there a good place to tell me you’re backing out?”

  Her bottom lip quivered and she yanked away from him. He caught her again and held her in place with both hands on her shoulders. “If you’re telling me that you’re going to let making a thoughtless mistake kill us, you can darn well look me in the eye when you do it.”

  She went slack under his hands and her head fell back for a moment. Then she sniffed and straightened and did exactly what he asked. “It wasn’t just a mistake,” she said, her voice shaking as she met his stare. “It was a devastating error in judgment. I took pride in attending to every detail of life for myself and everyone else, then failed to do something so...so elementary.”

  “So you’re not perfect. Who cares? Nobody is. You’re smart and capable, a wonderful mother, and an all-around fine person when you’re not acting insane. We’ll be good together. You know we will.”

  “Hunter, I have other things to do now. I can’t afford to rebuild. I’ve got to find a job. I don’t have time to love anyone.”

  “Sandy.” He gave her a small shake. “Your dad would help you. You know that. And love doesn’t take time, it just takes dedication.”

  “Try to understand what I’m telling you, Hunter. My father worked hard to make what he has now. He’s donated all that money and he and my mother want to travel, to...” Her eyes changed focus suddenly and she looked in danger of losing the calm she’d acquired.

  “Okay, I’m done arguing with you.” He took her arm and led her back to the car. “We’re going back to your house, I’m going to fix you something to eat, then we’re going to assess the situation and come up with a plan.” He put her in the car, then slipped into the driver’s seat.

  “There are women who love the masterful male,” she said in annoyance as she buckled her belt, “but I’m not one of them.”

  “We’re of a similar mind. I’m not wild about the bossy woman, either, but I’m stuck with you.”

  “You’re not stuck with me—that’s what I’m telling you! You’re free to go. It was a nice dream, but we’re now suddenly very much awake.”

  He started the car with a weary glance at her. “Oh, stow it, Cassandra. Awake or asleep, I’m in love with you and I’m not leaving you.”

  * * *

  “YOU’RE AFRAID THAT if you leave, even though I want you to,” she said coolly, trying to push him away, “I’ll dissolve into a puddle, unable to go on. Well, I’m made of stronger stuff.”

  He shifted in his seat to see her and jabbed her shoulder so she would look at him. She ignored him.

  “You’re made of crazy, noisy stuff, but that’s not what I’m afraid of. Look at me.”

  There was that tone in his voice she never quite knew how to read. She just knew she didn’t trust it. She turned her face toward him, careful to keep her expression neutral.

  “First, I’m not afraid to leave you—I don’t want to leave. But I think you’d like it if I did, because then you’d have an excuse to get angrier, tougher, take over everyone and everything to prove to the world that you’re the survivor. You can do anything and everything alone because you’re so big and scary.”

  She rolled her eyes and turned back to the windshield. “That’s ridiculous. You’re an accountant, not a therapist. I want you to leave because getting out of this mess is something I can do better by myself.” Then she added for effect, knowing it would anger him and push him away, “You wouldn’t let me help you, remember? Well, I have to do this by myself. You should understand that.”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “I understand that you can’t believe you’ve done something so wrong. You think you’re losing control of what you manage, and that somehow diminishes you. Well, it doesn’t. You’re not Wonder Woman. Get over yourself. You screw up just like the rest of us. Life can beat you up, no matter how prepared you think you are. And you need other people, just li
ke the rest of us. Not just so you can give to them and shore up your woman-in-charge identity, but because they can help you. I can help you. Just relax and let yourself need someone.”

  She was going to lose it, and she didn’t want to in front of him. She’d cried in his arms before, but only because things had happened to her over which she’d had no control. This could have been avoided. Well, the loss it would bring could have.

  “Would you drive me home now?” she asked the windshield. “Or should I walk?”

  He groaned and started the car again. “I wish I was the kind of man who could let you walk.”

  Ten minutes later he pulled up in front of her house and reached past her to push open the passenger door.

  She looked into his eyes one more time and memorized the shade of blue, the glint of wit and intelligence, the glimpse of contrariness and—God—under it all, the love. “Goodbye,” she whispered. Her voice had no volume. She closed the car door behind her and ran for her porch.

  The moment she was inside, the door locked, she bellowed her despair. Throwing her purse aside, she sank onto the sofa and cried her eyes out.

  * * *

  SHE INTENDED TO call her parents at a reasonable hour, but apparently the accident had made the Portland television news and they were at her front door before she could. She stepped aside to let them in.

  “Why didn’t you call us?” her mother demanded, going into the kitchen as she always did when she visited, to fill the kettle and rummage for tea.

  Her father smiled fondly after her as he followed, sharing an empathetic look with Sandy. “I’m sure she was going to.” He eyed the soup spoon stuck in the carton of blueberry cheesecake ice cream that Sandy held to her chest. “You think if you put on a few pounds, you can better tackle the situation?”

  “I haven’t paid my power bill,” she said, then spooned ice cream into her mouth. “They’ll turn it off eventually, so I’m not wasting the ice cream. Sit down. I’ll pour you some coffee. Want a scone? I always bring a few home from the cart.” Realizing she wouldn’t be able to do that again, she paused to deal with the huge lump of emotion in her throat. “Well...I used to.”

  “No, thanks. We just had breakfast.” He sat down at the table and her mother poured him a mug of coffee. She retrieved another cup and waited near the stove for the kettle to boil.

  Sandy pointed her to the table. “Sit down, Mom, I’ll watch the kettle.”

  “Is it true you didn’t have insurance,” her father asked, turning a chair away from the table and straddling it. “And the truck driver didn’t either?”

  “Yes.” Admitting it was getting easier every time she did it. She waited for a paternal lecture on good business practices. Instead, her father said, “I want to set you up again with another cart. Or whatever else you want. What are you going to need?”

  Sandy moved her worries about the future to the back of her brain and replied firmly, “I need a job that pays well, and for you to not worry about me. I’ll figure it all out. I was the one who stupidly waited to buy insurance until I could better afford it, so I’m the one who’s got to fix the mistake.”

  Her mother shook her head at her father. “She is so much like you. It’s a miracle I’m not in the loony bin.”

  “Sandy...”

  Before her father could begin to recite a litany of reasons she should let him help her, she asked about the girls. “Did they do all right last night? Did they miss me?”

  “They did fine,” he replied blithely. “Your name never came up. We ate, we watched movies, we wrestled around on the floor, then they went to bed. We had just dropped them off at daycare and were having breakfast at the Wet Dog when we heard about the accident. Where’s Hunter?”

  “He was stopping by to see me at the cart early this morning. He got there right after it happened. My car didn’t fare very well, either; it now plays oompah music. So he drove me home. I sent him away. I have to call Calli and Terri.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they no longer have jobs.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “I mean, why did you send Hunter away?”

  Though that dream of being his wife had lived such a short life, it had been so bright, so life-altering. But now that Hunter had finally put Jennifer and the embezzlement in the past, she wanted him to be happy, not to have to pay her debts as well as his. She almost hated to tell her father the truth.

  “We broke up,” she said matter-of-factly. The kettle began to sing. She poured water into her mother’s cup and placed it in front of her.

  “Cassandra Elizabeth,” her mother said, leaning toward her, “what did you do?”

  “Why do you presume it’s my fault?”

  “Because he’s absolutely besotted with you for all his teasing ways. It had to be you. Why? What could he possibly have done that you disapproved of?”

  While she tried to formulate a reply that her mother would buy, she noticed her father studying her face and nodding, as though he saw something that provided an answer.

  “He’s trying to pay off his old debts,” he said, his eyes still on her, “and she’s kicking herself for having operated without insurance and losing everything. So, she can’t be of help to him now, and God forbid she let anyone be of help to her, so she broke it off.”

  Sandy folded her arms, and eyed him back. “A little brutal, but mostly true.”

  Her father studied her another moment, then crossed his arms on the chair. “Your mother said that you refinanced this house to get enough money to help him pay off his debts so the two of you could get together.”

  “Yes.” Her answer was hesitant because she was unsure where he was going with this.

  “And the two of you broke up then, because he’d told you more than once that he didn’t want your financial help. He had to pay off his creditors on his own.”

  Now she saw it coming. “But he...”

  “And you got mad because he was too proud to accept help.” He let that sink in. “Remind you of anyone?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just isn’t.”

  “Okay...so I’m thinking that with your positions reversed, you probably have a much clearer picture of what motivated him to refuse your help, and how pride is sometimes detrimental to clear thinking.”

  She opened her mouth to dispute that and found that she couldn’t. She said instead, “That’s in the past. I have to deal with the here and now.”

  Her father shook his head and said to her mother, “She is so much like you.”

  Leaving her parents to decide which one of them was responsible for all her bad qualities, she went to telephone her staff and tell them what had happened.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IN HER PERSONAL tradition of getting on with her life, Sandy dressed the girls in their prettiest summer dresses for the Clothes Closet opening. All invited guests tonight were bringing a piece of warm clothing or a financial contribution to celebrate the realization of such a necessary service.

  Hunter would not be there. Nate had told her that Hunter and his mother had gone to Wheeler, an artistic community farther down the coast, for a couple of days. “He’s talking about house-hunting. He finally took that loan from me.”

  Sandy smiled at that. That was good. Had she been a little smarter about managing her affairs, she might be house-hunting with him.

  She felt heartbroken and painfully alone. It was hard to feel alone with her parents behaving like a couple of teenagers and so, so happy together, but while the daughter in her was happy, the woman in her felt broken by the absence of Hunter in her life. And he was house-hunting in Wheeler.

  Still, she was thrilled that his life was finally working out for him. She loved him enough to be happy for him, even thou
gh his new life couldn’t include her.

  Sandy put the girls in her mother’s car, outfitted with child seats since she’d been babysitting. Her parents were using her father’s Lexus until Sandy’s car insurance came through. Zoey held her wand out of the way while Sandy secured her belt. “Is Hunter coming?”

  “Hunter and Stella have gone away on a little vacation,” Sandy said, clearing her throat to hide a break in her voice. “But Bobbie and Uncle Nate, and Dylan and Sheamus will be there. And Crystal and Elena.”

  “Okay.” Zoey lowered her wand, her reply distracted. Apparently all her usually favorite people couldn’t make up for Hunter’s absence.

  Fighting off depression, Sandy got in behind the wheel, and drove to the Clothes Closet.

  The converted parsonage was already filled with people, and the bin placed near the door to collect donated clothes was already half full. “And we’ve got a couple of thousand dollars,” Bobbie told her, drawing her and the girls toward the back where the Raleigh boys tested items on the treats table. “We can give clients certificates to buy shoes. That’s something we didn’t get much of in donations.”

  The Morenos were there with their girls, and all the children gravitated toward the basketball hoop in the backyard visible through the open door.

  “They’ll be fine out there,” Bobbie said. “Glenda brought her granddaughter along to help keep an eye on the kids. She says she met you the night you and Hunter...”

  Sandy turned to her. Bobbie gazed into her face and stopped abruptly. “Don’t look like that,” she scolded. “You sent him away. Heard anything from him?”

  “No.” Sandy didn’t want to talk about Hunter, yet words seemed to keep coming out. “Not since the day of the accident. I said goodbye. He took me literally. That’s what I said I wanted.”

  “Do you wish you hadn’t said it?”

  “No. His life is in a good place now, and I’m the one who’s scrambling to figure out what to do. He doesn’t need that.”

  “Your father told us he wants to buy you another cart.”