by Fiona Starr
Now that my dad is out of danger, my mom, my sisters and I take turns going to the house for food and sleep, and then back to the hospital in shifts. We don’t want to risk having dad wake up without at least one of us there.
I get back to the house and I drop onto my old bed, unable to move. I’m exhausted and I should get some sleep but I can’t get Thomas out of my head. The way I left… he must think I am an absolute jerk. I accused him of lying. I jumped to conclusions. I didn’t give him a chance to explain anything.
Of course, once I have some time to think about it, I feel like an even bigger jerk. Being infertile has nothing to do with wanting a family. I can’t believe I even hinted that I didn’t get that. My sister Elsa has two adopted kids, and my sister Daphne and her husband Chris are on the list for a baby to adopt themselves.
I groan and grab my pillow and curl up into a ball, wishing I could redo the morning I woke in Thomas’ bed. He’s so incredible, so real and authentic, and oh-my-god amazing in bed. But I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. I just barked at him and stormed out. He must think I am the worst person ever.
I have to call Laura and check in with her. Then I need to take a shower and head over to The Perky Cup in town.
My dad has a team of employees, but the first thing he asked about when he woke and kissed all of us was how everything was going at his coffee shop. Between all my aunts and uncles, and now even Amelia, everyone has a little piece of Blaze Mountain to call their own. We all work together to make sure the town and the resort are thriving, but everyone also has their own day-to-day business. For my dad, that’s his coffee shop. I promised I’d take care of that and report back to him when I visit tomorrow.
I check the time. It’s almost ten P.M. back home in St. Louis. I roll over, pull my phone out of my pocket, and call Laura. She answers on the first ring.
“Hey! Claire. How is everything going back there? I heard Uncle Malcom’s awake. That’s excellent news.”
Hearing her voice brings up everything connected to St. Louis and the last couple of days with Thomas. I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it doesn’t work and I end up blubbering into the phone. “Oh Laura, I think I screwed everything up.”
THOMAS
I’m on the roof watching the sunrise with Animal. Today is day four since she left and I can’t go on like this. I’m not eating, and I can’t sleep for shit, and the only reason I get up in the morning is to take care of Animal. I haven’t returned any of my sister’s calls.
Part of me feels ridiculous; Claire’s probably not even thinking about me. Why would she? To her I am just an asshole who lied to get a date. Worse, I took her to bed and now it all feels like it was under false pretenses.
Maybe I should send her a letter through the matchmaker. At least it would get to her then. But… I know where she lives, and where her coffee shop is; I could go there and maybe she’d talk to me. What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me and I show and make things worse? I need to respect her wishes. But, what if…?
Jesus… I can cycle around this over and over forever and never do anything. I don’t want to let this moment slip by without at least giving it a chance. Maybe she’s thinking about reaching out to me but doesn’t have my number. Maybe I’m reading this all wrong and when I show up she’ll slam the door in my face.
My sister would tell my I am being a fool for chasing Claire when she made it clear she was done. But, screw it. I can’t keep this up.
I stand up and rub the fatigue from my face. It feels good to have a sort-of plan at least. “Let’s go, pooch. Let’s go get some coffee.”
I arrive at the Perky Cup II and it’s pretty crowded. There’s overflow seating on the sidewalk, and inside the gated patio there are space heaters for customers who want to sit outside. I open the gate and wait for Animal to enter and grab a seat next to the door.
I glance inside a few times, but there’s no sign of Claire. There are two other women working, one behind the counter and one running around with a tray delivering drinks and busing the tables.
I watch her drop off the tray at the counter then pick up a pad and pen and head to the patio door. When she steps outside, she scans the patio and moves to the table across from me. She seems flustered and overwhelmed, and when she takes a step back, she steps on Animals’ tail, making him yelp.
The woman turns. “Oh goodness, I am so, so sorry!” She crouches down on her knees to pet Animal who is wagging his body and licking her hand.
“He seems all right. No harm done,” I say.
“Aren’t you a cutie?” she croons at my dog. Then she tilts her head. “You look just like…”
She turns to look at me. “He looks like a muppet. Like Animal,” she says, her eyes wide as if she’s having a spiritual experience.
“That’s his name. Animal.”
“You’re Lonely Heart,” she whispers, and her face lights up in a smile.
I am so stunned all I can do is nod.
“I am so glad you’re here. Stay right there!” She rushes off, and she’s through the door before I can get my words out.
I say them anyway, speaking to the empty air. “Is Claire here?” Hope chokes the back of my throat and I feel like there just might be a chance after all.
When she comes back outside, she’s carrying an envelope. She slides into the chair across from me and grips the paper with both hands. “I’m Clarie’s cousin. Claire’s still in Colorado. Her dad’s pretty sick.” She closes her eyes. “She gave this to me the morning she left. She was really upset when she left you that day. I was supposed to mail it but I got so overwhelmed by the shop and then I forgot until she called last night. I was going to drop it in the mail when the morning rush ended, but now you’re here, Mr. Lonely Heart.”
“Thomas,” I say, staring at the letter.
“Laura.” She offers me her hand. “Begging for your forgiveness.” She hands me the envelope and stands.
“Forgiven.” I flip the envelope over in my hand and read the pre-printed label.
Mr. Lonely Heart
℅ Grace Graham
What the Heart Wants
Box 7043
St. Louis, MO 63101
My mouth has gone dry. Part of me is afraid to open it. Right now I still have a sliver of hope. But all that could end with this letter. I take a deep breath and tear it open.
Dear Thomas,
Before I say anything else, I owe you an apology. I am sorry for the things I said and the way I left this morning. When I first woke I was amazed by the incredible night we shared and when my thoughts crowded in, I kind of freaked out. But then when I checked my phone and realized my dad was in trouble, I think I went a little haywire.
I wasn’t being fair to you. Wanting to have children and being able to do so are not the same thing. I know this. And I also know that infertility is not the end of the having-a-family discussion. Believe me when I say that I am truly so very sorry for not even giving us a second to talk about any of this. Please forgive me for skipping right over all of that and calling you a liar.
You opened up and shared your past and the toll it took on you when you were a teenager. I didn’t hear the few words I let you get in this morning, but now that I’ve had some time to think about all of it… of course going through cancer treatment would have lifelong effects on you.
I have been thinking about what I said—how quickly I walked out. I want to continue being honest and open with you and that requires that I tell you that the reason I left the way I did was not a conscious decision, but I know deep down inside that I did it because it’s easier. You shared about your baggage, so it’s only fair that I share some of mine.
After David died, I became closed off to love. It isn’t that I don’t want a relationship with someone, I do… but it’s so hard for me to think about connecting with someone again only to lose them. I feel like I am destined to carry all this love I have to give, forever. I don’t trust that I’ll e
ver find someone to give it to. It’s much easier to fight and say hurtful things and walk out than it is to take a chance.
I don’t know how long I will be in Colorado, but I hope that when I get back you’ll let me get in touch with you so we can talk. I feel like the matchmaker knew what she was doing when she paired us up. Maybe you feel the same way too?
If nothing else, I hope to get the chance to apologize to you in person.
If you want to talk, my cell number is: (555) 867-5309.
Hopeful,
Claire
The door to the patio opens and Laura appears. “Sorry, I was waiting for you to finish reading.” She slips back into the chair across from me and eyes me warily. “Is everything okay? You look a little off.”
I blink as I digest the words of Claire’s letter. I am so relieved my heart is about to burst in my chest. Animal’s tail is wagging for the first time in days. I nod quickly. “Yeah. I… everything is great. Better than great. Have you heard from her? Do you know when she’ll be back?”
She shakes her head. “She’s working up at her dad’s coffee shop, helping out. I don’t know what the plan is.”
I blow out my breath and realize my entire body is balled up with tension. “All right. She gave me her number.” I wave the letter in the air. “At least I can reach her now.”
Laura smiles. “I think you can do better than that.”
CLAIRE
It takes an extra few hours after closing each night for my dad’s assistant, Elise, to catch me up on everything going on with the shop. We go through inventory and update all the sales tracking, and prepare the deposits. Elise has everything under control, but this stuff is above and beyond her normal duties and I can tell she’s relieved when she heads home tonight knowing that I’m here to step in for my dad.
I look around the coffee shop and feel all the memories pour over me, wrapping me in my own history. I’ve missed it here, and with dad out of commission, there have been murmurs about asking me to come home. I admit there’s a lot of pull here, but I am not sure what that would look like or if I am ready to make such a huge change.
Mom wants me to meet with Uncle Dean, the family attorney, tomorrow before I head back to St. Louis. I know they are going to want to talk about having me take over officially.
I don’t know how I feel about anything.
I shut off the lights and make my way to the door. It’s snowing again. They said it would start around ten o’clock. I look at my watch—right on time.
The Perky Cup is situated in the center of downtown Blaze. Outside the shop window everything is lit up with white twinkle lights. Across the street from the shop is the park, with a gazebo and a tree-lined path edged with benches. Behind that, rising into the dark sky, is Blaze Mountain’s main ski hill. The lights on the ski runs always have a magical feel to me. I’ve walked or skied every inch of these mountains. If I did make a change and leave St. Louis, this is the only place I’d consider going.
I pull on my hat and my coat and step outside, letting the shock of the cold brush over my skin. The mountain air in Colorado is unlike anywhere in the world. I take a deep breath and the scent of wood smoke from someone’s nearby fire fills my head.
A couple crosses the street in front of me, making their way to the park path. He leans down and kisses her and they squeeze closer together as the walk arm in arm. The sight of them makes me think of Thomas, and I instantly feel like a teenager with a silly crush. I barely know this man, and yet after a few letters and two wonderful days, he’s all I can think about.
I shake my head. I have to it go. I have to let him go. He must have received my letter by now—which means he has my number, but I have no missed calls, no voicemails, no texts. Maybe I was wrong to write him. Maybe my words that morning really did ruin all of it. I have a hard time believing that and yet… there’s been no word.
Maybe I am not meant to find love again after all.
I pull the door closed and jiggle the key in the lock—my dad refuses to replace the old thing. It takes a second for the tumblers to engage, but I’m able to secure it finally. I turn to head to my car and as I’m about to step off the curb I stop short. I squint across the street.
Thomas is standing at the entrance to the park. He’s got on heavy boots and a dark parka, and his hands are in his pockets. Animal’s leash dangles from his wrist and the dog is standing next to him wearing a doggie coat and little booties on his feet.
It takes a second for my brain to compute what my eyes are seeing. “Thomas?”
Animal lets out a single bark and his tail goes so fast it moves in circles.
We walk toward each other and meet in the middle of the street.
I can’t believe he’s here. I’m not sure what it means. I look up at him and feel a lump in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
THOMAS
She says the words but she isn’t really asking. I can hear it in her voice; she’s glad to see me. I am almost too scared to speak.
Snowflakes fall on her face and get caught in her eyelashes. She blinks them away and smiles up at me.
“I got your letter only yesterday.” I swallow hard. “I would have called but… I needed to see you. I don’t like how we left things last time and I didn’t want to risk anything being misconstrued. What I want to say needs to be said, face-to-face.”
She nods and looks down at her hands, and then back up at me, unsure. “All right.”
“Claire, I can’t bear the thought of you thinking I lied. That all of this was some kind of trick. I would never… I… couldn’t…” I force myself to look her in the eyes. “I want a family. I want a huge family. Ever since the cancer, the whole two percent thing has just been a detail… I was a kid when it all happened and my thinking about back then—it just shifted. It wasn’t important to me. I don’t think about that holding me back from having a family. There are so many children who need a home, and adoption was always part of the equation for me. I am sorry if that’s not where your head is on it, and that’s totally fine. I get it. I didn’t come here to convince you otherwise. I came here because it is important for me that you understand I wasn’t lying when I sent my stuff in to the matchmaker or when we talked about wanting a family.”
She shakes her head. “No. Thomas. I am the one who is sorry. I am so sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said any of the things I said. I panicked. I…” Tears well in her eyes.
“Oh, no… Don’t cry. Claire, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She shakes her head again. “No, it’s not that. I have something I want to say, too. Out loud. I tried to get the words down in my letter, but they were rushed and I was stressed about my dad and getting to the airport… and well, I swore that if I had the chance I’d say what I want to say to you in person.”
“Okay.” I say, taking her hands. She’s trembling.
She closes her eyes. “Thomas, I haven’t felt this way about anyone since David. When he died I thought the part of me that was capable of these feelings died with him. Meeting you has been so intense and so amazing, it should feel wonderful—it does feel wonderful—but it also makes me so very afraid.” She whispers those last words as if she’s ashamed.
I put my fingers under her chin and lift her face so she’ll look at me. “Afraid of what?”
Her eyes are wide and her pupils are dilated in the moonlight. “I’m afraid that if I let myself love you then you’ll be taken from me.” She blinks and the tears fall from her eyes and run down her cheeks.
I wipe them away and new ones take their place. I blow out my breath and it puffs a frosty cloud over her head. “Well, I don’t know if I there’s anything I can do to reassure you on that one. It’s pretty much part of the deal, right?”
“The deal? With what?”
“With love,” I whisper. “It’s scary because we don’t know what will happen. If it was always a sure thing, they wouldn’t call it falling.”
; CLAIRE
TWO YEARS LATER
“Happy Anniversary, Baby.” Thomas leans against the bathroom counter and hands me a small, slender box with a red bow on it.
I slip the bow off and open the hinged lid to find a necklace with a silver pendant shaped like a tiny boll of cotton. “Oh, honey, I love it!” I lift it out of the box and hand it to him so he can put it around my neck. I watch in the mirror as he fights with the tiny clasp. Once he has it fastened he bends down and kisses my shoulder.
“I have something for you, too,” I say, slipping out from under him and pulling a box from the back of the closet.
He unwraps the box and his face lights up when he pulls out a collection of St. Louis Cardinals gear, all made of cotton. “This is great!” He pulls on the knit hat and models it for me.
“Adorable, of course!” I smile and watch him hold the tee shirt and then the hoodie up to his chest, checking for size.
“They’re perfect, thank you.” He bends and kisses me. “So if cotton’s for the 2nd anniversary, what’s the third?”
I wiggle and press myself against him, instantly getting his attention. “Leather,” I whisper, arching a brow.
“Ooh. Now that could get interesting.” Thomas scoops me up and carries me to our bed. He eases us down and moves his hand over my thigh.
“We have a few minutes,” I say.
We kiss again and then we’re interrupted by a tiny voice saying, “Ama” through the monitor on my night table. Animal’s excited bark squeaks through the speaker in response.
