Loving Liam

by Loretta Lost

  His foul language snaps me back to reality, and I am able to step away from him, circling toward the windows and out of his reach. “How did you find me?”

  “I can tell you come from money. I called a bunch of fancy bridal shops, asking when Helen’s dress would be ready. Shoulda figured it would be in a stuck-up part of town, for a stuck-up girl.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know that you’s a snobby rich bitch. Liam wouldn’t marry any other kind of whore. The boy doesn’t care about pussy. He cares about cash.”

  “He cares about me,” I inform Liam’s father, stepping away carefully as he advances on me. “And I care about him.”

  “Bullshit. Think I don’t know my boy? He ain’t ever cared about no one but himself.”

  Ignoring this, I study the man’s cane. “You don’t need the wheelchair to move around?”

  “Looks like my leg’s healing up a bit. Seems like I’m not as crippled as I thought.”

  “That’s a pity,” I say under my breath.

  “Oh, you got a mouth on you! If my woman spoke to me like that, I’d knock her teeth out.”

  “Probably why she doesn’t talk much,” I mumble, stepping away from him. How did this man even get into a nice shop like this?

  “The only good woman is the kind who keeps her mouth shut,” Liam’s father sneers at me. “Hope my boy will teach you that before long. Yeah, he’ll put you in your place.”

  “Liam would never hurt me,” I say quietly.

  “You know him for how long? Few years? I know him his whole damn life. Kid’s got a mean streak. Kid snaps and lets loose, then one day you’ll find yourself wakin’ up in the hospital with a bloody lip, a black eye, and a couple broken bones.”

  “I know that Liam can fight. I’ve seen him break both of a man’s arms. He taught me how to fight, too, so I could defend myself. He would never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”

  “What happens when he decides that you deserve it?” Liam’s father asks with a twisted, ugly smile. “The boy is a violent sonuvabitch.”

  The memory of the bruises on Owen’s neck comes back to me. I know I shouldn’t allow any doubt to cloud my mind, but I can’t help thinking about the DNA test. I stole Liam’s saliva for a sample to analyze. If he ever finds out, would he be seriously angry?

  “You don’t have to heed my words,” Liam’s father says. “But I’ve come to warn you: don’t marry the little prick unless you’re prepared to deal with his true colors. There’s a cruel beast lurking just under the surface of that pretty little doctor. Like in that story about Dr. Jekyll and the other one.”

  “I will take your warning under advisement,” I respond evenly.

  “Also,” the man says, swinging his cane at me angrily, “you tell that boy that he better not fucking come near my wife again. If he does, I’ll cut off his balls.”

  “Why?” I ask with a frown. “She’s his mother.”

  “Dunno what he said to her, but the woman’s been crying nonstop since they last met. I tried hitting her in the face and telling her to shut the fuck up, but it doesn’t work.”

  I am horrified that he can say this so casually. “You’re a monster. I should call the police on you.”

  “Try it,” he challenges me, shaking the cane at my face. “If I go to jail, the woman will probably be dead in a few weeks anyway. She’s so weak she can’t change her own fucking underwear. Poor woman don’t need her son coming around saying no shit to her!”

  I shudder as the man’s rotting alcohol breath hits my face. Stepping back to avoid his cane, I glare at him. “Well, she can see better now that her cataracts have been removed, so she’s probably just crying because of your ugly face.”

  Liam’s father laughs, and it is a bitter sound. “You got some balls on you, eh, girl? You think this is a joke, that the boy is giving my wife grief?”

  It seems so absurd that this man beats Liam’s mother into complete fear and subjugation, but also seems to care about her, or want to protect her at the same time. “She could be in pain from the surgery?” I suggest. “Although Liam used special lasers to make the cuts, which should minimize pain after the procedure.”

  “Real fucking fancy, those lasers. No, it’s something he said to her. She ain’t touched her painkillers. I’ve been using them to help me get around on this bum leg.”

  I frown at this. “Her eyes were cut open. Don’t you think that she needs the pills more than you?”

  “Nah, she ain’t need nothin’. Boy did a good job of it; her eyes are fine.”

  I blink in surprise. Did he just pay Liam a compliment?

  “But whatever he said left her real shaken up. She’s an old woman, and she can’t take his bitchin’ and moanin’. That boy never did learn to show his momma no respect.”

  For a moment, I think I see a side of Liam’s father that I didn’t expect. He genuinely seems to care about his wife, even though he has a piss-poor way of showing it. What could be bothering Liam’s mother? Is it the fact that we didn’t invite her to our wedding? I study Mr. Larson’s face, and find only sincerity there, until he snarls at me.

  “D’you hear me, girl? Tell that little piece of shit that he ain’t gonna come near his momma again unless he wants his jewels shot off. I’m not joking. We’ve been getting along just fine without that ungrateful bastard all these years. Last thing we need is need some pompous, bigshot doctor, saying mean shit and making an old woman cry.”

  I stare in surprise as Liam’s father turns and walks out of the shop, struggling to move at all with his cane. Feeling a bit of pity for him, I have the urge to invite him and his wife to our wedding, or do anything at all to try and mend his relationship with Liam. But it’s not my place, and I don’t want to meddle any more than I already have. If I keep going against Liam’s wishes, he won’t be able to trust me at all, and that’s not a great way to start a marriage.

  When the saleswoman returns, she smiles at me. “Where did your father go? I hope I didn’t miss seeing you in the dress!”

  “He was my father-in-law-to-be,” I explain softly. “I don’t really feel like trying on the dress anymore. I’ll just pay the outstanding balance for both dresses and take them off your hands.”

  “But if there are any alterations…”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” I tell her. “I don’t care about making sure every little detail of the wedding is perfect. I just want to get married to the man I love. Why does it have to be so difficult?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dr. Liam Larson

  “I’m not sure I’m the person you should be speaking to,” Dr. Victor Singh says as we walk through the hospital’s neurology clinic.

  “Come on, man,” I say in a friendly tone. “Just humor me.”

  “Liam,” Victor says with his slight Indian accent, “it sounds like you need the psych ward.”

  This puts a frown on my face, and I stop walking abruptly. “Do you mean that?”

  “No!” Victor says with a laugh. “Just joking, man. Hey, I heard from Harold in pediatrics that his buddy saw you at a casino the other day. Is that true? You went gambling and didn’t invite me?”

  Wow. If anyone thinks rumors spread fast in high school, they haven’t worked in a hospital. “I’ll invite you next time, Vick, and we can tear up the roulette table. Just do me a favor and give me your professional opinion? Any advice at all could be a real help.”

  “The sleeping pills I prescribed you should do the trick,” Victor says, tapping the folded paper I have tucked in my pocket. “When you’re sleep-deprived, the brain can do all sorts of wacky things. Just keep reminding yourself of one very important fact: It’s not real.”

  “It’s not real?” I repeat hesitantly.

  “Yes. There are many theories about dreams, but I believe they are just random neural impulses; just your brain having fun at your expense. I mean, you said there’s a baby in the nightmare, right? Dreams can be anxiety
-related, so chances are you’re just freaking out about starting a family since your wife seems to be pressuring you to get her pregnant.”

  “She’s not pressuring me,” I object.

  Victor laughs. “Women are always putting pressure on men like that. You’re probably just experiencing a kind of performance anxiety or feelings of insecurity. Scared you might be impotent?”

  “I am not insecure or impotent!” I say defensively, and a little too loudly.

  Two female nurses happen to be walking by at this moment, and when they burst into giggles, I feel my cheeks turning red. Meanwhile, Victor is chuckling madly.

  “Just relax, Liam,” he says with a friendly pat on the back. “Once you get the girl pregnant, your anxiety and nightmares should go away. Until then, just keep reminding yourself that it isn’t real. Say it like a mantra. This is not real. This is not real. It will remove any power the dreams have over you.”

  “Thanks, Vick. I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Also, don’t be too worried about having kids,” Victor adds. “I have four, and the wife is pregnant again. I don’t know why you Americans are so afraid of something so natural. Kids make our dull lives colorful and bright—they give you a reason to wake up in the morning and be a better man.”

  Nodding and smiling, I already feel a little healthier.

  “If the pills don’t help, I can keep you overnight for observation in the sleep lab. And if that fails, we can lock you away in the psych ward,” he says with a wink. “You’ll love it there.”

  “Don’t joke like that,” I tell him with a shudder. As I turn away and head back to my section of the hospital, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Lifting it out, my heart skips a beat at the message from Helen.

  Taking several deep breaths, I respond at once:

  My mind begins spinning with all the reasons that my father could have been waiting for Helen. I want nothing more than to get this prescription filled and go home and take the sleeping pills, but I can’t get out of this shift. I booked time off work for my honeymoon in a few weeks, and I’m trying to maintain a perfect record until then. I have already had way too many emergencies that caused me to be absent in the past year.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Helen Winters

  As I pull into the hospital parking lot, I am grateful that Liam asked to see me. I didn’t want to be alone. I feel a little pathetic after taking a cab home to Liam’s apartment from the dress shop, even though it was so close. I also skipped going to my sister’s place, because I didn’t want to let her see me while I was all wound up and feeling threatened.

  Driving through the hospital parking lot gives me a strange feeling of déjà vu. Once I park and exit the vehicle, I let my feet carry me through the hospital. When I am directly beside the gift shop and café, I turn and look toward the area in puzzlement.

  Walking forward curiously, I seem to recall sitting at these tables and talking to someone. I seem to recall being happy. I can’t quite put my finger on it…

  The scent of good coffee assails my nostrils, along with pleasant female laughter. I see the back of a girl wearing the uniform of a waitress and holding a coffee pot. Her sandy blonde hair is styled in two braids, and she looks friendly and sweet.

  Liam’s text message comes back into my mind: You had a waitress friend named Krista. Is that who you mean?

  When the girl turns around, her face displays recognition. “Winter?” the girl exclaims, placing down her coffee pot and moving forward to give me a hug. “Oh my god! I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “Krista,” I say slowly, returning the hug with confusion.

  “Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited me? How’s Liam doing?!” she asks, rattling off questions like an automatic rifle.

  “I—I don’t remember you,” I say in embarrassment. “A few months ago, I crashed my car into a tree. I lost three years of memories, and I haven’t regained them all yet.”

  “Seriously?” she says in surprise. “Oh! And I thought you just didn’t like me anymore.”

  “I’m getting married in less than two weeks,” I tell her with a slight smile.

  Her eyes widen in surprise. “My goodness, you got engaged! I’ve missed all these exciting events in your life. This makes me so sad.”

  When her eyes begin to shine with tears, I feel guilty and upset that my memories erased this girl from my life. “The wedding is at a vineyard in Michigan, on the fourteenth—would you like to come? I only have one bridesmaid. I mean, I’m sorry if this seems totally out of the blue. I don’t remember if we were close enough for me to ask you to be a bridesmaid, but I don’t have any female friends other than my sister. This is a huge surprise to me, and I assume we were close.”

  “Stop rambling!” she says, wiping her eyes. “I would love to be your bridesmaid, Winter. We were good friends. But… but I have exams that week. I can’t make the trip that weekend. If it were only the weekend after! You know how tight my schedule is, between school and waitressing—actually, silly me, you probably don’t know.”

  “I am starting to remember more about you,” I tell her with a smile, “the more I listen to you speak. Everyone calls me Helen, now, by the way.”

  “You’ll always be Winter to me.”

  We share a smile, and suddenly, it does feel like we are old friends.

  “I have to get back to work,” she says suddenly when a group of people walk into the café. “Do you have time to sit and wait for me so we can catch up?”

  “Not right now,” I tell her. “I need to go and see Liam. But we’ll catch up soon!”

  “You better come back, Winter! I’ll be super pissed if you disappear again for months.”

  “I won’t forget you this time. I’ll be back soon,” I promise, before turning and heading out into the lobby.

  “Sorry I can’t come to your wedding!” Krista calls after me.

  I nod and send her a sad smile before heading to the hospital elevators. However, I find myself crashing into a large, hard object. The familiar smell reaches me before I recognize the grip of his hands on my arms.

  “Helen,” he says softly. “Thank god, you’re okay. My father didn’t do anything to you?”

  “No,” I say, wrapping my arms around him tightly. “He was walking around, though. He was waving his cane at me and cursing and threatening—it was a little scary.”

  “I have about five minutes before I need to go back to work. Can we go sit in your car or something?” he asks.

  Nodding, I turn and lead him back to the parking garage. We move toward my car, and I reach into my pocket to unlock the vehicle. Liam opens the door to the back seat, and moves inside, and I move to enter from the other side. Sighing, I lean against him and bury my face in his white lab coat.

  Liam holds me close and runs his hand over my hair. “What did my father say?” he asks softly.

  “He said that he would hurt you if you went near your mother again. Apparently, you said something that really upset her and she’s been crying a lot.” I pause and tighten my grip on his body before I continue to speak. “He said that she wouldn’t even stop crying when he hit her in the face and told her to stop.”

  “Jesus,” Liam says, inhaling sharply and reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “I knew that I shouldn’t have asked her about that dream. It’s just despicable, and basically accusing her of something like that—I probably broke her heart. She’s an old woman, and I should have been more considerate.”

  “I don’t know about your dream, Liam,” I tell him gently. “But I think that she could be really bothered that she didn’t receive a wedding invitation. Why else would your dad stalk me at the dress shop?”

  Liam runs his hand up and down my arm lazily. “I guess you’re right. Do you really think that I should invite my parents? Maybe just my mother?”

  “Just your mother, I think,” I say softly. “There’s something about your father—I do think he cares, in some
deep and twisted way. But he does scare me, and he—he reminds me a little of...”

  “Grayson,” Liam finishes for me with a nod. “I know.”

  “Yes,” I say, linking my hand with his and squeezing gently for comfort.

  Liam kisses the top of my head. “See? This is why I’ve always understood you, Helen. We have similar demons in our histories, casting shadows over our lives.”

  “I’m free now,” I tell him, lifting my face to place a kiss on his lips. “You will be too, soon.”

  “God, I hope so.” He kisses me back deeply, and then groans and pulls away. “I’m so comfortable here. I wish I didn’t have to go back to work.”

  “Is that the key to your insomnia, Liam?” I ask him teasingly. “Do you just need to sleep in a car to get quality rest with no nightmares?”

  He chuckles softly. “I have slept in a lot of cars. I’m also pretty comfortable doing other things in cars, but I don’t have the time to show you right now.”

  “Darn,” I say in disappointment.

  “On a serious note, I am going to fix my problems, Helen. I have been so irritable and such a jackass lately. I got a prescription for some sleeping pills,” he assures me, “and some advice from a great neurologist—someone I trust.”

  “Neurology? Aren’t dreams more in the realm of psychology?” I ask him.

  “Only a psych major would say that,” he jokes, “but I guess it’s a little of both.”

  We sit in silence for a moment, until Liam squeezes my arm and pulls away. “Okay,” he says with a deep breath. “I’ll invite my mother to the wedding. As long as my father isn’t there, no harm can be done.”

  “Maybe don’t tell her the location so he can’t find out and show up,” I suggest. “We could just tell her the date, and pick her up.”

  “That sounds good,” Liam says, placing a quick kiss on my lips before opening the car door and stepping out. “I love you,” he says softly, before shutting the door.