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A wide smile breaks out on his face, and I forget how to breathe. My breath is literally caught in my throat and every functioning cell in my body is so focused on this beautiful man before me that I don’t even care about something as mundane as breathing.
His smooth, sexy voice breaks through the charged silence that surrounds us. “Well, well, well. It’s Charley, right?” His dark eyes twinkle with humor as he stares down at me. He doesn’t strike me as the type of man that smiles very often, and I drink in the sight in front of me. My dreams didn’t do this man any justice. Words aren’t possible, but I manage to pause my drooling long enough to jerkily nod my head in affirmation. I’m not one that’s ever really at a loss for words, but it appears being this close to Emmett Steele short circuits my brain. “Seems like I’m making a habit of catching you. Although, this rescue is preferable to the last one.”
His words are like a bucket of cold water to my overheated body as I remember, in vivid detail, the last time this beautiful man caught me. That’s the dose of reality I need to bring my brain online and realize I’ve been sitting here in his arms staring mutely at him for at least a few minutes now. Scrambling, I push against his firm, warm chest, trying to ignore how broad he is. I’m not a small woman, but this man makes me feel positively dainty. I shiver at the thought, but don’t allow myself to get distracted again. Clearing my throat, I say, “thank you, but I think I can stand on my own now.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” He says it with a tinge of surprise in his tone, like maybe he didn’t even realize he still held me. I think I saw a glimmer of reluctance pass over his beautiful face, but before I can be sure, he puts me down on my own feet. He holds my arm just long enough to be sure that I’m steady, and then he steps back.
My body involuntarily shakes at the chilly air replacing his warm embrace, but I don’t acknowledge it. Standing straight, I search for something to say but all I can come up with is, “Uh, well,” as my mind blanks. My tongue seems to double in size inside my mouth and I can’t speak even if I come up with something intelligible to say. Panic is setting in now; I’ve been silent too long. His smiling eyes turn worried as the conversational gap widens and I just stand there with my mouth hanging open.
“Emmett! Ya just gonna ignore me?” Millie’s beautiful voice breaks in, and I’ve never been so thankful for her in my life. My face feels like it’s on fire, and I can only imagine how I look. I forgot she was here. I forgot about anyone else in the room other than Emmett and me. I glance back and forth from the beautiful man in front of me to my best friend. His sister. And just like that, my libido cools all the way down. Emmett and Millie embrace and chat for a minute and I try to think of the best way to extricate myself from this entire situation. “I, uh, I have to go. I have that thing I need to get to; you remember, right, Millie?” She eyes me with a knowing expression but doesn’t call me on it.
“Oh, yeah,” she says, her voice a little unsure. She’s never been a great liar, but true friend that she is, she follows my lead without question. “You have that thing you need to do. Go ahead and go, I’ll stay and catch up with Emmett. He can drive me home.”
I wait long enough to see Emmett nod and then I race out of there like a fire is chasing me. The few minutes I spent in Emmett’s arms directly after nearly dying must have fried my brain and rendered me incapable of acting like a normal human being. Because there’s no way I would be drooling over my best friend’s brother like that otherwise.
ten
Emmett
Grief is a funny thing. Going through the day-to-day motions with my squad at Fort Bliss, it was easy to make myself forget. To lose myself in the schedules and routines and forget about how my life should have gone. How it would have gone had things been different.
But here, back in this town, surrounded by memories at every turn, it’s impossible to forget. And the grief is nearly as strong as the first moment she was taken from me. I think that’s why it’s taken me so long to make my way here. I take a deep fortifying breath and force myself to get out of my car, careful not to squish the sweet-smelling flowers I’m carrying. The air is crisp and cool, but I barely notice as I walk along the stone pathway. I’ve only been here once before. The day they laid her to rest, right before I enlisted and got the hell out of here. Even when I came back to visit, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to come back here. I’m not even sure why I’m here now. Only that I woke up this morning with an intense desire to see her grave.
I walk further along the path, passing rows and rows of uniform cement slabs. The silence is cloying. A few stray mourners dot the landscape, but the only sound that reaches me is the wind whistling through the trees. It makes me uncomfortable. My skin itches like it’s suddenly two sizes too small for my body and it’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other. Finally, I crest the top of the hill and see the short row of headstones I’m looking for.
I see the simple headstone I’m expecting.
Maria Steele
10/18/1985 – 05/31/2008.
Beloved wife and daughter.
I remember picking out that headstone. It seemed entirely too inconsequential. Too basic and bland to describe my Maria. How could you take all that someone was and condense them down to a few simple words on an impersonal concrete slab?
But what I’m not expecting is the pair of mourners sitting on the small stone bench near her headstone. Her parents. Shame fills me then because I had not even attempted to keep in touch with Phil and Doris for the last decade. Not because I didn’t want to, but because they reminded me too much of her and I had done everything in my power to excise any connection from my past. I thought I was doing it to protect myself, but I’m only now realizing that I was running from my grief instead of facing it. I don’t make a noise. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, and I don’t want to interrupt their time with their daughter, so I turn away and tell myself I’ll come back later.
“Emmett?” a soft, low voice asks, and I freeze in place. I’m not ready to face them, but I don’t have a choice at this point. Steeling myself, I turn around and take in the sight of my grieving in-laws.
I’m a little shocked by how different they look. How much older they appear. It’s not that I expected time to freeze in place, but they look to have aged a lot more than they should have since last I saw them. Doris is frail, her normally plump figure now seems to swim in her overly large clothing. She hunches over and clutches her husband like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered to this world and it’s a shocking sight to see from the dynamo of a woman I once knew. Phil doesn’t look much better. His balding crown is spotted with age and lines bracket his face that weren’t there before. He stands protectively hunched over his wife as if to shield her from whatever life might throw at them next.
And the guilt hits me with the force of a gale wind. Because Maria would be ashamed of me for walking away from them. For leaving them to deal with their grief alone all this time. “Hi,” I say. It’s inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say. And even if the words miraculously came to me, I’m not sure I could force them past my throat.
I don’t need to worry, though. Because words become unnecessary when Doris launches her small, frail form into mine and holds onto me with a strength I’m surprised to see she still possesses. “I’m so happy to see you home, child,” she says before burying her head in my chest and sobbing. For a minute, I’m just awkwardly standing there, unsure of what to do or how to react. But with each shaking sob, she breaks down the shields I’ve erected around my heart and I’m returning her embrace as my own shoulders begin to shake with emotions I’ve left bottled up for years.
Phil watches with a somber expression, but he doesn’t intrude on this. “I’m sorry,” I say, “so sorry. I should have kept in touch. It’s just so…” my voice trails off as my eyes land on the final resting place of my wife. I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t need to.
Doris pulls back from me and it’s only then that I notice the crumpled roses I’m still clutching. I had forgotten all about them. Clearing my throat, I fixate on the flowers, fluffing out the petals and trying in vain to restore them to their former glory before laying them against her headstone. “Roses were her favorites,” I say, but I don’t need to because they already know this.
Phil nods and says, “it’s good to see you, son.” The word ‘son’ nearly undoes me all over again. They had always treated me like their son. And I’d walked away from them in the worst time of their life. Shame fills me once more. In my desire to protect myself, I had walked away from everything and everyone that had ever mattered to me.
“We will give you a moment with her,” Doris says, her hand squeezing my arm in support. “But I expect to see you for dinner tonight.” It was a statement, not a question and the tiny spark of her usual fiery personality takes me back. I’m nodding in agreement even as the memories seem to assault me one after the other.
Then they’re gone and I’m left with my wife’s gravestone and the suffocating pain, shame, and regret that I’ve been running away from for years settles around me. And for the first time in entirely too long, I let my guard down and let myself feel. All the pain. The heartbreak. The loneliness. And the anger. At Maria. For leaving me even if she hadn’t wanted to. Followed by the debilitating shame over being angry at her for leaving me. For making me go on living in a world where she no longer exists.
eleven
Sunshine
