CHAPTER NINE
Amelia
I woke the next morning with a funny smile on my face. The conversation with Carson had affected me more than I realized. I found it hard to concentrate on anything else.
As I showered and dressed, the words kept going around my head, and I found myself distracted, both by the memories of the night before and by the sounds of him dressing and walking, slow and heavy-footed, down the stairs.
Carson’s voice, whispering my name. Touching my hand. Apologizing for touching me like that.
I sighed. He didn’t need to apologize. The only thing, in my book, that was wrong was stopping.
I brushed out my hair thoughtfully. As I did so, I noticed how my face had changed. I looked softer; there was a tender expression in my eyes that hadn’t been there before. My mouth was turned up at the corner and I looked happier.
Oh, Carson, I thought with bittersweet loving. I don’t think anyone touches me like you do.
When I went down to breakfast, I couldn’t look anywhere else. Unusually, he was there ahead of me. He was sitting at the end of the table, a gray-blue sweater bringing out the darkness of his eyes and his soft hair. I could smell the scent of him—something intangible but memorable that smelled musky and spicy and sexy all at once. I cleared my throat, feeling it tighten around my words.
He looked up. “Hello.”
The warmth in the word should have alerted everyone in the room to the fact that we were falling for each other again. But to my astonishment, no one else noticed. I smiled at him, feeling his appreciative grin warm my being.
“Did the paper arrive, darling?” Brett asked his wife, who sat opposite him, beside little Cayley.
“In the study,” she said succinctly.
“Hello, sis,” he added, turning to face me. “Didn’t see you there!”
“The morning news is more exciting, I think,” I commented lightly. He laughed.
“Aw! Sis. I’m glad to see you too…it’s just my eyesight’s not what it was. Seeing people in the shadows isn’t my strong suit now. Come and join us. You eat eggs?”
“I’ll just have muesli,” I said quickly, walking across to the table. “Thanks,” I couldn’t have kept anything else down at this point: my stomach was in knots with a strange excitement that seemed to fill me. It was Carson’s presence that did this to me, I knew.
“Hello, auntie,” Cayley greeted me.
“Hey,” I smiled. She gave me a dazzling grin in return and passed me a bowl for cereal.
“Thanks,” I said, walking round the table to find a seat.
“You slept well?” Carson asked as I came to sit in the only unoccupied chair, which was the foot of the table. Opposite him. I swallowed. He was freshly-showered, his black hair slightly tousled and the grayish sweater he wore bringing out the darkness of his eyes. He looked so handsome, like a Disney prince; just one that wore knitted sweaters and faded jeans.
“Very well.” My voice was low and his eyes looked into mine, searching. I was looking back, and knew I was blushing but didn’t care.
“I was worried you’d be hungry,” Reese commented, sipping her tea. “You didn’t eat much last night.”
“Thanks, Reese.” I smiled. “I slept wonderfully. And the butternut was amazing, just the way I remembered it.”
“Good.”
I had. It was one of the deeper sleeps I’d had in ages. I knew why too. My poor body was drowning in the excitement of being near Carson.
It was weird how quickly we had fallen into the pattern of being close to each other. It had been years: nothing had changed. I still wanted him and it seemed we were as close as we had been.
“You haven’t eaten meat since you were sixteen, right?” he asked me.
“Yes.” I swallowed. “You remembered…”
He laughed. “Of course I did! I remember how we used to barbecue then, and how it was always hard to find something you might like to eat.”
“I know!” I giggled. “At least mom always made three different salads—it helped.”
“I worried about you,” he said, suddenly shy. I looked away, biting my lip; the tension of longing filling me as it came back to me that we weren’t kids in love now, but adults, ten years on.
“I didn’t know,” I admitted.
“I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
I still can’t believe how natural it is to talk with him.
It was not just the fact that I could chat with him so naturally. Or the fact that I was still so fond of him. My body was drawn to him like iron to lodestones and I was getting a headache just thinking about how much I wanted him. My belly tingled with excitement when I looked at him. My shoulder could still feel the warmth of his grip.
The closeness had sprung back as if it had never gone, like an evergreen lawn that peeks out under snow.
“So,” Brett was commenting from where he drank coffee. “Who’s up for more coffee?”
“I’d say yes to tea,” Reese commented feelingly, “except I’m going to be driving in a moment and I don’t want, you know…” she made a vague gesture that indicated the door to the guest toilet, flushing red. I smiled.
“I know what you mean,” I replied. “Are you going to go far?”
“No,” she smiled. “Just out to the Andersons’. I promised the kids they could go play there today.”
“Yes!” Cayley said. “I’m visiting Sandy.”
I gathered Sandy was a school-friend. “That’s nice.”
“I’ll be doing the books for the Christmas fete,” Reese commented, face stiff with fake jollity. “The thrills of my holidays!”
I laughed. “I’d offer to help, but…”
“Don’t worry,” Reese chuckled. “I don’t want to share that special pleasure.”
Josh was watching us intently, and Cayley laughed. “Come on, Josh. Let’s get ready.”
“Okay!” he said. “I want to take my new comics.”
“Let’s go!”
Laughing, the kids left the table and Reese leaned back in the chair, setting down the teacup. “I’ll be back by lunchtime,” she commented to Brett. “If you could organize something to eat?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Brett agreed. He looked around and then stood. “I’d better Skype call Len.”
Len was his partner in the architecture firm. I wasn’t surprised Brett was finding it hard to stop working—both of us found relaxing a challenge.
“Heck, bro,” Carson said. “It’s holiday time.”
“No rest for the wicked,” Brett chuckled. “See you guys later.”
He left, then Reese stood. “I’ll go get ready.”
That left Carson and I alone at the table together. I sat looking at my hands, trying to avoid eye contact. I was shy. There was an ocean of unspoken words between us and I had no idea where to start.
“You have plans today?” Carson asked.
“No,” I whispered. Our eyes met and I could see the wistfulness in his own eyes.
“I should go jogging,” he said, stretching.
“I suppose,” I said lightly. We were both talking around the point, making little forays into the central territory of our ten-year silence without going there. It didn’t feel safe.
“Well, then,” he said. He didn’t move and nor did I. We sat there for a long moment, the silence touching both of us. In its way it was comfortable, a sort of blanket over the rawness of feeling beneath it.
“Well,” I replied.
He sighed. Stood. His face softened and he looked wistful again. “I’ll go.”
“Happy jogging,” I said quietly.
I stayed where I was for a long while after he had gone. My heart was full of feelings—longing, joy, sadness—and the thought that was uppermost in my mind was that I wished, profoundly, that something could happen to push us to that place of connection.
“Amelia?”
I looked up from where I sat at the kitchen table, reading my book. Brett was standing in the doorway, a coat on his arm.
“Yes?”
“I’m going out for the groceries now. You need something?”
I glanced at the clock. Nearly two hours had passed since breakfast, and I hadn’t moved from there. I stretched, feeling the tension in my neck. “Yes!” I thought about it. “I do. I need walnuts for the gravy and…” I paused, making a mental list. I had agreed to make the gravy for Christmas day. I wanted it to be a good result.
“Okay,” Brett suggested. “I tell you what we’ll do. You come with me.”
“Okay,” I nodded. It was a relief, actually. I’d only been here for twenty-four hours and sharing a roof with Carson was putting more stress on me than I cared to admit. It was disconcerting how quickly we had fallen back into being so close. And my body still wanted his in a way that was hard to fend off.
“Well, then,” Brett agreed. “That’s settled.”
We walked out to the car together and headed to the store.
“What do you think of Carson?” Brett asked as we drove. I stared at him, surprised.
“How do you mean?”
He laughed. “I mean, does he seem okay to you? He’s changed a lot.”
“You think so?” I asked, surprised. The thing that struck me about him was that he seemed like exactly the same guy I’d met all those years ago: quiet, aloof, sensible, but with a naughty, boyish streak that would have anyone laughing.
“Yeah. He’s gone quiet. I think he…he struggles with stuff, Amelia.”
“He was always quiet, Brett,” I said. I wondered why my brother was saying all this to me now.
“Yeah, he was,” Brett admitted. “But this is different. It’s like he’s lost something. I dunno.” He shrugged.
“He’s been through a lot, Brett,” I reminded cautiously.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
We drove the last mile or so in silence, likely thinking of Carson. I certainly was. At the dinner the other night, he had been so…so natural. It felt as if we had seen each other every day for the last ten years; as if nothing had changed or broken and we were still dating.
“Brett?”
“Mm?”
“Is Carson…alone in Colorado?” I asked carefully.
“Yes, sis,” Brett observed.
“Oh.” I wanted to ask if he was single, but I didn’t actually want to. If I found out that he was seeing someone, it’d upset me. Amelia, you’re silly.
I sighed.
“What?” My brother asked softly.
“Nothing,” I said sadly.
“I still wonder if I should have invited him,” Brett continued, giving me a concerned stare.
“I don’t mind,” I said. I didn’t—not really. In fact, the thing that disturbed me more than anything was the fact that I didn’t mind. Far from it. I would be miserable if, now, suddenly, he went again.
“Whew!” my older brother sighed. “I was feeling bad.”
“Oh, Brett.”
I ruffled his hair and he grinned at me.
“Thanks, sis. I’m glad you’re okay about it.”
“Of course I am,” I lied. There was no reason to suppose I would have been. In fact, I wasn’t okay with it: part of me was elated, part of me distressed.
“Okay. Well, here we are. Let’s get these groceries.”
I laughed and slid out of the car. Buying the groceries didn’t take long and soon we were back at the house. I had been thinking a lot about Carson on the way back, though we didn’t discuss him further. I had been wondering at the strangeness of the thing. How he was suddenly all nice and friendly again, like we never split.
“Did you remember mayonnaise?” a voice called out of the kitchen as we walked in. Brett laughed.
“Yes, dear. I bought enough to sink a battleship.”
We all laughed. Brett had, in fact, brought a massive jar of it, which he hauled out of the bag with triumph and plonked on the counter.
“Ooh!” Cayley said admiringly.
“Well, someone’s impressed,” Brett said, patting his daughter’s head as we all chuckled at them both. “Where’s your brother?”
“He’s playing with Uncle Carson,” she informed him. “He took him to see his trucks. Boys!”
The last was said with such scorn that I must giggle. I knew, not for the first time, I liked her.
“Well, I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Reese said from in the pantry. Brett laughed.
“At least it’s not trucks that obsess me.”
“Well, cars - fine. And anything with four walls and a roof. Or three walls…whatever.”
We both grinned at her. “Brett’s always been like that.”
“Such betrayal, from one so young,” Brett said dramatically, cuffing my shoulder. I giggled.
“Let’s find them!” Cayley announced. She went hurrying out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“Amelia, could you keep an eye on things?” Brett asked as he bent down to unpack the shopping. “She does tend to get a bit rough with Josh.”
“Okay,” I called. I walked after Cayley as she walked briskly up the stairs, gold hair streaming out behind her like a little Christmas fairy.
A voice came drawling out of the bedroom ahead of us. I followed Cayley in to find Carson on the floor with Josh, a small rubber tank between his palms. He looked up at me blandly. “Military equipment 101.”
I had to laugh. He looked so comfortable with the kid, so relaxed and at ease. It was a pleasure to see him like that: a pleasure, I realized, because of how wired he usually looked.
Brett’s right—he has changed.
“Can we join the class?” I asked.
“We were just about done, actually,” Carson said with that same lazy softness that was making my insides melt. “We’ve moved to active deployment.”
He waved a hand to where Josh was driving the tank against the legs of the bedside table, making growling noises in his throat. We smiled at each other. Cayley came to join me on the floor, arms round my neck.
We could be a family.
The thought knocked into my head like a freight train. I looked over to where Carson was sitting with his hand resting on the little boy’s shoulder, another tank in his hand.
His brown eyes caught mine and there was such sweetness in them, such care, that my heart flipped over.
“Carson,” I said.
“Yes?” He grinned at me lazily. I moved instinctively closer.
My head rested on his forehead, just as we often used to sit, our eyes gazing tenderly at one another. I blinked, my own vision blurred. He carried on looking into my eyes.
My hand moved to take his and we sat like that. For a moment, I lost all awareness of everything—time, place, sound. All that mattered was the feel of his skin and the way his thumb, tenderly, stroked my hand.
I moved so that I could see his eyes clearly. He carried on looking back at me, gaze soft and firm. Then after a moment, it felt as if a shutter came down, hiding that tenderness from me.
“I should go,” he said abruptly. He stood, wiping his hands down his jeans.
I felt my heart tighten like a fist. “Why?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Supper’s not for ages yet.”
“I have things to do,” he said shortly. I blinked. Why was he suddenly so closed, so aggressive? His eyes were blank, his voice flat. It was as if his feelings had instantly turned off.
What did I do wrong?
I sighed. I had never understood Carson and I probably never would. He was always an enigma, even in the height of our love.
“Auntie Amelia, can we play dress up?” Cayley asked me. I sighed.
“We can play after dinner, sweetie.”
“Why not now?” she asked, going over to the bed and sitting down, bouncing insistently on the soft, springy mattress.
“Well, I have things to do,” I explained. As the words left my mouth, I realized I sounded like Carson. I reached out and ruffled the little girl’s hair affectionately. “I promise we can play after dinner. And then I’ll even do the makeup. Okay?”
“Hurray!”
The bouncing on the bed intensified, and I sat down beside her, wrapping my arms around her and tickling her until she squealed for mercy. Then, flushed and laughing myself, I headed downstairs.
I saw Carson in the doorway of the kitchen, talking to Brett who was busy at the table. I sighed.
So much for things to do. He was avoiding me.
I was surprised by how much that hurt. Was I so terrible, that he couldn’t even be in the room with me for more than a few minutes? Why did he dislike me so much?
I remembered his words when we split: We don’t suit each other.
I sighed, feeling tears of frustration dampen my eyelids. He was right. We didn’t suit each other after all. At least, it seemed like I didn’t suit him. Which was sad, because he suited me so perfectly. He was, and always would be, the man I wanted most.
Brett was right, though. He had changed. I wished I could understand more. I wished he would let me in. But then, he never had. He never would. He was the perfect man for me and, tragically, the one who seemed the most indifferent to me in all the world.
Blinking back sudden, surprising tears, I hurried upstairs again to my room.