After he’d landed on the West Coast, the tracking device showed she’d finally gone back to Uncle Bert’s, so he drove there.
The house was standing, so that was something. He pulled to a stop and got out of his rental truck, a big four-wheel-drive deal, which he despised on principle, but actually took the coastal roads much nicer than the compact had weeks ago.
He took a deep breath, and the air calmed. She calmed him. Marie was here.
He knocked on the front door.
When no one answered, he opened it and walked in. The air inside was stale, musty, as if it had been closed for a while. He made his way back toward the kitchen, where he could hear the sound of running water and a radio playing country music.
At the living room, he peeked in and found it empty.
Across the room, in front of the window, a slip of paper sat on the floor. Curious, he walked over and picked it up—and saw his own handwriting.
Had she even read it?
He folded it back up and set it on the table under the window. Didn’t matter now. He was here. He touched the paper and moved through the dining room to the doorway of the kitchen. Marie stood with his back to her. Shattered glass covered the floor, and dark stains scattered across the tile—dried blood. “What the fuck happened here?”
Marie screamed, turning to him with a broom in one hand, ready to strike. “Jesus, Malcolm. You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?”
“What the fuck happened in here?”
Why didn’t you call me? Why have you been at the hospital all week? Is Bert dead?
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I said I was coming back.”
She swept a path to him and set the broom aside. “I mean, right here, right now. I haven’t been home in a week. And the day I come back, you show up?”
“Oh. Coincidence, believe it or not.” He paused. “And the armband. I turned on the tracking device in your armband, so I knew you weren’t at the hospital anymore.”
Her mouth fell open. “I forgot.”
He had an urge to touch her, but she stood there, staring at him, a smile on her face.
“Marie—”
“Mal—”
They both stopped at the same time.
She dropped the broom, and two steps later was in his arms.
“Marie.” He sank his hands into her hair, which was down and long and soft and warm and… “Fuck, I’ve needed you so badly. Talk to me, Marie. Where’s Uncle Bert?”
“He’s gone downhill. The cancer is winning—” She rubbed her nose against his chest. He took her face in his hands and tilted it up so he could see into her eyes. Resignation, but no fear, no sadness.
He touched his forehead to hers.
Her arms came up around his neck.
“I thought I was too late,” he said. “Why haven’t you called me?”
She bit her lip. “I…I don’t know. I should have. I’ve been playing this waiting game all week, thinking he was going to die. I couldn’t find it in myself to leave his side. I kept worrying that if I did, I’d lose him while I was gone. And my phone didn’t work in the room. I couldn’t—I couldn’t leave him.”
“And today?”
She blushed a little and smiled. “Nurse Ratched made me leave. Said if I didn’t, she was going to admit me herself, and then I’d be stuck on a different floor—the one for mental cases. She told me she’d call if absolutely anything happened. Anything at all. I made her pinky-swear.”
“I’ll have to thank her.”
Marie retreated, taking the broom back in her hand. “So, how long do you have before you leave again?”
Malcolm took his time to answer, walking over to the kitchen table and sitting on the top. Marie continued to sweep, making a pile on the opposite side of the kitchen.
She was happy to see him. She wouldn’t play at those emotions. But did she still want him? Had she figured out what she wanted?
“Up to you.”
She frowned. “It is?”
He nodded. “Like I said in the letter—”
She gasped. “Oh, wait.” She hurried out of the room and came right back. Piece of paper in her hand. “I never finished it. I was reading it—”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to!” Her eyes were so bright. “Do you know how many men write letters to me?”
“It’s different if I’m sitting here, and it’s…um, awkward.”
“Only for you.” She snickered. “You should see your face.” She held up a finger. “Give me a minute.”
And then she was reading, her face tipped down to the letter.
He squirmed at the thought of standing there while she read it. There weren’t that many words, so when two minutes became three and four and then five, he started to worry.
“Marie?”
But then she covered her face, and her shoulders shook as she cried.
“No, no, no. You’re not supposed to cry.” He grabbed the letter and let it drop to the floor. “Forget everything in there. I didn’t mean a word of it.”
She cried harder.
“Fuck,” he said, and kissed her face, her lips. “I know you’re scared of that promise. But it’s mine to give. I can’t—” His voice broke. “I can’t give you any less, even if I wanted to. All I have is yours, Marie. See, because all this time I thought you had stolen my heart.” He looked into her eyes and found the answer to every question racing through his head since he’d left. “But I was wrong. Because you never had to steal it. It was always yours—given to you with no strings attached.”
But her sobbing only got stronger.
“I mean, you don’t have to love me.”
Her phone rang. “Shit for timing. I’m sorry.” She answered, listened, and said, “I’ll be right there.”
He knew before she even said anything, and was grabbing her coat from the hook. As he held her coat for her, he noticed she wore the armband. And he turned her, touching the armband, running his finger down the curl and grabbing her hand. “We’ll take the truck.”
***
Malcolm pulled into the hospital parking lot and stopped at the entrance. “You go. I’ll park and meet you in there.”
She gripped his hand even harder, but nodded, leaned in, and kissed him. “See you in a few,” he said.
She jumped down then hurried in and to the elevators.
She rode up with an older woman who had a pillbox hat on top of her shiny white hair. When they both moved to get off at the same floor, Marie smiled, letting the woman off first.
“You’re Bert’s young niece.”
Marie walked with the lady. “Yes.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Pearl. My George is down the hall. George and Bert hit it off a few months ago when they happened to be in at the same time. They exchanged numbers. Oh,” Pearl said, stopping at Bert’s doorway. “Here you go. If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”
“Uh, thank you,” Marie said. Bert had had so few friends over the years, and it was only the two of them for so long. It hadn’t been until she left that he’d started meeting with the guys from the old country.
Pearl kept going, and Marie went into Uncle Bert’s room.
The steady beep reassured her, and her arms fell to her sides as she crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. She straightened a pillow and pulled up the blanket covering his legs.
The nurse followed her in and picked up his chart.
“What’s going on? How is he? Is it the bullet wound?” Marie asked, whispering as she brushed a lock of hair from his brow. His eyelids fluttered. “Did the infection spread like the doctor thought it would?”
“To the shock of the doctor, no. The wound has stayed clean and not been any trouble.”
Uncle Bert’s hand came up and wrapped around her forearm. Any time she was around and close enough, he would touch her and the armband, resting his hand there against her arm and the gold. As the week had passed, he’d been more adamant she not take it off, and it seemed like he was checking up on her.
The connection between her uncle and the armband confused her.
Her mother had worn it the same way, always, as had all the ancestors before her.
In a way, it freaked her out, but it also grounded her. Since getting it back and wearing it, she couldn’t explain… It connected her to everyone before her. All her life, she’d avoided the armband and spent energy on stealing stupid little things, as if they would help her not lose the good.
Marie leaned forward and kissed her uncle’s cheek.
“He’s gone into kidney failure, Marie.”
Her heart beat hard, even though the doctor told her this would happen. His organs would give up. “Is he in pain?” she asked, blinking back the tears that threatened to soak her world.
“No.”
“Will he be able to talk to me before he—” She couldn’t say the word.
Malcolm’s broad shoulders filled the doorway.
“Malcolm,” Uncle Bert said, answering her question.
Marie reached behind her, urging Malcolm in, and he came over and leaned into her uncle’s line of sight. “Hey, old man.” His voice was tight with emotion. Malcolm put his hand on her neck and squeezed for comfort.
“Your head’s out of your ass now,” Uncle Bert said.
His voice was so raspy and weak, she almost couldn’t make out what he said.
Malcolm laughed.
With a labored breath, Uncle Bert gripped her arm even harder and continued, “Take care of my Marie.”
Malcolm swallowed, nodded, and cleared his throat. “I will.”
“Good.” Uncle Bert struggled.
Her tears didn’t stop now, as Uncle Bert relaxed and then lifted his arms and waved her into them. Like when she’d been a child, she curled up against his chest and listened to his heart beating against her ear.
He brushed her hair—once, twice…
Then he took a deep breath and said, “Te iubesc, copilul meu.”
And the beating stopped.
Marie squeezed her eyes closed. He’d been there for her all her life. Now, it was her turn to take care of him. She let the tears dry, kissed him one last time, and got up.
Malcolm turned to her. “I’m so sorry, Marie.”
“I wish I’d introduced you sooner.” She imagined there would be lots of regrets. “I regret being away so much this past year.” She bit at her lip. “I could have come home so many times. But there was Hawk and Dimitru. And there was you. And I—”
“You grew up and left home and started a life,” Malcolm finished for her. “Exactly what Bert wanted for you. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to stand over him before he died and promise him you are mine, and I will take care of you for the rest of my days.” He took her hand. “Don’t think he didn’t know.”
Her heart thudded solidly. “I’ve been afraid of losing my whole life. I hold too tightly to things. I might drive you crazy, Malcolm. But I’m done with those ways.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly.
“Still going with the immortality myth?” A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as he blushed. He was so damn sure of himself.
“Maybe.”
She laughed. He wanted to keep things lighthearted?
“Yeah, well, I’m done with off-script stealing, and I’m willingly remanding myself to your custody, buddy, so you better keep a close, very close, eye on me.”