“You know, if they could make alarm clocks that wake a person up the way you woke me up, they’d make a fortune.” Lou mumbled the thought, pleasantly tired and relaxed.
“No one would ever want to get out of bed though.” Armand lay on his back beside her, his fingers intertwined with hers.
“You’re probably right.” She sighed and silence fell between them, the companionable kind that occurred when two people felt so close they didn’t need words. Her eyes drifted shut, a smile curving her lips as she listened contentedly to the sound of his breathing.
Sometime later, Armand stirred, stretching and hitching himself up against the headboard.
“It’s good, being together like this, is it not?” His comment was delivered in sleepy tones, his French accent always heavier in the morning.
“Yes, it’s good.” She rolled onto her side and pressed a kiss to his chest, then amused herself by outlining his abs with the tip of a finger, then followed the trail of body hair to where it disappeared beneath the sheets. Teasingly, she began to inch the cover down.
“Then you’ll return to Stump River with me?”
Her hand stilled, the leap in his thinking unexpected.
“I…”
“Chicago is too big with too little nature. You’ve been in danger many times while here. Returning home where we can be together is the logical answer.”
She drew back and looked up at him. “That may seem logical to you, but not to me. I have a job here.”
“You have a job at the Broken Antler and I’m sure Ruth will take you back as well, if you want more hours.”
“But the drop-in centre—"
“Is just a volunteer position, correct?”
Just a volunteer position? She felt her eyes widen and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and reasonable. “Yes, I volunteer there but it’s also a learning experience. Remember I’m going to school to get a degree. I want to be a counsellor.”
“Counselling is talking to people, listening to their problems. I do that all the time at the bar.”
“It’s not the same and you know it. You’re being deliberately difficult.” She sat up beside him, wrapping the sheet around herself and tucking it under her arms.
“To me, you’re the one being difficult.” He crossed his arms. “I want you to come home, Lucy.”
“You want. But what about what I want?”
“You don’t want to be with me?” There was definitely a hurt tone in his voice.
“No. I mean yes. I do want to be with you. I’m just not sure I want to go back to Stump River.”
He looked away. She noticed how his hand was curling into a fist. “I can’t live in a big city. It’s not right for me.”
“I know.” She felt her throat tighten.
“These courses you’re studying, could you take them in Canada? I know Stump River has nothing but maybe in Timmins?”
She shrugged and stared down at the sheet. “Maybe. It’s hours away though and I don’t know if I can even transfer my credits.”
He was silent. She knew he wanted her to give up everything and return home, for things to go back to what they were; but she didn’t know if she could do it.
“I…I want more for myself, Armand. You know that’s what I always talked about, getting away from being in a small town, making a fresh start, not being ‘good old Lucy’. This is my chance to follow my dream.” She looked at him, tears pricking her eyes.
“At the expense of mine?” He pressed his lips firmly together and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She wanted to ask him what his dreams were, but didn’t know if she could handle the answer. What if he said he loved her? He’d not spoken the words or proposed any kind of definite future for them, but she was sure that was what he meant. If he did, if he spilled his heart, would she change her mind?
Could she change her mind and still be true to herself?
An ache began to grow in her chest. His silence was probably for the best. Hurting him, making him beg, was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Armand, you’ve always been so good to me. When my mother died, you gave me a job, you watched over me as I grew up, listened to me grumble when I broke up with someone—"
“Do not say I’ve been like a father to you!” He swung his legs out of bed and sat with his back to her.
“No! Never a father! Not even a brother.” She crawled over the mattress until she was behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders, the tension evident in the tautness of his muscles. “You were a very good friend and maybe…maybe something more. But the timing wasn’t right for you back then, I guess.”
“I thought you were too young.” He leaned forward and her hands slid from his back. “Now it seems I should have taken you up on your offer all those years ago.”
“Maybe, but we can’t change the past.” She reached out to touch him then stopped, her hand hovering in mid air. The time for touching was gone.
“And now the timing isn’t right for you.”
“No. No, it isn’t.” She sank back on her heels increasing the distance between them as if that would lessen the hurt. It didn’t.
“Last night, I purchased two tickets back home.” He swallowed hard. “It seems I only have need of one now.”
She didn’t reply, her throat so tight no sound could escape. It didn’t matter though. There was nothing left to say.
“The flight leaves tonight at seven. I should get dressed. There are a few things I need to do before I leave.” He stood and reached for his clothes.
“Can I make you breakfast or tea or something?” She watched him dress, fighting the urge to give in, to agree to go with him. But if she did, would she resent the decision in years to come? Grow bitter and come to hate him for what she’d given up?
“Non, merci. I’m sure you’re tired after yesterday.”
She wanted to say she’d never be too tired to do something for him. Instead, she kept silent, putting on her old glasses and wrapping a robe around herself, then following him to the door.
He stopped in the small entryway, one hand pressed to the wooden door, his shoulders slumped rather than his usual straight posture. Guilt ate away at her. She’d done this to him by not giving in. Or maybe it was his own doing because he’d waited too long and then expected too much.
She blinked trying to clear her vision. The old prescription in her glasses meant his image was already blurry and now, now she could barely make out his face through the watery sheen of tears.
Damn, why couldn’t things be different? He was a good man, kind and gentle and he cared for her, loved her even though he’d never said the words. Why wasn’t that enough for her? Years ago, it would have been. Maybe she was wrong…
He turned and cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek, lingering on the scar he called her badge of courage before catching the tears that spilled from her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I never wanted to make you cry.”
“It’s not your fault or mine. We’re just at the wrong place in our lives.”
His sorrowful gaze traced over her features. “Do you think we’ll ever be in the right place?”
“I…I don’t know. I hope so but…” She licked her lips and forced herself to say the words she knew she needed to say. “I want you to be happy, Armand. So, if you find someone, someone who is in the right place in their life, I want you to—”
He pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. “No. Don’t say this, Lucy.”
She kissed his finger, then took his hand in hers, inter-twining their fingers and holding them to her heart. “Armand, I’m trying to be realistic, to do the right thing even though it’s killing me inside. You deserve to be happy.”
“I don’t know if I can set you free like that.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want anyone else.” She reached up and stroked a stray curl from his cheek, felt the scratch of his beard one last time.
He turned, pressing a kiss her palm then traced her features with his lips. “You’re so beautiful, so kind and sweet and spirited. From the moment I saw you, I knew.” His forehead pressed to hers, his eyes shut, he took a ragged breath. “If you find someone, I want you to know, to remember…I…I loved you.” He pulled her into his arms, gave her a searing kiss, holding nothing back, molded her body so tightly to his they seemed one and then…he was gone.
Stunned, she stood there. Without his strong grip around her, she felt lost, weak, hardly able to breathe. She stumbled back, leaned against the wall and wrapped her arms around herself trying to retain the warmth of his body as long as possible. She could still feel the light rasp of his stubble on her skin, smell the scent of his woodsy cologne. The taste of his mouth mixed with the saltiness of tears and she was sure she could still hear the faint rumble that always sounded in his chest.
If letting him go was the right thing to do, then why did it feel so wrong? Her heart was breaking into a gazillion pieces each sharp shard more painful than the last... He loved her. He’d said he loved her!
She should follow him.
Tell him she loved him, too. That…that….
She shook her head. Those three words had changed everything and nothing.
There was an indescribable pressure squeezing her chest. She struggled to breathe, to think. The world was swirling around her, the light being swallowed by an enormous dark cloud. Her legs no longer able to support her, she slid down the wall as a sob broke from her throat followed by another and then another until she was drowning in a puddle of sorrow.