Chapter 13
Lea
“Hello?” I answer the house phone as I set down the box I brought down from the attic on the kitchen table, opening it up.
“Is Lea Lamb available?” a woman asks, sounding like she has a cold.
“This is she.”
“Hi, Lea, my name is Elza. I work for Douglas Pulaski, your mother’s attorney,” she says and I frown. My mom never told me she had an attorney, but there was a trend with my mom; she seemed to have kept a lot from me.
“How can I help you?”
“Mr. Douglas is out of town for the next month, and he left your mom’s will with me. Unfortunately, I’ve had pneumonia and haven’t been able to deliver it to you.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m not sure when I will be able to deliver it. If you need me to, I can mail it off, but there are a few things I’m supposed to go over with you,” she explains blowing her nose.
“Is there anything crucial in the documents?” I ask, feeling bad for her.
“No, nothing like that. Mainly it’s just stuff having to do with the house and a few of your mom’s account.”
“So it can wait. Just let me know when you’re feeling better and we’ll talk then,” I concede.
“Thank you for understanding, and I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mom was an amazing woman.”
“Thank you,” I mutter, still unsure what to say when people offer their condolences.
“We’ll talk soon,” she says, hanging up.
Putting the phone on the table, I open the box marked Lea’s Room. A picture of Austin and me from when we were seventeen sits on top in a dark blue wooden frame. Running my fingers over the image, I remember when it was taken.
Austin and I had spent the day out salmon fishing and bear watching. When we got home, my mom came out on the front porch and snapped this picture of us, because she thought it was cute we were dressed almost alike, in jeans, hoodies, beanies on our heads, and boots on our feet.
In the picture, you can see how much we loved each other, can actually feel it. Our fronts are pressed together, his stomach to my chest, my head is tilted back with my chin resting against his chest, and my arms around his waist. His head is bent towards mine, his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, and even in profile, I can see the admiration he had for me then.
Setting the photo aside, I pull the next item out of the box, putting it next to the photo, then pull out what I had been looking for to begin with. My mom had given me a locket when I was thirteen, and I left it behind when I left home. Opening it up, there is a picture of my mom and dad, with their cheeks pressed together. It was taken the day they found out they were pregnant with me.
“Baby!” Austin yells, startling me as he walks into the kitchen. “Why the fuck is the door unlocked?”
“I thought you were going to be gone until tomorrow?” I ask instead.
“Why isn’t the door locked?” he repeats, ignoring my question.
“Because this is Cordova and I forgot about it,” I say as his arms wrap around me and he lifts me off my feet.
“I don’t care. Make sure that you lock the door when you’re home alone.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I thought you were going to be gone until tomorrow,” I reiterate placing my hands on his shoulders.
“I was, but I met my quota early, so I unloaded and came over here to pick you up and take you home,” he says, dropping his mouth down to mine and stealing my breath. “I missed you.”
“We saw each other this morning,” I remind him, smiling.
“I miss you, even when you’re in the next room.”
My heart starts to pound harder in my chest; I’m in love with him. I’m in love with him and have no idea how it happened. It snuck up on me suddenly, or maybe it was that I never stopped loving him, and the love I held for him all these years came back, knocking me on my ass. I never even stood a chance.
“What?” He frowns, and I realize I just said that out loud.
Crap.
“I need to get new pants,” I say, and his face becomes even more confused, while my face turns red.
“You need to get new pants,” he repeats, lifting me higher until my legs wrap around him.
“For sure.” I nod and try to get down, but his arms hold me tighter.
“I like these pants.”
“I’m not wearing any,” I say, because I’m not. I have on a t-shirt and panties. I was getting ready to go to bed.
“You’re wearing my favorite socks.”
“You hate these socks.”
“No, I told you I wanted to fuck you in them and nothing else,” he growls, walking to the wall and pressing my back to it while pulling my shirt up over my head before proceeding to show me just how much he loves my socks—or me in nothing but the socks—while he’s inside of me.
“What are you doing out here?” I pull my eye away from the telescope lens and look at Austin, whose face is soft with sleep. His arms are crossed over his bare chest and his shoulder is leaning against the doorjamb, like he’s been there for a while, watching me.
After he took me up against the kitchen wall at my parents’ house, he told me to pack enough clothes to last a few days, that I would be staying with him at his house. I didn’t even argue with him about it, just went to my room and packed a bag. When I was done, I found him sitting at the kitchen table, looking at the picture of us. He didn’t say anything to me about it, but I could feel his energy had changed from earlier.
As soon as he realized I was there, he took the bag from me and added the framed photo of us to it. When we arrived at his house, the first thing he did was put that picture on the mantle above the fireplace before taking me upstairs and making love to me once more, that time slowly, like he was trying to memorize the moment.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I tell him quietly.
I woke up an hour ago and stared at the ceiling for thirty minutes before getting up and coming downstairs. I didn’t want to wake him up, because I knew how little sleep he has been getting, and I couldn’t fight the urge to toss and turn.
“You should have woken me up,” he says, coming to stand behind me, placing a kiss between my neck and shoulder tickling me with his beard.
“You needed to sleep,” I say, wrapping my arms over his.
“So do you.” He says burring his face in my hair.
“I’ve been sleeping better than I have in a long time,” I say honestly. Austin has become my own personal brand of sleeping pill. He has the ability to make everything better, and to keep my mind from wondering off.
“What’s on your mind?”
I miss my mom, I think but don’t say. I’m glad Austin has been letting me stay with him at his house; being in my parents’ house is difficult. It’s hard being surrounded by memories. Strange to be there knowing even though everything in the house looks exactly like it did before both of my parents passed away, they are never coming back.
“You miss your mom,” he guesses, and I nod, feeling tears fill my eyes. It’s an ever-present weight in my stomach.
“Everyday something happens and I think, ‘Oh, Mom would love that,’ or, ‘I can’t wait to tell her about this,’ but she’s not here.”
“She’s always with you.”
“I know,” I agree, pulling the locket I found yesterday away from my neck and rubbing the metal between my fingers. “I think maybe I’ll feel a little better when I get her ashes,” I whisper. My mom donated her body to science, so after she passed away, the hospital sent her body off, and they would be sending me her ashes eventually, but I really have no idea when. “Can we take your boat out and spread her ashes where my dad’s boat was found?”
“Of course, baby.”
“Thank you,” I say, sagging into his warm chest and taking comfort from his embrace.
“Did you see anything good when you were looking through your telescope?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Just the stars.” I smile, and his fingers dig into my sides, making me laugh. Then I whisper, “When I left, I would sometimes lie outside at night and look up at the stars, wondering if you were doing the same thing.”
“Every chance I got,” he says, causing tears to sting my nose. “But now, I have you here with me, so I don’t ever have to wonder if we’re looking at the same stars again.”
“You’re gonna make me cry,” I complain, and he kisses my temple then wraps his arms tighter around me. “Are you excited to see your family?” I ask as he leads me inside and back up to bed, where he drapes me across his chest.
“Yeah, since they all moved, I don’t see them enough.”
“Have you ever thought of moving closer to them?” I ask, tracing random patterns onto his skin.
“No, I love this town and I love this house. I don’t ever see myself leaving.”
“Oh.”
“Are you having second thoughts about being here?” he asks quietly, but there is no mistaking the worry and agitation in his tone.
“No.” I run my hands over his arms that have tightened almost painfully around me, trying to relax him. “It was just a question,” I say, smiling as he grunts loosing his arms. Laying there I listen to his breathing even out as he falls asleep, and then I do the same.
*
What I wouldn’t give to go back to last night, lying in bed with Austin. Really, I would rather be anywhere, even jail, than sitting at Austin’s beautiful new dining table with his mom, dad, his sister Bre, and her husband.
Uncomfortable is an understatement for what I’m feeling. Since the moment I arrived thirty minutes ago, there have been few words spoken, but I guess you really don’t need words when you can see every single unsaid statement written on each of their faces.
Shawn, Bre’s husband, looks about as uncomfortable as I feel, as he keeps his head down and his eyes on the plate in front of him. His wife hasn’t taken her eyes off me for more than a few seconds, like she expects me to either wig out or disappear into thin air in front of her eyes.
Austin’s mom, who greeted me with a very quiet ‘hello’, which felt more like a dismissal, has been looking at her son like he invited the devil to dine with them, while Austin’s dad has attempted to keep the mood light with small talk.
“Austin said you bought Larry’s office space. Is that right?” Bruce, Austin’s dad, asks, taking a drink from his beer.
“I close in a week, if all the paperwork goes through” I explain lightly, hearing a hum from Shayla, Austin’s mom.
“Are you sticking around this time?” she asks after a moment.
There it is—the giant elephant in the room has just sat down at the table and joined us for dinner.
“That’s the plan,” I say quietly, feeling Austin’s hand on my thigh tighten almost painfully, like he also expects me to run away.
“Hmmm,” she hums again, looking between her son and me.
“That’s new for you, the whole sticking around thing, isn’t it?” Bre asks, while her husband turns to look at her, muttering something under his breath.
“It’s just a question,” she replies, frowning at him.
The urge to get up from the table is so strong that my muscles bunch in anticipation. I fight it back, taking a drink of my wine, trying to avoid gulping the whole glass down. I don’t need them to think I’m a lush, on top of being a flake.
I know they have a right to be concerned, but I still hate feeling the way I do, like every fear I ever had at eighteen, every choice I made, even unselfishly, has caused this.
“Watch it,” Austin growls as I set my wine glass on the table, trying not to let them see the way my hand is shaking.
“It’s okay,” I say, resting my hand over his on my thigh and intertwining my fingers between his. “I love your son, your brother,” I say, knowing that it’s stupid to say it to them, when I haven’t even told Austin how I feel about him. But I feel stuck and hope that if I lay my cards on the table, they will understand just how much he means to me.
“I know I acted foolishly when I left, but I was young and never wanted him to have to choose between me and the rest of his life. I was afraid that one day I was going to wake up and he wasn’t going to be there, either in following his path for the future or having that dream rip us apart, because I forced him into a life he didn’t want to have.” I lower my eyes to the table, mumbling quietly, “I’m sorry for hurting him.”
His hand on my thigh tightens almost painfully and I feel tears spring to my eyes. “Sorry,” I whisper, get up from the table, and pass the couches that Austin’s parents delivered. The dark blue velvet material looks amazing against the backdrop of the view, but I don’t see it as I storm by, because my eyes are full of tears.
Going into the bathroom, I shut the door without even turning on the light and slide to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs and pressing my forehead into my knees as silent tears wrack my body. Breathing in deep, shuddering breaths I try to fill my lungs with enough oxygen that my tears will die down, but nothing seems to be working. There’s a tap on the door, then my body is moving as the light turns on and the door pushes in.
“Shhh.” Austin pulls me into his arms, settling me on his lap as he sits on the floor, making me cry harder.
“I’m sorry,” I get out through the tears clogging my throat.
“Baby, you’re killing me right now.”
“You should be out there with your family,” I sob into his shirt, pulling him closer to me as I realize I don’t have any family. I’m alone, adrift at sea, fighting to breathe, with no one there to rescue me.
“I love you, Lea. I always have and will, even in death. You’re my family, and I’m yours.”
His words pull me to the surface so fast that my heart erupts inside my chest, filling my lungs with oxygen and forcing the darkness that was settling inside of me out. “How can you say you love me after the way I left?”
“Because you came home to me,” he whispers.
I turn my head up and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth down to mine in a kiss that I pray shows him just how much he means to me, how much I love him. When he pulls his mouth away, he lays his forehead against mine.
“I’m pissed that you waited until now to say that you love me,” he says, reaching over and pulling some toilet paper off the roll, handing it to me.
“Why are you mad?” I ask, confused as I blot my eyes.
“That should have been one of the moments you memorized,” he says, softly rubbing my cheek.
I smile, surprising myself, then lean in and rub my nose along his. “Me saying it isn’t memorable. You saying it back is what I will carry with me.”
“Swear to God, you’re gonna kill me,” he grunts, pulling me closer until I’m straddling him.
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I lower my face until we’re sharing the same breath. Neither of us speak in that moment. I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling, and I can see that he wants to tell me something, but he doesn’t know how to do it. “What is it?” I whisper, moving my hands to hold his face.
“Nothing, it can wait,” he says smiling, but I notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. Before I can ask him what it is, he kisses me again, standing up and putting me on my feet. Vowing to ask him later I go to the sink and splash some water on my face, thankful I didn’t wear much makeup and my mascara is waterproof. His hands wrap around my waist and his mouth touches my neck as I dry my hands and face. “You don’t have to go back out there. You can go up to the room, or—”
“I’m not hiding,” I say, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“If you go back out there, know that they will be on their best behavior.”
“Because you’re making them.” I frown. I don’t want them to be nice to me because of him. I want them to just accept my apology and move on.
“Not because of me, because of you. You just gutted everyone at that table.”
“I’m—”
His arms tighten around me, cutting off my apology before it can even leave my mouth. “You’re not going to say you’re sorry about that shit. They should have kept their mouths closed. They should have trusted me enough to know that I know what I’m doing, that I don’t need them cutting in.”
“They love you.” I remind him gently and his eyes go soft.
He shakes his head then kisses my temple. “You ready?”
I nod again and he takes my hand in his, leading me out of the bathroom. Once we reach the dining room, the conversation dies and Shayla gets up from her chair, coming towards me. Her eyes are red and her lips puffy. I can tell she has been crying, and I hate I did that to her.
“I’m so sorry, Lea,” she says, taking my hand.
“It’s okay,” I say automatically.
“It’s not.” More tears form in her eyes, and she shifts back and forth on her feet in front of me awkwardly, like a child who is unsure of what to do. “Can I hug you?” she whispers. I nod and she wraps her arms around me then sobs. I pat her back awkwardly then feel another set of arms wrap around me, and know instantly they are Bre’s, and she’s crying as well.
Surprisingly, I don’t cry during our embrace. I don’t even know the emotions I’m feeling. Then, Austin’s dad moves to us, pulling his wife away, followed by Shawn, who takes Bre into his side. “We’re so sorry, Lea. We didn’t even think about what you must have been feeling back then. We were just so upset by how you left that seeing you now, our emotions got the better of us,” Shayla says, wiping her eyes.
“I understand,” I say, wringing my hands in front of me, uncomfortable with the turn of events.
“Can we start over?” Bre asks, and I look at her and bite my lip, unable to even understand what the hell is going on in my head. Part of me wants to ask why, when fifteen years ago we didn’t speak. We were not close then, and I didn’t expect that to change now. All I craved was for them to look at it from my point of view, to see it through the eyes of a young girl who’d just lost her father to the same life her fiancé had been leading her towards. That thought causes a pang to hit my chest. Austin is still fishing; something could still happen to him. And I don’t know if I’m stronger now than I was back then.
“Lea.” Austin’s voice and his hand on my hip force my head to turn towards him. Seeing the concern in his eyes fills my chest with guilt. I have to try, for him.
“We can start over,” I say softly, looking at Bre then Shayla. Both women nod, but they still look unsure about how to act, which only makes me more uncomfortable.
“Let’s go back to eating before the babies wake up,” Shawn says, breaking the tension that had settled around the room.
“I’m going to get another glass of wine. Would anyone else like something?” I ask, heading towards the kitchen, needing just a few more minutes before sitting down at dinner with them again. The air may have been cleared, but my heart still hurts.
When everyone says no, I walk into the kitchen then squeak when I’m turned and lifted onto the counter, and then Austin’s mouth is on mine and his hips are between my legs. The first nip of his teeth on my bottom lip causes me to gasp and open my mouth to him. His tongue tangles with mine and his hand wraps around my hair, pulling back, causing my core to convulse. I never knew I would crave giving up control to someone else, but with Austin, every part of me comes alive under his touch. When he pulls his mouth from mine, we are both breathing heavily, my legs are tight around him, and my hands are wrapped around his shirt.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“I needed to know you were here with me.”
“What?” I whisper.
He leans back, his hand comes up to hold my cheek, and his thumb runs over my lips. “There are times you get this look in your eyes. It’s sad and unsure, and when I see it, my instinct is to pick you up and carry you away from whatever caused it.” His thumb sweeps over my lips again and his eyes search mine. “I hate that look, baby.”
Placing my forehead on his chest, I mutter, “I just don’t know how to feel right now.”
“That’s okay,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down my back, trying to comfort me. His touch helps some, but now that the seed has planted itself in my head about losing him, I don’t know what to do. “Let’s get you another glass of wine.”
“Yeah,” I agree, hopping down off the counter, watching him as he pulls a new bottle of wine from the fridge and opens it.
“Ready?”
Taking his hand I let him lead me back into the dining room, where everyone is quietly talking. Taking my seat next to Austin I wait for him to pour me another glass of wine then pick it up and taking a gulp, letting the cool liquid relax me.
Sitting quietly through the rest of dinner, my mind is consumed with worry. Worry that I may not be able to fight back whatever it is that’s making me feel like I want to cling to Austin, but push him away at the same time.