Page 59 of Mended Hearts

THE PORCH LIGHT is on when I get to the house. I really hope no one is awake. I slowly turn the knob, thankful it’s unlocked. I would have slept on the porch before I rang the doorbell. The lamp in the entryway is on, and I shut and lock the door behind me. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. I turn to head up the stairs.

“Dustin,” I hear, and I silently curse. So close.

“Yeah.” I step back and turn toward the door that leads to my dad’s office.

“You doin’ all right?” my father asks hesitantly, worried, and guilt slaps me in the back of the head, calling me a fool.

“Yes. Just dealing with a lot of stuff.”

“Understandable,” he says, standing up and making his way to me. “We know this isn’t easy for you.” I go to speak, but he stops me. “All of it. Not just the wound. We know your world has been flipped upside down. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling about everything. But all I do know is that we love you. We will always be here for you, no matter what you face. Please, don’t shut us out, son,” he pleads, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Okay.” I nod. “I won’t,” I promise.

He grips my shoulder as he pulls me into him. I stand with my arms at my sides, trying to wrap my mind around what’s happening. It’s been so long since I’ve received a hug from my dad. My arms begin to move up, embracing him much like he is me. He tightens his grip, and I can’t help but do the same as I feel his body tremble against mine.

What have I done to the ones who love me the most?

I pat his back and then peel myself away. I don’t want to allow myself to get emotional. I want to shower and hit the sack, and I tell him that’s what I’m going to do as I turn away to head up the stairs. After grabbing a towel out of the hall closet, I close myself in the bathroom. I pull back the curtain and turn the shower on, undressing as the steam begins to fill the room.

I pull off the dressing over my arm and inspect the area. I haven’t really done so since the incident. I’ve known it was gone. What was the point of really looking at the damage? That had been my mindset. But for some reason, I feel the need to change that. I was expecting what I see to sicken me, but it doesn’t. The scars from the stitching are barely visible and I question why I’ve been keeping it covered if it’s fully healed. Has it been because I didn’t want others to see it, or because I wanted to keep it hidden from myself?

I step into the shower and my body stiffens at the heat prickling it. Pushing myself fully under the stream of water, I welcome the warmth. It’s relaxing as it cascades down my body.I reach over and grab the body soap my mother must’ve bought. I use my thumbnail to push the lid up and squirt some onto my chest since I don’t have my other hand now. You never realize how much you needed both hands until you’re left with one.

I can’t help but think of Echo and how I spent basically the entire day with her. My mind begins to wander to the short shorts she was wearing and the fitted tank that showcased just how well she’s filled out over the years. I shake my head of the thoughts, knowing I’d much rather wait for the real thing.

Chapter Forty

ECHO

The sun peering in through the cracks of the blinds wakes me up. I flop around like a fish out of water, not knowing where I’m at. I sit up, realizing I’m on the couch. I need to find my phone and check the time. I couldn’t have slept in that late, could I? I mean, I was completely worn out last night. I don’t even remember going to sleep. I sit up and scratch my head. The last thing I do remember is sitting next to Dustin on the porch.

And that was all she wrote.

I look down, seeing that I’m still in the shorts and tank I had on yesterday. The only thing I’m lacking is my sandals, which I notice are sitting perfectly next to each other at the front door. I know for a fact that I’m not responsible for that neatness. There’s only one person who would do something so orderly, and he was that way before the military.

Light floods through the windows, reminding me why I loved this house so much. There’s just something about natural light flooding in that literally brightens my mood. I’m convinced that people who purposely keep their houses dark are vampires. It’s a fact. I know it. I glance down, spotting my phone on the coffee table. “I spy with my little eye,” I say as I grab it.

Okay, it’s only nine thirty. That’s not too bad. It’s probably the latest I’ve slept since having a child, but at least I didn’t sleep the day away. I still have plenty I need to take care of. But first, I need coffee. That’s essential.I wonder if vampires drink coffee.

I walk back to the room and grab my flip-flops. No sense in changing my clothes since I’m just going to be painting again today. I pull off the hair tie I have around my wrist and toss my hair up on the top of my head. Yanking open the front door, I freeze in my tracks.

The porch.

The porch is finished.

Dustin must have stayed up all night to accomplish this. And it looks amazing. The wood pillars look brand new, and the dark stained wood looks like it doesn’t belong to this house. It all looks too pretty to be on the outside where it will be weathered and instead, belongs inside where it can be taken care of. It’s so pretty that I don’t even want to walk on it.

I kneel and press my finger against the wood, making sure it’s dry. I lift my finger away from the wood to see no fingerprint impression. I place my hand down and lift it, checking other places around me before stepping on it. Dry. He must have finished sanding the pillars, cleaned off the porch, stained it, and then painted the pillars last. They still have a shiny, damp, sticky look to them.

I jog down the steps and head for my car, feeling giddy and hopeful as I head to the diner.

I MUST HAVE missed the morning rush. It’s not as packed as I expected. There’re only a few booths filled with customers. The waitress is busy helping bus the dirty tables, so I make my way over to the empty bar counter. I take a seat on a round red stool that spins.

“Sorry for the wait, hon. What can I get for ya?”

I glance up from the menu and smile. It’s the same waitress from thirteen years ago. She’s not the same, though. The gap in time is apparent with the silver trendles that spill from the sides of her ponytail. She doesn’t return my smile as she waits for me to answer. I hate how she looks, worn out and over life. It makes me wonder what’s taken place this past decade to cause such a drastic change.

“I’ll just have a coffee for now.”

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