Page 106 of Ebbing Tides
“I wish I had told you her name.”The thought sprang to my mind unexpectedly, and my lips pulled between my teeth as a heavy weight sat against my chest.I wish I had told you about her.
“I know.”
“I was afraid of upsetting you. But I'm sorry I didn't.”
“I know, and it's okay.”
“I’m going to go now.”
“I know you are.”
“I promise to love you forever.”
“I know you will.”
With a deep breath, I swallowed the past, letting it burrow deep within my soul, where it would stay forever, warm and safe. Then I rolled down Lido's window, unbuckled my seat belt, and pushed the door open.
“Stay, boy,” I told him before closing it behind me. “Stay. I won’t be long.”
With determination, I pushed forward, rounding the front of the truck and hurrying across the street, up the driveway, past her SUV, and up the steps. The stained-glass window within the door did little to give away the interior of the house, but the multifaceted glimpse welcomed me with refracted rainbows and whispered promises.
So, I raised my fist, ready to knock, when a gentle breeze and a tinkling melody grabbed my attention.
Turning my head, I spotted the lighthouse wind chime hanging from the awning above the door, and with that sweet little tune came the faintest scent of cigarettes.
“Huh,” I muttered, all at once aware of the pack of smokes and lighter still nestled in my pocket.
Return them, my mind called of its own accord.
And without another second to think, I knocked.
Then I waited, and I hoped, and I worried that this entire stupid thing had been nothing more than the pathetic dream ofa sad, lonely, broken man. A silly delusion, derived from a few nights of great sex and a twenty-year-long crush.
It seemed like minutes had gone by when the sconce beside the door turned on, casting a soft glow over the wind chime. It played a gentle tune with another passing breeze, and I held my breath as the door was unlocked and opened.
Melanie stood there on the other side, clutching the doorknob. Her lips parted, and her eyes widened as she pressed her body against the doorjamb and exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping.
She opened her mouth, only to release a small, unintelligible sound. I tipped my head, confused, and she waved a hand in the air before covering her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears slipped from between her lashes.
She swallowed against a sob and swayed on her socked feet. In a hurry, I laid my hands on her shoulders, keeping her steady.
This wasn't at all how I’d expected it to go as her cries escalated to wails, and I pulled her against my chest. She balled her fists and leaned into me, her tears muffled against my coat. I held my arms around her, leaning my chin against the top of her head as I tried to control her trembling while finding it impossible to steady my own.
Her arms slid around my waist as her cries ebbed with the tide in my heart. She rested her cheek against my chest and took a deep, cleansing breath.
I looked over her head into the house. Their bags—still packed—were beside a flight of stairs. The sounds of the TV drifted outside. The combined scents of a cinnamon-infused candle and food—pizza maybe—wafted toward my nose, and mystomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten in hours. Small shoes were lying in a pile next to the door, toys were scattered around the floor, and the couch was draped with a rumpled blanket, looking used and worn and every bit as welcoming.
The entire image before me beckoned, whispering tantalizing promises I longed to cling to. This was a home, full of love and life, and I craved to call it and the people inside mine more than I had ever craved anything before. She just needed to tell me she wanted this as much as I did, and I would live the rest of my life serving her and her boys with the same strength I'd used to serve my country. I would work for them, fight for them, protect them, do anything they needed me to do for them …
She just needed to invite me in.
Her weight leaned against me, her breaths steady and sure. I remembered that night twenty years in the distant past, when all I had wished for were things to be different. For her to be single. For me to be free to stay.
“If things were different,” I heard her say, the look of desperate longing alight in her eyes.
“If they were,” I had replied, and I'd thought about that all this time later.If they were, if they were, if they were …
Look at all that wouldn't have happened.
