Bonds Of The Heart (12 page)

              Erika listened as Robbie talked about the different games and game systems he had. She learned Robbie was in fifth grade and hated math. It was something they had in common. She told him how she had barely passed math but aced every English lit class in creation. But she told him that if he passed his math classes and did well in school she’d introduce him to her friend. That was the icing on the cake to Robbie. She didn’t know what possessed her to make the promise, but she was determined to keep it.

              Blake didn’t speak much during dinner. He just watched Robbie and Erika. He was more than confused now—not just about the woman who was sitting, eating dinner with them, not just with the feelings he had for her but for the need he felt inside himself to open up to her. It wasn’t uncomfortable sitting at the table with Erika and Robbie; it actually felt easier than it had been in a long time. It felt…normal. Blake found himself not entirely uncomfortable with his feelings anymore as to why this woman was starting to mean something to him so fast. And it kinda scared the hell out of him.

Thirteen

***

By the time Blake helped a reluctant Robbie to bed, there were groans and pleas for just ‘one more game.’
But it was past Robbie’s bed time.

              “Erika’s really cool.” Robbie smiled. “She knows so much about the game. I’ve never met a girl who likes video games before.”

              “Some girls do,” Blake said.

              “I hope I meet a girl like Erika. That would be awesome. We could play games all the time.”

              Blake just nodded, with a smile, as he listened to Robbie talk about Erika. She was downstairs waiting for him. He didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. Once Robbie was in bed Blake knew he’d have to face her. And at some point he’d have to explain to Erika about his outburst earlier, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready.

              “Time for bed, big man.”

              “Okay. Was my mom like Erika?”

              The question surprised Blake. He had talked with Robbie about his mother. It was important to Jared that Robbie knew who his mother was, what she was like, but he'd never realized it until now. Erika was a lot like Robbie’s mother. Stubbornness and feisty. He’d explain all that to Robbie when he was older. For now he simply said, “You’re mother never could figure out a video game, but she loved to try anyway. So yeah, I’d say she was like Erika in that way.

              “Cool.” Robbie smiled through a yawn. “You think Erika could come over again and play?”

              “I think I can ask her.”

              “Thanks, Blake. I really like her.”

             
I do too
, he thought. “Night Robbie.”

              “Night, Uncle Blake.”

              Blake shut off the light and left the door open just a bit to let in the light from the hallway. There were times Robbie still had nightmares about his dad and the light had helped Robbie most of the time.

              Heading back to the living room, Blake found Erika picking up after Robbie, tidying up the video game system and its games. He leaned against the doorway and just watched her for a moment. The dress swaying as she moved around the TV. When she bent down, he had to stop himself from running over to her and taking her right there on the living room floor.

              “You don’t have to do that.”

              “Oh! You scared me.” Erika jumped and placed a hand over her heart as she turned to Blake. “My mom and dad always taught me if I play with something I have to clean up after myself.”

              “It’s usually me cleaning up after Robbie. But thanks.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Why was he nervous?

              “You’re welcome. I like your son.”

              “My…what? No,” he forced a laugh. He realized Robbie never called him by his name all night. “Robbie’s not my son.”

              “Brother?”

              He shook his head and didn’t laugh this time. “No. Robbie is my… my nephew.”

              “Oh.” Erika twisted her hands in front of her. “Look, Blake—”

              “Wait.” He walked over to her. Taking her hand in his, he brought her to the couch and sat. “I want to apologize for earlier. For my—”

              “You don’t have to apologize.”

              He blinked, unsure what to say. Everyone else had wanted him to open up and she was… what was she doing? Giving him space? Time to open up? He had wanted to tell her but he knew now wasn’t the right time. Robbie was upstairs. His mother would be back soon to check in before going back to her house. He’d have to wait to tell her. “Yeah I do. So…I’m sorry.” He shrugged with a little agitation and removed his hand from hers.

              Erika sighed and waited for Blake to say more. She could see he wanted to. But the look in his eyes turned back to anger and hurt and pain.

              “I don’t know what happened. I’m not going to ask because you’re not ready to talk. I understand that.” She stood and walked to the front door. “When you’re ready to talk, you will. But the reason I came over here tonight was to tell you that when you
are
ready to talk, to me, to anyone, I’ll be there to listen. For you.” She opened the door and walked out. And just like that, she was gone.

              Blake didn’t go after her. He saw the door shut after she spoke her peace. He heard the car start and pull out of his driveway. He sat on the couch and stared at the room.

              She would listen, he thought. Erika would listen when he was ready to talk. But wouldn’t most people? There had been others around Emberton that had told him so, when he was ready. People who had stopped by those first few weeks with trays of food, sympathy, and condolences. People who had stopped by the shop to wish him well and tell him if he needed anything to just call. When he was ready. He hadn’t taken anyone up on their offers.

              He had quit his job in D.C. and moved back as quickly as he could to take care of Robbie and the shop. He'd moved into Jared’s house so Robbie wouldn’t have so much change to deal with at once. His parents lived just down the street, near enough in case they had to watch Robbie when he was missing his brother too much or had to work late hours.

              Blake rubbed his eyes and stood from the couch to finish cleaning up the living room. When it was clean, he retired to his room—Jared’s room.

              For about a month and a half, Blake had slept on the couch with his back screaming at him. But he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the same room as his dead older brother. It was too hard. The memories were too much to handle and the pain too fresh. Now, he sat on the bed in the middle of the room and looked around.

              Pictures of Jared and Robbie were scattered about the room. Pictures of himself and Jared at their first major league baseball game‒‒the Orioles beat the Yankees 10-4. The foul ball Jared had caught was still displayed downstairs on the mantle of the fireplace. Some of Jared’s clothes were still on the floor and in the closet. At some point he’d have to box those away. Reaching over to the nightstand, he picked up the set of photographs his brother had sent him the month before everything happened.

              Blake flipped through them—as he did most nights—and lay back on the bed. Jared with some of the guys form his unit playing football. Another picture of the same soldiers at Christmas, Jared with the fake Santa beard and hat handing out gifts. A formal shot taken of the entire unit, guns held at the ready.

              The final picture was of Jared with the commander of his unit.

              Blake stared at the close up shot of the two men. Both men, one almost a younger version of the other, smiled into the camera. The older man had salt-and-pepper hair. His skin was aged by the sun and there were wrinkles at his blue eyes, clearly from years of happy times in his life. His brother, also tanned from the desert sun, smiled just as big. His fatigues hung off broad shoulders gained from all the training at boot camp. His last name proudly displayed on his jacket,
Hamilton
.  The older man went by the name of…
Gibbons
.

              Blake shot up in the bed. Erika’s father stared back at him. Erika’s father was his brother’s commander. How many times had he looked at the picture over the past God-knew-how-many hours and weeks? How many nights had he stared at his brothers face next to the man in the picture? Why tonight had he decided to look upon the name of the second face in the picture?

              Blake took a deep breath and wondered if Erika had the same picture. Then he wondered if she already knew and didn’t tell him. He stood from the bed and paced. How could she not tell him? If she knew, wouldn’t she say something? Maybe she didn’t know. And if she didn’t, that meant he’d be holding this piece of her life,
from her. He had to tell her. He’d have to show her the picture. But he wasn’t ready yet for the questions she’d ask or for the support he didn’t know he needed.

***

On the walk to Blackie’s, Erika thought about the night before. Just where was Blake’s brother? And why was Blake taking care of his nephew? Why after three months had she not known anything about what was going on in the small town?
Why?
she laughed to herself, because she avoided the small town gossip mill like she avoided the coffeemaker at work that no one cleaned. She had always hated the way people talked and assumed. She believed in the truth.
The truth is more important than facts
; her father would say.  He believed in others and if they told the truth, he believed them. It was one of the many things she had admired about her father.

              She had a lot of questions that only Blake could answer. She would give him time and her support. But just how much time could she give? She’d be leaving in just over two weeks to head back to California. She would leave him her cell phone number if he wanted to call her. Although somewhere inside she didn’t believe he would. Why would he? They weren’t that close. They had shared some intimate moments that weren’t really that intimate in the end.

              Did she want to be intimate with Blake? The man who had annoyed her, was rude to her, and who, she admitted, she wasn’t even interested in at first.
At first…
And now?

             
She touched her fingers to her lips and remembered the feel of Blake’s mouth on hers, then shook off the feelings. She couldn’t get involved with a man knowing she’d be leaving soon. She’d enjoy the time she had left, be there for Blake if and when he was ready to talk, and leave at the end of the month. She would say goodbye one more time to her father, at his grave, and to her mother, and get to work on cementing her roots in California. So why did the thought of doing all that leave her feeling empty and miserable?

              “Jeep’s all ready.”

              Blake’s voice broke through a new stream of thought. Erika tried to catch the breath as it left her mouth in a gasp. The hot day had him working with his shirt off and the sun reflected beads of sweat across his chest, down his defined abs. There was a small smudge of grease on one side of his torso, a few more on his ripped jeans. A rag hung from his back pocket. The jeans were snug at his hips and loose around his boots. They clung close to the muscles in his thighs with just enough room for imagination. She swallowed hard. What was she thinking about before he spoke to her?

              “Okay,” was the only word she could manage.

              Blake watched Erika study him. And he studied her in return. She wore those barely-there shorts again that caused an ache inside him. Her fair skin showed hints of gold color from the summer sun. He itched to touch it. She had her hair pulled up again and he wanted to pull the tie from it and let it fall. Then reality smacked him upside the head. The picture. The one he'd stared for hours at the night before. Guilt overtook his need.

              “Ben will ring you up and get ya going.” Blake turned and headed back into the shop.

              Odd, she thought. His eyes read one emotion and his words and body language read another. She had seen the same emotion in his eyes when he looked at her as she felt inside herself when looking at him. She paid the bill for her car, talked with Ben for a bit, and headed to her Jeep. She pulled open the driver's side door and stopped. A thought struck her. She turned and headed back to the shop, into the garage bay where Blake was bent over another car.

              “The fair starts tomorrow,” she said.

              “Uh huh.” He didn't look up.

              “I’d like to take Robbie. If that’s okay with you.” Blake popped up barely missing his head on the hood of the car.

              Blake leaned up against the Chevy and stared at her. He had already planned on taking Robbie, as it was a tradition he had shared with his father. Blake wasn’t looking forward to being surrounded by people in town but he knew it would mean the world to Robbie.

              Before he could stop the words—again—they were out of his mouth. “You can come with us.” He turned back to scowl at the engine for no reason other than it was right there in front of him.