Sweet Tomorrows (20 page)

“I miss you, too.” And I did. My entire life had been uprooted in the last two weeks. Not that I would change a second of it, well, other than not knowing Mark was in the country until he was at death's door. Even now I found that unforgivable.

“I talked to Emily,” Greg told me.

“Oh?”

“You weren't answering my calls and I needed to know how you were doing.”

“Sorry, it's just that—”

“You don't need to explain,” he said, cutting me off. “Emily said you leave first thing in the morning for the hospital and you don't arrive back at the inn until late. The first few days she said you were at the hospital nearly around the clock. I don't want to be a pest.”

“You aren't.”

“When do you think I can see you again?”

I pressed my hand against my forehead, mussing my hair. “I…I don't know. For now Mark has to be my priority. I can't promise you anything more. I'm sorry, but—”

Greg cut me off. “Jo Marie, please, don't worry, I understand. I'll take whatever time you can give me.”

Closing my eyes, I pressed my head against the steering wheel. “Greg, I'm sorry. I don't want to mislead you or hurt you. I don't know what's going to happen between Mark and me. I love him and I know he loves me, but it's been a year and a lot has happened. We're different people now…”

“I hear you,” he whispered.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he said, stronger this time.

“Maybe it would be best if we both moved on…” It wasn't what I wanted, but I didn't want to risk breaking his heart.

“No.” Greg's response was immediate. “You need time. You got it. I'll give you whatever time you want. I know we haven't been seeing each other long and that you have a history with Mark. I accept that, but I'm willing to take a chance, willing to wait.”

Tears crowded the corners of my eyes. “You sure that's what you want?” I asked.

“Positive. You're worth it. If things work out with Mark, I'll accept that and move on, and if they don't you need to know I'll be right here waiting for you.”

I really did feel like weeping then. I bit into my lower lip. “Thank you,” I whispered.

I obsessed over Nick kissing me, and really, who could blame me. He'd basically told me there was no future for the two of us. It hurt, and I'm downplaying how badly his words cut through my heart. At the same time I was grateful for his honesty. Jayson had said my infertility didn't matter and that we'd adopt. He loved me. Me. Not my ability to reproduce. However, when his mother learned that not only didn't I share their same religious beliefs but I wouldn't be giving her grandchildren, it was too much. Under pressure from his family, Jayson caved. Because in the end, I realized, my lack of a uterus did matter. I'd been devastated, crushed to the very core of my being. Again, I'm downplaying my grief at that first broken engagement. Grief perfectly described the way I felt. To me the broken engagement was a death. I mourned for all that I'd lost when Jayson called off the wedding. For a short while I didn't know if I'd survive. I was convinced no man would want me…and then I met James.

When James and I called it quits it'd been my idea. I knew he was in love with his high school sweetheart. When I handed him back the engagement ring, he hadn't put up a lot of resistance. Later I was left to wonder, if I'd been able to give him children, would he have tried harder to talk me out of my decision? No matter now, the deed was done, and being the kind of man he was, James insisted I keep the ring.

Nick, at least, saved me the agony of another broken heart. He knew himself well enough to admit he wanted children at some point in the future: a family he wouldn't be able to have with me.

On the heels of that announcement, he'd then asked the impossible of me. He wanted us to be friends. He claimed spending time with me somehow helped him deal with the horror of what had happened with his brother. I didn't understand it, couldn't define it—and for that matter, neither could he.

Unfortunately, I'd been swayed and then everything had gone, as my grandmother would say, “to hell in a handbasket” when he kissed me. The thing is I didn't know that friendship between us was possible. The physical attraction had been there from the beginning, and it sizzled.

I'd made every attempt to downplay it in my mind, and apparently so had Nick. That turned out to be a colossal failure. All the proof we needed were the most recent kisses we'd shared.

Nick must have realized how impossible friendship was since I hadn't heard from him all weekend. Maintaining a respectable distance was what I knew had to happen, but it left me depressed and miserable. I wandered around the inn, restless and bored, at loose ends with myself ever since. I stopped counting the number of times my thoughts drifted to Nick. Without provocation he bounced into my thoughts like a pesky mosquito. No matter how many times I swatted him away, he returned to torment me.

Because of the situation with Mark, Jo Marie was in and out of the inn, staying only long enough to snatch a few hours' sleep, shower, and change clothes. I didn't know how long she would be able to maintain this killing pace. Thankfully, I was available to help her and at the same time grateful to be busy with the inn's tasks.

Luckily I'd been able to get out of my lease agreement with the apartment complex. It seemed Mark had done work at the apartment building and the owner was grateful and therefore willing to do what he could to help in Mark's recovery. That included releasing me from a signed lease. Truth be known, I was more than happy to remain at the inn. It felt like home and I was content living here.

On Monday morning I'd cleaned the rooms and was loading sheets into the washer when the doorbell chimed. Rover let out a loud bark and I dumped what was left of the bedding onto the floor and went to answer the door. I wasn't expecting guests this early and sincerely hoped I'd have more of a chance to set the inn in order before having to deal with the next set of visitors.

When I opened the door, Nick stood on the other side.

For one long moment all we did was stare at each other. Just seeing him made me feel light-headed.

“Hey,” he said and gave me a chin nod.

All I could do was stare back at him and try to convince myself that I would remain strong.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

My throat thickened. I resisted asking him what possible good would come of that. “Why?” I asked instead.

He held up several strips of paint samples. “I wanted to get your opinion on the colors for the kitchen. You were the one who suggested brown. I thought you were kidding, but you've got a good eye and I'd appreciate your advice.”

I remained frozen, unable to move. The paint choice was a weak excuse. Even knowing that, I stepped aside to let him inside.

Nick followed me into the kitchen and I automatically poured us both a cup of coffee. My hand shook and I was surprised that I managed to fill both mugs without spilling it. After I handed Nick the coffee, I turned and leaned my back against the counter, striving for a relaxed pose. And failed. I'd never been one who could ignore the elephant in the room, and I wasn't about to start now.

“We both know this visit isn't about paint, so say what you want to say and be done with it,” I urged.

He looked relieved, as though grateful I'd confronted him with the truth.

Before he could say anything, I felt I needed to reiterate the truth one more time. “I can't be your friend, Nick. We both agreed there would be nothing physical between us, and then you kissed me. I'm not without feelings and I refuse to let you use me.”

He blinked at the abruptness of my claim as if I'd sucker-punched him. “I'm sorry, Em, so sorry.” His shoulders sagged with the weight of his regret. “I know I'm asking the impossible, but I need you. I don't know why being around you helps me, but it does. I told myself a thousand times how unfair I was being to you. I had no right to come see you again, no right whatsoever. If you want to kick me out of here, I wouldn't blame you. All I ask is that you hear me out.”

“You're asking too much of me.”

He set the untouched coffee aside and splayed his fingers through his hair. “I know. I had an awful weekend. I holed up in the house and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Everything closes in around me and I'm paralyzed, completely paralyzed. I'm not sure how much you know about…”

“Enough.”

He raised his gaze to meet mine as though my answer surprised him again. I'd gone online and done a bit of reading on the subject. Although I wasn't completely sure of the details of the car accident that had killed Nick's brother, I realized Nick blamed himself.

“Basically, you suffered a traumatic event and the brain won't allow you to move past it so that you relive that moment again and again each time with the same terror and shock.”

“Yes.” Nick's voice was little more than a husky whisper. “It's like sinking into a black hole and I can't pull myself out of it. Each and every time I relive that night, those last few minutes we were together keep going through my head. I'm drunk and singing and Brad was driving because I was too smashed to get behind the wheel. He was telling me it's time I grew up. I laughed at him. I actually laughed and called him a Jesus freak. Brad shook his head and wanted to know when I was going to settle down and be the man he knew me to be.

“I took offense at the question. I was older and more of a man than he'd ever be. I worked hard, played harder, and liked my life exactly the way it was.”

Nick seemed lost in the memory, lost in the pain.

“Brad was the responsible kid, the one who made my parents proud. I was the exact opposite. I got kicked off the football team for a bad attitude, while Brad was the star basketball player. I barely graduated from high school; Brad was valedictorian of his class.”

The guilt was eating him up.

“I had called him, woke him from a sound sleep in the wee hours of the morning, demanding he come get me. And being the kind of brother he was, Brad came to pick me up from the bar where I'd been partying with my buddies. My friends were in just as bad a shape as me and they needed to call for rides home themselves. I didn't want to listen to his lecture and told him so and that's when it happened. A car plowed into us…The irony of the situation is almost more than I can take.”

Nick needed to sit down. He went pale and his entire body had started to shake. Taking hold of his arm, I led him to the table and sat him down, then scooted a chair so that I was facing him so close our knees touched. He reached out and took hold of both my hands, his grip so tight that I nearly cried out. He lessened the pressure and looked beyond me, recounting the details of that night.

“The man who hit us was driving drunk,” Nick said, his voice a husky whisper. “He was driving the wrong way on the freeway. Brad swerved in order to miss him, swerved so that the impact was on his side instead of my own.”

Nick's knees started to bounce then and his entire body trembled. Not knowing how best to help, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his torso. Nick grabbed me as if I were a life preserver in a storm-tossed sea, his breathing erratic and uneven.

“He died, Em, he died in my arms. I can't forget the look in his eyes. That's all I see, it haunts me, knowing I should have been the one who died. My brother was a good man; he had such a big heart. He worked with kids in the foster-care program and he loved them. He took the worst cases, the teens who struck out at the unfairness of life, and he loved them. He made a difference in their lives.”

I could tell Nick was struggling to breathe and that another panic attack was coming on. I strengthened my hold and whispered reassurances to him, and because I didn't know what else to do, I started to sing one of my favorite hymns: “Amazing Grace.” I have a decent voice, but I'm no singer. Still, my poor attempt appeared to calm him. Gradually his panting eased and the frantic rate of his pulse calmed to a steadier pace.

He broke away and looked at me, his eyes bright and pleading. “I need you, Em, you're the only one who has ever been able to help me. With God as my witness, I promise not to do anything more to hurt you. We'll deal with this infertility issue. I don't care. I can't let you go.”

I brushed the hair from his forehead and he rested his face on my shoulder. Knowing how fiercely proud he was, I accepted how difficult it must have been for him to come to me.

“Don't leave me, Em.”

I kissed his temple and acknowledged that I was putting my own heart at risk. Despite that, I reassured Nick I wouldn't leave him. I couldn't find it in me to refuse. Being needed was a basic human condition. “I'm here, Nick,” I assured him.

“Thank you.”

After he calmed down we drank our coffee and sorted through the paint samples he brought and made a selection for the kitchen walls. By the time Nick left, he was himself again.

Standing at the front door, I watched him walk away and realized he took my heart with him.

It was still light out when Jo Marie walked into the inn that evening. Rover scooted to her side, tail wagging, glad to have her home once again. She leaned down to give him attention and then glanced toward me.

“Everything okay here?” she asked.

“Everything's good,” I assured her without really looking at her. “No worries on the home front.” This was early for her. She usually didn't arrive until after ten or later. “How are things progressing with Mark?” I felt they must be going well for her to be back already.

She smiled and I could see the little lines between her eyes had relaxed. “Mark was moved out of intensive care this afternoon.”

This was great news. “That's wonderful.” Not so long ago the medical staff hadn't given Mark much of a chance of survival.

Jo Marie walked into the kitchen and noticed I'd set aside a dinner plate for her. I'd done it every night since she'd learned Mark was stateside. Most evenings the plate remained untouched. I'd made a special effort this evening, hoping that would tempt her to eat.