Waiting for You (8 page)

Adam worked alone, not just because Grandpa Joe was too old to get up on the ladder and balance on the roof, but also because he preferred it that way. Other people tended to get in his way. Working alone allowed him to focus and do the job right the first time.

He couldn’t completely avoid Audrey though. He sometimes saw her jump into her car or take an expedition around the side of the house, always with her camera swung over her shoulder. Once a day, she would come outside and leave a tray of freshly squeezed lemonade for him with not much more than a nod of her head in greeting.

He descended the ladder and watched now as she walked out the house, Grandpa Joe in tow. She had on one of those flowy dresses she favored and her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders. Audrey looked like she was going on a date. Adam was surprised that the thought didn’t sit well with him. Fuck it. He had nothing with Audrey Kelly.

She kissed her grandpa Joe then slid into her car and drove off.

Adam washed his hands and face in the outside trough, savoring the feel of the cool water on his heated skin. His head throbbed painfully and he just hoped to God that he was not getting one of those migraines. He didn’t get them often but on the occasions that he did, it left him completely debilitated. It was one of the souvenirs he got from his service to old Uncle Sam. One too many kicks to the head and far too many explosions he’d narrowly missed. Fun times in the Navy.

He packed his tools in the truck and went to say goodbye to Joe.

“You almost done, Son?” he asked, gazing up at the work Adam had nearly completed.

“Yes sir, just another day or so and you will have a completely repaired roof.” He absently rubbed his temples and rolled his neck, cracking out the kinks.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine, hazards of the job. Nothing a good swim won’t fix.”

Adam left the Kelly property and the minute he got home, he stripped down and changed into a pair of board shorts. The sun was setting and the air was cooling and Adam walked barefoot across the warm sand and took a dive into a large wave.

The cool water washed over him as he swam deeper in, hoping for the efforts to cool his sore muscles and pull the rushing blood from his head to relieve the headache.

An hour later and the pain was worse than before he started. His head felt like a ton of bricks weighed on it and the pain behind his eye sockets were sharp and intense. He opened his kitchen cabinets and rifled through to get a bottle of aspirin. He popped three and waited for it to take effect. Hours passed but it just got worse. When the nausea hit, he knew he was in for it.

*****

Audrey entered her Grandpa’s house with a spring in her step and a chuckle as she recalled the night’s events. It was another book club night and the ladies opted to play a game of twister. Innocent enough but adult women playing twister was a big laugh, especially the older you got and the more aches and pains you complained about. With every complaint, you had to have a shot of beer and every cramp warranted a shot of Vodka. After the last drinking incident, Audrey had suffered in silence, not wanting to even smell the spirits.

“Hi Grandpa,” she called out. “I’m home.”

“Hi
Filho,”
he kissed her cheek. “Seems like you had a good time.”

She smiled. “I did.”

“Glad to see it, Audrey. You looked like you needed some fun.’

She frowned, not sure what to make of his statement. She was about to ask when he interrupted.

“I need a favor,
Amado.”
He walked into the kitchen and retrieved a bowl of chicken soup.

“Sure Grandpa, what do you need?”

“Can you please take this to Adam?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. She didn’t want to see Adam, especially in his own house. And she especially didn’t want to see him if he was in the throes of passion with some other woman, particularly the Pink Stink he was with at her Grandpa’s birthday party.

How did she refuse without explaining to Grandpa Joe why Adam was her nemesis?

“He was a bit pale earlier,” the older man explained. “He’s worked so hard to fix the roof; it’s the least I can do to make sure he’s ok.”

Against her will, Audrey took the container of soup and got back into her car, planning to get this over with as soon as possible.

She cranked up the music to Carrie Underwood’s Good Girl, definitely in need of a motivation song to get her through this short visit. She sang, albeit mostly off key, emphasizing the words. Definitely the song she needed. Audrey smiled to herself as she parked beside Adam’s black truck in the driveway.

She knocked on his front door and waited. No answer.

She knocked again and got the same response.

“Adam, I know you’re here,” she called out.

Audrey waited a few minutes and still no response. She listened and didn’t hear any fornication sounds, either. Why that gave her a sense of relief, she had no idea.

The house was dark and she started to get worried so she walked around the back, her senses on high alert. The back door was unlocked and she let herself in. The house was large and modern and probably every male’s wet dream. The kitchen had dark wood surfaces with steel finishes, all illuminated with soft lights, the only illumination in the entire house.

Her pulse kicked up as fear and trepidation started to creep in. Where was Adam? She grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter as she softly walked through the house, her eyes adjusting to the dark shadows. Audrey opened a few doors only to reveal empty rooms.

She walked up the hallway and opened a door which slowly revealed a large guest bathroom. And there, in a heap on the floor lay Adam, pale and with blood dripping down the one side of his face.

“Oh my God!” Audrey flipped on the hallway light, dropped the carving knife and rushed to kneel beside Adam. He was still breathing but his face was scrunched up and he wasn’t in good shape. Audrey panicked and her brain froze.
What do I do?

She took a calming breath and inspected the gash on his temple, it wasn’t too deep but the blood was slowly oozing and caking around the wound. She grabbed the hand towel off the rack and doused it in cold water before cradling his head in her lap and placing the cool towel over the laceration and his forehead. He stirred and squinted up at her.

“Audrey,” he croaked.

“Yes, it’s me. What happened?”

He screwed his eyes shut and Audrey could feel his body limp beneath her.

“Migraine,” he whispered, his eyes still shut.

Audrey understood all too well. She’d gotten some bad headaches during her marriage, never quite migraine level but if she had to sleep through some headaches then she could understand Adam’s level of pain, especially for a man of his size and strength to be lying in a puddle on the bathroom floor.

She whispered in his ear, “I’m going to sit you up now, ok? You lean your back against me.”

He pushed his weight forward and slumped against her chest, her forearm cradling his bare chest and her other hand holding the cold compress against his forehead. The sensation of his solid body pressed against hers was inconceivable to Audrey but she had to give her hormones a stern talking to and focus on the patient she had before her.

His head rested on her shoulder, but not before she noticed his skin pale and mottled despite the tan she could see he’d developed over the two weeks he had been up on their roof.

“How did you cut your forehead?” she asked, wiping at the gash.

“Dizzy, I think I hit the sink.”

Audrey eyed the sink and just as well, there was some blood along the edge. His skull hitting ceramic, not a good combination. Shit.

“Adam, I need you to stand up ok? Stand up and stay awake. You may have a concussion.”

He protested but slowly found his way upright. He swayed and managed to lock his knees. She led him to sit on the edge of the large tub, leaning his head against the tiled wall. The coolness would do him some good.

“Did you take any medication?”

“Aspirin,” he answered.

He didn’t sound good and Audrey hoped like hell that he didn’t overdose trying to take the pain away.

“How many?”

He took a few moments and Audrey felt a few years cut off her lifespan.

“Three,” he finally answered.

She flicked off the light, knowing how it would be jarring to his nerves. Luckily the moonlight streamed through the window and she could make out what she was doing. She found a bucket and filled it with warm water before reaching for him and guiding his feet into the water. “Adam, give me your hands, I’m going to get the blood to rush away from your head ok?”

He opened his bloodshot eyes and squinted at her dubiously.

“Trust me?” she asked, her hand outstretched.

He nodded and winced before weakly offering her his hands. He leaned forward and had both his hands and feet submerged.

“I’m going to be right back, ok?” she whispered. “Don’t fall asleep.”

She rushed to the kitchen and rummaged through his cupboards before she found some peppermint oil and a first aid kit. She grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer and rushed back to him.

“This is going to be cold,” she said before placing the bag of peas on his neck. He didn’t so much as flinch.

“Adam?” she started to panic again.

“Still here.”

She gave him a few minutes for the blood to redirect then helped him out the bucket and dried off his extremities.

“Which way to your bedroom?”

“You have the worst timing. I don’t think I can perform right now, Sweetheart.”

Despite herself, she smiled at him as he showed her the way. “Trust a man to think about sex at a time like this.”

He didn’t say anything as he sat at the edge of the bed, his head hung between his knees.

She took the first aid kit and quickly but gently tilted his head up to clean his wound before dressing it with a Band-Aid. Satisfied that he wouldn’t bleed out, she grabbed the peppermint oil and rubbed it in her hands before massaging it into Adam’s scalp. Peppermint was the best healer, well for her anyways. She used her fingers to get the oil well and seeped into his head, trying but failing to ignore the feel of his thick hair soft beneath her fingers. He laid his forehead against her chest as she massaged, as though the effort to hold up his head was too much.

His moan, a fraction above a whisper, travelled all the way down her spine to the tips of her toes. She chided herself for allowing even a modicum of arousal at the expense of someone else’s pain-even if that someone was Adam Parker.

When she was satisfied with the massage, she laid him back and covered him with the duvet on the bed.

He squinted up at her, something indiscernible reflected in his gaze. “What are you doing here anyway?”

She touched his face, stroking his temple as he closed his eyes, almost turning into her touch. “Grandpa sent some chicken soup, thought you were coming down with something.”

“Thank God for Grandpa Joe. And for you, too.”

He closed his eyes and his breathing deepened as he fell into slumber. She stayed with him a little while, just to make sure he was ok before slipping out early that morning.

Chapter 8

A
dam awoke the next morning feeling like a shadow of a human again. Well, a version of one anyway. He also smelled like he’d bathed in peppermint. And then he remembered the night before. He touched his temple and as he thought it would be, her band aid sat across his temple, covering the open skin he had managed when he hit the sink.

Audrey.

She had come in the night before like a complete God-send. His migraines usually lasted a full two days but with Audrey’s skilled hands, he only had to suffer through a few hours. He recalled her slim fingers massaging his head and the feel of her bosom against his face as he laid his forehead against her. All of which he could not actually enjoy at the time because he thought he was having someone split concrete in his brain.

Thinking back now, he actually thought she may have left him to suffer in his condition. It would have better fit the version of Audrey that had come back to Crystal Valley. Instead, he was left to think about her tender touches and softly whispered words of concern.

He threw off his covers and sauntered down the hall to his kitchen. He pulled open his fridge and reached for the orange juice and a pulled a glass from the cabinet. Caffeine would not do his senses any good after a migraine. As he downed his glass, he noticed a note on the counter.

Parker, hope you’re feeling better. Keep hydrated and stay off the floor – Audrey

Adam smiled at the note.

Audrey was multi-faceted and he was learning more about this woman each day and yet he still didn’t know what to do with her.

Later that day he stood before Grandpa Joe’s house. It was the last day to finish up the work on the roofing and he wanted to thank Audrey for the night before.

He knocked on the red front door and waited.

A minute later Audrey opened it and stood there, staring up at him, taking in his Band-Aid to the temple.

“Hey,” she greeted. “How’s the old cranium doing?”

He unconsciously touched the Band-Aid at his temple. “I think I’ll live. I apparently have a great nurse.” He grinned at her as she let him into the house. “I came to thank you, Miss Nightingale.”

“Oh? I thought you’re here to fix the roof?” she chuckled and he once again saw a different side to her.

“Uh huh, that too. Seriously, thank you. You didn’t have to do what you did but because you did, you saved me from waking up on the cold floor a pile of mush.”

“Don’t mention it. Migraines are bad and I’m sure the pain you were in was punishment enough.” She remained pensive for a moment before asking, “Do you get them often?”

“Not too much. Probably brought on by the heat yesterday, it’s been building for a few days I guess. How did you know what to do for it?”

“Google,” she smiled guiltily. “I have a low pain threshold. I Googled migraine relief and the tricks have always worked.”

“Well thank God for you and Google. I’d like to make it up to you.”

He took a step toward her and her expression changed. For an instant he saw a flash of fear which was quickly replaced with confusion. “You don’t need to do that, Adam. You helping my Grandpa here is payment enough.”

He wanted to argue but the expression on her face was a warning sign to back off. She was closing off again.

“Ok then, you let me know if you change your mind then.”

She nodded and he took a step back, towards the front door. “I’m going to get going on the roof.”

He closed the door behind him. Another facet to Miss Kelly.

****

Later that week Audrey got a call from someone she was not expecting to hear from anytime soon. Her lawyer.

“Hello Audrey,” Laila greeted. Her tone was less than cheery which caused the fine hair on her neck to stand on end.

“What’s wrong?” Audrey cut to the chase. If this was bad news about Michael then she wanted it done with, ripped off like a bandage.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” she began. “I need you to come to New York.”

“Why?” Audrey gripped the arm of the sofa in the living room.

“Michael’s lawyers need some documents signed and they want you to sort out your personal belongings, have it moved out the house before it goes on foreclosure.”

“I don’t want anything from New York. Tell them to take all my personal belongings and donate it to charity or burn it.”

“I know this isn’t what you planned for, but there really is some paperwork that needs to be signed off in person. They won’t make the trip to you and they won’t courier it, either.”

Audrey clenched her jaw, the tension seeping into every muscle. She thought her past was behind her. She thought she would never again have to step into that house of horrors.

She spoke to Laila for a few more minutes, promising to call and confirm her flight details as soon as she made them so that Laila could coordinate the meeting with Michael’s lawyers. She ended the call and sat on the sofa, staring at the mobile device like it had poisoned her.

“Audrey,” Grandpa Joe peered down at her from the hallway, the guise of concern in his rheumy eyes evident. “What’s wrong?”

Audrey’s throat tightened but tampered down the urge to cry.

She waved a hand dismissively, “It’s nothing Grandpa, just some business I need to attend to in New York.”

He came down the hall and sat beside her and she resisted the urge to curl up in his lap and sob. His hand on her shoulder only made the need stronger.

“Let’s try that again,
Filho,
the truth this time.”

She started to convince him otherwise when he interrupted her, “I may be an old man child but I see your pain. You have been gone a long time but I see the happiness dulled in you. You have been here more than a month now and I noticed that your husband does not call. I see how antsy you are, so reluctant to let anyone new in. I know you are proud, Audrey, but I am your family, I will never judge you, so whatever it is, share it with me.”

Audrey was conflicted despite her Grandpa being right and she didn’t want to lie to him. “I got divorced Grandpa.”

He placed a hand over hers and smiled gently. No disappointment or judgment in his eyes.

“Did he hurt you?”

Audrey blanked out her expression; she didn’t want to share that burden with Grandpa Joe. He didn’t need to know the details.

She stared into his eyes and saw the understanding and also saw the anger, not aimed at her but the anger for the man who had dare lay a hand on his grandchild.

“Are you happy here?”

She squeezed his hand. “I am now, Grandpa.”

“You stay here as long as you need to, Audrey. This is your home; it’s where your Grandma would have wanted you to be.”

“I feel like I let her down. I left here in such a hurry to be someone and to make a name for myself and all I brought back was disgrace.”

“Divorce is not a disgrace. Suffering in an unhappy marriage is a bigger disappointment than breaking free to fight for your own happiness, Audrey. It never mattered to us whether you were rich or a lawyer or a waitress. It never mattered if you married into wealth. It only mattered that you were happy. We can’t change the past, we can only learn from it. Your grandma was so proud of you, not because of the things you had or the places you travelled to but because of who
you
were. Let go of the pain now,
Filho
.”

“Thank you, Grandpa,” she embraced him, lingering as she lay her head on his chest.

Even with the pending trip to New York, her burden began to ease.

*****

A few days later Audrey arrived in New York, staring up at her former home. Her stomach was in knots and the old apprehension tightened her gut. He’s not going to be here, she chided herself. She paid the cab driver and walked up the long driveway, her boots crunching the gravel and the large house looming ominously before her.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. The property appeared empty and glancing at her watch she realized she was a good half hour early. Bracing herself she climbed the stairs to reach the large, ornate door.

Audrey bent down and tilted the flower pot and as expected, the spare key was still hidden beneath it. She unlocked the door with trembling hands as it creaked open loudly. Stepping into the spacious foyer she reviewed the white and black furnishings, the dual spiral stair cases leading to the upstairs bedrooms and personal spaces, the hallway beyond leading out to the patio and guest lounge. She walked toward the stairwell, her feet weighted like her shoes were full of concrete. A movement at the corner of her eye had her nearly jumping out of her skin, only to realize it was her own reflection in the large, steel carved mirror. Nothing about the entry way was welcoming and friendly. How had she ever decorated this house, thinking it was a home?

Her gaze fell to the bottom of the staircase, at the exact spot where her limp, bloodied and bruised body had lay when Michael had thrown her down the stairs.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and she was certain she was going to have a coronary from the stress. She ascended the staircase and landed at the top foyer, all the photos of her and Michael staring back at her. A fake life. That’s how she viewed it now. Her wedding portrait sat in the center of all the other famed photos and Audrey had the urge to take a hammer to the entire wall. Even better, she wanted to set the whole house alight and watch it burn, baby, burn.

She made her way through the house, room by room, ridding herself of the awful memories, the jarring reminders, promising herself that this would in fact be the very last time she stepped foot into this address. At last she found herself standing at the entrance of the master bedroom. A room that had started out as a happy sanctuary but had eventually turned into her bloody prison.

Despite her best efforts, her memory took her back to that night so many months ago. She’d lain in bed staring up at the ceiling in the darkened room, thinking of how she was going to escape, wondering if it was even possible. When she had heard Michael shouting in his study, she knew it was going to be a rough night.

He had barged into the room, the door bouncing off the wall with the force of his anger. He had been on her instantly, shaking her roughly on the bed.

“What have you done, you bitch?” he screamed, his face mottled and red.

Audrey managed to jump free of his grasp and had made a run for the door.

He’d grabbed her by the hand and threw her down on the floor, but not before her head had connected with the wooden base of the bed, ripping it open. The carpet had burned the back of her legs as he had dragged her across the room before punching her into submission when she had struggled to free herself. His rage had known no mercy as his fists connected with almost every part of Audrey’s body.

The red drag marks on the carpet stood as a reflection of how she had tried to crawl her way out of the room, trying to find some semblance of safety. He had kicked her and punished her for her efforts. The culmination of which had landed her at the base of the stairs and left for dead. The police had arrived hours later after her police contact had tried unsuccessfully to reach her. Michael had fled and they had managed to save her life. The damage was done, though.

The emotional scars were as deep as the physical ones. She couldn’t be around another man again. She would never trust her heart or body with a man again. The lesson was hard learned but it stuck.

She stepped into her walk-in closet and her hand trailed along all the beautiful garments hanging there, soft rich fabrics. Opening her drawers, she caressed the thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry, wall to wall shelves were filled with expensive shoes and handbags. Audrey wanted none of it. It was all for nothing. She was again tempted to light a match and watch the place go up in flames.

She was startled out of her own macabre thoughts when she heard the front door creak open, the sound further magnified by the emptiness of the house.

Laila and Michael’s lawyer had arrived.

She greeted them both in the entryway before making their way to the guest lounge where Mr. Lauwer, Michael’s lawyer, produced the documents for her to sign. She briefly read through and felt ridiculous signing a document that was a declaration that she had gotten all she wanted from the divorce and would not ever be asking for a single thing more. She was happy to sign. She wanted nothing from this old life, from Michael, from her past.

This was it. She was finally closing this chapter of her life, for good.