Whiskey Girl (10 page)

The thought, in and of itself, was not bad.
After all, she had almost come to the decision to ask Doug for help, a place to
start since she couldn’t seem to come up with any ideas for herself.

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself
for whatever happened next, Ausha opened her front door then just stood there.
It was her place only better and much, much worse.

Colorful pillows were strewn across the
surface of the couch. Elegant coppers and browns. Bold and vibrant jewel tones
added life where there once was none. The walls were no longer bare, instead
pictures hung where it used to be white and bare.

Her chest hurt and her eyes blurred. She
was angry and confused, overwrought with emotions she worked so hard to put to
rest.

“Come in and close the door, Ausha.”

Doug’s voice was strong and commanding. He
must have realized exactly what the changes meant to her and had prepared for a
battle. She wanted to give him one, to spit every bad thing she could think of
at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. When he touched her arm then
slid his hand down until his fingers entwined with hers, Ausha could only do
one thing.

She crumpled into his arms. Too many years
of being strong had taken their toll. She felt raw and transparent. It was a
very uncomfortable place to be.

“Why?”

She didn’t need to explain the
single-worded question any more than she needed to ask him to hold her, to
comfort her. It must have been instinctive on his part to do so.

“Because you deserve to live in color,
sweetheart.” He led her to the couch where they sat side by side still holding
hands.

Ausha looked down, saw the way their
fingers looked all curled together. She felt a slight tremble in his or maybe
it was hers, she didn’t know.

“When Lauren was alive, everything was so
bright. Her clothes, her toys. Everything.” It was hard to remember those
things, the soft pink bows, the primary-colored toys, the cartoon-character
blankets. Yet it felt good to talk about them, to picture Lauren the way she
had been and not the way she’d looked locked into her car seat with blood
seeping from her wounds.

“Afterward it hurt too much to have all of
that around me. Everything I saw reminded me of her, even something as small as
a color.” It all came spewing out. All the things she’d never been able to put
into words. “At first it hurt, really bad. Then it made me angry. I would get
mad just seeing a mother with her child because I couldn’t have mine anymore.”
Ausha looked up to Doug then. Meeting his eyes took everything she had in her.
“I even had times where I wished it were others. Not just myself but anyone,
any other adult or child, who had died instead of my baby. I knew then I needed
to do something.”

She’d always known, always been aware her
hatred for those who killed Lauren, including her ex-husband, was going to eat
away at her and make her a person no better than they were. Letting go of
Doug’s hand, she ran her fingers through her hair.

“So I made a conscious decision simply not
to care. About anything or anyone. It makes life easier.”

“That’s not actually living, sweetheart.”

The calmness of his voice made her angry.
It pushed into her face what she already knew but had not wanted to admit.
“Don’t you fucking think I know that!”

Sitting was no longer an option. She
stalked across the room, distancing herself from Doug, from the anger she was
tired of harboring and didn’t want to take out on him.

Instead of taking the hint, he followed. He
wasn’t the sort to back down, and so Ausha wasn’t completely surprised when he
didn’t this time either. When she kept her back to him, he took the initiative.
Turning her with a hand on her arm, Doug backed her up against the wall. Once
again he entwined his fingers in hers, holding her hands, enabling her from
leaving again if she so chose.

“Tell me what you know, baby.”

He really wanted to hear it all. Ausha
couldn’t help but wonder why. It wasn’t as if her revelations were of help to
him in any way. “I know feeling nothing isn’t living. I also know I’m so good
at it the only time I feel anything at all anymore is when the Jack starts
sliding its way down my throat and makes my stomach burn. How fucking pathetic
is that!”

His gaze pierced hers. “It’s not pathetic.
It’s a way to cope.”

“It’s a pretty fucked up way.”

“True.” She hadn’t expected him to agree
with her, so was caught off guard and then was angry because he had. “But it is
what you were able to do for yourself, on your own. Thing is, sweetheart,
you’re no longer on your own and so now we need to find you other ways of
coping.”

“I’m not sure I can.” Oh, how it galled her
to admit such a weakness.

His answer seemed far more like support
than any of the letters or visits from friends she’d received since Lauren’s
death.

“I am sure though and so you will at least
try.”

He made everything seem so simple. “And
just how do you plan to make that happen?” It was a challenge, and by the look
on Doug’s face, he knew it.

“By helping you to remember the good and
learn ways to work through the bad. We’ll start now.”

This time when he spun her around, it
caught Ausha completely by surprise. She now stood facing the wall. Doug’s
hands were on her shoulders, pulling until she was forced to take a few steps
back. It was then that she saw what now hung on the once-bare wall.

With a trembling hand she reached out for
it but couldn’t quite bring herself to touch. The picture was one taken only a
few weeks before Lauren’s death. She’d been wearing a pink blouse that matched
the sundress Lauren had on. It had been one of her favorite pictures of the two
of them to date, capturing happiness and sunshine. She’d never loved another as
she had her baby girl that day or been more proud of herself as a mother as in
that instant.

Below the picture was a collage of sorts.
In it was Lauren’s footprints taken at the hospital and dated with all the
pertinent information of her birth as well as the tiny lock of wispy thin,
baby-soft hair she’d collected from Lauren’s first haircut. And finally, below
that was a copy of the poem
Footprints in the Sand
. It had always been
one of Ausha’s favorites.

“I’m a nosy bastard and I know it, but I
also know you needed this.” Doug wasn’t sure whether to be worried by her
silence or not. Putting his hands back on her shoulders, he spoke softly to
her. “She’s a part of you, darlin’. Remember her and give life to her through
your memories even if only inside your own heart.”

The silent little sob she worked so hard to
hold back caused her shoulders to shake and tore at his heart. When she reached
out and touched the glass covering the picture of her and Lauren, Doug knew
something had happened. He felt a break in the ice.

“I don’t know how to go on.” She turned
slightly to him, tears of anguish streaming down her pale cheeks. “At least not
in a way that is productive.”

Doug knew from his past there was no right
or wrong advice to give so he said the first thing to come to mind, something
that had always stuck with him. “You do it one day at a time, baby, and never
alone.” He kissed her temple. “Grasp on to each and every offer of help you
get. Use people for their strength and all they offer, and when you’re strong
enough, offer it right back to them exactly like you used to.”

His words stilled her sobs. “I did used to,
didn’t I?”

Had she forgotten? “From what I know of
you, you’ve always helped those around you. There is no shame in accepting a
little in return.”

Her voice was a mere whisper when she
answered. “It’s very overwhelming.” Ausha leaned into him then, pressing her
body against his in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with sex and yet
affected him as deeply. “Please tell me where to start.”

It was more than Doug could have hoped for.
Almost as if the crumbling of her wall had started. He was going to take the
bull by the horns and not give her the time to backpedal later.

“I happen to have some ideas. Let’s sit
down and I’ll tell you about them.” Doug led her back to the couch where they
once again sat side by side holding hands.

“There are meetings you can go to for the
friends and families of addicts. I would also suggest counseling to help with
the grief you’re going to start having to deal with now that you’re no longer
planning to hide.” He squeezed her hand then and was happy when she squeezed
his in return.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable sharing
with strangers.” It was a common reaction to the thought of seeing a counselor
or therapist.

“Then go and listen to start off with.
You’ll share when you’re ready. Look, darlin’, all I’m suggesting is you try it
out. Please don’t make a decision not to go until then.”

“I won’t.”

Doug could feel a shift, but he also knew
saying so while caught up in the heat of the moment and doing once the moment
had passed were two different things. There was a rocky road ahead for the both
of them, but he was more than willing to pick her up and drag her over the
rougher parts if need be.

Her tears did something to him. Never again
did he want to see her cry because she was sad or feeling hurt, but he loved
them all the same because she was willing to show them to him. She seemed
softer somehow, not quite so rigid. He’d always liked his women a little rough
around the edges. A fear of hurting a china doll had always kept him away from
the delicate type.

Ausha seemed to fall somewhere in the
middle. She’d been through hell and was starting to make her way back. That
made her hard and gave her an edge normal life usually didn’t. She hadn’t been
raised that way though. There was still a pink sweater-wearing lady somewhere
in there. Doug was curious if Ausha even realized how different she was. He
couldn’t help but wonder if she’d let more of her softer half out to play every
once in a while or if she would always remain a little darker, edgier. He
didn’t care either way. As long as she did so with him, he was good.

“Doug?”

Her hand moved over his knee. It didn’t
matter if the touch was meant to sexually entice or not. It aroused him all the
same. “Yeah, darlin’?”

“Touch me, please. I need to feel you.”

“Your wish is my command.”

He’d been hoping she would ask. Doug could
tell she needed to be touched as much as he needed to touch. He hated turning
her safe little world upside down but was happy doing so seemed to help.

Grabbing her hand, he led them to her
bedroom. Ausha crossed the threshold, looked at him then shook her head. He
understood completely and so didn’t push. He’d made changes to her personal
space the same as he had her living room. A hand-sewn quilt took place of the
department store comforter that once covered her bed. He knew the comforter was
hand sewn because it was the same one used to cover his own bed. His
grandmother had made it for him. It would once again take up residence in his
room. As soon as he could talk Ausha into moving in with him.

Whoa!

Where the hell had the thought come from?
Was he ready to live with someone? Was she? Would she ever agree to have him
breathing down her neck all the time? Doug had no clue, but for some reason it
sounded like the best idea he’d ever had.

Speaking of breathing down her neck, Doug
thought to himself, smiling. She stood at the edge of her bed, watching him.
Waiting.

Doug unbuttoned his shirt as he crossed the
room toward her. He didn’t say a word as he reached for her. Lifting Ausha’s
arms over her head, he removed her blouse in one fell swoop over her head. His
actions caused her hair to fall in a mass of curls back around her shoulders.
Her skin looked pale against the darks locks.

“Holy…damn, baby.” Beneath the blouse she
wore a bra with black satin cups with beige lacy edges. It cupped her breasts causing
them to press together, deepening the cleavage he’d always loved. “You look
good enough to eat.”

There was a sparkle in her eyes when she
answered. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

When she reached to unclasp the front
closure of the sexy bra, he stopped her. “I don’t think so. I’ll undress you.”

“Well, hurry up. I want to feel you inside
me.”

Oh man! Her words about undid him. He’d
love nothing more than to remove just enough clothes so he could press his cock
deep, but that wasn’t the plan. “You will, darlin’. Soon enough.”

Taking his time, Doug stripped away her
bra, making sure to brush against her nipples as their taut peaks sprang free.
Her sharp intake of breath told him she was as primed as he was.

Next came her skin-tight jeans. He knelt in
front of her in order to remove them. Too bad she looked so mouthwatering in
the things because they were hell to get off. If she didn’t wear them so well,
he might try to talk her into long, flowing skirts with no panties.

As he skimmed the jeans down her thighs to
pool in a puddle at her feet, he rethought that idea. Maybe panties were a good
idea after all. They matched her bra, black satin edges in beige lace and
barely covered all the pertinent places. One side had crept up and was tucked
into the cleft of her ass, showing off the pale flesh.