Читать книгу Love Hurts - JJ Keller - Страница 7

Chapter 3

Justin rested comfortably in his crib. Shania couldn’t sleep. She glanced at her cellphone–ten o’clock. Not late by any means, but the movers were scheduled at seven in the morning. Once they arrived in Briarwood, she’d have a long day of unpacking what was necessary. However, most important of all was taking care of Justin.

She walked around the boxes, making sure they were sealed. The rustic golden wall paint looked dingy without artwork to enhance the color. Her lips curved in memory of her and Morgan painting the house. He’d hated the “baby poop” color she’d chosen for the living room until she muted the tone with an amber glaze. Then the ambiance became Tuscan as she’d planned.

Morgan. Her breath held for a few seconds and then started. Had he gone ahead and married Patty? Maybe he’d misunderstood her declaration. Perhaps she shouldn’t have run. Could she have stood in front of him wearing only a strapless bra, thong and high heels? No, she’d never exposed her body in public and probably wouldn’t have removed the dress if it wasn’t for the confidence she’d gained from working at Companion Connections. The job built her self-assurance and as a result she could–would–speak her mind.

As if she had a choice in removing the gown. Wanting to escape an awkward situation, she stepped out of her shell. Thank goodness the choir robes were nearby.

Returning the gown was easier than she’d thought it would be. Shania stopped at a store near Morgan’s church to get the special drinks the nurse recommended instead of juice for Justin. A dry cleaner was two doors down. She changed into a pair of shorts and shirt stored in the trunk of her car and dropped off the black chorus gown to be cleaned. Fortunately they did business with the minister and promised to add it to their next order. Thankful, she paid and left, noting the cathedral’s parking lot was empty. Two hours had passed since she arrived at the doctor’s. A vacant lot wasn’t a sign that the wedding had been canceled, but her spirit raised anyway.

Shania closed her eyes, keeping the pain at bay. She walked around the packing crates to the front door and stepped outside into the balmy night, leaving the entrance ajar enough to hear her son. She glanced at the gray rectangle mailbox attached to the cream siding and a sliver of excitement ran through her. Her fingernail slid between the lid and box. Would there be a message from Morgan, stating “I was here, where were you?” She glanced inside. No mail. No love note. No future with Morgan. Deep seated misery made her throat hurt. She leaned her forehead against the frame of the doorway and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to cry. She hadn’t cried for Beck when she said goodbye, yet now she wanted to open the gates and flood the last of her tissues.

“Shania?”

She sniffed back the dribble, brushed her nose with the back of her hand and swiveled around. Her gut clenched in agonizing fear. Morgan wore his black tux without the tie and corsage. His shirt had been unbuttoned enough to show a t-shirt beneath. He looked like a movie star in his breathtaking beauty. She loved him. Her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t smile. “You look like the newest double oh-seven.”

“We need to talk,” he responded. He stood in the shadows. She couldn’t read his expression, but his tone sounded serious.

The time is now, her mind shouted. Go for it or lose the chance to connect. She took a step. Morgan moved out of the darkness. Pain and joy sparkled in his eyes. Shania grabbed his lapels and tugged him closer. “I’d rather claim my first kiss.”

Morgan exhaled. His whispered curse hovered near her ear and then was carried away on the wind. He held her gaze, searing her, as if digging deep into her soul. She licked her lips, hoping he wouldn’t deny her. Her gaze moved to his mouth, waiting and wishing. She held her breath. Would he? Oh, God, let him dare!

He tilted his head and cupped her face. She closed her eyes and moved an inch, no more, no less. Like an addiction, she needed to feel the heat of his hands. Yet, the slightest move and she’d lose the fragile contact she did have with him. His thumbs rubbed her cheeks, soft tiny brushes.

She released the breath caught in her chest, then pulled her lips inward to wet them again. He smelled like spicy cinnamon and male aftershave. Her gut clenched in agony. His closeness was pleasure and pain. Her knees weakened. Morgan quickly moved his hands from her face to her arms, as if to hold her up.

“Ah, Shania.” He pressed his cheek against hers, taking a deep breath. “What are you doing to me? I can’t resist you.”

“Then don’t. I want you. Do you want me?” She begged for his lips to touch hers, just one slight taste of him. One time to test the sparks, to see if a fire would ignite as she’d anticipated.

A lock of her hair, fallen from the loose bun, fluttered as he exhaled. Self doubt crept up her spine. She wouldn’t ask again. Either he wanted to be with her or not.

He tugged her close. Her thin t-shirt pressed against the starched suit jacket, causing her nipples to harden. She laid her cheek on his lapel, trying to steady her trembling legs while giving him space and time to come to a decision. The scent of the lily corsage remained on the coat, a quick and painfully sharp reminder that he could very well be married. She sucked in a harsh breath, praying it wasn’t true.

“Did you mean what you said?” he whispered. His hands embraced her, his palms resting near her waist with fingers touching the curve of her back. Their thighs touched. Liquid pooled low in her abdomen. She wanted to crawl inside him.

“Every word.” Hopeful excitement rang through her slow whispered words.

“Do you want to be together?” He rested his chin on top of her head.

“Yes.”

“Then I–”

Justin screamed. Torn between needing to hear Morgan’s words and going to her son, she stepped out of his arms. Uncertain, she gazed at Morgan. Was he proposing a future?

Morgan kissed the top of her head. “Go to him.”

“Will you be here after I get him settled?” She hated the almost desperate, needy tone creeping into her voice. Tears stung her eyes.

With a slight shake of his head, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Shania…”

Unable to stand listening to the rest of his words, Shania turned and rushed into the house. Their love wasn’t meant to be. He’d go do what he felt was necessary and she and Justin would leave for Briarwood.

* * * *

Farmland separated by wooded acres surrounded the mid-size sprawling city of Briarwood, Indiana. Briarwood University was a complex mix of ancient chipped-brick buildings, smelling of time, and oddly angled contemporary structures. The campus was fastidiously perfect with layers of flora. Unique groupings of landscaping were intermeshed with stone statues fitting the area–frogs near the ponds, a Native American in the history quad, a couple walking hand in hand near the dormitories. The fragrant outdoor scents took Shania’s breath away each time she visited, as the lovely smells had earlier today as she meandered along the pathways.

The areas of the college grounds were identified according to the plant scheme. West Quad consisted of nutty oaks, pecans and fat-branched, big-leaved blackwood trees. Strategically placed benches allowed visitors a view of the beautiful wooded area. North Quad consisted of lush tickle grass, day lilies and elderberry bushes, while South Quad hosted boxwoods shaped into cones, rectangles and circles. Shania and Justin lived in a family housing complex on the East side, in one of the ancient buildings.

The East Quad was Monet colorful. Riverside Avenue hosted a line of brownstone buildings with newer high rise modern-day housing units behind the rustic structure. Worthen Complex had the oldest and least expensive apartments, primarily because of their small size. Despite the pain of carrying a stroller and baggage to the fifth floor, she loved her living space and wouldn’t go to the ground level even if a unit opened. They resided on the west end. Each night a fabulous evening sun filtered through the paned windows. The original brick sill outlined the casing, and a set of gargoyles held sentry on the cement ledge outside the structure. One of the mythological creatures shadowed the glass outside their bedroom. His heavy presence was visible through the living room window as well.

Shania glanced through the dark panes, unable to sleep. Her job with Companion Connections had run from eight in the evening to two the next morning. Although she and Justin had been in Briarwood for three months she missed talking to lonely people on the phone late at night. Her internal clock hadn’t adjusted to being able to rest at regular intervals. However, she couldn’t continue to keep late hours in addition to rising early in the morning to attend class. Somehow she had to find a way to snooze.

“Mommy,” Justin screamed.

She rushed to his side. He was tightly bound in his covers and sweat coated his face. “You’re wrapped up like the mummy we saw in the museum. Remember how we laughed at his costume?”

“No.” His lips quivered.

“I’m here, honey.” She cuddled him close and stroked his back. The nightmares continued. At first she had assumed the dreams were a result of uprooting him from the only home he’d known, or sleeping in the new child bed instead of a crib. Instead, the changes in their lifestyles, class, daycare and Justin being separated from her for long periods created anxiety for him.

“The monster’s getting me.” He nuzzled his face into her nightshirt.

“What monster?” She glanced around the room, trying to figure out what odd shape would create a scary image for him. Maybe he continued to worry over the mummy.

“There.” He pointed toward the window.

“The statue?” Gauzy curtains covered the panes allowing sunlight and moon light to filter in, making the room seem larger. Beyond the glass was the concrete gargoyle, holding court over students gathering in the yard below.

He nodded.

“Why, that’s Morgan the second, here to watch over us. He’s not a monster. He loves us and sits outside on the cement ledge to keep strangers away. We’ll call him M-two.” Shania rocked Justin, gently humming a song and making up the words as she went along.

The peaked ears and heavy coat mantle of the stone statue were clearly defined and created exaggerated shadows on the wall.

“Okay. I want him.”

She rubbed her cheek against his. She missed Morgan too. They’d seen him at least twice a week for the past three years. He’d spend hours playing with Justin and chatting with her. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Morgan since his wedding day several weeks ago. His absence was noticeable and heartrending.

“I do too, honey.” Her voice came out as low and as sad as she felt.

She moved Justin’s new toddler bunk to the other side and her bed near the window. As the bed legs dragged on the hardwood floor, loud shrill squeaks resonated in the bedroom. Shania could only hope the neighbors were deep sleepers. Shania and Justin had painted a colorful country scene on a canvas last Sunday to use as wall art. Justin loved horses, so they were at the forefront of the picture. Shania hung the canvas between the beds giving him a little more privacy.

Justin finally rested. Shania pressed her face against the windowpane and glanced at the gargoyle, nestled in the mossy green bed on the cement ledge. “Please keep better guard over us, M-two.”

She pivoted to walk into the compact living room. Open concept or not, the space was miniature compared to the old house she’d rented in Cyan. She did like how the kitchen incorporated a breakfast bar. However, with no space for a dining table, she and Justin had developed the bad habit of eating in front of the television. Someday, post-school, she’d get a job in a museum or work in an art studio, and hopefully earn enough money to get them a house with two bedrooms and a dining room. Right this moment she had to worry about getting by until her next CD payout. She sighed.

The next morning as she finished packing her book bag, she picked up her phone and pressed Morgan’s speed dial number. Before the call rang twice, she ended the connection. What would she say to him? “Hey, how do you like married life?” No, asking about his marriage to a woman who made her strip and leave a church in her underwear was a silly reason to call. Shania had to think of something substantial.

A sigh slipped from her as she glanced toward the bedroom. Justin wasn’t a morning person, preferring to sleep in and stay up late at night. Each morning he became a grumpy bear. She placed cereal in his favorite Diego and Dora bowl, added milk and replaced the half gallon in the nearly empty refrigerator. Routine activity would provide a sense of order. She needed the comfort of ordinary and separated the pulp from the orange juice. The few dribbles of the liquid went into a matching Diego sippy-cup. Procrastination was one of her weakness, so she arranged the dishes on the placemat and then strutted toward her adorable beast.

They always decided what clothes Justin wanted to wear the night before, and then placed them on the dresser in preparation. She leaned over him and smoothed a long lock to the side of his face. He resembled Beck in appearance and Morgan in attitude, mannerisms and personality. Sometimes Justin could be very stubborn and like his role model, Morgan, grit his teeth while placing his hands on his hips. A sharp ache tore at her chest. So much pain had occurred in the past three years.

“Justin, baby doll, it’s time to get up.” Her fingers created circles on his arm.

He yawned and snuggled down farther.

“Sister Agnes is waiting.” She ruffled his hair.

“No,” he responded.

“I need to go to class. Up! I have your favorite cereal,” she firmly stated.

His head popped from under the covers. “Crunch?”

Shania nodded.

He threw off the covers and climbed off the bed.

“Need help with the bathroom activities?”

“No. Big boy.” He yawned.

“That’s right. I don’t have a baby doll anymore. I have a big boy.”

He nodded and covered a yawn. Then, he shuffled out of the bedroom and into the bath. Sometimes she missed her baby, because he certainly was becoming a big boy.

* * * *

October continued to be warm, to Shania’s pleasure. Patterns formed–Class, daycare, study. Sometimes her personal preferences didn’t fit well into the professor’s schedule. Today was one of those days. The lecture ran over by fifteen minutes. Frantic, she hoisted her portfolio onto her shoulder and rushed to pick up Justin. The pain in her chest seemed more intense today, causing her breath to catch, and not because of running from the classroom. No, the ache had been present from the time she’d left Morgan at the church.

Would she ever be able to breathe normally again?

“Shania. Shania Miller.” A man’s deep voice rushed the words. A bit of anxiousness filtered through his tone.

She didn’t want to stop. Justin’s keen sense of timing made her run a little faster. Justin would worry.

“Wait up, Shania,” he shouted.

She sighed and pivoted a half-turn. “Dr. Raimo.”

Dressed in a dark blue polo and khakis, he approached her with a broad smile. She held out her hand, causing the portfolio to bang against her side. He was handsome, smart and kind, but her heart belonged to Morgan. Dr. Raimo wanted a friendship, but if he had more than that in mind, she’d have to refuse an invitation. There wasn’t room for their lives for a prospective lover or father figure. However, he was a sweet man, so out of respect she’d be nice and listen.

His dark brown irises lit with a fire as she looked into his eyes. Crap, the guy was into her.

He clasped her hand. Peppermint-scented breath rushed out in short puffs. “Shania, how are you doing? Classes going well?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I need to go. I have to get Justin from daycare.” Her hand slipped from his grip. His eyes opened wide, no doubt because of her impolite behavior. She turned, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, hurried out the door and trotted down the sidewalk. She’d have to add rudeness to her growing list of unattractive qualities.

Two blocks later, she walked through the open oval oak door into the vestibule of the church. The scent of sage and frankincense assaulted her nostrils as it had each time she’d entered. One antique walnut staircase and three turns down a hallway later, she came to the lower level nursery. She peeked through the clear round pane. Her son sat at a child sized table drawing with crayons.

A rectangular face surrounded by white and black cloth obscured the window. Thick lenses enlarged dark irises in the deep set eyes. Shania jumped, her hand flying to her chest. The door opened. Sister Agnes’s large caped figure filled the space. Her beaded rosary swung out as she moved her generous hips. She was a force, and currently she blocked the entry.

“Miss Miller, you’ve come to collect your son?” Her whispered voice carried to Justin.

His face lit, and he scrambled from the table. Shania’s heart filled with happiness.

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m late. The class ran over.” Shania’s voice rang through the room.

“Some children are napping. Please keep your voice lowered.” Sister Agnes’s jowls jiggled like a bulldog’s.

“Sorry, Sister,” Shania softly responded as she stepped across the threshold.

Justin stowed his crayons and stuffed his miniature artist pad in his backpack. He rushed to her side.

“Miss Miller, I find it necessary to mention that Justin’s shoes don’t fit his feet properly. The mission store is open if you’d like to take a look.” Her nose turned down, allowing her to peer over her tiny square spectacles.

“Thank you, Sister, I’ll do that.” Shania grabbed Justin’s wrist. They made their way to the door. A roar filled her ears as her breath caught. The tears would have to wait. She refused to show weakness in public.

She held tight to Justin’s hand, exited the room and turned the corner. Up a small set of stairs she entered the Gently Used store. The scent of starch and buffed old leather assaulted her nostrils.

“Hi, Sister Magdalene. I’m searching for a pair of shoes for Justin. Has anything come in about his size?” Shania asked, while glancing at the clothing. Soon she’d have to buy him a new winter coat. The truth was she couldn’t purchase anything until her Certificate of Deposit matured in two weeks. In a moment of brilliance, she’d placed money in a number of CDs. Her research proved the deposits were a safe and efficient way of saving money. She made sure they matured at various times. She laughed. It wasn’t a well-made plan. Her books ended up costing twice what she’d allowed and between that and various other supplies, now she was strapped for cash.

“I’m sorry, Shania. Shoes go fast, out of the box, onto the shelves and into hands of the needy.” She shook her head, making her habit shake. “I do have a fine pair of cowboy boots which might fit Master Justin.”

She scurried to a wooden unit supported by bookshelves. Her nimble pale fingers tugged a lonesome pair of child’s red leather boots off the last rack. A bronco rider, with a lasso spinning above his head, had been stitched on the front of each shoe.

“Oh,” Justin said. His face lightened with joy. He loved horses and there they were, ready to be worn and admired every day.

“Want to try them on, Justin?” Sister Magdalene’s moon-shaped face brightened the room.

He nodded, his blond locks falling into his eyes.

Sister Magdalene sat on the floor and waved him over. He immediately ran, pivoted and sat on her lap. She pulled off the too-tight footwear and slipped on the boot. The left shoe hit the floor with a thud and the second cowboy rider was secured in place.

“Now then, give them a try.”

Justin stood and clomped around a small section of flooring. They were too big.

“Mommy?” His anxious, sweet face begged her to take them.

“The way he’s been growing, Shania, they’ll fit in a few weeks. They’re gently used.” Sister Magdalene rose, grabbed a red bandana, and wrapped it around Justin’s neck. She directed him to stand in front of the mirror.

He was adorable. Too bad Halloween had passed. “How much are they?”

“Five dollars.” The sister smoothed Justin’s hair. “The bandana is a gift.”

Shania could eat peanut butter sandwiches for a few nights and Justin loved cereal. Thirteen more days and she’d have cash once again.

“We’ll take them.” She smiled at Justin who proceeded to whoop and clack around the space, swaggering like a cowboy. “Thank you, Sister.”

Her fingers dug through her backpack, searching the four pockets and coming up empty. Finally, in the center, tucked in a small space, was the five dollar bill. She laid it on the counter. The ting of the antique cash register sounded as the drawer popped out. Shania picked up his tennis shoes. He’d want to wear the boots home today.

The time it took to get back to their apartment doubled as he slipped and slid on the oversized footwear. She couldn’t deny him the pleasure of owning the waders, and his small toes deserved a break.

* * * *

The next day Sister Agnes opened the door to the nursery with a frown on her wrinkled face. Crap, she didn’t look happy. The news would not be good.

“Miss Miller, Justin has been complaining of his feet hurting.” Large knuckled fingers shoved glasses higher on her age-spotted nose.

“I’m sorry, Sister. Not to make excuses, but the mission store didn’t have something his size. We did find a pair of boots, but they’re too large. I’ll buy him a pair of shoes in a few days. Until then, can he wear slippers to school?” Heat rushed to her face. She tried to tell herself she was a good mother, a good provider. Her shoulders slumped forward. She hadn’t planned very well.

“If cash is a problem we have a fund for indigents. We’ll ask Father Michael to give you some money to buy him shoes.” Sister Agnes’s foul breath flowed over Shania’s face.

“No,” Shania barked.

The nun took a step back. Her pale trembling fingers grabbed the cross on her rosary.

Justin ran forward, a frown on his face. Hands on his hips he faced Sister Agnes.

“I’m sorry, Sister. I can take care of my son. It’s simply a matter of timing.” She shrugged. “His feet grew too fast and my money is tied up in a CD. In twelve days the first thing I’ll buy will be shoes.”

Shania held her arm across her stomach. Self-doubt sent a horrible ripping cramp through her, chilling her. She could provide for her son and she would.

“Shania.” Her voice was firm and low.

Shania lifted her glance to meet Sister Agnes’s dark gaze.

“Normally we don’t reduce fees, although I think we can in this one case. You only bring Justin for one hour and thirty minutes on Friday. Why don’t you talk to your friends, see if they can watch him during that class time? You’ll be paying twenty dollars less a week.” She dropped the cross then touched the side of Shania’s face. “You’re a good mother. You provide excellent care for your son.”

“Thank you, Sister.” She grabbed Justin’s hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Outside the church she lifted Justin. Guilt-ridden, she carried him home. “Please, God, will this struggle ever end?”