“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Louisa’s quiet voice whispered into his ear.
He sat up. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Well, no, I’m not fine. I hate thunder storms. I mean, they always remind me of the night Joey was killed and—” Her voice caught, and she sniffed.
Guilt wracked his heart. “Lou? Do you want me to come over?” he asked softly.
She sniffled again. “Well...if it’s not too much trouble. If Sarah were here, I’d wake her up, but she’s not, so...okay. If you don’t mind.”
Leaping out of bed, he shoved his legs into jeans and threw a T-shirt over his head, slipping his feet into leather sandals. He sprinted into the courtyard and the pouring rain, navigating the brick walkway with the sporadic flashes of lightning. He bounded up the back porch steps and reached for the door handle, but it didn’t turn in his hand. Luckily, he’d had the good sense to remember his key. It took forever to fit the damn thing into the small lock. Finally, he was inside. He didn’t question his hurry to get to her room. She needed him, and he needed to be there for her.
She opened her door before he’d even knocked. “Hi.” Her gaze dropped to the space between them. She moved aside to let him pass. “I’m sorry to be such a wuss.”
“You’re not a wuss,” he told her, taking in her appearance in a quick glance. She wore a sleeveless white nightgown with little blue flowers on it. The hem skimmed her knees and she was barefoot. The look was sweet and guileless, just like her. But it was her face that got to him. She was pale with fright, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been crying.
She fell into his arms, and after a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped her up into his embrace. Her body shook and tensed. He rubbed her back and whispered words of comfort to her, and she slowly began to relax, her body melting against his.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist then reached for his hand and tugged him down beside her on the edge of one of the beds. “I know I shouldn’t let storms freak me out like this, but…” She shrugged. “Tonight it affected me worse than usual.”
Probably because he was here with her. He was an in-the-flesh reminder of the worst night of her life. He started to rise, but her hand stayed him.
He met her gaze, and he saw her deep well of sadness and torment.
“There was a time when I couldn’t have called you in the middle of the night because you’d have been passed out or drunk. Thanks for coming up here, Gabriel.”
He released a long breath and nodded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
She squeezed his hand. “How did you finally stop?”
He cleared his throat.
“After our divorce, I hit rock bottom. I was drinking constantly, having blackouts, you name it. A friend finally dragged me to an AA meeting. I didn’t want to be there at all. I didn’t think I had a problem. I really thought I could stop drinking if I wanted to—I just didn’t want to. Plus, there was no way I was going to get up in front of a group of strangers and confess all my sins to them, you know? It’s not like I’m the most open person in the world.”
He barely saw her tiny nod of agreement. He glanced out the darkened window. Rain slashed against the panes and wind howled through the branches of the old maple in the courtyard.
“Anyway, as I listened to the others in the group talking about their struggles with alcohol, it didn’t take long to realize I was just like them. I was,
am
, an alcoholic too. I haven’t had a drink since.” Of course, it was more complicated than that.
“I’m proud of you,” she said, her voice nasally from crying.
It felt natural to pull her into his arms and hold her again. She didn’t resist and wrapped her arms around his waist. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to hold her like this forever, offer his comfort for as long as she needed it. But
he
was the reason she needed calming. Gabe wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself for causing her such pain.
With a deep sigh, he stood and fetched some tissue from the bathroom. She took one and blew her nose.
She composed herself as he watched, her back straightening and her little chin jutting out in a show of strength. She smoothed the front of her nightgown and scurried across the room. The light from the bathroom shone through her clothing, revealing her slim body beneath it. The material hugged her abdomen and breasts. Her cold nipples shoved against the cotton material. He forced his gaze away.
Thankfully, she shut the bathroom door. He didn’t need to be reminded of how good she looked, because then he’d remember how good she’d felt. It was a direction his mind did
not
need to travel.
He stood and paced the floor. He sat again. Louisa was a tough woman. She always had been, in her own way. With a resigned sigh, he stood and knocked on the bathroom door. The water stopped, and the door opened a crack.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “Lock the door behind me, all right?”
Her eyes widened in panic as she opened the door a hair more. “You’re leaving? You—you can’t stay a little bit longer?”
He wanted so desperately to reach out to her, stroke his fingers down her freshly scrubbed face and wrap his hands around her narrow waist, and—
Don’t go there
. “The storm has passed. You’re okay now. You don’t need me.” He paused at the door to the hall. “G’night.”
****
The next morning after Louisa had showered and dressed, she glanced out the window toward Gabe’s bungalow. His curtains were shut to the outside world, suggesting he still slept or wasn’t yet receptive to the day.
The rains had flattened the plants and flowers in the garden, and they glistened with droplets of rain and dew in the morning sun, as if determined to spring back to their former beauty. Gray watercolor clouds streaked the sky, and a slight breeze tickled the leaves of the maple tree where Gabe had pushed her in the swing.
She could just make out Arty’s bungalow through the trees. It didn’t look like anyone was up and moving there either.
She smiled, glad the couple seemed to have made up. Too bad her own love life continued to be in such disarray.
Two soft knocks sounded on her door. The way she rushed to open it annoyed her almost as much as the sight of the complimentary breakfast tray just placed on the floor in the hallway.
She’d hoped it was Gabe.
Not good. Not good at all.
She set the tray on a low table and poured a cup of coffee. She’d laid awake much of the night after he’d left her room. In the wee hours of the morning, her mind caught in the whirlpool between sleep and wakefulness, she’d almost convinced herself that Gabe’s talk about fate wasn’t so preposterous after all.
No!
She slammed her cup down, hot liquid sloshing onto her fingers and the table. Wiping her hands on her shorts, she paced in front of her bed.
She had Evan. She tried to conjure up his face in her mind, but she couldn’t get past Gabe’s image. He’d come to her when she’d called last night, no questions asked.
She sat down on the brocade loveseat and reached for her coffee, wiping the still-wet base on her pants before taking a sip. She suspected Gabe was lonely, that he needed a friend. He’d been through a lot these last five years, too. But unlike her, he had no family to lean on.
He used to have her.
She sighed loudly and returned to the window, staring down at his bungalow. She’d been so preoccupied with her own feelings since his sudden return into her life that she hadn’t really noticed his loneliness, his own pain. But she understood what he was going through. She’d told him about the tiny place in her heart that had feelings for him, that those feelings were because she used to be married to him. That’s all. But, if she was honest with herself, she would admit the truth.
She still loved him.
Setting her coffee down, she rubbed tense fingers over weary brows. She loved him. She’d probably never stopped.
She swung away from the window and tidied up the room, fluffing the pillows on the love seat and straightening the seat cushions with her knee.
Warning lights flickered in her mind. This kind of love was dangerous. It had been wonderfully exciting when they were first married, but it hadn’t been enough. Something inside Gabe had taken him away from her, even before the death of their son had torn their world apart. Loving him could only hurt her again. She needed the kind of love Evan offered—stable, predictable, comfortable.
Safe.
Evan wouldn’t break her heart. Gabe would.
Gabe had.
Last night, after he’d comforted her, she’d sensed the wall go up around him again, the same one he’d forged after the accident. This chasm between them, the cat and mouse way they dealt with each other, never sure where the other stood, reminded her so much of the last few months of their marriage.
For whatever the reason, Gabe was pushing her away again.
She smoothed the wrinkles out of the bedspread and adjusted the lacy throw pillows against the shams. She did the same to Sarah’s bed, though it hadn’t been slept in.
She glanced down at her finger where Evan’s ring had been, rubbing the bare spot. She’d been unfair to him. While she’d never lied about caring for him, her heart hadn’t been completely open to him because of Gabe.
Until she and Gabe cleared the air between them, until they settled the unresolved issues that had haunted her for so many years, her heart would never be free to marry Evan.
****
Half of Gabe’s face was covered in shaving foam when someone rapped on the door. Mmm, breakfast. He could use a strong cup of coffee after such a restless night.
Tapping excess water from his razor, he turned off the faucet. He threw on a faded pair of jeans before reaching for the doorknob. Outside was his breakfast, just as he’d figured. And Louisa.
Her gaze dropped to his bare chest, where the curling dark hair was still damp from his recent shower, then flickered lower before flying up to his face. Her pink tongue moistened her lips, and a brief spark of desire deepened the gold of her eyes before she pulled herself together.
“G-good morning,” she said. “I was going to chastise you for sleeping in, but I see you’ve been up awhile.” Her gaze swept over him again, and a blush crept onto her face and neck. “I brought my tray down. I, ah, thought we could have breakfast together.”
He took in her appearance in a glance, from the white headband holding her hair off her flushed face, to her white sleeveless blouse and navy shorts. When he opened the door wider, she handed him the tray then bent to pick up the one left beside his door. He stepped aside for her to enter.
Her shoulder brushed his chest, and Gabe tried to ignore the way his skin tingled at the fleeting contact. “Go ahead and start,” he said, nodding to the breakfast trays, his tone more gruff than intended. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He shut the bathroom door behind him.
With a heavy sigh, Louisa set her tray on the table and peered around the room. Unlike her room at the big house which was furnished Victorian style with antiques and rich colors, the bungalow had more of a cottage feel, with wicker furniture and brightly-colored cushions and pillows. The effect was charming and cozy. The look was disrupted, however, by Gabe’s belongings. He hadn’t improved on his housekeeping techniques in the last five years. His clothes were crammed into a little suitcase tossed onto one of the chairs at the table.
The bed was unmade, its rumpled covers warm and inviting. Too inviting. She looked away. Sitting at the small table, she poured the coffee and spread cream cheese on the bagels. She hadn’t come down here to remember he used to sleep in the nude, she reminded herself firmly. Had he slept naked last night? The thought had her blushing anew.
She was still staring at his bed when Gabe reappeared. She could tell he’d caught her, because his eyes narrowed and deepened in color before he reached for his coffee.
“Did you sleep well?” He moved his suitcase off the other chair and sat down.
“Finally, yes. Thanks for last night, Gabriel. Oh, that sounded bad, didn’t it?” She giggled nervously. “I mean, thanks for keeping me company.”
He nodded, eyebrows slightly lifted as he bit into the bagel, but he said nothing. Didn’t even smirk at the unintentional sexual innuendo.
That she’d called on him last night for comfort weighed heavy on her mind. She wondered why he didn’t use it against her, to his benefit. It would be the perfect ammunition for his “fate” philosophy, how they were supposedly meant to be together.
She twisted in her chair to stare at the unopened curtains on the window. The delicate calico pattern fluttered gently with the breeze filtering through the screen.
She’d experienced countless storms in the years since Gabe’s departure. It was a given, living in the Puget Sound area of Washington. Every one of them had been difficult because of the memories they evoked. But in the time she and Evan had been together, never once had she considered calling him for comfort. Why was that?
She supposed she knew he’d scoff at her fears. Plus it would be another excuse for him to belittle Gabe who’d insisted in driving in bad weather that night. So, in a way, by not calling Evan when she was frightened, she was defending Gabe..
She rubbed two fingers against the throbbing in her temples and stood up. She circled her chair and pulled the curtains wide to peer out the window.
“You’re embarrassed for calling me last night, aren’t you?” Gabe asked, his voice quiet.
She came back to the table and sat down. “I was just thinking of all the other times I’ve been frightened by storms, and wondering why, um, I never felt the need to call, um, anyone before.” She took a slow sip of coffee.