Poughkeepsie (5 page)

Chris had once told her he was the only man who’d ever really want her. Instead of making her special, he made it sound like she was lucky he was willing to stoop to her level. “Nobody likes a chick reading books all the time,” he liked to complain. “Why don’t you live a little instead of always being at school?”

The thought of being out of their relationship gave Livia wings. Why had it taken her so long to see this? With the Poughkeepsie station next, she stood by the doors like one of the uptight commuters and was ready to disembark before the train had even stopped. Her eyes scanned the platform, and she almost fell off the train in her rush to find Blake. Finally, she saw him at the very outer edge of cement platform. His face looked different.
Swollen. Hurt
.

Everything Livia carried slid from her arms. She ran straight for him. When she’d closed the distance, her hands hovered just over his beaten face, not wanting to touch, but wishing she could heal. “Blake, what happened?”

He winced in obvious pain, but insisted on their regular greeting. “Hello, Livia. How was your day?”

“Stop. Stop that. Tell me what happened to you.” She gently ran her fingers down the length of his chest. He gasped when she reached his ribs. “You’re hurt.”

Blake shook his head. “My life outside of this train station won’t touch you.” His green eyes swam with pain and determination.

No. No.
“Blake, I’m begging you. I’m right here. Please talk to me,” she implored him.

He tried to straighten his posture. “I regret to inform you that I lost your belongings today. I’ll do my best to replace them,” he tried to bow formally, but pain prevented it.

“Did someone beat you up for my cooler and blanket?” Livia asked.

Blake hung his head. “There were too many of them. I tried my best, but they thought the cooler might have something valuable in it.”

His lip was bleeding. Livia’s internal rage flared again. The thought of her beautiful Blake defending the honor of her empty cooler brought tears to her eyes, which she quickly blinked back.

He misread her emotions. “Was it terribly special? I’m so very sorry.”

Livia put her finger on his lip, trying to stem the bleeding and his ridiculous words. “If you think I give a rat’s ass about that cooler, you don’t know me at all. Nothing I own is worth your pain.”

She began an inventory of his possible injuries. His hands were scraped, his lip swollen, and his rib was obviously the worst of it. They were silent, the moonlight making his eyes luminescent.

Then, quietly, he took down one of his walls for her. “I know you.”

“Blake, will you let me take you to the ER?” She already knew his answer.

“No, I can’t pay for their services.” He was adamant.

Dignified, proud
.

“Well, walk me to my car then, please,” she asked.

Blake insisted on helping her pick up the things she’d dropped, even though his pain had him breathing through his teeth.

If he doesn’t die, I’m going to kill him for being stubborn.

He opened her car door and looked perplexed when she reached in and popped the trunk. Her father, John, never let her drive without a decent first aid kit.

Blake said nothing, but kept his eyes steady on Livia as she cleaned his wounds and covered what she could with bandages. When she’d done all the plastic kit would let her, she handed Blake the two aspirin thoughtfully included by the manufacturer. He swallowed them without the benefit of water.

“Thank you for not complaining about that,” Livia said.

Blake nodded in acknowledgment.

“Come home with me. I can’t leave you here like this.” This time her voice cracked.

“My angel, you forget, you have to go make Mrs. Grandma her meal.” Blake ran the back of his bandaged hand down Livia’s cheek.

“Please. I won’t be able to breathe from worrying about you.” Livia didn’t care how crazy she sounded.

“I don’t think that’s prudent. I don’t want you bringing me home like a stray cat.” His defenses were climbing back up. She’d asked too much.

“Okay. I’ll see you Monday then?” The words felt like sandpaper on glass. Rough and unwanted.

“Yes, sweet Livia. I’ll be here. Have no worries.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

He was gone into the darkness before Livia had closed her car door. The dashboard’s green clock clocked taunted her. 5:55. She’d have to drive fast to get to Mrs. Grandma’s.

Livia could never have imagined how many things would have changed by the time she pulled into the Park and Ride on Monday morning. A huge, glittering engagement ring from Chris kept distracting her from driving, and her concern about Blake’s weekend welfare made her an almost speechless basket case.

It took her two tries to shift the car into park, and based on the burning rubber she could now smell, Livia knew she’d left the parking brake on for her commute. She gathered her things, including a delicious breakfast from the town bakery, and took off running.

Blake
.

He leaned casually against the brick wall where his protective shade usually formed. The day’s thick froth of clouds was a firm barrier from the sun. His swelling was gone, but he still had bruises. He glanced up and smiled like he hadn’t seen her in years.

Livia set her bags down and walked right into him, feeling his arms close around her. She found the crook of his neck and placed a kiss there. She ran her hands all over his face and through his hair.
Here. He’s here
.

The ring danced gaudily on her left hand. Blake caught it like a wayward butterfly.

“How did he trick you into this?” Blake looked amused instead of angry.

“Chris’s a son of a bitch,” Livia declared. “Well, that’s not true. His mother’s a really nice lady. I could throttle him, though.”

Livia pushed herself away and started an animated pacing. “So there I am, making dinner for Mrs. Grandma—who is doing great by the way—and his whole family is in the kitchen. Chris drops to one knee and pulls this monstrosity out.” Livia held her hand up. “He has the nerve to say ‘Grandma wants to see me happy before she dies, so, Livia, will you marry me?’ What the hell was I supposed to say? Mrs. Grandma is there with teary eyes, clapping. So I said yes—to her mostly, even though she’s far from dying.”

Blake had not moved, but he watched her with a grin.

“Come here,” he said.

He held his hand out to her. Livia stepped in closer and let him pull her against him again. He lifted her left hand and smiled sadly.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t a real diamond.” He searched her eyes for a moment. “Are you disappointed?”

“You know, I thought it was a little glassy looking. There’s really no way he could afford a ring this big.”

Blake shook his head along with her.

Livia took her hand from his and yanked at the metal band, but it wouldn’t budge.

Tisking, Blake stilled her movements. “May I have a try?”

She nodded.

He placed his hand under hers gently and straightened her fingers. His touch felt like fire and ice and commanded her complete attention.

“Be gentle with yourself.” Slowly, tenderly, he eased the ring from her finger, staring into her eyes. He placed the faux gem in her palm.

“Thanks. I know exactly what to do with this.” Livia walked off the platform, into the grassy park, and down to the Hudson River. She flung the ring into the water with a satisfying splash. When she heard it, all of the feelings that bound her to Chris snapped like an overtaxed fishing line. In the wake was only relief.

Blake clapped as she returned to him. “Good show.”

“I’m more than done with Chris.” Livia picked up the large bakery bag.

“The spineless nimrods are going to get all the good seats,” Blake warned.

“I was actually planning on playing hooky with you today, if you’re comfortable with that.” Livia had dressed in jeans and a fleece, rather than her teaching garb.

He put a stern look on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Livia, I can’t promote delinquent behavior.”

“I want to see what a day is like for you, but we could just stay here.” Livia crossed her fingers and peeked at him.

Blake hugged her hard and sucked in a hiss of air as she squeezed back.

The rib is still healing
.

When he’d composed himself, Blake kissed the top of her head. “Like I could ever say no to you.”

4

Into His World

L
IVIA
F
ELT
T
HE
T
HRILL
of a victory. “Considering we’re erecting a gravestone to the dead relationship of Chris and Livia, we deserve to celebrate.”

Blake sat, and Livia spread out the baked goods she’d brought with her, ignoring the curious looks of those still waiting for the train. She passed Blake two more aspirin without a word, and he took them with a swig of orange juice.

“A day in the life of Blake Hartt? Are you sure you’re up for this?” He rubbed a hand along his jaw, and his eyes looked devilish.

“I brought my boots.” Livia gestured to her thick, serious hiking boots.

“Where to take you? Now that’s the question.” Blake looked thoughtful as he ate the rest of the breakfast.

Livia cleaned up their trash, and when she returned, Blake had smoothed his piece of cardboard on the cement before him. He placed his hands just over it like a Ouija board. The sight of it jolted Livia with a reminder of why he was here this morning. Not just because he wanted to see her. He was homeless. Different.

Up close, Livia could see well-worn spots from his repetitive touch. The length of cardboard had obviously been rolled up for storage often. Blake smiled at her and began to run his graceful fingers over it.

“What does that do for you?” Livia had to ask.

“I’m practicing piano. I can’t travel with a baby grand.” He let his fingers dance over keys only he could see. Livia nodded, mesmerized by his behavior. “I’ll play you a song.” Blake flexed his fingers and concentrated harder on the cardboard, moving his hands methodically over its surface.

What do you say after an imaginary concert?
Livia watched as the song came to a close with his careful plucking of certain keys on the cardboard. She couldn’t help but glance to see if the commuters were staring.

“I couldn’t hear that, but your hands looked beautiful.”
The only way I can do this is if I don’t lie.

“Of course not. It’s not plugged in.” Blake smiled, then watched as she didn’t get his joke. “I know it doesn’t make noise,” he explained. “Going through the motions is comforting to me. I wish I had a real piano.”

The wistfulness in his tone was aching to hear. “Did it used to have keys on it?” Livia asked.

“I did draw them once, but it was in pencil. No matter. My heart knows right where they are.” He watched her as he tickled the pretend keys again.

“Is the cardboard itself special?” she asked. It seemed like a good question. Cardboard was easily replaceable, but this piece was so old.

Blake smoothed it with both hands in a practiced gesture. “When I went into foster care, I had what I could carry in a box. Although the contents changed over the years, I managed to hang on to the box. It fell apart soon after I aged out of the system, but I kept this one piece.”

Livia reached out and stroked the cardboard tenderly.
This is all he has
.

Blake snatched up her hand, and for a second Livia thought he was angry. He pulled her fingers to his mouth and kissed each one of her fingertips.

“Tell me what ‘aged out’ means,” Livia said.

Blake let her have her hand back and continued his silent concert. “I entered foster care at twelve. When I reached eighteen, the state was no longer responsible for my care. I had my box and thirty-two dollars to my name.” He shrugged.