The Beginning of Always (46 page)

He had no way of knowing that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

“I have something for you,” he said. His grin held a secret. “Look in my backpack.” He let go of me and turned to his side so I could access his backpack. I hesitated, then unzipped it slowly.

“What’s with the flowers?” My voice was high and unnatural to my ears, sterile cheeriness.

Alistair fished them out and dropped them into my arms. “Just passed by a flower stand on the road, thought of you.”

It was modest bouquet of multicolored … “Tulips. But the season is over, way over.” Tulips didn’t grow in the winter—they were a spring bloom. “They’re beautiful.” I clutched the stems in my palms, the plastic bag and slippery in my weak grasp.

“A greenhouse grow, probably. Thought it’d make you happy.”

Suddenly, Alistair frowned at me. “Where’s your jacket?”

“Oh.” I took a step back. “Right.” I was in such a hurry that I didn’t grab anything and in such emotional turmoil that I didn’t even notice I was cold.

“It’s freezing. Let’s go inside.” Alistair draped an arm around me and quickly hustled us back indoors.

“Why’s it dark in here?” He swept his gaze across the foyer, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Were you just sitting here without any lights on?”

“Oh. Uh.” I stumbled over my answers. “I was just taking a nap. Woke up right when you got here.”

“Got that ESP, don’t you?” Alistair dropped his backpack against the coatrack and flicked on a couple switches. The suddenly flood of yellow light shocked me enough to see spots.

“Did you eat yet?” Alistair shed his jacket and went to the living room. This was normal for him. Everything was typical, totally perfunctory and standard. We were doing what we did every time he visited. It was all part of our schedule and routine, how we had learned to live with the distance for a year and a half.

My feet followed him into the living room, also trained by habit.

I sat next to him on the couch, his arms splayed against the back in casual angles. There was an easy air to his posture, a casual happiness.

“Tell me you love me,” I said quietly. I wanted to hear it one last time before I told him the news, because he would hate me afterwards. I wanted to hear his love just one more time.

Alistair reached over to grip my chin lightly with a finger. Our eyes found each other and what I saw there was complete peace and utter acceptance. His free hand stroked the crown of my head and he leaned forward until our foreheads met each other.

“I love you, Florence Vita Reynolds,” he whispered. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you more than I love myself.” He pressed his lips against mine; they were cold from the wind, but so soft. So ideal.

I responded greedily.

He broke away and exhaled hot breaths that slipped past my own lips.

“I’ll love you always, no matter what,” he said.

You won’t love me in about five minutes.

The pain began etching into my face, my facade no long good enough to keep it at bay. I didn’t know how to start telling him. My mouth moved slightly as if of its own accord, trying to say something, but no sound came out.

Alistair smiled and he was so handsome, his dimples peeking out and the edges of his eyes crinkling.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

“We still have a week,” I responded tightly.

He canted his head to one side, his eyebrows lifting slightly.

“Is everything okay?”

I fought to force a smile, but was unsuccessful. I nodded awkwardly, bobbling my head up and down in a jolting, unnatural fashion.

“Mm-hmm,” I forced out. I kept on nodding. I pursued my lips and squeezed my fingers tight into each other. “Yep.”

Alistair’s smile slowly faded. My spastic routine wasn’t convincing me. “What’s wrong?” He reached over and cupped the side of my face, stilling my motions.

“Do you have something to tell me? Is it about your college apps?”

I shook my head fiercely, my hair flying all about me.

Now or never. I parted my mouth, “I … I …”

“Is this about New York?” Alistair let go of my cheek and readjusted his position in the couch. He rolled his shoulders, his eyes building a defensive glint to it. “If you don’t want me to go, it’s okay—you just have to tell me.” He shook his head. “I know you wanted to spend the summer together, but you can come to New York and we’ll be together in the fall when you get to U of M.”

“No,” I choked out. “It’s not New York. I … New York is fine.”

Alistair studied me. “Are you sure that’s not what this is?” His tone was doubtful.

“I’m … positive.”

“Then what is it?” He reached for my hands and pulled them slightly towards him.

My heart hammered and the pit of my stomach twisted.

I parted my lips and they moved silently, trained by the speech I had been practicing before he arrived. But once I realized no sound emerged, I clamped them closed, then tried again.

“I’m pregnant,” I gasped out in a barely audible whimper.

The words hovered between us, just floated in the air, refusing to catch hold, refusing to sink in.

“What?” Alistair recoiled and his palms grew ice cold in my grip. Tears began forming and my lips involuntarily began to quiver. I averted my face so he couldn’t see me break apart.

“Babe.” Alistair reached a hand over to turn my chin. My hands shot out and pushed him away. I stood up suddenly and the flowers fell off my lap to land onto the carpet in a bare rustle.

I needed to run. I needed to get away. My heart was threatening to burst into pieces.

“Florence,” Alistair said in a low voice, standing up slowly to join me.

“I’m pregnant!” I screamed. Sobs broke free and I knew I was losing it, knew there was no going back to my mien of calm and togetherness. I was broken. I was broken.

Alistair seized my shoulders and pulled me towards him, crushing me into his embrace. I pushed at his chest, guilt and horror of the truth clawing at my heart.

“I can’t be … I can’t …”

Alistair clutched at me, tucking me into his hard arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” I babbled incoherently. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” This baby would keep him in St. Haven. It would keep him in Michigan and keep him tied to me. He couldn’t accomplish all those things he had spoken about, all the goals he had given himself.

He couldn’t go to New York.

He wouldn’t make it out of here.

Why was he shaking his head at me?

“I’m sorry!” My voice ripped through me and my tears began flowing down my cheeks, uncontrollable.

“I was irresponsible, it’s my fault, I should have been more careful!” The daughter of the town doctor—out of anyone I should have known better, should have protected myself.

I should have protected Alistair.

Stupid! So stupid!

Alistair forced my hands apart and seized my wrists. He gathered me in his arms and pressed me tightly to him, taking me down to rest into the couch.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said.

“No! It’s not okay!” I writhed in his embrace.

“Hey. Just … calm down. Breathe. I’m here, I’m here.” Alistair ran his palms up and down my arms, his touch providing that hypnotic gentling sensation that always came when he was around. “Just breathe. In. Out. Come on.”

I sucked in a shuddering inhale, giving a short cough with the exhale. And then I tried again. We sat there for a minute as I calmed down, my thundering heart not giving me any space in my chest, but the light-headed quality of the present was slowly dissipating.

“Do you feel better?” Alistair asked.

I shrugged, rubbing my wrist over my damp eyes.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, my wrists pressed tightly against my eyes. I had taken five pregnancy tests, had convinced Renee to buy them for me in the next town over.

“I’m sure,” I choked out.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. It’s alright, it’s all going to be alright.”

I shook my head. “No—no, it isn’t. You’re doing so well at school and you’re supposed to be going to New York for that internship next summer and—”

“Don’t talk about that. Just … calm down. It’s okay, I’m here.”

The question haunting me all week blurted from my lips.

“You’re not mad?”

Alistair was genuinely confused at my question. “Mad? Why would I be mad? Florence, this isn’t your fault, it’s not because of you. I’m here, I’m here with you.”

Potent relief flooded me. He wasn’t angry. I could breathe easier, could just catch my breath. But the other question, one even more important, chased from beyond my lips before I could stop it, also seeking reprieve.

“Do you want it?” I asked in a rush.

Alistair hesitated, his grip on my shoulder tightening.

“I’m not sure what to say. Let’s not make any rash decisions now. What do you want?”

“I don’t know either,” I said desperately. I didn’t know, even as I’d sat on this information for an entire week, allowing the fear and shame to fester and eat away at my sanity, I still couldn’t make a decision. I needed to get the conversation out, to hear the words outside my own brain.

Alistair hesitated, then said slowly, “You know there are …”

I shuddered, shaking my head fiercely.

“I can’t have an abortion, even if I wanted to. My dad is the only doctor in town.”

“I can drive you to Chicago or Detroit.”

At his sentence, tears began anew and my breaths came out short and hard. Alistair quickly gripped my shoulders and shook his head. “Look, let’s not make a decision. It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.”

“Can—” I choked out. “Can you just hold me?”

Alistair’s expression softened and he slid his palms across my back. He gathered me into his arms and the two of us sunk into the deep cushions of the couch. He brushed my head off my face, wiping away my tears with the back of his fingers.

“Let’s just chill out right now. We’ll figure things out tomorrow.”

I nodded, now numb but at least that was a downgrade from my full-blown panic.

Alistair said softly, “If you wanted to keep it, you’d make a great mom, I know it.”

I curled up tightly, drawing my knees to my chest. “No. No, I won’t. I can’t be a mom to anyone. I don’t have a mom anymore, I never did. I don’t know the first thing about taking care of someone.”

“Don’t think like that.” Alistair pressed his lips on the top of my head. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry, babe, I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”

Some of the trepidation leaked from my bones. The fear of his rejection, of his abandonment, ebbed.

“I’m with you forever, always,” Alistair said.

My body trembled. The dread was still there, still present and pressing up against my sanity. All the concerns I’d held just thirty minutes ago hadn’t evaporated with his arrival, but his soft acceptance of all this soothed me. And I was grateful for it.

I leaned down to rest myself against his shoulder.

“You promise?”

“Of course.”

“Always?”

“Always.” Alistair hugged me tightly. “No matter what.”

Chapter 24

I
woke up.

One moment I was dreaming, the next I wasn’t.

I knew he was here. He made no sound, but as I slowly slid off the bed to stand, we both became acutely aware of each other’s presence.

Alistair sat in the shadows with his back propped up against the open doorway into my room. His arms rested against his knees and in the faint light, I could make out something clutched in his fist. Something long, covered in beads …

Alistair didn’t glance my way, his attention downwards to the ground. Silence stretched with only the sound of pounding waves coming from beyond my open balcony door. The rustling of the curtains in the wind scratched together.

Then I broke it.

“What are you doing here?”

I said it as a statement, not a question. I knew the answer.

Alistair finally turned his gaze to me, tilting his face towards the light. It illuminated only half of his face so the other half was cast in shadows.

I wrapped my arms around myself to shield my bare skin from him.

Silence.

When Alistair spoke, his voice was soft. “Do you ever think about how our lives would be different? If it all hadn’t happened the way it did?”

I chewed my bottom lip and I slid a step backwards, but there was nowhere to go. We never talked about it, we never spoke about it. Could he feel the dream? Did he sense the harsh memory of it?

“She would have been ten by now, we—”

“I know.” My tone was hard. My eyes glared, my expression fierce, “I know how old she would have been. Stop.”

Alistair paused. He made a tight fist with the item in his hand and then, bracing himself against the floor, stood up. I took a step back as he moved towards me, his heavy footsteps barely making a sound. Like last night, he was bare, save for his underwear. The memory of the past twenty-four hours flooded my senses and all of a sudden, all I could remember was the hard press of his chest against mine, that squeezing sensation in my heart, the hopeless pull of his fingers in my hair.