The Legacy (62 page)

“You are probably right,” he agrees, pulling me closer. “I
don't want to think anymore.” His voice is thick with emotion.
“And I don't ever want to be away from you.”

Moving my face closer to his, I whisper, “You won't. I'm
right here.” I place my hand over his heart. “And when we are
not together I am here.”

Returning the gesture, he pushes the hair back from my
face, brushes his lips over mine and whispers huskily, “Let us
not think anymore,
amore
, not talk anymore.” Then he takes me
fully in his arms.

I immediately melt against him as the heat of his kiss and
the touch of his hands light a fire inside me, a fire that is only
kindled when passion roams free.

Phillip is surprisingly calm as he enters the boutique.
Standing just inside the door a moment, he lets his eyes scan
the female faces until he finds one he recognizes. And just as
he spots her, Wendy’s wide-eyed smile meets his. She runs to
him, embracing him tightly.

“It’s so good to see you!”
“It’s good to see you too,” he says.
Wendy pulls back, taking him in from head to toe,

He grins shyly. “Thanks. I only hope your daughter feels
the same.”
Wendy squeezes his hand, pulling him aside. “I really
believe that deep down, those feelings are still there, though she
adamantly denies it.” Pausing, she cautiously looks around a
moment. “She’s afraid, Phillip. Not only has she lost her trust
in others, she doesn’t trust herself or her feelings, either. But I
know you can help her see how amazing she is. I just know it.”
“I pray you’re right. All I can do is try.” He takes a deep
breath. “Where is she?”
Wendy points to the door her daughter imprisons herself
behind daily, her expression growing sad. “She never comes out
until we close. I usually take lunch in to her, otherwise she
wouldn’t eat.” She pushes a hand back through her hair,
swallowing in frustration. “She would rather go hungry than
face anyone. And I just don’t know how to help her.”
Shaking his head, Phillip looks at his watch, a slow smile
spreading across his face.
“Why don’t you let me take care of lunch today?”
Wendy grins, admiring his quick thinking. “I think that’s a
wonderful idea.”
“Lets just hope she doesn't throw it back in my face,” he
says, only half serious.
“Well, if she does, then I guess she will go hungry, won't
she?”
He laughs. “I guess so.”

Mali slowly runs the steamer down the silk skirt a final
time before placing it on the rack with the other finished
garments. Brushing her hair back from her face, she takes a
deep breath, momentarily gazing off into space. Her mother
will be in with her lunch at any moment. She is tempted to feel
guilty for keeping herself secluded this way and knows she
should be braver and get out more. She can’t expect her mother
to do this forever.

Mali needs to reclaim her life. But how can she face
anyone so disfigured? How can anyone ever look past the scar
that has taken away any chance of her having a normal life?
Even as her mind reasons it's wrong to feel this way, she
pushes the thought aside, telling herself to accept her fate. She
isn't being shallow, just internally stating a fact.

Putting her mind back on her work, Mali takes a blouse
from the rack and hangs it on the hook. She is just beginning to
steam the wrinkles from it when she hears the door open.
“Thanks, Mom,” she calls, her back facing the door. When
there isn’t the usual response of “You're welcome,” she glances
back and freezes.

Completely speechless, she turns off the steamer, her
heart races wildly. In an effort to overcome her shock, she
lowers her eyes and turns away from him. “Hello,” she finally
responds, her voice unsteady.

Phillip walks over and places the Subway bag and tray of
drinks on the table. When Mali tries to turn away again, he
gently catches her arm.

With a sigh of defeat, she face him fully. Bravely lifting
her chin, there is a hint of quiet defiance filling her eyes. She
has never felt more vulnerable in her life, but she refuses to let
him see it. And having him standing before her now, looking so
painfully handsome that it hurts her heart doesn't help matters.

Remaining silent, Phillip lifts his hand to her face, pausing
when she tenses slightly. His fingers gently move over her skin,
his thumb caressing the three inch scar lining her cheek. “I’ve
missed you, Mali.” His voice cracks a little.

Mali closes her eyes against stinging tears, soaking in his
gentle touch. She marvels at the emotion that just a single
touch from him produces.

At his heartfelt statement, Mali abruptly moves away
from him. “Don’t patronize me,” she returns vehemently.
Phillip keeps his voice soft. “You should know me well
enough to know I don’t say things unless I mean them.”
Her eyes are angry. “I thought I did, but maybe some
things have changed.”
Struggling to keep his rising anger in check, he swallows
hard. “So, are you calling me a liar now?”
She winces, then sighs, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,
Phillip. You didn’t deserve that. But you don’t know what I’ve
had to deal with.” She tugs a hand back through her hair. “I’m
not the same person anymore. We aren’t the same two kids.”
At the risk of her pulling away, he reaches for her hand.
When she doesn’t, he plunges ahead. “First, I know things are
not the same. We’ve led totally different lives. But I am a man
now and you are a woman–a woman I have loved since we
were children. For me, the only thing that has changed is my
love for you has only grown stronger.” He touches her face.
“And I know that this,” he says, tracing her scar, “will never
change who you are inside unless you allow it to.” He pauses.
“Second, I can’t begin to understand what you have gone
through. But I want to.” His eyes delve into hers. “Please, Mali.
I've come so far to be with you. Don't push me away. Just open
up a little and let me into your life.”
Mali looks
away
as
tears
fill her
eyes,
her
defenses
crumbling. “Oh, Phillip,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry for
hurting you.”
“Hey,” he says softly, drawing her into his arms. “It’s all
right. You did what you thought was best. It’s over now.”

A combination of desperation, loneliness and confusion
causes Mali to cling to him. Burying her face in his shirt, she
cries, drawing comfort from his muscular arms and soothing
warmth. It has been so long since she has just been held, so
long since she’s felt such comfort. After a few moments, she
draws back. Phillip wipes the tears from her cheeks with his
fingers and she can't help being touched by the gesture. As she
looks into his eyes, all of the feelings she buried long ago come
rushing back. There is still confusion, but the feelings are there.

Phillip gazes into Mali's eyes, clearly reading the emotions
there, and feels a renewing of the connection they once shared.
He senses her fear and his heart goes out to her. Earning her
trust is going to take some time, but he will be patient and wait
for her. He has already been waiting for half his life.

Moving back, he takes her hands. “Why don’t we have
some lunch and you can tell me all about your life. I want to
know everything.”

Mali gives him a faint smile. “I was going to say I will tell
you only if you tell me about your life, but I already know
everything from your letters.” She hesitates. “I’m sorry about
not writing you back. I guess . . . I was a little afraid. I didn’t
want to know how much I hurt you.”

Looking down at their joined hands, he pushes away the
painful memories of Mali marrying someone else. It had taken a
while, but he had finally begun to heal. He refuses to let those
wounds be reopened. “It helps to know you read my letters. I
didn’t know at the time if you ever did.”

She smiles. “I devoured every one you wrote. Jake was . .
. he was gone a lot. Reading your letters help me to not feel so
alone.”

He squeezes her hand, saddened to think of her being
alone with only his letters for company. “I’m glad they were of
some comfort.”

“Thank you for writing me.” She is about to say more,
but the sudden rumbling of her stomach causes them both to
laugh.

“I think that was an official announcement that it is lunch
time,” Phillip says. He hands her a sandwiches from the bag,
and for the next hour, listens as Mali shares the details of her
painful marriage.

How she longs go back and change things. It seems her
whole life has been full of regrets. One mistake led to another,
and now her days are empty, with only misery and grief for
company. And every time she glimpses her reflection in the
mirror, she is reminded of the consequences allotted to her
because of the choice she made to get into the car with her
intoxicated husband.