Bear In The Rough: Book 1: Treasure Hunt (BBW Bear Shifter Romance) (19 page)

“It’s not that easy. I need the money.”

“What’s the point of doing something if you don’t love it?”

“What do you do then?”

“I am a painter.”

“Figures.” Alice muttered.

Art didn’t say anything, he had gotten used to her. Alice thought about it, it made a lot of sense. Art usually looked scruffy and his clothes were mostly worn out, probably because he didn’t want to get paint on them. When she had first seen him, he hadn’t really looked groomed but he had fixed himself up later. He was clean shaven nowadays and wearing different clothes.

“I have a show in a gallery, wanna come?” Art said suddenly.

Alice hadn’t been able to answer and now she was standing in front of the gallery, the pass clutched in her hand. What was she even doing here?

But she knew the answer; she wanted to see his paintings. She checked herself again, she had opted to wear a dress, long and modest. It was a pale blue and complimented her eyes. Her hair was neatly combed back and she felt she looked alright. No one gave her weird looks as she walked in.

The place was crowded; there was a big picture of Art hung by the entrance, looking serious in a suit. Whoever took the picture had done a good job because it looked so different that what he usually looked like but something about it made her heart beat faster. Alice shook her head trying to calm herself and looked around for Art.

She spotted him on the opposite of the room, talking with a couple of people. He was in a dark suit and he looked so different in a good way. Alice was about to call him when she saw a beautiful lady walk up to him. When Art looked at the lady, a look of sadness overcame his features and Alice knew who she was.

She couldn’t stay. She turned around and almost ran out. Her heart filled with pain, why was she so bothered by it?

It couldn’t be that I like him?
She asked herself uncertainly.

“It was a good show.” Art told her.

“Sorry I had to go somewhere for work.” She lied. She had spent the rest of the day regretting her decision but unable to go back. She didn’t want to see Art with that woman, it hurt her.

Art was quiet today and she knew why but she didn’t ask him about it. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.

“I am quitting my job.” Alice stated.

“Are you?” Art asked surprised.

“I decided enough was enough. I applied to a couple of places. I am going to hope for the best. If nothing happens, I am blaming you.” Alice said jokingly.

Art laughed and Alice smiled. “Fine but you’ll get another job. Have faith.”

“You seem happier. Is it because of me?” Art said playfully mussing up her hair.

“You think too much of yourself.” Alice said blushing.

Art’s playfulness disappeared. “She came to see me at my show.”

Alice didn’t say anything and he continued, “She wanted to meet up but I refused.”

“Are you sure?” Alice said trying not to see the evident agony on his face.

“Yeah I think it’s for the best.” Art said. “That reminds me, look what I got.” He took out a flyer from his pocket and handed it to her. It was an advertisement for the opening of an oceanarium.

“I have never been to one of these.” Alice said casually.

“You haven’t?” Art said incredulously. “I am going to take you there!”

Alice felt happy when he said that. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll book the tickets in the morning.” Art said.

Wait did this mean he was asking her out? The thought made her nervous and she stood up.

“I have to go.” Alice said abruptly and left. All the way home, she was blushing.

They held a farewell party for her at the office. It was a sham, she wasn’t a big enough employee but they wanted to have some fun and were using her as an excuse. She accepted the good wishes with a smile and managed to enjoy herself.

“I am glad you are quitting.” One of the co workers said.

Alice was taken aback by the statement. “Why do you say that?”

“You always seemed so unhappy but you look better now. You are glowing.” The co worker explained.

Alice touched her cheek; did she really seem that different? Two months ago, she would still be drowning in her sadness. But she did feel better now and it was because of Art. He took away her loneliness and she was grateful to him. Just the thought of him made her smile tenderly.

That night, she was almost skipping as she went to see him. She had a call from one of the places she had applied to and they had offered her a great job. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

But her happiness died when she saw him. Something was wrong. Art looked subdued and he didn’t have the thermos he brought every time without fail.

“What happened?” Alice asked immediately as she sat down.

“She asked to meet me. She says she wants me back.” Art said emotionlessly. Alice could feel her heart breaking. He couldn’t be going to meet her.

“Are you going to see her?” Alice asked trying not to let the pain be heard from her voice.

“I have to.”

Alice and Art didn’t talk. They sat there for hours before quietly walking up and leaving. Alice’s heart was in turmoil. Why did life have to be so unfair? Why couldn’t she just like someone? Just when she was ready to open her heart again, the person she wanted to do it for was already taken.

Alice couldn’t bring herself to go the next day. She avoided going for three days but she couldn’t resist anymore. The last three days had been sheer agony. Her feelings for Art became stronger as each day passed. She wanted to see him so badly. She missed his smile, his stupid jokes and him in general. She was starting to sound like a lovesick teenager but she didn’t care.

It didn’t matter anymore. She had to see him.

Alice put her coat on and walked there. No one was there and she sat down. She didn’t really expect Art to come and that thought disturbed her.

“You are here.” Art’s delighted voice broke her thoughts. He looked happier than usual. That could only mean one thing but Alice refused to think about it.

“I was busy. I got a new job.” Alice replied.

“That’s great.” Art sat down beside her.

“So how did it go?” Alice asked cautiously.

“As well as can be expected.” He said cryptically. He smiled. “It looks like you don’t need me anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Alice exclaimed.

“You seem fine now, not the wreck that you were before.” Art said. “I should go.” He stood up and began to walk away. Alice didn’t know what brought this on. She didn’t want him to leave. Her heart pounded against her ribs as her nervousness came back. He couldn’t leave her, not now! Not when she…..

“You can’t!” The words burst through Alice’s mouth. Art stopped but didn’t look at her.

“You can’t just come into my life and then decide to leave without asking me. I won’t let you, not when I am so attached to you now. I don’t care if you got back together with her; I am not giving up on you.” Tears brimmed over her eyes but she continued. “You promised that you would take me to that oceanarium, you have to take responsibility for that! I l-“her words were cut off by arms enveloping her.

“Took you long enough.” Art muttered.
Alice was in too much of a shock to talk properly.

“Wh-what?”

Art drew back and leaned down until his forehead touched hers. “You didn’t think I actually took her back did you?”

“But you indicated that…”

“I was only teasing. I had to make sure you felt the same.” Art murmured placing a kiss on her forehead making the heat rush to her cheeks. “I liked you from the moment I saw your eyes burning with fury but I was still hung up on her. But when I saw her, I didn’t feel anything and I knew who it was that I really liked.”

“You are a s-sadist!” Alice stuttered her face still red. She couldn’t believe him; he had made her suffer for nothing. But the relief overpowered her quickly followed by joy.

“You should get used to that.” Art grinned malevolently. He let go of her hand and began to walk opposite the direction of his place.

“Where are you going?” Alice asked puzzled.

“Well now that we are together, I have to make sure you get home safely right?” Art turned back to give her a tender smile. He stretched his hand towards her. Alice felt a smile spreading across her face as she ran forward to take his hand.

Their fingers interlocked, they left the spot behind for the last time.

Press On

             
Chapter One

    She sat cross legged on an old, Indian print blanket that still smelled of the campfire she had with her family last year. Before her was splayed boxes of old photos; polaroid’s and prints or family events she had long since forgotten.  She pored over the great bounty of memories, and tried to categorize them according to date. She found herself amazed at the amount of occasions that had been thrown for her that she had no memory of; Her childhood birthdays, none of which she could really remember beyond the age of eight, large Christmases in which the entire family was in attendance, a few childhood pets. Had it not been for her father’s perfect and meticulous handwriting that adorned the back of each photo, she was sure the task would have been impossible. Yet, he had marked every single one with a date and the name of the certain occasion.

   “Maggie: Pre-School graduation, I’m so proud of you darling,” the blue ink read.

   She caressed her fingers against the indents of the pen point. She cherished the thought that this was where her father’s fingers had been at one point, when he was alive and well. She wondered if she had been standing next to him, clenching onto his ripped jean pants he always wore, even though her family was well-off enough to buy another pair. There was a small break in the writing that indicated something or someone had interrupted him. She thought that maybe it had been her, asking him some inane question, which he always took time to answer, or perhaps it had been her mother, telling him to make more of that lemonade that everyone loved so much. It was never a family event or celebration without her father’s lemonade.

   She flipped the picture over and saw a grainy image of herself; She was sitting on a large log, squinting with the sun in her eyes, a homemade paper graduation cap with crayon doodles on it topping her long, untamed red hair. She was wearing a chiffon pink dress with a bow on the front, white tights and shiny black shoes. The green of the swaying pine trees behind her only served to highlight her red hair and porcelain skin, which was splattered with freckles that, in her adulthood, would only show up on her face when she spent a day at the beach.

    She tried to remember that day, but could only make out small parts; the songs she refused to sing, and how her mother had scolded her after the ceremony, her brother throwing a fit in the crowd as she took her diploma, and her father’s lemonade. She chuckled to herself, thinking about how pointless it was to have a graduation for such young children, but as she flipped the picture over and saw her father’s perfect penmanship, she knew it was not for the children that they did this; it was for the parents. Her father had taken the time to find a place on the playground, away from the other children and take a portrait of her on her special day, and she knew she must have made him proud.

   Maggie placed the photo back in its respective pile and pulled herself up from the floor. She walked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face, trying to wake herself up. It had been six months since her father had died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 75, and she had just started to do the task of going through his personal belongings, a chore Maggie had put off for months. She had hoped that her brother could have found it in his heart to do it. He had known how close Maggie and their father’s relationship had been, as opposed to his relationship with their father which was surrounded by turmoil since they were children. Maggie had talked with him at the funeral, and told him that she didn’t think she had it in her to go through all of those memories, to relive her life without her parents there. Her brother had held her in her arms and reassured her that he would take care of everything, that he had gotten his life back on track after a long rough patch of gambling and falling in with the wrong crowd. He reassured Maggie that he had found a good job and was finding help, Maggie cried into his arms, thanking him, and told him how proud she was of him, and to be his big sister.

   When she showed up to the house earlier that day, she had expected to see the house literally packed into boxes. Through conversation with her brother she had been under the impression that moving was going along smoothly. They had agreed not to sell the old place; it was a family heirloom meant for them to share collectively in their adulthoods as a space to spend Christmases, Birthdays, and Graduations, much the way their family had used it, a place for celebration and togetherness, a place to be kept in the family.

    Maggie had driven three hours down the coast that day, looking forward to seeing her brother, and the progress on the house. She had thought that it would be good for him to have a project to do, aside from his job. It would be something to keep him out of trouble while he got his life together. Yet, as Maggie drove the block in her little red sedan, she could even see from the street that something had gone completely awry. The front door was swinging open, and empty beer cans were scattered across the porch. She pulled into the driveway and dove out of her car, barely turning it off before she closed the door. She crept through the open doorway and looked around; empty food containers, full ashtrays, empty cups and bottles with cigarette butts floating in them were scattered across the house like a minefield on her parents’ fixtures.

   Maggie’s hands shook as she reached for her cellphone in her large, brown leather side bag.  She rumbled around her purse, searching endlessly for it in the abyss of papers and pens for her phone. She finally clenched onto the device and brought it to her face, her hands trembling with anger as she looked at the destruction that laid around her. She punched in the numbers on the flat screen as if she was going to be able to psychically hurt her brother with her key stroke. Brining the phone to her ear she was just greeted with his voicemail.

   “Hey! This is Andrew, you know the deal.”

   “Andy,” Maggie spoke into the speaker, her voice shaking, “You need to call me back NOW, I’m not saying it was you, I love you and I know you’re doing well, maybe we had a break in. Either way you have to call me back as soon as you get this. I mean it Andy, no messing around.”

   She hung up the phone and threw it back in her bag. She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes, Maggie had always been a punctual and self-resilient girl, even as a child, however this one incident, the sight of seeing her childhood home becoming some kind of party haven, and not what her father had wanted, weakened her almost to her knees.

   Maggie pulled back the tears and took deep breaths. She walked over to the pantry and drew out a box of plastic garbage bags and began filling them with the rubbish that was left behind. There were coaster stains left on the driftwood table her father and her had built in her late teens when they went on an excursion to the coast one weekend. The house seemed to breath with memory itself, every particle of it becoming alive with memory as she cleaned up the destruction around it. In the distance, she could hear the ebb and flow of the waves of the ocean that could be seen just beyond the back patio.

    Her father had built the place itself in his thirties before her and her brother came along. The piece of California, beach-front, property had been a wedding gift to her mother from some strange wealthy aunt who seemed to come out of the woodwork at the most unexpected times. Her parents had been ecstatic with the gift, and had spent their honeymoon not in some tropical dream-land, but rather walking on the beach that Maggie would grow up knowing as her back yard. She remembered her father, and how he was always up to something with the house, making constant repair and upgrades, adding new fixtures where he could find there. It was by no means a palace, especially for California’s standards, but it was her palace. To see the place in such a state of disarray, knowing that someone had done this to a place she loved almost as much as she had loved any other human in her life, made Maggie almost want to collapse in upon herself like a dying star. She held back the tears as she dumped some horrible, pre-mixed cocktail in a red, solo-cup down the sink, letting the drain catch the half smoked cigarettes.

   “Just a couple of kids having their kicks,” she said to herself, “just a few kids having a party in a house they heard was abandoned, you were a rebel one day too weren’t you?”

   She laughed to herself, “No you weren’t.”

   She calmed her nerves by thinking about seeing her brother, she was looking forward to see him doing well. He had recently bought into a company, and according to his E-mails was doing quite well. He was doing contracting work outside of Las Vegas, which was a little discerning given his past love of liquor and cards, but he had sworn up and down that he didn’t go into the city, that he knew himself too well to put himself in that position. Maggie smiled as she grabbed for the broom and began sweeping up some shattered glass off of the Marble kitchen floor. She was so proud of Andy, how mature he had become, how strong he must be to know his demons and know how to avoid him. He was only 2 years younger than Maggie herself, but to her this spoke volume as to how mature he had become, he was almost acting like he was older than her.

   The sun had begun to set by the time Maggie had restored the house to its prior beauty; she mopped the floors and vacuumed the rugs, making seem like there had never even been any adolescent banger there in the first place. As she was cleaning she had noticed that more than a few things had gone missing; a few power tools from her father’s garage, some of her mother’s jewelry, a couple antique vases, just the random odds and ends that would be easy to sell at a pawn shop on the other side of town for a quick dime. She tried to not let any of this bother her; she had taken most of the precious items with her back to her apartment in northern California not shortly after the funeral. Yet, it was enough to set her teeth on edge, knowing that some people had come in and blatantly disrespected her home.

   “Kids these days,” Maggie whispered to the wall as she set her large, leather bag down in her parents’ bedroom, and began to sort through the boxes of photos.

   It was around midnight when she finished with the last box of pictures. She sat on the rug stretching her legs out and elongating her back making her joints pop. She yawned and tightened the large, red bun of hair that adorned the top of her head. She pulled her mother’s old, knitted shawl over her bare shoulders and got up to close the large windows that sat on either side of her parents bed. She collapsed onto the soft mattress and buried her face into the quilted comforter. She inhaled deeply through her nose, taking in the bouquet of her parents. She could still smell the saltwater and sand that always clung to her mother, her soft blond hair being riddled with the rough grains. She could smell her father; the scent of oil and freshly chopped wood had always followed him around no matter how many times he had swum in the ocean that day. She let her mind become full and heavy with the memories of her yester year. She listened to the waves of the ocean until sleep pulled her in with the rolling tide.