Defining Moments (A Moments In Time Love Story 2) (4 page)

Heat felt like punching a wall as he watched his wife disappear through the rotating hotel doors. Since the accident, since he had been forced to make a decision that shattered his world, he hadn’t been able to sleep through the night. Although their baby girl was gone, the one thing that comforted him was knowing his wife had survived.

He didn’t know what he would have done if he had lost Melisa. He would have made the same damn decision a hundred times over if he had to. Without her, there would be nothing much left of him. Now, she was walking away, choosing to grieve alone instead of together. She was running, as she always did when things got tough.

He gunned the engine and gritted his teeth. He wanted to be furious with her for what she was doing, but couldn’t find the anger in his heart. He understood her sorrow because it weighed on him as well, crushed him.
She will return
, he told himself. She would come back to him and they would pick up the pieces that fate had knocked down. But why was it that he felt as if he was losing her forever?

The first room Heat entered when he arrived home was the nursery. From the changing table, he picked up the small panda bear he had won for the baby at a fair. He lowered himself into the rocking chair and held it in his fist, as tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, little one,” he said to the empty room. “I’m so sorry.”

He remained in the room for a whole half hour. When he walked out, his eyes were wet. Inside his and Melisa’s vintage-decorated bedroom, he charged straight toward a wall and punched it. Fury buffered the shot of pain. Even though Melisa didn’t blame him for the accident, he blamed himself. He had been running on too much adrenaline and shouldn’t have driven her to the hospital. Now their baby was dead and he had almost lost his wife. Why did he have to be the one to walk away with only a few scratches on his arms and legs when he could have handled so much more pain than Melisa and the baby? How cruel was fate to pick on the weakest?

Although Heat had been robbed of the chance to hold his daughter, he missed her as if he’d known her his whole life.

He had been so ready to move into the next phase of their lives, to be an awesome dad to his child. As a fireman, he spent a lot of time at work, but he had already arranged to reduce his hours, at least in the beginning to spend as much time as possible with the baby and Melisa. He had planned to be a hands-on dad, from diaper changes to feedings and baths. He’d wanted to do it all. Now he had nothing. No baby. And no wife to get through the loss with.

Even as he felt it was wrong for Melisa to walk away right now, he felt he owed her the time alone. He was prepared to wait. And he would support her in any way he could, for as long as she needed to heal. Not that he had a choice.

Melisa had often dreamed of spending even one night at the Lux.

She slid the plastic keycard into the slot and pulled it out when the tiny light blinked green. As she roamed around the spacious suite, the plump couches with cream and gold damask covers, the dimly lit lamps, the gleaming mirrors and white marble in the bathroom had no effect whatsoever on her. It could have been any old room. What she wanted more than anything was snatched away before she had a chance to take it.

Without unpacking, she removed her ballerinas and climbed, fully clothed, under the crisp sheets. Burying her head into the pillows, gulping in the fresh scent of laundered bedding, she wept until exhaustion dragged her into the depths of sleep. She didn’t wake until morning.

After a light breakfast of poached eggs on toast and fruit, Melisa strolled to Serendipity Lake Park. If anything could lift her mood, it was water.

She had spent six weeks at the Lux and had a semblance of a routine. She ate breakfast in her room, called Josie, who was filling in for her at the bakery, went for a walk, returned to the hotel for lunch, and spent the rest of her day wallowing in misery. If she stopped grieving, it would mean she was forgetting the daughter she had lost. The thought of moving on, as if nothing had happened, left her breathless with guilt.

But this morning, as she walked to the lake, she realized she had to find a way to go on, or else she would lose her marriage with Heat. She had not intended to spend so much time away from him and their home, but each day that passed made it harder for her to go back. He had begged her so many times to return home, but she always asked for a few more days.

When she sometimes invited him to eat dinner with her at the hotel or some restaurant in town, things felt distant between them. But she knew one thing. No matter how much she blamed him for what happened, she still loved him more than she had loved any other man. He had been her first love, and even if she was blinded by grief, she couldn’t see a future without Heat in it. It was time to go back home so they could work through everything together. She intended to surprise Heat in two days’ time.

The park lining the lake was blissfully empty of people. Serendipity was a small town where everybody knew everybody, and Melisa didn’t want people gawking at her, wondering why she was wandering around, with her eyes red and her hair disheveled.

After walking for a while, she chose to sit on the same old, weather-beaten bench she often occupied when she came to the lake and closed her eyes to better enjoy the summer
breeze stroking her face and fluttering her hair. A leaf abandoned its branch and landed on her head. She didn’t remove it; it was a small piece of comfort. Sucking in a deep breath of the rain-washed air, which still smelled of dirt, grass, and flowers, she cajoled her mind into transporting her back to the time she had been happiest, to remind her of what she had, instead of what she’d lost.

Against the soundtrack of the water lapping the shore and the leaves rustling, she studied a picture of Ben, the way he’d looked when they saw him at MaryJane Café over two months ago. He was by far the greatest miracle of her life, and seeing him again after so many years still felt surreal. She thought of Heat, his gentle smile, the way his eyes had filled with warmth when he’d gazed at her at their quick but romantic wedding in Vegas. She knew Heat was the man she was meant to be with.

Suddenly, without her consent, an image of Scott’s face formed in her mind, and at that moment, the hairs at the back of her neck rose and bristled. As if an invisible force were pushing her to do it, she turned around and sprang to her feet.

A stone’s throw away, under a tree with low-hanging branches, a man with a well-trimmed beard and wearing a black cap stood watching her, smiling. He took an unsure step forward as she took one back. A chill ran up her spine; her heart thumped. What the hell was going on? Was someone playing a prank on her?

The man held up a hand, palm facing her, and halted. “Please,” he said, and at hearing the familiar deep and silky voice, Melisa’s blood ran cold. She clapped a hand to her mouth and stumbled back, sank to the damp ground.

“Go away… You’re not.” She attempted to get up but her knees were too weak to carry her weight. She used her hands to scramble backward, grabbing onto dirt and kicking her feet like a spoiled child as fear electrified her. “Leave me alone.”

Before she could take another breath, the man was beside her, trying to grab hold of her hands as she flailed at him like a madwoman. It took her a moment to realize she was screaming, the sound scraping the insides of her throat raw. Finally, the strength to fight melted out of her body and fear paralyzed her.

The man held her tight and pulled her to him as she whimpered and shook. “Shhhh.” He buried his face into her hair. “Melisa, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s me. I’m here.”

A fresh dose of strength flooded back into Melisa and she used all of it to shove him away so hard he fell back against the earth, breaking the fall with his hands. She got back to her feet and gazed down at him with fire burning in her eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

The man’s lips parted, but he closed them again. Instead, he removed his glasses. His grey eyes were unmistakable.

Melisa reached out with her eyes and made contact with his. She held his gaze, bore into it, questioned it. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she noted the pleading, the hurt, the fear in those eyes.

Was she so far gone that she was now seeing her dead husband’s ghost? But how could he be a ghost? She’d felt him as he held her a minute ago—the warmth of his body, his breath in her hair. She’d felt his heartbeat. A heartbeat that was supposed to have stopped seven years ago. She blinked twice to make sure he was still standing there.

He was still there, wearing jeans and a turquoise polo shirt.

The man who stood before her was real. At forty-three, with a beard and longer hair, he looked different. But the one-sided tilt of his lips when he smiled was the same one that had once sent her heart racing.

Melisa still couldn’t move any part of her body. With every ounce of strength she had, she parted her lips. “Sc… Scott.”

He blinked and nodded. “It’s me,” he said cautiously, afraid to chase her off or have her attack him again. He picked himself up off the ground and attempted to dust himself off, but his dirty hands left streaks on his jeans. He didn’t seem to mind. He approached her again, slowly.

Before the rational side of her brain could take over, Melisa flung herself into his arms and buried her head into his shoulder, soaking his clothes with hot tears. As both shock and relief flooded her body, she tightened her arms around him, clutching him as if afraid he might turn into thin air any moment. He wore the same spicy cologne he had when he was… alive. She shoved him away again, wiped her eyes, and raked a hand through her hair. “I’m crazy. This… this can’t be happening?” She shook her head.

“No.” He blinked away tears and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You’re not. I’m really here.”

“No… You can’t be.” Tears scorched her cheeks as she remembered the day he was buried, a freezing day with the scent of wildflowers perfuming the air. Pain had twisted her stomach when she’d watched his casket being lowered into the ground. A dark cloud had wrapped itself tightly around her until she couldn’t breathe. For years, she couldn’t breathe. When he died, it was as if a light switch inside her heart had been flicked off, allowing the darkness to shroud it. “What the hell…”

Scott backed away again as the relief in her amber eyes turned to molten lava. He held up his hands. “I can explain.”

Melisa titled her head to the side and squinted. She didn’t say a thing. She wanted to. But what could she say to a dead man? What could she say when she felt she was going crazy? But he was standing right in front of her, and it could only mean one thing. She was afraid to let it register inside her mind. “You didn’t… You wouldn’t…” Her knees gave way and she stumbled to the bench where she slumped back, legs knocking against each other. “What did you do? Where the fuck were you?”

Scott cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Melisa… I can explain everything.”

“You can explain?” Melisa’s whole body trembled as the words spilled out of her mouth. “You can explain that you faked your death? You made people believe you were dead? You let me grieve for you even though you were alive? Oh, my God.” Melisa buried her head in her hands.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Scott didn’t dare come near her again.

“Sorry?” Melisa looked up again, laughing and crying at the same time. “You’re sorry? No.” She jabbed a shaking finger at him. “You say sorry when you forget someone’s birthday, you say sorry when you accidently step on someone’s toes.” Her voice rose with each word. “You say sorry when you… when you…” She sucked in a breath, but it might as well have been lined with thorns. When she spoke next, her voice was low, broken into pieces. “Faking your own death… No, you can’t say sorry for that.”

She wanted to get away from him, wanted to pretend she was imagining things, and erase this day from her memory. But she was so shaken and weak that if she stood up, she was certain she’d crumple at his feet. So she wedged her hands in a prayer pose between her knees and gazed into the distance away from him. She heard him shift, and then his heavy breathing, but she was glad he didn’t come closer. She wasn’t sure what she would do to him if he did. He’d probably end up dead—for real this time.

After a long silence broken only by the swish of the breeze, birds chirping, and a distant car honking, Scott spoke. “I had to leave.”

In a heartbeat, Melisa was on her feet again, and the palm of her hand stung. Scott had his hand on his cheek.

He kept his eyes fixed on hers. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I went away. It was only a matter of time before we were torn apart.”

“So, lying to me didn’t hurt me, did it? Leaving me to freakin’ grieve for you, was all a damn joke to you? Do you have any idea… any idea at all what I went through when I thought I’d lost you? It took years to rebuild my life, and now you just reappear and destroy it again? What kind of monster does that?” She slapped him on his other cheek, and unable to stop herself, she pummeled him on the chest, the shoulders, the arms. At first he just stood there, welcoming her punishment. As the strength left her and tears started streaming down her face, burning her eyes, he opened his arms and allowed her to sink into them.

As she sobbed against his chest, he held her tight, not letting her go, even when she struggled to free herself.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated over and over again.

With each word that exited his mouth, the fire of fury in the pit of her stomach grew stronger as sobs shook her small frame. She took a deep breath and pushed him away, backed away until the trunk of a tree halted her. “I hate you,” she said with as much venom as she could inject into three little words. Her eyes were swollen and her red hair clung to her cheeks and forehead, damp with sweat and tears.

“How could you do that to me? How could you do something so horrible?” She pushed away from the tree trunk and started walking away. She didn’t look back at Scott—was it really Scott?—because she was too afraid of what she’d see. She was imagining it, she had to be imagining it all. It couldn’t be real, she told herself as she ran all the way back to the Lux.

When she reached the entrance to the hotel, she didn’t slow down. She ran past the reception and through the lobby, not giving a damn that people eyed her with concern, whispered, and pointed in her direction. She wanted to hide from the world. If only it were possible to hide from the misery too, or slice it from her body like they had done to her baby. She wanted to drown it in her tears until it suffocated. But she couldn’t. She didn’t even know where the hurt was at this point. During the past few weeks, it had traveled from her heart through the rest of her body, hiding itself in every limb, torturing every part of her. Why did she have to suffer so much more than most people? Why couldn’t suffering be distributed fairly among everyone?

As soon as she let herself into her room, she went straight for the minibar and dropped to her knees in front of it. She yanked the door open, then slammed it shut again, releasing a puff of cool air. There was nothing in there to stop her from feeling. With Melisa’s permission, Carlene had ensured no alcohol would be brought to her room. But Melisa could walk out of her room now and go downstairs to the bar, where all the real stuff was anyway. She knew more than anybody, though, that the only thing alcohol did was delay the inevitable, and once it wore off, pain would rush back in with the strength of a hurricane. Besides, as much as she wanted it, the thought of drinking again nauseated her.

She decided to stay in her room, buried under the covers with a towel to catch her tears, because tissues were no longer enough. This time, she cried loud and didn’t care who heard her. She slammed her fists into the pillows as if they were somehow responsible and folded herself into a ball. She rocked back and forth, until the tears dried up and she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes again, the room was dark, apart from the tiny red light flashing from the flat screen television. Watching the light, she enjoyed those few seconds of amnesia a person sometimes experiences upon waking. Those few but precious seconds when the head fools the heart into believing nothing bad has happened, that everything is all right.

But the moment disappeared, and reality stepped in.

Scott was back. He was alive and well. Her ex-husband, who she had grieved for and buried, had returned. He had lied to her and everybody else, fooled everyone. There were a lot of ways to deal with things in life. But how was she supposed to deal with something that only happened in the movies?

Not knowing what else to do, she did the one thing she knew could distract her: She used the hotel soap and shower gel to scrub the already gleaming bathroom and the rest of the hotel suite. With an old T-shirt, she wiped and dusted every surface. Then, with nothing else left to clean, she ordered room service and ate a light salad for dinner. It was all she could manage.

After dinner, she lay awake in the dark room, gazing into the velvet curtain of night. She ached for her husband, for comfort and honesty, for something familiar.