Defining Moments (A Moments In Time Love Story 2) (5 page)

Then she remembered something. She remembered Carlene and Nick. How Nick had found out about Carlene’s dark past and walked out on her. He had refused to hear her out and in the end, it turned out there was more to the story than what he had been led to believe.

It hurt Melisa to see the world she had known go up in flames, but she wanted to believe Scott could offer a good explanation, something that justified the horrible thing he’d done. Even though she had moved on, and too much had happened, she wanted to find something that reminded her of the man she used to love. Not for him, but for her own peace of mind. To prove to herself that she was a good judge of character and wasn’t such a fool. She didn’t want to see him again, but she knew she would never find peace if she didn’t hear him out.

She buried her head into the pillow and thought of Heat again, and the need to go back home overwhelmed her. She could pack her bags and be home when he returned from his shift in the morning. But something stopped her. If only she knew what.

Melisa sat up. She couldn’t keep this to herself. She would not tell Heat—not yet, at least—but it would kill her if she kept it all inside. But there was one person she could always turn to. She picked her cell phone from the bedside table and dialed Carlene’s number. She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Carlene?”

“Yes? Melisa, your voice sounds different. You okay?”

Melisa shook her head and tears started pouring down her face. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong? Tell me, sweetheart.”

Melisa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed. She couldn’t form the words.

“Honey, you’re crying,” Carlene said, concerned. “I’m coming over.”

***

Melisa pulled open the door and buried herself in Carlene’s hug.

Carlene smoothed Melisa’s red curls. “Whatever it is, it’s all going to be all right.”

“Not this time.” Melisa pulled back and swallowed. “Something unthinkable happened.”

Carlene closed the door and took Melisa’s hand, led her to the couch. From a glass pitcher on the coffee table, she poured water into a glass and placed it in Melisa’s shaking hands. “Talk to me.”

Melisa took a sip of her water and gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t even know where to start.” She shook her head.

“Tell me everything. I have time.” Carlene patted her arm reassuringly.

“Apparently my life will always be filled with drama. Something will always stand between me and happiness.”

“What happened?”

“Scott happened. He’s alive.”

Carlene’s brow knitted. “Scott? Not Scott, your…”

“Yes, my ex-husband, my dead husband, Scott Bergfeld. He’s back and right here in Serendipity.”

“But he’s dead, Melisa. How can he be back?”

Melisa put down the glass and turned to Carlene. “It was all a lie. He faked his death.”

Now Carlene looked worried. Whether because the idea of a person faking his death was too much to handle, or she thought Melisa was going crazy, Melisa couldn’t tell. “I don’t understand. What exactly are you saying?”

Melisa sighed. “I went to the lake for a walk today. I saw him there, in the flesh.”

Carlene moistened her lips. “Are you sure it was him? Did he, you know, speak to you?”

“Yes. He was close enough for me to touch him. I know I sound crazy, and I wish I was, but it was him, Carlene.”

“So he’s really not dead? How’s that even possible?”

“He faked his death. I don’t know how.” Melisa leaned her head against the couch. She was still reeling.

Carlene stared at her with wide eyes.

They stayed like that for a long time, saying nothing, listening to the hum of the mini-fridge, digesting the impossible.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” Melisa asked eventually, wishing the answer would be “yes.”

Carlene reached for Melisa’s glass of water and drank half of it. “I don’t know what to make of what you’re saying, but no, I don’t think you’re crazy. It’s just so hard to believe. What did he say to you?”

“Not much. He wanted to explain, but I didn’t let him. I’ve never been so angry in my life.”

“Melisa,” Carlene said slowly. “You said Scott used to buy you yellow roses. Do you think… Could it be he was the one who sent you those flowers on your birthday?”

Melisa’s heart clenched as she remembered. “Oh, my God. He must have tried to make the connection before he showed up in person. I thought I was going crazy that day, too.”

“Now what? Is he here to stay?”

“I don’t know what his plans are. I don’t know whether he expects to continue where we left off.” She took a deep breath in. “I’m so confused, and my emotions are a mess at this point.”

Carlene took Melisa’s hands. “Are you safe with him? Do you think he could be dangerous?”

“I don’t think so.” Despite what Scott did, Melisa could never be afraid of him. He used to be her husband once—a man she had vowed to spend the rest of her life with.

“If you’re positive Scott won’t hurt you, I think you should hear him out. I’m tempted to judge him at this point. I think what he did to you is horrible. I want to tell you to walk away and shut him out of your life, but I know from experience that sometimes things are not black and white.”

Of course Carlene was right. Melisa had to find out the truth, even if it hurt. But she’d wait until the initial shock had worn off.

The day before Scott died, Melisa had been busy all day at Mel’s Delights. When the last customer left, she closed up and decided to go for a walk along the lake to unwind, as she did almost every day after work. She was pregnant and the baby needed her to take it easy. A dose of fresh air and some walking always did them both a world of good. Since the lake was close to the bakery, it was the perfect place to end the day.

It was freezing outside, but nothing could dampen her mood. With her scarf wrapped around her neck and hands in the pockets of her coat, she hummed a tune as she sauntered down the street past people rushing to escape the cold.

At the lake, she found her bench and placed an old newspaper on it before sitting down. She sighed with contentment as she gazed at the frozen water, watched as it met the darkening, overcast sky. Her phone vibrated inside her pocket, breaking the spell of the moment. Her smile didn’t falter when she pulled it out and saw Scott’s face smiling across the screen. She picked up.

“Honey, are you okay?” He sounded worried. “I called several times.”

“Better than fine. I was up to my elbows in flour all day.” Since Melisa had gotten pregnant, Scott always worried whenever he couldn’t reach her. He called her several times a day from the fire station, even just to say, “I love you.” She loved him more for it. It was clear that she and their baby meant the world to him and he would do everything for them.

“Are you still at Your Delights?” When speaking to Melisa, Scott always referred to the bakery that way.

“No, I’m sitting on my bench watching the icy lake. It’s so relaxing.”

Scott laughed. He knew how much water calmed her, frozen or not. “When do you think you’ll get home? I’ve got surprise for you.”

“I was thinking of heading home in about fifteen minutes, but”—she stood up—“for a surprise, I’ll get home sooner. But aren’t you on duty tonight?”

“Took the day off. I want to spend some time with my girls. Hurry home. I’ll see you two later. I love you.”

Instinctively, Melisa laid a hand on her stomach. “Okay. We love you too.” She didn’t bother asking him why he was so sure the baby was a girl. Melisa was flattered he loved her enough to wish for a miniature version of her. Whatever the baby’s sex turned out to be, she or he would have the kind of childhood Melisa never had. Unlike her own mom, she would be present in her kid’s life. She’d be at all the sports events, the plays, the birthdays, the sick days, and the happy ones.

***

Melisa stood outside in the cold, gazing at their new home, the dream home Scott had bought her. Looking at it filled her with warmth every time. The lights were on, creating halos around the windows. It looked so inviting. As she stood there smiling, it started to snow. Large cottony flakes swirled around her, blurring her vision and transforming her world into a fairytale. She was living her perfect life. She was married to the most wonderful man and they were expecting their first child. There were so many good things to look forward to.

She went inside walking on air. The house smelled of love, food, and chocolate.

Scott kissed her and helped her out of her coat, pulled off her boots, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He led her to the candlelit dining table. He placed a mug of creamy white hot chocolate in front of her. “This should warm you up.”

Melisa reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. Butterflies fluttered inside her stomach. “You know I can never get enough of this. But it will be more than the hot chocolate warming me up.”

A few weeks ago, they’d gone to New York for a “babymoon” weekend, to celebrate being pregnant, after the miscarriage they had suffered not long after they were married. The hotel they’d stayed at had served the most amazing hot chocolate. Seeing how much Melisa had enjoyed it, Scott had somehow convinced them to give him the recipe, which he had vowed to keep a secret.

“I missed you.” He sat beside her and rubbed her free hand, bringing it to his lips to warm her fingers with his breath. “It’s torture not being able to hear your voice.”

She kissed him on the lips. “I love how you miss me. And I love you.”

“I know that.” A smile tipped one corner of his mouth. “Now, drink up so we can eat. Then I can show you my surprise.” He stood and went to the oven.

Being a baker, Melisa was most at home inside a kitchen, but Scott was a better cook than her by far.

Tonight he served her chocolate chicken curry with basmati rice, and as she relished her meal, they talked about their day and laughed at silly jokes only they understood.

Scott’s surprise turned out to be the furniture he had made for the nursery—a sleek, mahogany crib that had a flower carved into the headboard, with a matching dresser and mini wardrobe.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Melisa traced a fingertip along the edges of the carving. “This is perfect. So this is why you wouldn’t let me buy a crib? How come I didn’t see you make this? Where did you hide it?”

“You think I’d hide it here, under your nose?” He twirled her around and pulled her to him, holding her and swaying, dancing to silent music.

“This is the best surprise ever,” Melisa whispered into his ear. She stopped their dance and kissed him with a passion she reserved only for him.

For a long time, they stood in the nursery with arms around each other, deepening their kiss, as if their lips were meeting for the last time. Scott took her hand and led her to their bedroom.

After making love, they lay in each other’s arms, and Scott fell asleep with his lips pressed to the back of her neck and the palm of his hand over her naked stomach.

Melisa had no idea it would be the last time they would make love, the last time she would lie in his arms. The last time he would be her safe haven.

Melisa held her breath as her gaze darted around the park. If Scott was really alive, maybe he would show up again. It was time to find out the truth. Not knowing was hurting her more than knowing probably would. She paced around near her bench, where he had found her three days ago. He knew how much she loved coming to the lake. No wonder this was the place he had come to look for her.

Ten minutes ticked by and she exhaled, started to breathe normally again. Maybe she had imagined it all. Maybe she was still dreaming. She picked up her purse from the bench as tension melted from her body. But when she looked up again, there he was, walking toward her. Her heart started to race and her knees weakened with panic, but she straightened to her full height and looked straight at him.

Today, he wore a crisp white T-shirt that showed off the deep tan on his arms, blue jeans, and the same cap and glasses he’d worn last time. He removed the glasses and held them. He’d worn glasses for as long as she’d known him, and she had found them sexy. The glasses he now wore seemed to be photochromic, helping his eyesight and at the same time offering him the disguise he seemed to be looking for.

For the first time since he’d shown up, she really studied him. He looked the same, yet somehow different. His grey eyes were not as clear as they used to be, as if polluted by his secrets. His aquiline nose and the shadow of his beard accented his rugged good looks. He was still lean and athletic, but he seemed to have lost some weight, perhaps from the stress of having to look over his shoulder.

Scott put the glasses back on. “Melisa, I’m so glad you came. I’ve been coming here every day, hoping you would be here.”

She nodded and sat, pulling her gaze from his. She stared at the lake instead, following the journey of a dry leaf as it floated on the surface of the clear water. “I’m guessing you want to talk.” Her voice was clipped.

He sat beside her and his closeness caused goose pimples to rise on Melisa’s arms. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again. I’d have understood.”

“Were you the one who sent me the flowers?”

Scott nodded. “I was in Serendipity the week of your birthday. I didn’t have the courage to talk to you.”

“So you left?”

“I was in Madison for a few weeks. I had to come back. I had to talk to you.”

“Where are you staying?” Melisa didn’t bother thanking him for the flowers. She felt more disturbed about them than thankful. And there were more pressing issues on her mind.

“The Drawbridge Inn. You know it?”

Melisa nodded. She had more than just heard about it. After Scott had died and she’d sold the house to pay off her gambling debts, she’d spent two nights there. It had been affordable, clean, and Joan Drawbridge, the widowed landlord, had allowed her the privacy she’d needed. This was rare in a small town, where people made others’ business their own. But the Drawbridge Inn was the perfect place to stay if you were hiding something or going through a difficult time. The eyes of the few people Melisa had bumped into at the time had all been empty.

Joan asked no questions. The one time she had knocked on Melisa’s door was the first morning. She had brought Melisa a warm slice of apple pie, which she gave to all her first-time guests. Coincidentally, Melisa knew she bought the pies every Monday morning from Mel’s Delights.

Melisa had sat on her bed, her tears dripping onto the pie, which Josie—to whom she had sold her bakery—had baked instead of her. It had comforted her and at the same time punched a hole in her heart.

“I know the place,” she said to Scott, tearing herself away from the painful memory.

Scott nodded and paused before asking the next question, which she anticipated before the words came out. “You sold our house?” he asked simply, but his tone was cracked around the edges.

Melisa looked away from him again as she remembered the day he had bought it for her—her dream home—and spent months renovating it from top to bottom. It had been a charming family house with a picket fence, a porch, pine floors, and a fireplace.

They had been out for a walk the day they saw the house for the first time. It wasn’t for sale. But the following week, Scott had presented her with a gift-wrapped box with a photo of the house inside. He had made the tenants—an elderly couple—an offer they couldn’t refuse.

Scott had bought her dream home, and she had sold it.

She shrugged. “I needed the money.” He had no right to ask her any questions. He should be giving her answers. She was grateful when Scott nodded and didn’t pursue the subject further.

“Can I invite you to the inn for coffee?” His gaze swept the park, as if he was worried someone might recognize him. “We can talk there.”

“Scott,” Melisa said quietly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. This”—she waved a hand between them—“this is not normal. I haven’t forgiven you for what you did to me. I don’t even know what to think right now. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“I know.” He removed his cap, ran a hand over his short, honey-blond hair, and pulled it on again. “Do you want me to leave? I’ll do whatever you want. I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have. What I did was selfish. I can understand why you hate me.”

“I can’t keep you away from Serendipity. Don’t leave on my account.” Even if she didn’t say it, now that she’d had time to see past the shock, she realized a tiny piece of her heart was glad he returned. But she was still blind with fury.

“I don’t care about Serendipity, I care about you. I came back because I wanted to see you again.” He moved closer, and even though she willed herself to move away, she didn’t have the strength. Instead, she allowed him to close the distance between them, and melted into his arms. He tightened his grip around her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

She knew it wasn’t right. Anyone who saw them in each other’s arms would get the wrong idea. She was married, and her relationship with Heat was fragile right now. She couldn’t let him find out about Scott—he would see Scott as a threat. She had to keep it a secret from him until their marriage was strong again, strong enough to handle more bad weather.

But as much as she wanted to get away from Scott for the sake of her marriage, she needed answers. She pulled away. “You’re right. We can’t talk here. I’ll come to the inn.”

***

The Drawbridge Inn was a charming little cottage with a porch and a manmade pond. Multicolored flowers surrounded it like a protective shield. On their way to Scott’s room, they passed a woman with wild hair and a black eye. Melisa wondered if she was escaping an abusive relationship. Or if the teenage couple giggling and kissing next to the snack machine and studying each other’s fingers had eloped against their families’ wishes. The inn was definitely a place of secrets.

Scott’s room was two doors down from the one Melisa herself had occupied years ago. In her mind, that day was as clear as the lake’s icy waters. The smell of potpourri and candle wax reminded her of her darkest moments. The pain and fear she’d felt the night she’d checked in shot through her veins again with such force that she froze in her tracks and leaned against the nearest wall. She swore she could smell the alcohol that had been on her own breath.

“You okay?” Scott placed a hand at the place between her shoulder blades.

Melisa nodded, recoiling from his touch. Bitter bile forced itself up her throat and she fought hard to keep it down.

Scott nodded as if he understood her reaction. With an unreadable expression, he turned the key in the lock. The door squeaked as he opened it.

Melisa followed him inside on trembling knees and lowered herself into the nearest chair. The room was an exact replica of the one she had stayed in. It was furnished with a quilt-covered single bed, a shabby arm chair, a tiny TV set with the room number on a sticker in the top right corner, and the wooden chair she sat on. Flowery prints were supposed to cheer up the small, stuffy room, but they failed miserably. The air was thick with unspoken secrets, making it hard to inhale. She felt as if she were under water.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have warm beer and a coke,” Scott said sheepishly.

Melisa shook her head and shot to her feet. She pushed past him into the closet of a bathroom, where she fell hard onto her knees. She positioned her head over the toilet bowl just in time for the bile to find its freedom; it flooded her throat and mouth, making her eyes water. As she retched into the bowl, her body shook with repulsion.

It was hard to imagine she was once a drunk. Now, even on the days she would kill for a glass of vodka to ease the tension, her body rejected the very thought of alcohol. She had found that out one afternoon, a few months ago, while she was pregnant. She had walked past a man holding an open can of beer and the smell made her gag. She had blamed her reaction on her pregnancy. And maybe pregnancy had completely turned her off the liquid for good, which was both a good thing and a bad one. She had no intention of going back down that road again—the journey back to sobriety was too long.

However, alcohol had been an invisible safety blanket, something to get her through the hardest of times. Now she was forced to stand on her own feet, to deal with fate’s blows all on her own. But she was faced with so many things all at once, she had no idea how she was going to be able to make it through. She couldn’t lean on her husband because he reminded her too much of what they had lost and the decision he had made. She couldn’t lean too much on Carlene because she didn’t want to burden her friend. The one man she had once considered her shield, the man who had once made her feel the safest, had come back—but this time, he was the one hurting her more than anyone ever had.

Heat had always been the love of her life, the one who had gotten away. But Scott had been the one she thought would never hurt her. When they met and she was still getting over the heartbreak Heat had inflicted on her, Scott had been the balsam and the bandage to help her heal. Soon, she’d fallen in love with her protector. She had loved him so much—but in a different way from Heat. She had loved him enough to trust him with her life, her future, enough to give up what she thought she could have had with Heat and move on. Now, the tables had turned.

The man who, once upon a time, had been her whole world was alive, but only in the flesh. The Scott she had known and fallen in love with was dead and buried, along with their life together. That Scott would never hurt her.

Still, a voice inside her urged her to wake up and face reality, face the truth that the man who had once mended her heart had returned to break it. When she stopped vomiting, she wiped her mouth with toilet paper and stood on wobbly knees, empty inside.

“Can I do anything… get you anything?” Scott’s voice was filled with worry.

Melisa rinsed her mouth and turned to him with watery eyes. “There’s only one thing I want from you.” Her voice hardened. “Convince me why I shouldn’t walk out of here right now and call the cops.”

He nodded and turned to walk out of the bathroom with Melisa behind him. This time, he sat in the wooden chair and she went for the flowery armchair.

“There’s something I never told you.” He placed his hands on his knees and met her eyes. “I grew up with an abusive, short-tempered father who made my life hell. He beat my mother to a pulp almost daily. It took almost killing her for her to get the guts to leave him and start a new life. I never saw her again. My dad took it out on me. He was a monster. He hurt me for years, emotionally and physically. But no one could touch him. He was a respected policeman who everybody believed to be a good man. When I showed up at school with broken ribs or stitches, the teachers turned the other way.”

Melisa crossed her arms. “You told me your father was a fireman, just like your brother had been. Wasn’t that why you chose the profession in the first place?” Scott didn’t respond, and Melisa took that as his answer. He had lied to her. He didn’t even have a brother. She bit her lip and shook her head. How many lies did she have to brace herself for? “Go on.”

“One night, he came home drunk and furious about something and used me as a punching bag. When he was satisfied, he went back upstairs to his bedroom. Since I was used to the daily abuse, I waited until he fell asleep and went to the kitchen, where I found painkillers and his cigarettes.”

Melisa raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t a smoker, but I needed a few that night.” Scott sucked in a breath and exhaled. “I sat at the table and smoked three, maybe four. Then I went back to bed. Next thing I knew, Jack was shaking me awake and there was smoke all around me.”

“Jack? He lived with you? And he never intervened when your father…”

“No, Peculiar Jack, as everyone called him, lived next door. He kept to himself. The whole neighborhood stayed away from him, thinking he was eccentric. But he was old and frail, so I did some odd jobs for him. Sometimes when my father was on his abusive rants, I caught him watching out his window, but like everyone else in town, he never did anything. That night, though, he got me out of the house a minute or two before it collapsed. My father died in the fire.”

Melisa swallowed hard. “It wasn’t you who set the fire, was it? When you went to bed there was nothing out of the ordinary, right?”

Scott shrugged. “I might have set the fire.” He shifted in the chair and it squeaked. “I was blind with rage that night. I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me. Something had snapped inside me. Before I went to bed, I toyed with the thought. Hell, I went as far as pulling out a box of matches and collecting all the alcohol he kept stashed around the house. I lined the bottles next to each other on the kitchen table. But I went to bed without setting anything on fire. At least I think I did. I’m not sure.”