Heart Breaths (2 page)

You could smell the beach. The ocean breeze, tinged with the smell of winter sunshine and wet sand was worlds different than the smell of busy city and icy slush that I was used to.

The smell of pastries drifted toward my window, causing my stomach to growl. I was hungry. Which made sense, having not eaten anything since a handful of potato chips yesterday. But since then, I hadn’t really been hungry at all.

You’re not going to think about it, Maddie. My hands started to shake as I clutched the wheel tighter. A sign for a café caught my eye. That must be where the pastries were. I carefully pulled my car over to see what smelled so good in there.

Hands down, it was the cutest little café I had ever laid my eyes on. The tinkling of the bells faded away as I looked around the store, trying to devour it all at once in the fear that if I blinked, it would all disappear.

It looked as though someone had decided that being just a café was not quite enough—that in order to run a café, it was necessary to look like you were sitting in the world’s most comfortable living room.

Everything was in shades of blues and greens, and there were more pillows and cushions than you would normally expect to see in a café. The wooden floors were worn and battered but glinted with the gleam of fresh polish; the lights gave the room a cozy and comfortable feel. It was far more relaxed than any café I had ever been in—and more relaxed than the mausoleum I grew up in.

“Well, hello there,” came a sweet Southern voice. I whirled around, startled. And there she stood. She looked like the stereotypical Grandma—from the neck up. Neck down was another story entirely. Her pink tank top and tan shorts looked like something I should have been wearing, instead of the beat-up T-shirt and faded shorts I had thrown on this morning. It seemed that she ran the store—and if whatever she sold here tasted half as good as it smelled… well, I wasn’t going to be in such a rush to leave.

“Hi.” I looked at the display cases. Everything looked glorious—fresh, and homemade.

“Something I can get for you, darling?” she asked, propping her hand on her hip.

“What do you recommend?” I asked, trying to inhale all the scents of the café, trying to capture the smell of home that seemed to permeate the store.

“How hungry are you?”

“Very.” It was true. But the fact that I wasn’t really going to eat that much had nothing to do with it. I was always hungry.

“You in the mood for some comfort food?” she asked, giving me a look that seemed like she was staring past my façade of normalcy and coping, and looking right at the little dangling string of my sanity.

I nodded, not trusting myself to talk with the lump that had suddenly shown up in my throat.

“Well, in that case, I’ll recommend the tomato soup and grilled cheese,” she said. “Can’t get much more comforting than that, can you?”

“I don’t think you can.”

Sitting down at a table in the corner, I watched the people drift in and out of the café, flitting around, saying hello to each other, and generally acting like it was a neighbor’s living room. He would have loved this. It would have delighted him, the feel of home that was everywhere you turned in here.

“Comfort food ready for you, love,” Café Grandma called from behind the counter. I made my way to the front and took the heavy tray, where a steaming bowl of soup and a plate of sandwiches sat. The fancy cloth napkin made me smile, remembering days when I would sit and fold napkins into intricate shapes for dinner, in an effort to fancy things up a little. It’d been years.

“Thanks,” I turned to walk back to the table in the corner, content with watching the ebb and flow of the café, sitting at a little table, nibbling at a sandwich and having a little bit of soup.

“Wait.”

I turned around.

“What’s your name?”

“Maddie.”

“Enjoy your meal, Maddie,” she said.

Sitting back down at the café table, I watched the steam drift from the bowl of soup. Maybe I would be able to eat this time. It couldn’t hurt to try. After all, the café owner, whose name I still didn’t know, even though she knew mine, had spent a while getting it ready for me. I was going to pay for it. And if I didn’t eat anything soon, there was a distinct possibility that I would collapse. There was no way at all that I was going back to a hospital anytime soon. No way.

I picked up the spoon slowly, and stared at the soup on it. It was red. I swallowed hard. It was a different red—it was a red I could look at. A safe red.
Just one spoonful
, I told myself, knowing I sounded like I was arguing with a petulant three-year-old. Just one swallow and nobody will bother you after that.

I brought the spoon to my lips, fighting an internal battle the whole way there. The soup was rich and had just the right amount of spice. But swallowing it still took almost all I had. Three spoons later, I was exhausted from the battle against myself.

You’re going to keep it down this time, I threatened my stomach, looking down at it miserably. You aren’t going to throw up here. You didn’t throw up from Pervy Motel Guy, you aren’t going to throw up from really, really good tomato soup.

I scowled at the bowl of soup.

“Is there something wrong with the soup?” a soft southern voice asked. I plastered a smile on my face and looked up to talk to the lady from the counter.

“No, it’s delicious,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t ask too many questions. That was a risk of staying in a small town. Sooner or later, everyone would start asking questions, which I was not willing to answer any time soon. Probably ever.

“Try the grilled cheese then, hon. You look a little pale. Some food and a few hours on the beach works wonders.” I picked up a triangle of sandwich and obediently took a small bite.

Concentrating on the sandwich, I chewed slowly, letting the flavors of cheese and butter and some incredible, yeasty bread overwhelm me.

Opening up my eyes, I looked at Café Grandma, who was standing there with a satisfied smile. “That has got to be the best grilled cheese I’ve ever tasted.” I admitted.

Her laughter flowed through the café, causing the handful of people who were still there to look up and smile. It was the laughter of someone who was genuinely happy. I wondered what that felt like, to be that happy. To have a laugh that made others almost as happy as you.

“Not to sound all self-satisfied, but I know, isn’t it?” she asked, grinning as she took the other seat at the table. “I can conquer small countries with that grilled cheese.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute,” I answered, taking another small bite. If my stomach hadn’t rebelled yet, she could do practically anything with that grilled cheese.

She sat there quietly, watching me eat as the store slowly emptied, save for an old couple sitting in the corner. “Lunch rush is over,” she explained when she saw my look of confusion. “Gets pretty quiet around here until dinner time.”

“I would think it would be overflowing all day,” I said, taking another bite of the magical grilled cheese. Maybe I could risk another spoon of soup.

“Not enough people to overflow my café when it isn’t the summer.”

“Nobody comes here for winter break?” I asked, pretty sure I still had my dates right.

“Sometimes. Usually not. And anyway, winter break isn’t for a few weeks. You here early?”

“Early?”

“For winter break.”

Was I here early for winter break? I had no idea. “I suppose so,” I answered, not knowing what else to say. What was I supposed to tell her? The truth? Yeah, no.

“Well, you’re new around here,” she said confidently. I raised an eyebrow. Should I be creeped out by this? I didn’t know.

Apparently, my expression asked the same thing. She started laughing again. “I’ve lived here year-round for the past forty-odd years of my life, darling. If I didn’t know that you were new, that would mean my memory was going.”

“Well, your memory isn’t going.” I reassured her, somewhat okay with her presence.

Looking around the café, she got up, wiping her hands on the towel she had folded at her waist. “I best go and clean up before and get ready for the dinner rush,” she said. “You take your time there with lunch.”

“Thanks,” I said as she bustled away. I looked back down at my almost empty plate, surprised that I had eaten that much. Maybe I should hang out here more often, if I ate this much in one sitting.

Bringing up my tray to the front, I paid for lunch and turned to leave.

“You come back now, you hear?” Café Grandma called. I walked out the door, a smile threatening to split my face in half. Apparently, wherever I was right now, it was far enough South for things like that to be said, and for it to be normal. The sounds of the ocean followed me as I walked down the block.

It was the perfect mild winter beach day- warm enough to spend a day outside, but chilly enough to prevent everyone in the world from going to visit the beach. Following the sound of the surf, I walked down side streets, passing garishly colored beach houses until I caught a glimpse of the beach.

It was magnificent. And empty.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I pulled off my shoes and walked down toward the surf barefoot. The sand was cool and gritty beneath my feet- just the way I liked it. Leaning against the edge of a sand dune, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and thanked God that I had never really been to any beach outside the tri-state area. There were no memories haunting me here.

It was just me, a stomach full of grilled cheese, and the sunshine.

Maybe I was going to be okay.

Chapter · Two

The sun was setting when I finally unfolded myself from my seat in the sand. Today had been a good day—something I hadn’t had in months and months. Then and there, I decided I was going to stay here for a little bit—at least another day or two. That meant going back to the Creepy Motel, since I hadn’t asked anyone at the café if there were other places to stay. Then again, I hadn’t been sure I would. But the grilled cheese and the ocean had calmed something in me, enough to make me want to watch the sun come up here tomorrow morning.

Walking back toward the car, the sounds of what sounded like a party drifted through the night. I wouldn’t have expected a barbeque at this point of the season, but the noise was too loud to have been coming from inside one of the many beach houses that lined the street.

“Hiiiii!” called a little voice, startling me. I looked down to see a girl, maybe three years old, wearing nothing but a pair of pink ruffled panties and a pink hair bow, waving wildly at me from the edge of the lawn.

It stabbed me in the heart, every time I saw someone that age. “Hi, darling.” I waved back, smiling softly.

“Party?” she asked, looking at me curiously.

“Yeah, you’re having a party,” I agreed, crouching down to talk to her.

“You come,” she said, reaching out to grab my hand. My heart clenched.

“No, baby, it’s not my party,” I said. “Someone’s probably looking for you, though.”

As if they heard me, I heard a yell. “Noie! Noie!”

The little girl started to giggle. “Daddy!” she yelled back, missing the slight edge of panic in his voice. A man came running out from behind the house, looking around wildly until his eyes landed on the little giggling girl. “Daddy!” she called again happily, turning to run toward him.

“Jesus, Noie, you took ten years off my life right now,” he said as he scooped her up. “You can’t just run off without telling me.” He looked down at her nearly naked body. “And you need to stop stripping outside, baby girl. It’s too cold for you to keep doing that.”

Noie wriggled in his arms until he let her down again. “Friend, Daddy!” she said, pointing at where I stood, frozen.

He looked up, and any ability I still had to move was gone.

Dear God, he was beautiful. Tall, dark, with tousled brown hair and a five o’clock shadow, in a button-down and slacks, he stood towering over his daughter. I could see somewhat of a resemblance between the two of them—they both had the same startling green eyes.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked as he walked toward me, holding onto Noie’s little hand.

“Friend, Daddy, friend!” Noie said, beaming up at me.

“No, I’m not from around here,” I said, trying to find my voice. “I was walking back from the beach and she was standing in the front yard.”

His eyes narrowed and he turned to his daughter. “Noie, we don’t talk to strangers.”

Noie shook her head stubbornly. “Not strangers, Daddy. Friend.” She reached toward me. “Party?”

“No, honey, I have to go,” I said, ignoring the daggers her father was staring at me. I understood overprotective, but I didn’t really think I looked like someone who would kidnap a little kid. “But thank you for inviting me.”

“Gotta go home to sleep?” she asked. “It’s late outside.”

“It is late outside,” I agreed, completely and utterly charmed with this nearly naked toddler. “I do have to go back.”

She looked disappointed. I straightened up and looked her father in the eye. “You have a beautiful baby. You and your wife must be proud.”

He looked like he was going to say something, but stopped and just stared at me. I heaved a sigh. Apparently, down here in wherever I was, I was only good with grandmothers and little girls. My mouth twisted. That was kind of ironic.

“Have fun at your party, Noie,” I said, smiling down at the little girl who was pouting at me.

Suddenly, she let go of her father’s hand and barreled over to me, hugging my legs. “Bye!” she said, squeezing them and beaming up at me. If it was possible for the shards of my heart to splinter any further, they did.

“Bye, Noie,” I whispered around the lump in my throat. “Good night.” The father nodded, his eyes watching my every move. Turning back toward the direction of Oceanfront Lane and toward the place I parked my car, I could hear Noie’s little voice.

“Daddy, that’s my friend!”

Knowing that nobody could see my face, I let the tears start. It felt like I had been holding them in for so long. It felt like that every time I cried.

Pulling up in front of the motel again, I heaved a sigh. Did I really want to do this? Stay here? Yes. Have to deal with Creepy Perv Motel Guy again? No.

I had dealt with worse. I could do this.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed as I walked into the office.

“For now,” I answered. “Any non-smoking rooms available tonight?”

Clacking away at his keyboard, he shook his head. “Not tonight. But the room from last night is open.”

“Okay, then.” I handed back over my credit card and license and hoped that Chuck and his girlfriend had left already.

“Madeline, huh?” he said, spending more time looking at my license and credit card than he had last time. I nodded stiffly, wishing I had thought to bring my pepper spray in with me. But I had left it in my purse, in the car. “I’m Bob,” he said, sticking out a hand that I gingerly shook.

“Nice to meet you,” I lied and waited for him to check me in again.

“One night?” he asked. I shook my head. May as well take a chance.

“Two.”

“Excellent,” he said, swiping my credit card and handing it back to me along with my license and the room key I had returned this morning. “Have a good night, and remember.” His eyes flickered to my chest. “If you need anything at all, come and ask.”

I nodded and walked back out, hoping he wouldn’t follow me. There was polite hospitality, and then there was a creepy guy trying to look down your shirt while he swiped your credit card. Bob definitely fell into category number two.

Unloading my bags and locking the motel room door behind me, I looked at the bed and sighed. Still just as ugly as it was that morning. I put on a pair of flip-flops, grabbed my bag of toiletries and a towel, and walked toward the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I hoped that the shower wasn’t too gross.

And that there were no holes in the walls for people to be able to look in.

You and your stupid overactive imagination, I scolded myself as I flipped on the shower. Nobody can see through the stupid walls.

A sudden moaning startled me and I looked around wildly to see where it was coming from.

Oh, great. I backed slowly into the corner of the room. There was some serial killer hiding in the toilet or something, and I was going to die and get cut to pieces all alone and nobody would find me until creepy Bob decided he was going to molest me… I swallowed a shriek as I heard another loud moan, this time, followed by another. My eyes narrowed with suspicion as I reached in and turned off the shower. Putting my head near the wall, I could hear the faint sounds of another shower running, and then the telltale sound of the very high-pitched voice that had woken me up that morning.

Chuck and his girlfriend were having shower sex.

Dammit.

Rolling my eyes, I quickly brushed my teeth. Leaving my shower things in the bathroom, I headed back toward my suitcase, hoping that I had thrown a pair of earplugs in there. It was one thing to wake up to the symphony of Chuck and his girlfriend; it was another entirely for it to rock me to sleep at night. No earplugs, only an iPod.

“Why are you always plugged in to that, Mads?” he asked, leaning over to pull an earbud out of my ear.

“Because music is part of my blood,” I answered, turning up the volume so he could hear it.

“So, normal people have red cells and white cells, and you have red cells and music notes,” he teased.

I nodded. “Exactly.”

Shoving the iPod back down toward the bottom of the bag, I climbed into bed and burrowed under the pillows, hoping that they would block out any sounds.

I couldn’t bring myself to use my iPod yet. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it, either.

The sounds of Chuck and the girlfriend faded, and once again I was cocooned in darkness. The way that I liked it. The way I was used to.

I woke up slowly the next morning after a pretty restless night, thanks to the sex-mad lunatics who were not at all considerate about any potential neighbors. Honestly, I didn’t really blame them that much, considering that nobody in their right mind would stay at a place like this.

I wondered who Chuck and the girlfriend were—and if they were here having monkey sex at Creepy Bob’s Pervy Motel because they were hiding from someone.

Not everyone was like they had been, I reminded myself as I stumbled toward the shower. Not everyone was hiding infidelity and then shoving it in someone’s face like an unwanted surprise party.

Turning on the knobs of the shower, I waited for the water to get to a temperature that wouldn’t burn my skin off and jumped in, determined to be out and clean before anyone next door decided that they were going to have to conserve water and take showers together.

The shower wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Wrapping a towel around my wet hair, I stared at my pale face in the mirror. Still a zombie. I dressed quickly and grabbed my bags, more than ready to get out of the motel room before anyone else woke up.

I whispered a silent prayer before turning on the car.
Please. Please let me drive to town without anything happening. Please.
Pulling back onto the road, I drove back toward the café, in search of breakfast, and a plan of what to do that day.

“You’re back!” Café Grandma called as I walked in, the café bustling and busy. “What can I get you for breakfast, darling?”

“I have no idea,” I answered. “You did a great job of mind-reading yesterday, I was hoping you would again.”

Her laugh bounced off the cheerily decorated walls of the café. “It’s not mind-reading when everyone loves tomato soup and grilled cheese, darling,” she said. “But if you’d like, I’ll mind-read again today.”

I nodded.

Tilting her head and pursing her lips, she stared at me. “Light coffee with hazelnut creamer, and a coffee cake muffin.”

I gaped at her in surprise. “Are you psychic?” She had gotten my coffee order exactly right, and the coffee cake muffin sounded incredible.

“Or something,” she said. “Give me a minute and I’ll have it all ready for you.”

I stood at the counter, watching people walk over to a side table filled with coffee, jugs of tea, milk and sugar, sipping their morning coffee and chatting with each other.

“I could have gone and made my own coffee,” I told Café Grandma as she came back with my coffee and pastry.

“No, I hide the creamers in the back,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “And the whipped cream. I may trust these people with coffee, but I don’t trust them with my flavored creamers.”

The sound of the bell came as the front door opened again. A tall woman walked in, followed by a little girl. Noie. “Chocolate milk?” I heard her little voice ask as they walked near the counter.

Taking my coffee and pastry, I walked toward the table I sat at the day before, my appetite leaving me. I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t listen to her little voice and her infectious giggle again. I wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t know if I ever would be again.

Picking up the cup of coffee, I cradled it gently in my hands. Maybe if I stared hard enough, it would tell me how to get better. Or maybe it was just a cup of coffee. Snap out of it, Maddie.

But I had been telling myself that for months. So far, nothing.

“Friend!” I looked up to see Noie running over to the table where I was sitting, beaming. Screeching to a halt in front of me, she looked up at me, her green eyes shining. “Friend!” she said again, reaching over to pat my hand, frozen in place on my lap.

“Hi, Noie,” I said, forcing a smile. You can do this, Maddie. You did it last night, you can do it again today. And there are no glaring fathers this time to make you nervous. “How was your party?”