Returning Pride (5 page)

“It’s a little stuffy in there. Did you come to get some air, too?” Ric smiled at her.

She respected the man and admired that he kept a level head when dealing with all the “moody” artists, as he liked to call them. He had assured her that he never thought of her in that way or a romantic way. Actually, he made a point to tell her often how level-headed she was.

“I think I actually saw the walls moving in on me.”

“Like in Star Wars?” He smiled at her.

“I’m sorry?” She leaned against the railing and tried to see the stars through the hazy night sky.

“You know the scene where they’re rescuing Princess Leah and they jump in the trash, then the walls…”

“Close in on them…” she laughed. “Yes, much like that. Maybe I need a break?” She meant to think it, but had said it out loud.

“So, take one.” He smiled and took another sip of his drink.

Could it be that simple? She’d tilted her head so she could keep trying to scan the night sky for stars. Finally, he turned around to face the same way.

“What are you looking for?” He looked up.

The clear night was just too bright from the city lights to see any stars. She took a large breath, released it, and realized what she was really looking for wasn’t stars. It was home.

As she looked around the kitchen at the mess her mother was making, it made her heart and head ache. She knew that she’d choose the messy kitchen over a room full of stuffy people any day.

Standing up, she dusted her slacks off and helped her mother reach the cookbook on the top shelf just as the door bell rang.

When she open the door, she saw Iian standing in the light of the front porch. Upon seeing her, he pulled the screen door opened himself and stepped in without invitation.

“Um, hello Iian?” She stepped back as he walked in. She didn’t know why he was there, but a part of her was very glad he was.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking around before she could answer. When his eyes returned to her face she nodded. “Where is your mother?”

“In the kitchen,” she said, feeling dazed.

“Is everything alright?”

“Iian, she wants to bake cookies, and well…” she trailed off when his finger rubbed gently over her cheek. She hadn’t been aware of the tears spilling down. “I just don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I showed up,” she looked at him blankly, “Baking just happens to be my specialty.” He gave her a lop-sided smile and pulled her back towards the kitchen.

Allison didn’t quite know how it had happened. She stood and watched Iian work his magic around her small kitchen, her mother sat at the table and chatted happily. Her mother had been so excited to see a man baking cookies in her kitchen that she started talking about the old days, as if they were old and not current events. Things looked brighter with him moving around the small room.

Allison kept trying to help him out, but he was a whiz and she felt more in the way than anything. By the time he had put a batch of home-made chocolate chip cookies in the oven, her mother’s head was drooping.

“
Well dears, I’m going to head to bed. Goodnight. Oh, and save some of those for your little friend tomorrow.” With that, she disappeared down the hallway.

When Iian turned, he watched her mother heading down the hall. He looked over at her with a look of question.

“She’s going to bed,” she signed to him. She rubbed her forehead with her hand. Her head was pounding and she was sure she was going to have another sleepless night worrying about her mother.

Iian was shocked. Allison had signed the last statement with ease. He hadn’t known that she knew sign language. There were a few dozen questions he wanted to ask her, but she was rubbing her forehead like she was trying to take the skin off. He saw her eyes dim and could see tears beginning in her eyes.

Walking behind her, he started rubbing her shoulders. He could feel her initial shock, but then she relaxed into his hands.

“You really should take a break; you haven’t stopped since you got back.” He could feel her body vibrate in his hands, but didn’t stop her to remind her that he couldn’t see her lips. When he felt the vibration under his fingers stop, he added. “You didn’t tell me you knew sign language.” He felt her shoulders tense.

She slowly turned around and stood with her back stiff. Looking into his eyes, she signed, “I learned it a while ago.”

Then she turned and walked to the oven and peeked in on the cookies. He waited. He could see the flush in her face and was interested in learning more.

His mind quickly replayed all the days he had signed something to one of his siblings in front of her. Conversations that he had hoped would remain private. The personalized and intimate sign motions he’d used to signify her name. He cringed inwardly.

When she finally turned around he asked, “What is a while?” He started to walk towards her.

Placing both his hands on the countertop on either side of her, he boxed her in and looked deep into her blue eyes. Had she purposely kept this from him? Did she know how he felt about her?

“
How long?” He whispered. Because he needed it, he reached up and took her face in his hands.

She felt as if he was stalking her. She could have sworn he moved like a large cat prowling towards prey. He had neatly backed her into the corner near the stove. Their eyes locked and held. She raised and lowered her shoulders for an answer.

She couldn’t breath. She could feel the heat from his body. She looked in his silvery eyes and was sure she had lost all coherent thought.

The week after his accident, her sister Abby had died. And since she’d spent a lot of time alone, she’d decided to teach herself sign language. She’d checked out every book in the library on the subject over the next few years. She felt funny about using the language with him, in case he wondered where and why she’d learned it. She didn’t want to admit that it was because of him that she’d taught herself. So she kept her secret and silently wished she could use it one day.

“
Months after your accident,” she revealed everything by those words. What would he think of her? Would he think she was as pathetic as she felt?

When her words left her lips, he swooped in and took her mouth.

It wasn’t the first time Iian had kissed her, but it felt like it. This was so much different from the sweet kisses he’d given her years ago, or the friendly one he’d given her on New Year’s a few years back. This was different, he was different, and she reveled in the differences.

His lips were hot on hers. When she hoped he would go deeper, he pulled back. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was a breath away. She glanced down at his mouth and ran her tongue on her bottom lip and tasted him. Then he was kissing her again. She reached around and ran her fingers in his thick hair, holding him close. She enjoyed the silky soft curls, wrapping them gently around her fingers. She moaned as his hands played on her back.

She couldn’t stop shaking. She felt warmth all the way down to her toes. Had any other kiss ever taken her so deep? If so, they paled in comparison. She ran her hands down his neck, his shoulders, and finally reached his arms. She enjoyed the play of his muscles as she touched him.

This was Iian, the boy she’d dreamed about for half of her life. The man who had become her every desire.

His taste was intoxicating. He felt better than she had imagined over the years. His hands were on her hips as he pulled her closer, pulling her up so she could sit on the edge of the countertop. She wrapped her legs around him and held on as he ran his hands up and down her back slowly.

Allison heard a high pitch ringing in her head and pulled away. Placing her hands on his chest, she looked over at the stove timer, then back at his questioning face.

“The cookies are done,” she said, pulling away.

T
hree hours of waiting in a doctor’s office in Portland’s hospital was quite enough to drive anyone crazy. Her mother sat across from her dressed in a thin paper robe, which had been designed by someone centuries ago to give doctors the ease of looking at a patient. However, it wasn’t designed to keep them warm in an all-too-cold office. One that the doctor’s and nurses claim was kept at a normal temperature.

After talking to three nurses and finally seeing the head nurse to complain of the wait and the cold, which her mother had to suffer, Allison hustled her mother into her warm jacket and out of the office.

“‘
Go to a specialist in Portland
’
,
they said, ‘
Maybe they can give you better news’
they said
.
Well, that was a terrible waste of time,” she complained as they drove back to Pride with the heat in her car at full blast. She was very concerned that her mother might have just caught another cold waiting for the “
Specialist
” to tell her the same news that the last one
had told her.

Now Allison had a headache and feared she too had caught something at the doctor’s office. Just when they reached the house, the rain started. Springtime on the Oregon coast was unpredictable, but often enjoyable. That is, if you hadn’t wasted hours sitting in a cold doctors office.

Swearing off all doctors and medical people alike, she helped her mother into the house through the heavy rain. She’d had enough of sterile rooms and scrub-wearing good-willed people. All she wanted now was a hot bath and a glass of wine.

But when she walked in she noticed there were three messages on her voice-mail.

Ric Derby had called and was the most important call to return. It seemed he wanted to do another art show highlighting her work, this time in New York. Which meant another deadline for more pieces. Knowing she’d have to fit some time in, she grimaced at the urgency in his voice. After all, she’d practically lived with the man for the last two years. Well, okay, she’d lived above the man.

He’d been her boss, art mentor, art dealer and friend all in one. Everyone had assumed they’d been an item.

Then there had been a call from her agent, Steven Hill. The man was a shark, and he was out for blood. If there was a deadline, he wanted it done two weeks sooner. She couldn’t complain though, with his help, her art was selling for six figures now.

The last had been a call from Paris. Prior to  returning back to Pride, she had filled out the paperwork to attend art school there before she’d left California. It appeared they had received her application and had some questions.

Rubbing her head, she thought of all the changes in her life since she’d arrived home. No longer did she think about rushing off to Pairs to be a student. Or flying off to New York for an art show. All she could think about now was how she was going to root herself back into this tiny community so she could take care of her mother.

Being honest with herself, she didn’t want to leave Pride again. These people were her home, they were her reason for staying sane. No one in New York or Paris could ever fill the shoes of the people in Pride. Everyone had stepped up and helped her so much the last few weeks, that the thought of not having that support system would crush her.

The question was, how could she make her life here more of what she wanted it to be?

After returning her calls, she grabbed her pad and pencil and decided to get away for a while. She noticed the rain had lightened up and decided to take a short walk into town.

She sat across from the library under an overhang and started sketching the Town Hall. The building had sat in the middle of the square for close to two hundred years. Halfway through sketching the old building, she saw Patty O’Neil in front of O’Neil Groceries. The large woman had on one of her usual flowered dresses and yellow rain boots. She was sweeping the walk under the awning in front of her store with vigor.

Flipping the page, she started to sketch what she saw. She loved the colors of the people in town. You could sit on a corner and never be bored with what you saw. It took her less than five minutes to get what she wanted. When she looked down at her sketch, she decided then and there that she would have to paint it.

Some of her sketches stayed sketches. Others she turned into oil, water colors, or acrylic. She thought this one would look great in acrylic. Smiling at the progress and the way her shoulders were completely relaxed, she picked up her art bag and headed home.

Iian sat across from his brother-in-law the next morning and wanted to swear at the man. Aaron was dressed in his white doctor’s jacket and had his stethoscope draped around his neck.

He signed, “Everything going alright? How are the headaches?”

“Fine, fine. I hate these damn things. Can’t I just get my medication without an exam every year?” He knew he didn’t really need the pills, except once a month when the headaches got so bad he could hardly see. They were always brought on after a night of terrors and bad dreams. The memories kept trying to surface, but seemed to always be pulled back into the darkness of his mind. This time it was so bad, he’d even hallucinated and thought he saw his father at the end of the hallway this morning.

“That bad huh?” Aaron wrote something down in his file. Iian thought he could read people very well since losing his hearing. His sister had the same uncanny knack for it. But Aaron’s ability took the cake. The man always seemed to know just what was going on physically with him.

When Aaron turned back towards him, Iian gave him his favorite sign.

Aaron signed back. “Is that anyway to talk to your favorite brother-in-law? If your sister where here…”

“
God, please don’t tell her I said that,” he signed back. “Last week she overheard me cussing up a storm after stubbing my toe in my own damn shower. A man isn’t even safe to speak in his own home.” Looking over at Aaron, he continued. “I’m going to have you text me when she decides to run over to my place at the spur of the moment from now on. Did you know she yelled at me for leaving a beer can on the coffee table?”

He watched Aaron chuckle. Iian was rubbing his hands on his temple. Then he saw the light in his brother-in-laws eyes and said, “Don’t even think about it,” Aaron had turned around to write something in his file. When he turned back, he signed.

“What?” Aaron tried to put on an innocent face. Iian wasn’t buying it.

“Listen bro. I don’t want to be scanned, poked and examined at Edgeview or Portland. Last time I spent two hours freezing in that damn room while the doctor went out for a smoke,” he rubbed his temples harder.

Last night had been a bad one. He was working on only two hours of sleep. All he needed was his damn headache prescription filled, hence the trip in to his doctor.

Then Aaron pulled out his ace card.

“Iian, don’t make me call your sister. She was going to stop by for lunch, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking an earlier lunch break. We’ll just do a scan this time. No blood work, I promise.”

Rubbing his forehead a little harder, he decided he didn’t have the energy to fight with anyone else today, let alone his sister.

“Fine, just set it up and text me the details. Can I get my prescription now? Before my head explodes?”

Three hours later, Iian sat behind his desk in his office and swore his head
was
going to explode any minute. Three of his staff members were out with the flu. He had just caught one of his new dishwashers stealing from the liquor supplies and had fired him. Now he was four staff members down for the day.

He had received a text from his sister about his appointment. It appeared Aaron had let the “boss” handle him after all. It took less than twenty messages before he was persuaded to keep the appointment. To top it all off, his sister had ended up showing up at his office door twenty minutes later. Of course, he had quickly put her to work. But since she was several months pregnant, he had her helping out at the bar. She started to complain, but then he explained that he had closed the bar due to being short-staffed.

He knew she was bored since she’d only been helping Megan out at the Bed and Breakfast for the past several weeks. He’d let her take over that task completely. At least he had after a talk with Aaron. Aaron’s opinion was that it was easier on her, during her pregnancy, to help Megan than to come into the restaurant.

So he had doubled his efforts around the place to take up the slack. She still came in twice a week, but for the most part, the place was his. He enjoyed it and most days it
was
enjoyable. Today, however, with the lack of sleep and the headache, he wished Lacey would just take over for the rest of the day. He had a stack of bills that needed to be taken care of and he was having a hard time focusing his eyes through the pain.

Just then Thomas, one of his floor managers, walked in. Iian liked the man he was efficient, kind to customers, and according to some of the local women, not bad looking. Iian had hired him on the spot three years ago after learning he knew sign language and hadn’t regretted it. In fact, just last year, he had moved him to floor manager.

“You’d better come out front,” Thomas signed. “It’s Kevin Williams again.”

Damn it! Couldn’t he get a break today? His head was pounding like a bitch in heat, and now he had to deal with the town drunk and bully.

Kevin had been two years older than Iian in school. He had been the varsity quarterback and the star pitcher. The all-out athlete had barely graduated high school before he’d gotten one of the cheerleaders in his class pregnant. Three kids later, he worked at the mill across the river and lived in a broken down trailer somewhere outside of town. The man hunted, fished, and pretty much killed anything that moved with his vast collection of guns and knives. He’s what most people called a survivalist. Iian called him just plain crazy, only because he knew the man. Kevin was no survivalist. He was a nut job who liked to pick on anything smaller than he was. Iian had outgrown that criteria in the fifth grade. Brenda, Kevin’s wife sometimes stayed at her friend’s house in town sometimes with the kids, sometimes alone. The whole town assumed the reason his marriage was on the rocks was due to abuse.

Since the Golden Oar was one of the last remaining places with a bar in town, beside Barley’s pool hall at the edge of Main Street, Kevin darkened the doors fairly often. Usually when he’d been kicked out of Barley’s. Every time he ended up here, he’d caused problems. On several occasions, Iian or one of the staff had to call the local police.