Scarred (2 page)

Either way, being in the outside world and exposed was probably not the best way to make peace with an accident of the magnitude that she had probably experienced. But before she could carry the remaining groceries inside, he stopped her.

“Excuse me, Ms. Barnett, may I take these inside for you?” He asked, but somehow, he knew that she would refuse.

“No, thank you.” She didn’t ask for his name or even sound as if she cared what it was in the first place.

He couldn’t force her to accept his help, but he did hand each bag off to her at the door until she finished. When she was done she came back with a fistful of dollars. The money was clenched into a crumpled wand of bills, almost as if she cared less how much she gave him and just grabbed whatever what at hand.

She finally spoke to him as if he was a person and not a thing that was available for her convenience. “Here, thanks for bringing the food by.”

He shook his head to indicate his refusal of her offer.

But when Benjamin drove away, he had more questions than answers about the lovely woman with the not so lovely scars.

The man who delivered her groceries was cute, was Amelia’s first thought. Although, cute was an extremely weak word to describe the male in front of her house. Not to mention a copout, especially for an author with a plethora of descriptive adjectives at her disposal. He only appeared to be in his mid-thirties with russet hair and green eyes. He reminded Amelia of a young Joe Namath in appearance down to the cleft in his chin. He was fairly tall, somewhere in the neighborhood of six feet, maybe an inch or so less.

And just that quickly, the moment she looked him in the eyes, Amelia knew she had a muse for her next book. She was ashamed that after all of the years alone, she could still find a man attractive. That was an urge that she assumed she had beaten back long ago. The realization forced her to close the door quickly, almost rudely, on the too handsome man who was nice enough to come across the county and bring her some groceries.

When she moved to the area, it was with the idea of being as far from the city as possible. It was amazing in this era, anything could be done online. Even the house purchase was by proxy and she didn’t personally see the place until she bought it. That was against the advisement of everyone associated, but Amelia stuck to her guns. She went into the purchase forearmed with the knowledge that there was some wear and tear, but the bones of the house were sound and that was what mattered most.

In the city it was easy to have anything she wanted brought to her front door, and usually she didn’t have to even make a phone call to get it. But that was one of the few things she didn’t account for when she moved out to Nowhereville, USA.  Amelia was so concerned with finding a place that she would never have to leave and that was the reason she forgot some of the logistics of living in the middle of the boonies.

One of which was the lack of civil niceties like online order placement and delivery of groceries. Otherwise, the transition was perfect. The house was smack dab in the middle of farms and country roads, and all to its self. She could go outside at will here and not get strange looks or pitying glances from neighbors whose name she didn’t want to know.

She could be happy now, or as close to the emotion as her scarred mind and body would let her. Amelia pulled the stifling turtle neck off. She didn’t sweat much due to the scar tissue on her torso, and regulating her temperature was difficult at best. In the summer she felt as if she were baking in her skin and winter’s chill always seemed to be bone deep. It wouldn’t do to get overheated and have a heat stroke or something. The long sleeved tops were part of her arsenal, to be used only in the situations where she had no choice but to leave her home.

She was careful and made sure she didn’t have to go out too often, but there were occasions where she had no choice. Amelia was certain that today would have been one of them, but as luck would have it, the grocer was kind enough to help her.

The shirt was for him, she didn’t want to have anyone else see her this way. Never again would she endure a man’s gaze on her burnt body if she could help it. The disgust on Charles’ face when she was unwrapped spoke volumes that she still heard within replay over and over again.

The rest of her evening was used to put away her newly acquired groceries and she planned her to-do list for next week. When she was done, Amelia went to work. She no longer wrote self-help novels, they were a waste of her time. One of the very people she helped was indirectly responsible for the state she lived in now. She was afraid to leave her own four walls and she was terrified of the outside world. She had cars that she rarely drove and owned a vacation house in Jamaica she would never get to see again. They went in jointly on the purchase of the small cottage on the island, but Charles signed his half away when they split.

Guilt money. Or rather, guilt real estate.

In fact, she was a prisoner, only this jail was of her own making and there was nothing she would do about it.  

Amelia sat down in front of her laptop and worked until dawn. Her agent was harping on her about her latest book and she wanted to get the draft finished ASAP. That way she could have a few quiet months during the editing process to herself. At least then she could finish up some of her decorating and renovations. She had most of the work done with a contractor, but she kept two rooms closed off for her to have free reign. One was her bedroom, the other was her attic. For now she slept on the futon she set up in the spare suite downstairs and she was going to work on the rooms with her bare hands.

Her latest would finally finish off her series of erotic suspense novels. She never would have imagined writing erotica, but after she healed and her fiancé left her, she had no sexual outlet. Her libido returned with a vengeance after the first four years of her celibacy and there was no man available to slake her pent up desires with. Nor did she want one, as she was too disturbed by her own body now with the scars and mottled skin from numerous grafts.

But it would have been nice to not feel so alone sometimes, to have someone hold her and care how she felt. There were nights more often than not where she had wet dreams starring her ex. She didn’t hate Charles, there was no reason to. She couldn’t blame him. How could he want her, when she didn’t even want herself? He tried, but the pressure was too much for him to handle when it was apparent that she would never look the same.

When she was burned, he delayed the wedding over and over. At first, the reasoning made sense as she needed to recuperate. But when she was as healed? Then, it became crystal clear that he didn’t want to go through with it at all.  Though in Amelia’s opinion, it was better that their relationship ended how it had, versus being a married couple and her losing everything after the I Do’s were said and done.

But her ex was decent in bed, enough that she had orgasms. Although, she had only been with Charles, so if he sucked, there was nothing to personally compare to anyway.

Hence, her nightly naughty desires were given life in the form of a suspense series that had taken off pretty well.

She made just as much as she did with the self-help novels, and the erotica was easier on her schedule. There were no public appearances, and she didn’t have to think about the mechanics of it. The novels were under an assumed name, and she kept the series to herself. Only her agent and her publisher knew who she was, and that was the way she liked it.

The following Tuesday, Amelia received a phone call. She was working on her attic at the moment and she was sure that hanging the ceiling fan herself was not such a good idea. The step ladder was just a hair too short and she was exhausted from standing tip-toe for the last hour. She was far from a prima ballerina and the dust in the air was enough to keep her sinuses at attention from rapid fire machine gun sneezing. The phone rang, the sound dim as the device was plugged into her kitchen socket and the caller was lucky she heard anything at all. 

When she ran downstairs and looked at the caller id, she saw it was the grocery store.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She wondered what the call was for.

“Hi, is this Amelia?” His voice was amazing, like the balm of aloe on sunburnt skin, cooling and calming all at the same time to her ear.

“Yes, this is she.”

“It’s Benjamin, from the grocery store. I thought I’d call and check on you. I didn’t know if you needed anything, so I just thought to ask.” She was shocked to say the least. She was silent for so long that Benjamin had to ask her again. “Do you need anything?”

“Thanks for calling. I don’t need anything that I can think of today but dish detergent. Maybe you could bring some by with my next order?”

“I don’t mind carrying it out to you… today, if you want. I live just a couple miles down the road and it’s no hardship to stop on my way home.”

Why? Did he want a chance to stare at the freak? “Sure, that would be just fine.”

But even with those misgivings, she accepted anyway and she had no idea why.

Yes, you do. He is cute though.

She clicked the green phone button to end the call and leaned back against her marble countertop. It took her half an hour to shake the disbelief off of her shoulders and continue with her day. She was finally able to hang her fan and the rest of the work was left for another time.

Later that evening as promised, he brought the soap to her. She took time to make sure she was presentable and showered along with a touch of makeup to hide the discolored tissue on her cheek. She put on her favorite mock neck shirt in a buttercup yellow and a pair of khaki slacks. It was a perfect night to enjoy the weather and she made a quick decision to change into something light and airy as soon as he left. She walked downstairs barefoot and started dinner.

The doorbell rang out, Phantom of The Opera interlude broke into the peaceful cooking sounds her shrimp made as the crustaceans sizzled in her skillet. She pulled the pan from the gas heat and flipped the burner off before she walked to the front door. The cutie from last week was on the other side with a bag in one hand. She tried to hand him a twenty dollar bill for his trouble and gas, but yet again he rebuffed the gesture.

She had to offer yet again. Nothing in life was free, and Amelia would rather pay in advance than on the back end. “Gas is expensive. Don’t you think that you should take it?”

“No thanks, it was no trouble. Like I said, this is on the way home for me anyway.” His multi-hued brown hair glinted with golden streaks under the porch light. He smiled and she was taken aback at the beautiful teeth, almost blindingly white displayed before her. She couldn’t help but to respond in kind and smiled back, even though the motions felt strange. She hadn’t genuinely smiled in years, and the scar tissue always pulled when she tried. But this time the gesture felt good, almost natural again.

Chapter Two: Country Boy Curiosity

Benjamin called Amelia and he wasn’t sure why. She had ordered enough food to feed a baseball team last week. But, he wanted to hear her voice and even he wasn’t sure why the need was there. He’d thought about her for the last days and even expected a call from her for some kind of household odd or end she lacked. But when there was no contact from her, he decided to make a call of his own. No sooner than he dialed the number he’d committed to memory last week, Ben called himself a million kinds of fool.

It shocked him that he really wanted to see how she was doing. For some reason Ben couldn’t forget about her, no matter how he tried. The fact that she was extremely private didn’t help matters at all. Amelia was far from an open book and it seemed he might never get the chance to meet the woman she truly was. That was one thing folks quickly learned to discard in the country. Miles may separate neighbors, but they would know someone’s business quick, fast, and in a hurry. Sometimes even before the involved parties did.  

Yet, when she agreed to let him drop off detergent he was elated. Even though he would only be able to see her for a minute, at least he would know that she didn’t need anything more than what she’d asked for. When he left the store and rode to her house, he jumped out bag in hand before he was even fully parked in her driveway. His knee bothered him slightly and Ben knew he over did the stocking today. There were too many boxes, plus the delivery was later than usual and combined with a sudden rush of customers left him without an extra pair of hands.

But he still finished just a little behind schedule and was able to make it to Amelia’s by seven-thirty.

The doorbell was unusual, he knew the tune, but wasn’t sure where from. As soon as he got the chance to pick up on the melody the door opened. Amelia was lovely, her skin was flushed from steam and the smell of Alfredo sauce and shrimp wafted out to greet him before she could.  She must have made it from scratch, as he recalled the heavy cream and block of parmesan cheese she had him deliver.

She, once again offered him money for his trouble and yet again, he said no. She seemed none too short of money and she liked to keep people at arm’s length with it.  Eventually, Amelia would understand that he wasn’t going to take anything from her. All he wanted was some of her time and until that was on the table, he would refuse anything less. He smiled at her and the resulting spontaneous grin from her made the long drive worthwhile. But just as quickly, the smile drooped and she was a blank slate again.