Simple Perfection (17 page)

Woods

Della had opened up more than I expected to Nile and his family. Mostly it had just been to Nile's daughters. They had been drawn to her, too. Watching it had been heartbreaking and amazing all at the same time. Della could have had a normal life. Her father was a good man.

I had also watched Nile most of the night. He had watched Della and his girls, too. The pleased look on his face was hard to miss. He might never be someone that Della considered a father but I had hopes that she would form a relationship of some kind with him and his family. I thought she needed it.

"Tell me what you thought of Nile and his family," Della said as we walked into the house. She had been quiet on the ride back and I had left her alone with her thoughts. It was a lot to process without my trying to pull things out of her.

"I think he's a good man and he's a good father. The girls are well-adjusted and they are fascinated with you."

Della grinned as she slipped off her heels. "I liked the girls. Each one was so different. It was like they made this one complete person. I wonder what it must be like to know you have someone on your side all the time, knowing you can make snide comments and even push and shove but they'll love you when the rest of the world is against you."

I walked over and wrapped my arms around her from behind. "I'm always on your side. You can push and shove---hell, you can even slap me---but I will still be right here, ready to face the world with you."

Della leaned back against me and wrapped her arms around mine. "I know that. I meant growing up. Having a sibling to stand in your corner."

I understood what she meant and it broke my heart to think about the little girl who was so alone in dealing with a mother who wasn't there mentally. "You did find Braden."

"Braden found me. And you're right. She was always in my corner."

"I like knowing you have her. She loves you almost as much as I do."

Della laughed. "Don't let her hear you say that. She'll fight you for that title."

I wondered what Braden would do when I asked Della to marry me. Would she grill me? Make sure my intention was to treat her like a princess? I had no doubt I'd hear from her when the time came. I just wasn't sure about the right time.

I loved Della and I knew no one would ever take her place in my heart. She was the one. But marriage also meant a commitment that scared me. I'd been ready to ask her before she left me. Now I knew how quickly she could rip my world out from under me. Could I handle that kind of pain if she were my wife? It was making me even more vulnerable. I needed time to adjust to having her back. Having a Della who didn't wake up screaming and one I didn't worry about all the time.

"I love you," she said as we stood there together.

"I love you more," I replied. And I meant it. That was what kept me from asking her to marry me. That was my roadblock. I loved her more.

A knock on the door broke into my thoughts and Della stepped out of my arms to look back at me. "Who could that be?"

"Not sure. I'll get it."

Jace was pacing back and forth on my front porch when I opened the door. His head snapped up when he saw me. He shook his head and went back to pacing. This was woman trouble. I looked back at Della, who stood watching me from the other end of the hallway.

"Looks like Jace needs to talk. We'll be out here if you need me," I told her.

A worried frown pinched her forehead but she nodded. "Okay."

I closed the door behind me and watched as Jace continued to pace.

"What's wrong with Bethy?" I asked. I knew that was the only thing that could get him to pace like a madman.

He stopped his constant moving and shoved his hands in his pockets. "She's . . . She wanted to get married. I mentioned it to her and she wanted to. But she's started to act different lately. So I dropped the marriage thing. I thought that was what made her go crazy. But she's just getting worse. Hell, what was I supposed to do? I can't get married if she's not ready. I sure as hell can't ask her. I don't know what I was thinking. Just because Rush and Blaire are playing house doesn't mean the rest of us are ready."

I was going to be here a while. I could tell by the frantic tone in Jace's voice. I sat down in the swing. "So you've changed your mind on the marriage thing? Sounds like it scared Bethy anyway. Maybe you two need more time just being a couple."

Jace let out a hard laugh. "Yeah, I thought that, too. But she's just . . . reverted."

"Reverted?" I asked, trying to figure out what in the hell he was talking about.

"You know, reverted to the way she was before. She's drinking and wanting to go out partying all the time. She rarely sees Blaire anymore because she said it makes her sad. She wants what Blaire has but she says it's rare. We can't measure ourselves against that. But that makes no damn sense. I've been in two bar fights in the past week. Two fucking bar fights. Me. I don't fight, dammit. But she's forcing me to go save her drunk ass from men who want to touch her."

I thought about Della playing with Nate the other day and how sweet she was. But not once had she asked for the same thing. She never pressured me for more. I wasn't sure what I'd do if she did. I would probably give it to her.

"Do you want Bethy? Forever? Is she who you see yourself spending your life with?"

"I did. Before all this. I did. I thought we were ready. But now she's changed. She's acting like . . . she's acting like she did before. When all I wanted to do was fuck her because she was so damn good at it. I was addicted to sex with her. Then she stood up to me and drew a line in the sand and I came barreling through it because I realized, through all that sex, that I had started to care for her. I wanted more than just the sex."

Everyone knew this story already. No one had expected it. Jace was a trust fund baby and Bethy was a trailer park baby. The two didn't seem to fit . . . until they did. "She could be drawing the line in the sand again. Forcing you to pick her."

Jace walked over and sat down on a padded bench and dropped his head into his hands. "If I thought that was it I would just propose. I would just ask her to marry me. Because, yeah, I love her. But I think she's hiding something. I don't know what. I try to overlook it but there are times---and they're rare---when she withdraws from me. I can't pinpoint when it happens. I can't figure out a reason---she just does. Then suddenly she's back the next day or a few days later, however long it takes, and she's my Bethy again. I just . . . she has to tell me everything. She has to explain to me what haunts her and why the hell she thinks going to a honky-tonk dressed like a cowboy's wet dream is okay. I'm tired of getting into fights with dudes bigger than me."

Della never did any of these things. I couldn't sympathize and now I was pretty damn sure he shouldn't propose because they had shit to figure out.

"You two need to talk," I said. I had no other words of wisdom.

Jace ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I know we do. Every time I try and ask her about it, she starts drinking. The next thing I know, she's dancing on a bar somewhere. When she starts to sober up she tells me she wishes she was enough for me and that she wishes she was someone I could love forever. I tell her she is but she needs to tell me why she's doing this. Why she pulls away from me sometimes. She either starts crying or sucking my damn dick. Both get me completely distracted."

I had thought Jace and Bethy were fine. They were good. They were always together. I hadn't imagined any problems with the two of them. Bethy was always so happy and bubbly. The Bethy he was describing wasn't someone I'd ever seen.

"I love her. I'm gonna do whatever the hell I need to to stop this. Because I can't lose her. I love her. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. All relationships before her pale in comparison. If she wants to get married, I'll propose. I wanted to wait but I don't think she'll ever tell me why she pulls away sometimes. Maybe if we're married she won't do that. If I put a ring on her finger then it will stop this drunken partying shit she's doing."

The only thing he'd said there that even came close to a reason as to why he should marry Bethy was the part where he said he loved her and she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. The other stuff wasn't good logic. "I think you need to get her to talk to you sober first. Lock her in a room and make her talk. Don't just propose because she's forcing your hand with this drinking shit. That isn't what marriage is supposed to be about. You gotta want this, man."

Jace glanced back at the door to my house. "What about Della? Do you want it with Della?"

Yeah, I wanted forever with her. "One day, but she isn't pressuring me. When the time is right."

Jace nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But Bethy seems threatened by that idea." He stood up. "Thanks for listening. I needed to unload on someone. I couldn't go back to the condo and deal with Bethy after tonight. I just needed to talk."

"You're my best friend. I'm always here to talk when you need to. Besides, you kept me from losing it when Della left me."

Jace chuckled. "More like Rush did. I was scared to touch you. You were going apeshit."

"Rush was the only one strong enough to hold me back. But you listened to me and kept me sane while she was gone."

Jace nodded. "You're my family."

And he was mine.

Della

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird." Momma's voice rang out shrill and off-key as I stood outside her bedroom door and peeked inside. She was in a rocking chair in her room with the baby doll I wasn't allowed to touch wrapped tightly in a blanket. She sang to the baby doll when she was sad.

"Yes, he's a good boy to sleep for Momma. He sleeps like he's supposed to." She cooed at the doll and touched its plastic face tenderly, as if it were real. For a long time I thought the baby doll was real. But it never made any noise and she left it forgotten in its crib in her room for days at a time. Eventually I realized it was just a baby doll.

Then I'd made the mistake of picking it up and rocking it, too. Momma had been very upset with me. I had gone three days without food, locked in my room.

"Sweet little baby, Momma's joy. I'm gonna go buy you some new toys." She sang the made-up words. She always made up words to this song. I wasn't sure if she didn't know the real words or if she just liked singing about what she was doing.

Then she threw the baby doll across the room and screamed, "Demon child!" over and over again as she stomped her feet. I ran back to my room as fast as I could and prayed she wouldn't come after me.

"Della?" Woods's voice broke into my dream and my eyes snapped open. I looked up into his concerned face.

"You okay? You were breathing hard."

That was all? I smiled. I was okay. I could live with the memories. If the terror didn't come with them. "I'm fine," I assured him, and cuddled against his side. "It was just a memory."

Woods ran his fingers up and down my arm. "Do you want to talk about them? Maybe if you told me, you would stop dreaming them altogether."

I started to say no and stopped. I had been telling people no for years because it sent me into the darkness when I let myself think about it. But I was better now. What if I did tell him my dreams . . . what if it could actually help?

"Okay," I said, not looking up at him. I kept my eyes on his chest. I wasn't scared of the memories now. I just wasn't sure how I was going to open myself up to him that completely. It would make me feel more vulnerable than I had ever felt. He would know my horrors. No one really knew them.

It was time.

Woods tightened his hold on me and I focused on the warmth of his arms. I was safe. Telling him was safe.

"She was rocking the baby doll. She always rocked the baby doll when she was in one of her dark times. She sang to it and made up words to lullabies. I knew, even at five years old, that her singing to a plastic doll was wrong. Something was wrong. So, I would watch her. She never rocked me. Seeing her rock the doll confused me. Why would she rock a plastic baby doll? The baby was a he. She called it a him. She never called it by a name. Just 'sweet baby' and 'baby boy.' That was weird, too, because the boy they'd adopted before me was never a baby when they had him." I stopped a moment and thought about looking up at Woods to see what he was thinking. But I had more to tell and I didn't want to watch his eyes and see his reaction.

"If she ever saw me watching her rock the baby she would yell at me and often hit me. She would tell me to be quiet, that the baby was sleeping. Or to go fix my brother some food and make sure he ate it. I hated making my brother food. I knew he'd never eat it and that it would get old and stinky before she'd finally give in and throw it away. The smell of rotten food permeated our house. I hated the stench." I lay still in Woods's arms. I knew that what I was telling him was disturbing. I knew it would bother him, but it was helping. He had been right. Talking about what I'd lived through with someone who loved me, not just a psychiatrist, helped.

"When she was rocking the baby doll she would eventually realize it was plastic. I never knew what it was she saw but she would start screaming demon child and she would throw it across the room like it was on fire. Then she would claw at herself and pull her hair. She would tell the doll she was sorry that she had let him go to the store. She was sorry that she hadn't kept him safe. But then she would point and scream demon at it again. I didn't usually watch that part except for once. It terrified me. When she started screaming I would hurry back to my room and close my door. That's what I was dreaming about tonight. One of those moments."

Woods let out a long, shaky breath. "Shit," he whispered, then pressed his face to the top of my head. He didn't say anything else. He just held me. That was what I needed the most.

It didn't feel like I thought it would, opening myself up like that to him. I had always thought that showing someone what was inside, what had been my life, would expose me in a way that would make me unlovable. But I didn't feel that way in Woods's arms. He held me tightly to him and kissed my head. No other words were needed.

My eyes closed and I relaxed in his arms. I had always felt safe with Woods. That wasn't new. But now . . . now I felt like I'd found my anchor. My entire life I'd held on to anything I thought could hold me still and keep me from going under. I had clung to Braden for years, hoping that having her would remind me I was normal. That I wasn't in that house anymore. But even though she loved me, she had never made me feel completely secure. She couldn't give me the grounding I needed. I thought no one would ever be able to give that to me. Not after all I'd seen and lived through. I knew now that it wasn't true. With Woods's arms wrapped around me and the beat of his heart pressed against my chest, I knew he would hold me steady. If I ever fell, I'd have him to catch me.