Текст книги "Butterfly Dreams"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 17

Corin

After our odd conversation, Adam went to help Krista with the party and I worked on the spreadsheets, though my mind wasn’t really all there.

I was thinking about Geoffery’s service. I was thinking about Beckett. I was thinking about what I was going to do to keep Razzle Dazzle from going belly-up.

It was a lot of stress.

I didn’t do stress.

I felt like going home and hiding under my covers until it all went away. Or the world ended.

Whichever came first.

“Okay, guys, I’m heading home. I have a thing tonight,” I said hours later, emerging from the office.

Adam and Krista were over at the counter, their heads bent close together. Adam turned quickly toward me and all but shoved Krista away.

“A thing?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“A funeral,” I clarified.

“Sounds like a swinging good time,” he replied blandly.

“It’s a man I knew from the Mended Hearts support group. He had a heart attack.”

“Makes sense.” Adam nodded and I didn’t even bother to respond to that one.

“Everything go okay out here today?” I asked, putting on my coat.

“A couple of preschoolers decided to try their hand at poop graffiti in the bathroom but other than that it was great.”

I gagged. “I really don’t need to hear any more. Do you need help cleaning up?” I asked. Though the last thing I wanted was to clean poo from the walls, I needed to offer.

Adam thought I wasn’t carrying my weight. That had to change. It was my business too. It was time I started acting like it.

Adam waved his hand in dismissal. “Krista and I’ve got it. Go get ready for your funeral. Wait, that sounded bad. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I gotcha. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Krista had already disappeared into the storeroom and Adam gave me a smile with teeth. Huh. Guess they were still all there.

As I left, I noticed that he went into the storeroom after her.

I had a good idea about what Adam needed to talk to me about so badly.

I went home and fed Mr. Bingley. I washed a load of laundry and I found a suitable black dress to wear.

I made myself something to eat to tide me over. But I wasn’t really hungry. I had lost my appetite.

My mind was everywhere and nowhere.

I thought of my father. My mother.

Beckett and his heart.

Funerals and wakes.

I was most definitely not riding unicorns and frolicking in meadows.

By the time Beckett showed up, I was trying to think of an excuse that would get me out of going.

“Hey,” Beckett said when I opened the door.

I barely registered how nice he looked in his dark suit, his brown hair slicked back off his face.

I let him in as I fastened an earring to my lobe. Mr. Bingley wrapped himself around Beckett’s feet and he picked the cat up.

My feline companion purred so loud I could see his furry little body shake.

“I think he likes me,” he said, scratching Mr. Bingley behind the ears.

“Scratch him like that and he’ll be yours forever,” I joked, but it sounded a little brittle.

“Are you all right to go tonight? If you’re not feeling up to it—”

“I’ll be okay, Beck. Let’s just go,” I said shortly.

Beckett put Mr. Bingley on the floor and reached out to grab my hand. “You’d tell me if there was something wrong, right?”

He cupped the side of my face and I tried to take strength from it. I wasn’t sure it worked.

“I know funerals are hard. They certainly are for me. Even more so now that I almost had one myself.” I winced at his statement. I couldn’t help it. The last thing I wanted to do was think about Beckett dying. It didn’t help settle the churning mess in my stomach. He was trying to be reassuring but he needed a lesson or two on what constituted encouragement to your overanxious girlfriend.

“But let’s do this for Geoffery. Because when my time comes, I hope people come to say goodbye to me.” Beckett gave me a soft smile and I thought I was going to puke all over his shoes.

I wanted to tell him to shut up. To stop talking about his death and funeral. I didn’t want to think about that very real possibility. The one that seemed to shadow everything.

“Don’t die, Dad. Please.”

He couldn’t hear me.

He was way past listening.

Beckett leaned down and kissed me. It started gentle. Just a brushing of lips. But I was feeling desperate. Scared.

Out of control.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. I pressed myself up against him, not caring about wrinkling our clothes.

Beckett let out a groan and opened his mouth, his tongue plunging deep. I kissed him harder. Devouring him.

He made me forget.

When he kissed me, I could only think about him.

He was my anesthetic. He numbed me. Before he also set me on fire.

“Corin,” he whispered against my mouth.

“Shhh,” I scolded, kissing him again. My fingers dug into his shoulders.

Make me forget…

“Corin, baby, stop.” He wrapped his hands around my wrists and untangled them from his neck. “We have to get going.” His intensely heated blue eyes searched my face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

No I’m not! I screamed on the inside.

I nodded.

He lifted my hand and gently kissed my knuckles. It made me tingle everywhere. But the moment had passed and I was thinking about other things again.

I was quiet as he led me out to his car. I didn’t protest when he opened the door for me and I could see him frowning at my non-response.

He tried to get me talking. He asked me questions about the shop. But I didn’t give him much. I stared out the window and thought about funerals.

Mine.

Beckett’s.

Endings and missed beginnings.

Geoffery’s service was being held at the same Methodist church where Mended Hearts had their meetings.

Beckett and I walked in, hand in hand. The air in the room was oppressive. I was lost in a sea of black and tear-soaked faces.

I clamped my fingers around Beckett’s, holding on for dear life.

I could see many of the group members already there. I found Candace, who had squeezed herself into a black dress that made her look a bit like a sausage. She was talking intently to an older woman who was sobbing into her hands.

“Come on. Let’s go talk to some of the others,” he said, giving my hand a tug. I stayed rooted to the spot.

“Corin, could you lighten up the death grip? I’m losing feeling in my hand,” he teased, with a note of concern.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t know my own strength sometimes. That’s what happens when you moonlight as a superhero.” I tried to joke. Poorly, I might add.

“How about we get some food first?” he suggested.

“Food? They have food at this thing?” I asked, sounding a little horrified. Funerals and a buffet sounded really wrong.

“Just coffee and stuff. Not a three-course dinner.” He nudged me with his elbow and smiled. How could he smile when we were surrounded by so much…grief?

“We don’t drink coffee,” I replied, deadened.

“No, we don’t. But maybe a cookie will perk you up.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even mention the whole diabetes thing. I had moved past that. It was the least of my worries.

“Hurry up, Corin. We have to get there early. The minister wants to talk about the sermon before everyone arrives.” Tamsin was so efficient. Even as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue, she had everything under control.

“I can’t go,” I said. There was no emotion in my voice.

Void.

Nothing.

Unlike the compassion I received from my dad during a similar conversation just before Mom’s funeral, my older sister wasn’t in the mood to waste time on sympathy.

“I don’t want to go either, Corin. But we have to. There’s no one to do this but us,” she replied harshly.

“I can’t do it,” I whispered.

“Well, too bad,” Tamsin snarled.

“Eat this.” Beckett all but shoved the cookie in my mouth.

“I can feed myself, you know.”

Beckett wiped the crumbs from his hand and poured himself a glass of water.

“Beckett! Corin! You made it!” Candace came over and gave both of us a hug. “It’s so good to see you.” She smelled like sweat and perfume. It turned my already unsettled stomach.

“Hi, Candace, good to see you too.” Beckett looked at me as if waiting for me to add my own greeting. I didn’t.

“I was just talking to Ida, Geoffery’s wife. She’s such a brave woman. She’d love to meet you. She says the group was such a help for Geoffery.”

Ida must have been the sobbing woman I saw Candace speaking to when we came in.

“Of course. Please introduce us.” Beckett took my hand again, giving it a little squeeze.

And then we were standing in front of Geoffery’s widow, her eyes red, her lips trembling as she tried not to cry.

“Ida, this is Beckett Kingsley and Corin Thompson. They’re both in the Mended Hearts group as well.”

Ida gave us a watery smile. “It’s lovely to meet you. Geoffery really looked forward to those groups every week. Thank you for being a part of his life. And thank you for being here tonight.” Her voice broke toward the end and she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“I’m just thankful to have had a chance to know Geoffery. He was an amazing guy. Though I still wonder if he was trying to tell me something with all those mints he insisted that I eat,” Beckett said, and Ida laughed. How was he able to do that? Make people laugh when they should be crying?

“Those stupid mints. He sucked on them all the time. I found bags of them hidden in drawers all over the house.” Ida chuckled, wiping at her eyes again.

“He was like the mint pusher. He wouldn’t let you leave until you had taken a handful.”

Just like that Beckett got Ida and Candace laughing and reminiscing about funny things. Happy things.

I wished I could be like that. Make death a joke.

But for me, it was no joking matter.

“Excuse me,” I said quietly, pulling my hand out of Beckett’s grasp, and quickly walked out of the room.

There were too many people. It was too hot. Too much crying.

I couldn’t handle it.

“Neil Thompson was a faithful husband to his wife, Charlotte. A loving father to his daughters, Tamsin and Corin. He was a loyal servant of God, acting as a deacon in our church for many years.”

I was getting really angry. What did this man know about my father? What did any of these people know about how he suffered?

Tamsin quietly cried beside me and I hated her.

She hadn’t been there to wipe the vomit from Dad’s chin when his pain had gotten the best of him and he had thrown up all over himself.

These people hadn’t sat by his bedside, watching him breathe. Waiting for that unbearable moment when his chest would stop rising.

What did they know about real grief?

They didn’t have a right to any of it.

“Corin, you out here?”

Beckett walked outside and found me huddled on a bench, barely feeling the cold.

“It’s freezing out here. What are you doing?” He sat down beside me.

“It’s a little oppressive in there, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked.

“I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You’re thinking about your parents,” he surmised. I nodded. Not able to say anything more about it.

“How can you stand in there with everyone crying and being sad and make people laugh? How are you able to do that?” I asked.

Beckett shrugged. “I could get depressed and upset, but what point does that serve?”

“But how do you have any control over that? You feel how you feel, end of story,” I protested. I should know that better than most.

“Of course you have control over how you feel.” He sat up a little straighter and turned to face me, wrapping my cold hands between his, rubbing them slightly to warm them up. “Look, after the cardiac arrest I was really depressed. Scarily so. My whole life had changed in an instant. There were a lot of times I was angry. Angry that I was still alive. Because what was the point?”

Beckett’s face shadowed and I couldn’t look away from him.

It was the sadness belonging to a man who had lost so much.

“But then I realized I still had my entire life ahead of me. And I could go around feeling sorry for myself, or I could suck it up and keep on going.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a man who gives up very easily.”

I snorted. “I had no idea.”

“It didn’t all happen at once. It’s been a process. Picking up the pieces and moving on. I had to accept there were things that just weren’t working, like my relationship with Sierra.” I felt my heart squeeze at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. Yeah, it was jealousy. I was only human after all.

“I also had to reach out and grab ahold of the things that were.” He pulled me closer, resting his forehead against mine. “That’s you, Corin. My life’s different now. I’m not the jock anymore. I can’t drink freaking coffee. Carb binges are out of the question. There are things I miss. But those things pale in comparison to what I’ve gained.”

“I’m living for me. And that makes all the painful stuff worth it.” He leaned back a bit, giving me some breathing room. “Maybe my heart stopping was a blessing in disguise.”

“How can you say that?” I asked, shocked.

He shrugged.

“If I hadn’t almost died, I would never have been in the Mended Hearts support group.” I frowned. And that was a bad thing?

“And then I wouldn’t have met you, Einstein.” He bumped his shoulder into mine.

“Yeah. I guess there’s that,” I conceded.

“And you, Corin Thompson, make everything worth it.”

My heart thrilled at his words. They really did.

He put so much in perspective. He worded things in a way that made me think.

He made it so easy to be optimistic.

To have hope.

I grabbed ahold of his jacket collar and pulled him roughly toward me. I all but attacked him with my mouth. We kissed deeply. So deeply. Teeth and tongues and bruised lips.

“Can we go? It wouldn’t be rude, would it?” I asked. I wanted to go somewhere and be alone with him.

I needed it desperately.

“I’ll call Candace later and explain you weren’t feeling well,” Beck suggested. I nodded, kissing him again.

When we came up for air, his eyes shone bright in the dark. “Come home with me. Stay with me tonight,” he begged.

“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” I breathed.

Chapter 18

Corin

I woke up the next morning wrapped in Beckett’s arms.

Which sounded way more romantic than it really was.

Because I can honestly say there is nothing romantic about a full bladder and morning-breath paranoia.

He had me pinned to the mattress with his great, big man arm and no amount of wiggling and shoving could move him. This guy was one deep sleeper.

I looked down and realized I was still fully clothed.

There was absolutely no hanky-panky last night, ladies and gentlemen.

But there was a whole lot of cuddling and then some hardcore passing out.

I glanced at the time on Beckett’s alarm clock and saw that it was already 9:30. I had to be at Dr. Harrison’s office in an hour. I never slept in so late. It was a good thing the studio was closed until noon today, otherwise I would already be late. And I was going to make a conscientious effort not to leave so much up to Adam. His words yesterday hit home.

“Don’t go,” Beck murmured, reaching out for me.

As tempting as he was, my full-to-the-point-of-bursting bladder took precedence.

“I’ll be right back,” I promised, sliding out from underneath the covers.

I hurriedly pulled my dress down so that it covered my ass. Beckett had rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head, and he watched me with a dopey smile on his face.

“I really like waking up with you,” he said, his voice husky with sleep.

I flushed all over. What girl doesn’t like being told that by a good-looking guy? Especially one that looked at her as if she hung the moon.

“Ditto,” I replied.

Did I really just ditto him?

Beckett cocked his eyebrow and looked beyond amused.

I all but ran to the bathroom before I had an embarrassing accident in front of my boyfriend. And as natural as I felt around Beck, there were limits to that easiness.

I closed myself in the bathroom and quickly took care of business. Then I squeezed a glob of toothpaste on my finger and swished it over my teeth. I found some mouthwash underneath the sink. Score!

I gargled at least a half a dozen times before I was satisfied that I wouldn’t kill Beckett with my lethal breath.

I tried to tame the unruly tangles in my hair but I only ended up with a head full of knots. I really hadn’t thought out this whole spending-the-night thing.

Last night had been so intense. So overwhelming. After we got back to Beckett’s apartment I had all but collapsed. I was exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. I couldn’t stay upright a moment longer.

He had picked me up and carried me back to his bed. He had taken off my shoes and gently, tenderly tucked me in.

Then he had crawled under the covers behind me, pulling me into his chest. He kissed the back of my neck, smoothing back my hair, not saying a word.

I fell asleep faster than I had in years.

And I had no nightmares. No terrorizing butterflies. No anxious dreams of being trapped in a coffin.

Only blissful nothingness.

I took a quick stock of how I was feeling. It was my normal routine.

And I felt…

Okay.

No aches. No pain. No swollen anything.

I felt…

Normal.

I left the bathroom, a little spring in my step. Beckett was sitting up in bed, looking at his phone. He put it down when I came in and gave me a smile to end all smiles.

He made me feel so goddamned beautiful.

It was a real talent.

“Come here.” He crooked his finger and I all but scampered back to the bed.

“How do you look so good first thing in the morning?” he asked, framing my face with his hands after I sank down beside him. His thumbs caressed my cheeks and I beamed at him.

I beamed!

“Oh shush,” I dismissed. But I liked it. A lot. Corin Thompson, who never knew a compliment that didn’t make her want to die of embarrassment, was actually preening at Beckett’s words.

“It’s true. You are so fucking gorgeous. I don’t think you have a clue how amazing you are. Inside and out.”

“Don’t you have to get to work?” I asked.

“I texted my boss letting him know I’d be in a little late today. I was hoping to spend the morning with you.” He kissed me softly on the lips, and I didn’t think about morning breath or the fact that I hadn’t had a shower.

“I wish I could. But I have a doctor’s appointment. So actually, I’m going to need you to run me home in a few minutes,” I told him regretfully. For the first time I wished I could cancel the appointment. I didn’t feel the need to go.

I wanted to stay right where I was.

Beckett frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to come with you?” He sounded so concerned. The worry was etched on his face.

I shook my head. “I’m fine.” And it was true.

I really was fine.

What in the world had happened to me?

There must be some sort of crazy mojo in that bed of his.

It was incredible what a good night’s sleep could do for the psyche.

And a wonderful man to wake up to.

“Maybe I’ll go check out those photography classes I was looking into,” he said more to himself.

“Photography classes? That sounds great!” I remarked excitedly.

Beckett flipped me onto my back and leaned over me. “Let’s blow off everything and stay in bed all day. I can think of better uses of our time.”

He started kissing the side of my neck and I turned into literal goo.

“Don’t distract me with your lip weapon. I need to take a shower and get changed. Come on. Up and at ’em.” I wiggled out of his grasp.

He let out a big sigh. “You suck, you know that?”

I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll make it up to you later.”

Beckett’s eyes lit up. Horny promises would always work, it seemed.

“Yes ma’am!”

And we laughed.

Because that’s what we did.

We made each other happy.

–

“Corin, hello. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Harrison closed the exam room door behind him and sat down on the swivel chair in the corner, pulling up my file on his computer.

How was I feeling? That was the million-dollar question.

Because today I felt pretty good.

Better than good.

Fantastic even.

And that wasn’t right.

I shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Not when I was still convinced that there was something seriously wrong with me.

But it was hard to focus on my looming health crisis when Beckett Kingsley made me feel so fantastic.

“I’m pretty good today actually,” I answered truthfully.

Dr. Harrison looked relieved. “That’s great, Corin. I’m really glad to hear that. Because your tests came back normal. Just like all the others we’ve run.”

“Oh really?” I asked weakly. I wasn’t testy or defensive. I felt only resigned. Unsurprised.

“It means we have to look at other possible causes for your ongoing symptoms. We spoke briefly at an earlier appointment about how stress can mask itself as heart problems. Psychosomatic ailments can be debilitating—”

I held up my hand, stopping him.

“We are not going there again.” The mention of “psychosomatic” made me think about knives and stabbing.

“I don’t want to upset you, Corin, I just think this could be a legitimate cause to what’s been going on with you. I know your previous doctor suggested the same thing—”

“Hold on, back that truck right up there, doc. How would you know what my last doctor suggested?”

“After getting your blood test results back yesterday, I put in a call to Dr. Graham to discuss if there was something I was missing in regards to making a diagnosis. He was your doctor for many years, am I correct?”

“Yes he was. Was being the operative word. How can you just call Dr. Graham and talk to him about me?” I demanded.

“You signed a consent to release information form, Corin. That included me being able to discuss your patient history with your former doctor. I wasn’t doing something subversive or sneaky. I wanted to have a better understanding of how to help you. And considering Dr. Graham had been your family physician since you were a child, I figured he was the perfect place to start.”

Dr. Harrison folded his hands between his knees and leaned forward. He really worked the whole I’m-a-swell-guy-let’s-go-have-a-beer thing. It annoyed me.

“Okay, so you were all Chatty Cathy with my former doctor. What insight do you think that gave you?” I sneered.

“For starters, he told me about your parents. Their medical histories. I understand that both of them passed in rather quick succession when you were young. Dr. Graham also informed me that you assumed the role of carer for your father in the later stages of his illness.”

My eyes burned and I had to look out the window, blinking furiously. “Yeah, well, it’s not a secret,” I muttered.

“That has to have a significant impact on a person. That’s a lot of grief to experience, especially in someone so young,” Dr. Harrison remarked kindly.

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I lived through it and moved on.”

“Have you?” he asked pointedly, and I went rigid.

“I know what you’re going to say. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” I said, beating him to the punch.

“What am I going to say?” he questioned.

“That I haven’t really coped with losing my parents and that these illnesses are a manifestation of my grief. I’ve become preoccupied with dying because I watched the people I love die.”

“It sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this, Corin,” Dr. Harrison broached gently.

I looked back at him and was surprised that there was no sympathy on his face. Just curiosity maybe. “Like I said, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. But I know I’m sick. It’s my body. Don’t you think I know when something’s not right?” My voice rose and I struggled to not scream in exasperation.

“I think you are a woman who has been through a lot and has become fixated on your health in order to not focus on the things you need to deal with. The death of your parents.”

“Are you a therapist as well? Will I be double billed for this?” I asked dryly.

“No, I’m not a therapist. But you’re not the first hypochondriac I’ve treated. I know that the mind can make you believe all sorts of things that aren’t real. I know that you feel something’s wrong. But I can also tell you that in my professional opinion, there’s nothing wrong.”

I closed my eyes and tried not to cry. I was back at square one. I couldn’t keep changing doctors. What was I going to do?

“Let me ask you this, you said you felt better this morning. Why is that?”

I opened my eyes and went back to staring out the window. “I don’t know,” I replied dully.

“Well, think. What was different about this morning? Was there a change in your routine?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so,” I admitted.

“You were concentrating on something besides your health. Besides being potentially ill. Am I right?”

I nodded.

“And didn’t you feel better for it? Not focusing on being sick?”

I nodded again. I couldn’t find my voice.

Because the man was right. I felt great. Up until I walked into the doctor’s office.

“Don’t you deserve to feel better all the time? Instead of fixating on what’s wrong with you. To focus on what’s right.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it. He sounded so much like Beckett that it was funny. They were both force-feeding me their Cracker Jack wisdom whether I liked it or not.

Dr. Harrison wheeled back over to his desk and wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

I looked down at what he had written. Chris Riley, LPC.

“Christopher Riley is one of the best therapists in the area.”

I folded the paper and tried to hand it back to him.

“I have a collection of these, Dr. Harrison—thanks, though.”

Dr. Harrison wouldn’t take the paper. “Chris specializes in bereavement. He works extensively with people who have lost loved ones. He also runs several support groups if that’s more of your thing.”

“So you’re saying I’m fine.”

Dr. Harrison nodded.

“There’s nothing physically wrong with you, Corin.”

“My heart’s okay,” I continued.

“A little broken maybe, but other than that, it’s working just fine.” Dr. Harrison’s smile was sad.

I got down from the exam table and looked at the name and number on the paper again. “So there’s nothing you can do for me?”

Dr. Harrison pointed at the paper in my hand. “That right there is what I can do for you. I hope you call him. I truly think it will help you more than any medicine ever could.”

I tucked the paper into my pocket. “Okay, well, thanks, Dr. Harrison,” I said as he got to his feet.

“I’m always here, Corin. But promise me you’ll at least think about calling Chris.”

“Yeah. I will,” I agreed, not sure I really meant it.

Dr. Harrison gave me a rather nice smile and walked me out of the office, following me into the waiting room. “Bye, Corin.”

“Bye,” I replied. I waved at Lynn and left, not sure how I felt.

It felt almost like acceptance.

Like maybe I couldn’t run any longer from the very real possibility that this was all in my head.