Текст книги "Forever Loved"

Автор книги: Deanna Roy

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

5: Gavin

I felt ridiculous sitting in class listening to Professor Blowhard yammer on about comets. Corabelle’s seat was too empty, like there was a hole in the room. Her friend Jenny watched me sympathetically from the end of the row, between flirty waves to the TA. They were so going to get busted for dating, or whatever it was they were doing.

The only salvageable thing about being there was taking notes to help Corabelle. I concentrated on the page, scribbling them the old-fashioned way because typing while I tried to listen made me crazy. I would still swear he was taking the entire class lecture out of a children’s book about space.

After an eternity, he shut down the projector and we were free. Jenny picked her way around knees and backpacks to stand by my seat. “How’s Cora?”

“Much better. Talking, awake. I think she’s through the worst of it.”

“I’m taking her shifts, so I haven’t had a minute free to go over there again. You going now?”

“Probably not until late. Her parents are there.”

She moved aside to let another student by. “I bet that’s going just grand.”

“They haven’t had me arrested. I’d say that’s a win.” I stood up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “You’ve talked to her boss, right?”

“Yeah, they’re supposedly sending her a care package. Probably leftover coffee and stale strudel.” Jenny fell into step beside me. “Why do you think she walked into the water? I mean, I knew she’d been upset, and this was big shit going down, but that’s huge. She’s no drama queen, and trust me, I know drama.”

I’m sure she did. But I had no answer for her. Corabelle was different now, parts of her as unreachable as the shadows on the moon. We headed for the stairs. “I’m betting the hospital is going to try and drag it out of her,” I said.

“You think they’ll say she’s crazy or something?”

“She’s putting on a pretty good act of being normal.”

Jenny rushed to keep up with me, her pink ponytail swinging. “Are we talking about the same person? Because the Corabelle I know couldn’t fool a kindergartner.”

Our footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and I had to resist the urge to pause on the spot where Corabelle and I talked for the first time after discovering we were on the same campus. “She’ll rise to the occasion.”

“Well, fooling the shrinks is all well and good, but both you and I know the real deal. She went into the ocean and wasn’t planning on coming back out.”

I stopped on the bottom step and turned to face Jenny. “Look, we don’t know what Corabelle was thinking, and we don’t know she has a problem. She’s working it out now, and she’ll either fool the social worker or she won’t. I don’t think she’s in any danger, and I would rather us be supportive than speculate.”

Jenny held her hands in the air. “Whoa, dish boy’s got a burr up his ass.”

I whirled back around at that. This conversation was pointless.

“Hey, Gavin, sorry.” She grabbed my arm. “You know I want what’s best for her. That was a tough scene out there.”

I yanked the door open. “Why the hell did you meet me there anyway? Why not any other place?”

Jenny halted. “That’s a very good question. It’s what she wanted.” She twirled a pink lock around her finger. “You think she planned it? That doesn’t seem like her.”

I shook my head. “No. She’s sentimental. We had some moments on the beach, that’s all.”

Jenny passed through the door. “I’m sure you’re right. But even if she does escape the sanity police, we should keep an eye on her.”

“I plan to,” I said. “Once she’s discharged, I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

* * *

I only managed to work a half-shift at the garage before Bud sent me home again. I was too distracted and sheared off a radiator hose on a routine maintenance job.

I stopped by Corabelle’s apartment to look around before heading to the hospital and facing her parents. They had probably been there all day, and I hoped they’d be ready to leave, if not already gone, before I arrived.

The butterflies I re-created from Finn’s crib mobile still hung in the trees outside her door, although a little more sparse than I had originally laid out. A few lay on the ground and I scooped them up.

Her apartment was stuffy and airless. I left the door open to let the cool inside and sat on her sofa, remembering how tense I’d been that first time I came over, when she’d asked for me.

Why had she texted me that night? There were so many things about her I didn’t know, places she’d been that I’d never go or understand.

I caught a whiff of something foul and moved to the kitchen, pulling the trash bag from the bin. I spotted a plate I remembered from our apartment, a ceramic fish painted by a neighbor. I set the bag down and picked up the plate. Corabelle wouldn’t serve fish on it, saying it was cannibalistic somehow, but I could picture cookies stacked on it, and orderly rows of crackers and squares of cheese from when someone came over to study.

I wondered what else she had, flipping open a few cabinets. I left every single thing behind, all my clothes, my toothbrush, everything I owned except my laptop and backpack, which had been in my car when I took off from the funeral. I had started over literally from scratch, but Corabelle had retained the detritus of our lives together.

I couldn’t find anything interesting, so I picked up the trash bag again, jumping back when a wet drop hit my shoe. A green liquid oozed from several holes in the bottom of the sack. Cheap bags. I opened her pantry and searched for a box of them to double bag it so I didn’t leave a trail through her apartment. I found a neatly folded stack of them, and tugged the first one off the top, snapping it open.

As the sack fitted over the other, I realized it, too, had holes. What was that all about? I examined them, realizing they were perfect punctures, done on purpose. I returned to the pantry and pulled another one from the stack. Also riddled with them. Every bag had been tampered with.

Attached to the door was one of those stick-on closet organizers designed to hold plastic grocery bags to be reused. It was stuffed full of sacks. I pulled one out and held it up to the overhead light.

Holes.

I pulled out bag after bag, and they were all the same. Careful punctures at the bottom of each one.

What was Corabelle doing? She didn’t have a cat to get tangled in one and suffocate. Obviously she didn’t have a child. And either way, it was an obsessive thing to do.

I stuffed the sacks back in the little bin and folded the trash bags as best I could. I wiped up the floor with paper towels and held the bag sideways to keep the worst of it from dripping.

As I walked around the building looking for the dumpster, I decided to put this from my mind for now. Corabelle could tell me about it later, when she was stronger, when we had some miles under our belt and could talk about hard stuff. Whatever was going on with her, and whatever quirks came out of it, probably led back to me. If I wanted us to be together again, I had to accept all the things about her. So I would.

6: Corabelle

My parents were going to drive me crazy. They’d sat around my bed all day, talking about the most inane things. Knitting. Football. Construction in my hometown.

“You guys are in one of the most beautiful cities in California,” I said. “Go out and see the sights.”

Mom shook her head. “While you are still recovering? Of course not.”

Every time the door opened, my anxiety rose that the social worker would return and my parents would want to stick around for the interrogation. They had no clue that I’d been kicked out of New Mexico State, only that I had decided to finish out my degree at the school I had originally applied to. They also didn’t know I had forfeited my scholarships and was going into debt.

But Miss Cat-Eye Glasses probably knew all of that.

I poked at the new phone Dad had brought, wishing my old one would turn on so that I could at least get a contact list. Neither Jenny nor Gavin had called or texted me, both thinking mine was still defunct. I vowed to memorize their numbers from now on, so I’d never be out of contact again. I felt cut off from the world.

“I’m surprised Gavin hasn’t tried to connive his way back to your room today,” Dad said. “I’m looking forward to kicking him out. I already talked to the staff and they said if he isn’t family, he can be asked to leave.”

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to hackle. “Dad, I’m over eighteen, and I want him here. You can’t turn him away on my behalf.”

“Don’t you remember those days after he left?”

Mom looked up from her knitting, her reading glasses low on her nose. “Arthur, let’s not go there.”

Dad paced the room. “You were devastated. I wanted to find that boy and pulverize him.”

I tugged at a loose string on the hospital gown. Dad had changed. He never would have said things like this before Finn.

“And now look at you. He no more comes back and here you are in the hospital.” He whirled around. “I am convinced he was responsible for this.”

“Now you know Gavin was the one who pulled her out,” Mom said.

“So obviously he was there when she went in!”

I set the phone down by my leg. “I’m right here, you know.”

Dad came forward and sat by my feet. “Tinker Bell, you were doing so well before. I can’t help but think all the upset is what got you in this situation.”

“What situation is that? I got a little wet, and I ended up sick. I’m better now, and I’ll be out of here soon. All this will be behind me.” Why wouldn’t he let this go?

Something moved in the doorway, and I looked to see Gavin standing there, his face red with fury.

“Do you have something you want to accuse me of…sir?”

Dad twisted on the bed. “Oh, good.” He reached across me to push the nurse call button.

“Don’t do that!” I shouted. “This is ridiculous!”

“No, him being here is ridiculous,” Dad said. “Baby, why won’t you listen to reason on this?”

Gavin moved through the room with coiled energy, like a panther. He took my hand. “How are you feeling?”

I hung on, watching my father glare at Gavin’s back. “I’m getting around today.”

He set my backpack on the floor. “I brought you the notes from class today and your books so you could catch up.”

I looked around him at my dad in an “I told you so look,” but he was heading for the door. I didn’t like this. “Dad, where are you going?”

He didn’t answer but kept moving. I turned to Mom. “What has gotten into him?”

She set her knitting in her lap. “I can’t calm him down. It’s like he’s built up too many years of being Mr. Nice Guy, and it’s all going to blow.”

“You have to stop him. I won’t let them kick Gavin out.”

She shoved her yarn in a bag. “I’ll go see what he’s up to.”

“Take him out to dinner or something. Get him away for a while.” I could feel the tension in my neck and back, and several of the aches blossomed into a burn. I’d ask for pain meds again, or maybe not. I really needed to be awake to study. But this was not to be borne.

When the room had emptied, Gavin leaned over for a kiss. He aimed for a light peck, but I brought my arms up to his neck, keeping him there, wanting to feel something other than anger, panic, and exhaustion.

He shifted closer to me, running his fingers across my cheek. As his lips crossed lightly over my mouth in a caress, I could feel everything downshift, settling back into a steady rhythm.

“I’ve missed holding you,” he whispered against my skin.

“So hold me now,” I said.

He leaned into me, pulling my head against his chest. He smelled of the garage, oil and machinery, a bit of sea air from the ride over. Masculine and good. After the antiseptic sterility of the hospital, he was bliss.

“Should we time the nurse rounds so we know when there’s a gap?” He released me just enough that I could turn my face up to see his evil grin.

“You are so bad,” I said. “They can’t exactly kick ME out.”

“See, we’re all covered.” He leaned down to kiss me again, and this time, despite the lingering weakness in my muscles, the heat from the contact began to spread through me. He gripped my chin and slid his tongue in my mouth, and now my fingers were tight around his biceps. I yearned for him, dying to get out of this gray room and someplace where I could be with him, explore all the things about him that were not yet familiar, to know him like I once did.

His arm wrapped around my back and pulled me close, crushing me against him. I let the walls and glaring industrial light fall away, closing my eyes to the rails and machines and clinical equipment. There was nothing but his body and his mouth, his hands and hard muscles, the nape of his neck beneath my fingers.

“Good God, get him out of here NOW,” my father barked.

Gavin didn’t even flinch, but withdrew slowly, on his own time frame, unwilling to be jolted away. He settled me carefully back against the pillow.

My mom had her fists pressed against her mouth, clearly upset but not willing to speak up. My dad was red-faced, more worked up than I think I’d ever seen him. Beside him, a short man in a blue hospital security uniform looked sheepish and uncertain.

“I understand you are unwanted here,” the guard said.

“I want him here,” I said. “Dad, you’re going too far.”

Gavin stood up to face them. “I understand you’re upset—”

“DO YOU?” Dad’s voice boomed through the walls and Mom jumped.

“I do,” Gavin said, his voice even.

“Escort him out!” Dad said to the guard.

“Why don’t we just take a little walk?” the guard said. “Let Dad here cool down.”

“Can’t Dad be the one to take the walk?” Gavin crossed his arms across his chest, staring down both the men.

“Gavin, please,” I said. “This is too much.”

Mom dropped her arms. “You know, maybe everybody should leave. Corabelle needs her rest.” She picked up her knitting bag. “Arthur, let’s go. Gavin, come down too. This is not good for her recovery.”

“Text me,” I told Gavin. “I have a new phone, same number.”

He turned around, his eyes searching mine.

I nodded encouragingly. “Text me.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” the guard said. “Let’s all head out.”

Mom took Dad’s arm and pulled him to the door. He walked stiffly, still angry. Gavin let the guard follow behind them, then pulled his phone out and held it in his fist. “Five minutes?” he asked.

“Sounds good,” I said.

When they were all out of the room, I felt the energy drain out of me. It had been such a good day, full of progress. I got to eat normal things, walk around, get the tubes out. Now if only I could get all the people I loved to get along. We’d once had such a happy harmony, when Finn was on the way. Nothing had been right since he died. Maybe I was just fooling myself that life could ever be as it once was.

7: Gavin

I had been expecting that scene with Corabelle’s parents since I was fifteen years old.

The world silenced as I cut the motor to my Harley a few blocks down from the hospital. The guard had watched me drive off, so I knew I had to get a little bit away. I’d just park it here at a convenience store and walk back.

When they figured out Corabelle and I were having sex, they didn’t flip. They had already gotten Corabelle on the shot anyway. They seemed to know what was about to happen. They were always involved and watchful, but not overly smothering.

When she got pregnant, I expected an explosion, maybe even a punch to the jaw, the sort of thing my own old man would have done, if I’d been around him at all anymore. But no, they maintained the same stalwart calm, just talking out the practicalities of living arrangements and college and supporting ourselves.

After that, I had no idea what they thought of me, since I was long gone. I could see why he’d hate me, but hell, if Corabelle was willing to move past it all, why wasn’t he?

I jerked my phone from my back pocket and typed out a message.

Ready for me?

A reply came instantly.

Born ready.

I smiled as I tucked away the phone. This was working. We were going to see this through. Already I could see the future laid out. Her, me, some little place while we finished school. Then I’d get some random job – hell, what WAS I going to do with a degree in geology? She’d go to grad school. Some time, way down the line, I’d see the docs and figure out how to undo this stupid mistake of getting snipped.

Instead of going in the main entrance, where I might run into the same security schmuck, I circled around to the back side where the ambulances unloaded for the ER. The doors slid open as I approached, and only a woman at admissions even noticed my arrival, returning to her paperwork when she saw I wasn’t bleeding or about to collapse.

A hall to the right promised a way to the elevators, so I rat-mazed through corridors until I found a set. I had to zigzag through a new addition to get to the main tower, but stopped dead when I came face to face with a broad expanse of glass and a row of baby beds lined up like a store candy display.

Some new dad in blue scrubs held up a little bundle in a striped blanket so a gray-haired couple could snap photos, their flashes bouncing off the windows.

Finn had never been in a room like this, whisked away from the labor suite into the NICU and covered in discs and tubes. This dad got to unwrap the baby as a nurse started the process of cleaning him off, the white stuff – vernix, Corabelle had called it – still on his neck and in the creases of his arms and legs.

My boots were rooted to the floor, and no matter how hard I wanted to turn away from the scene, I couldn’t move. The dad laughed behind his mask, and rage started to build in my chest, so hot and sudden that it shocked me. This guy deserved his moment. He was probably raised in some white-bread suburb with a super-dad who’d coached Little League and took him for pizza after, not flinging wrenches if his ten-year-old son’s fingers were too fumbling to get a corroded clamp off a battery.

Maybe the universe knew what it was doing, giving healthy kids to some people and sorrow to others.

Hell, now I was in no shape to see Corabelle, to soothe her. I had to bring it down. I managed to make my legs move and I circled back, heading to the elevator bank so I could cross over to her wing via some other floor, any other ward but this one.

I forced myself to forget what I’d seen as I approached her hallway. Straighten up. Be there for her. But I still felt sharp-edged as I entered the room. She sat on the bed, her knees balancing a notebook as she tried to type my scribblings from astronomy into her iPad.

“Your handwriting sucks, my dear,” she said.

“My fingers have better uses,” I said, pulling a stool up next to her bed.

“Is that as close as you’re getting?” She flattened her knees and set the iPad and notebook on the side table.

“Well, scoot over then, you bed hog.”

She shifted over and I crawled in next to her. “Did you time the nurses?” I asked.

“I asked them if it would be safe to study uninterrupted for a while.”

“And?”

“They promised to let me be until nighttime meds.”

I snaked my hand beneath the covers so I could run my hand along her belly. “Still have that sexy tube going into your parts?”

She cocked her head at me. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

“You feeling okay?”

“I’m all right. Pain meds. Food. Lazing around. Isn’t exercise good for speeding up recovery?”

I slid my fingers along the rough fabric of the hospital gown. “Does this thing ever come to an end?”

She watched my face as I moved my hand lower, almost to her knees, before finding the hem. I squeezed her leg, then slowly made my way up her skin, pausing when I hit a rough patch, slightly sticky. “Adhesive?”

“Used to be.” Her breathing had sped up, still rattling a little, and that got me worried. I didn’t want to hurt her.

“You sure you are all right?”

She reached for my hand through the sheets and abruptly moved it up until I cupped her between the legs, hot and moist. “I will be.”

Her boldness brought everything to life, and I wasted no time pressing her down into the bed, slipping two fingers inside her, reveling in the sudden arch of her back.

Her arms came around me to hang on. I watched her face as I thumbed the little bud, not sure if I should take it slow and easy or move her along so she didn’t tire out.

But she made her own decision, grinding against my hand. I worked her quickly, hard and tight, feeling her thighs quiver around my hand.

“God, Gavin,” she said, squeezing me against her, her breath hot against my neck. “Oh my God.”

She gripped me impossibly tight. I kept the pressure even and steady, paying attention to her responses. When her eyes squeezed shut, I moved faster, increasing the pressure, and I could feel her start to spasm against my hand. She kept it quiet, her cries silent. I brought her down carefully, in degrees, until she settled back against the bed.

Her face had bloomed pink, but now as she relaxed and I just held my palm against her overworked flesh, the color began to drain.

“That took a lot out of you, didn’t it?” I asked softly.

She didn’t want to admit it, just kept a steady pressure of her hand on my forearm.

I leaned in and kissed her hair, withdrawing gently and tugging the gown back over her legs. “We can do more later.” I shifted and the bed complained with a squeaky groan. “When I don’t have to worry about breaking something expensive.”

She smiled a little, her eyes fluttering closed. I tucked her head into my neck, that spot she always loved to nestle into, and waited for her breathing to settle. I tried not to picture the glassed room, the proud father, and the woman who was waiting for him somewhere in these same walls. He would close in next to her like this, and lay the baby on her chest. And their moment would be different from any I had ever known.

I reined in the emotion and shoved it down. No use thinking on things I couldn’t change. Corabelle had fallen asleep, and I edged away from her. The notebook sat open on the side table, so I took a pen and scrawled a quick note – I love you. See you tomorrow.

Then I slipped from her room, down the quieting halls, and back to my motorcycle and my own empty apartment.