Scarred Page 9

  Valerie shook her head. “No big deal. When you get to be my age, it’s not really important to celebrate.”

  “Still, I should know the date,” Autumn said.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to know. It’s not like I was around for any of them.” Valerie looked down at her hands. “What you don’t know about me is not your fault.”

  Silence settled in the room under the weight of the terrible truth of that statement.

  “You should come down next weekend,” Autumn said, too brightly. “We can take you to dinner for your birthday.”

  Valerie smiled. “Well, only if you and your brothers aren’t too busy. I’d sure love to see you.”

  Trey was distracted by a movement near Valerie’s foot. A cockroach, without a care in the world, crawled across the worn carpet. He grimaced. If there was one, there were a million.

  “Mrs. Hickman, there’s a roach, I think,” he said, pointing.

  Valerie started and squeaked a note of alarm, then leaped from her chair and stomped the insect with her shoe. The unmistakable sound of the roach’s shell crunched under the weight of her foot. “Darn things. It’s the warm weather. They’re everywhere. I have to keep all my food in the refrigerator.” She moved away from the carcass without looking at either of them. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” She scurried into the kitchen and came back with a broom and dustpan, then scooped the dead bug from the floor.

  Autumn shivered. “Oregon was rainy, but at least we didn’t have roaches.”

  “True. I’d never seen one until I came here.” Valerie pointed toward a closed door. “I’ll flush him. Be right back.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Autumn had wrapped her arms around her waist.

  He heard the sound of a toilet flushing on the other side of the wall.

  Autumn looked at him with wide eyes and whispered, “This place is awful.”

  He put his fingers to his lips.

  Valerie returned from the bathroom and sat back in the rocking chair. She rocked, somewhat manically. “I keep a clean house. It’s just…” She trailed off, then sighed.

  “We know. I mean, it’s obvious you do,” Autumn said.

  “They were all over the dorms in San Diego,” Trey said in an attempt to normalize the roach problem. “When we turned on the light at night in the kitchen, they’d all scurry under the trim boards in a wave of black.”

  Autumn scooted forward on the couch and stared at the spot on the rug where the roach had crawled its last crawl.

  “That’s awful.” Valerie watched Autumn as she answered. “Especially given how expensive college is.”

  “My mother mentioned that once or twice,” Trey said. “I think she even wrote to the college complaining. Not that it did any good.”

  “This isn’t right,” Autumn said, looking up. “Valerie, what’s your landlord doing about the roaches and all the repairs that need to be done?” She waved her hand around the room. “This is not right,” she repeated.

  Valerie lifted one shoulder. “According to my neighbors, other than raise the rent every year, he doesn’t do much.”

  “You need to get out of here,” Autumn said.

  Valerie’s mouth thinned into a painful-looking smile. “I can’t afford anything nicer. Since I lost the house, it’s been one place like this after another.” She looked over at Trey. “My husband died of cancer, and all his medical bills wiped me out. Not that I had much before, but I did have a house.”

  “If Kyle saw this place, he would insist,” Autumn said. “He wouldn’t want his mother living in a place like this when he owns half of California.”

  “He’s already offered, but no,” Valerie said. “I take care of myself.”

  “But why?” Autumn asked. “He wants to help.”

  Valerie stiffened, and her narrow shoulders rose to meet her dangling earrings. “It would be different if I’d raised you kids. But I didn’t. I don’t deserve his help.”

  Autumn glanced at Trey, as if for help. He widened his eyes slightly to let her know he was at a loss.

  “I’d love to come for dinner next weekend, though,” Valerie said in a small voice.

  “That would be nice,” Autumn said. “I’ll talk with the boys and see what night works best.” Unsteadily, she rose from the couch. “We should probably get going.”

  “Oh, sure, sure. You two probably have other things to do today,” Valerie said as she stood so quickly from the rocking chair that it bounced against the wall.

  “See you soon.” Autumn gave her mother a hug by the door and slipped outside.

  Trey lingered for a moment, touched and saddened by Valerie’s crestfallen expression. “It was nice to see you again.”

  “Thank you for bringing her by,” Valerie said.

  “Next time, we’ll swing by and get you for lunch.”

  Valerie’s mouth twitched into a half-hearted smile. “If it’s my day off, sure.”

  Impulsively, he leaned over and embraced her quickly before turning toward the door. “Bye for now.”

  He walked out to the landing and looked down to the parking lot. Autumn was already waiting by the car. He pressed the button to unlock it as he bounded down the stairs two at a time. She was already inside by the time he slid into the driver’s side.

  Autumn turned to him. “Does it make me a bad person that spending time with my mother depresses me?”

  “Not at all.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “It’s a depressing situation.”

  “Thanks for being here with me. I don’t think I could’ve done that alone.” She pressed her fingers into her temples. “I have a headache.”

  “Would you like me to stop for some water?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Just turn on the air conditioner. Her place was so warm.”

  He turned on the engine and blasted the air-conditioning. “Let’s get you home.” He backed out of the lot and onto the street. They drove several miles without speaking.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  She stretched her legs out as far as they would go and crouched lower in the seat. “Her life is so bleak, Trey.”

  “You don’t have to take on her problems,” Trey said.

  “She’s my mother.”

  “You can’t force a relationship just because you’re biologically related.”

  “Is that how you feel about your dad?” she asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “I’m sorry.” She touched his shoulder.

  He patted her knee as he turned onto the freeway. “It’s okay. I came to peace with it a long time ago.”

  She turned away from him to look out her window, quiet for a few minutes. Without moving from her position, she said, “Valerie Hickman never stood a chance, did she?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Why is that?” Autumn asked, turning now to look at him.

  “Because she was poor.”

  “That’s it? I thought this was America, where everyone has a chance to make a better life.”

  “That’s the idea but not the reality,” he said.

  “Kyle did it. He made it so Stone and I could have a future out of the trailer.”

  “He’s the exception, I guess.” Trey scratched a spot on his forearm. “Once in a while someone makes it out.”

  She turned back to the window. A few minutes later, she let out a long sigh. “The boys and I have to help her. That’s all there is to it.”

  He smiled over at her. “Talk to your brothers. Come up with a plan. I’m here if you guys need anything.”

  “You’re a good friend, Trey Wattson.”

  I could be so much more.

  He bit his tongue and kept on driving.

  After he dropped Autumn, Trey went home to the apartment. Stone and Pepper were out somewhere. The place was too quiet without them. He went into the bedroom and kicked off his shoes, then sprawled on the bed and closed his eyes. He might have drifted off to sleep had he not startled to
alertness when he remembered he hadn’t checked his email. He sprang from the bed and over to his desk. Jackpot. There was a message from Autumn.

  * * *

  Dear Art,

  I’m sorry for taking such a long time to return your message. I was out with my friend today. The one I told you about. He needed to check on a piece of furniture for his work and asked if I wanted to accompany him up to Stowaway. We had a nice day, for the most part. He suggested we visit my mother after lunch, since she lives there. My first reaction was to say no. Being with her exhausts me. Not that she does anything wrong. She’s sweet, actually. I guess it’s the guilt and residual anger that weighs on me. That and this feeling like I’m clenching my teeth the entire visit. I leave with a headache after every encounter. I find myself holding back from being kind or warm, which is not like me. My good intentions feel stuck inside, unwilling to yield or soften enough to let her into my life in any meaningful way.

  Trey, on the other hand, was his usual thoughtful self. We saw a roach on my mother’s carpet, and he was so kind about it, telling some story about how they were all over the college dorms, obviously hoping to lessen Valerie’s embarrassment. That’s a great example of the type of man he is—compassionate, thoughtful, and so very observant. Almost every day, my heart turns over from the sheer beauty of his soul. I’ve decided the small gestures of kindness tell the true story of a person’s character. Especially when they’re done for no reason whatsoever other than easing another’s burden.

  Her place was awful. If my brothers see it, they’ll have a fit, given what they both do for a living. Valerie’s stubborn, though. She refuses help. I can’t blame her for it. If I were her, I wouldn’t either. Taking a gift from someone you’ve robbed doesn’t feel right.

  Enough about me. Goodness, I do go on, don’t I? This style of correspondence seems to lend itself well to speaking frankly. If we met in person, I’d be way too shy to tell you all this.

  I was absolutely stricken to learn of the origin of your scarring. I’m so very sorry that happened to you. How have you gotten past the bitterness? Or have you? I carried my hatred for the young men who did this to me around for a long time. It wasn’t until recently that I’ve been able to let it go. The reasons for which have something to do with retribution but that’s not my story to tell.

  I should close. My friend Sara is picking me up for dinner soon. We’re taking her baby to the park for a swing and then to The Oar for dinner. That’s our local bar and grill and a hangout for my friends and me. During the summertime, it’s always packed with happy, tanned people who smell of sunscreen and salt water.

  Tell me what you’re doing. Have you seen your friend much? Do you think she knows how you feel about her?

  Best,

  007

  * * *

  He read her words through once more before getting up from the desk and going to the window. His bedroom faced east toward town and the hills beyond. The afternoon sun had lowered, drenching the town in warmth and soft yellow light. The windows in the houses built on the northeast slope of town gleamed like mirrors.

  He smiled to himself. Autumn spoke so highly of him. Could she love him one day?

  He went back to the desk and hit reply.

  * * *

  Dear 007,

  Thanks for your message. Don’t feel worried if you can’t write back right away. I understand you have a life out there in California with your Trey and friends. The more you tell me about him, the more I like him. Are you sure there isn’t more between you? The two of you seem like the perfect match.

  I spent the day with my friend as well. Today we spent the afternoon at a café watching people. To answer your question, I don’t know if Michelle suspects my feelings or not. I can’t imagine she wouldn’t as I do nothing but stare at her when we’re together. Regarding your other inquiry, being with her has decreased my bitterness over what happened. I suppose falling in love with Michelle has reminded me I’m still alive. I’m not my scars. I’m still me. Even though my wife didn’t love me, maybe someone could, even with my imperfections. Sometimes she looks at me and I can feel her seeing beyond the scar tissue into my soul. She peers into my eyes, like she might love me back. And I think then, I’ll tell her. Soon. I’ll be courageous and give her the chance to return my feelings. I’ve been thinking it’s not really fair to her that I keep them to myself. Who am I to assume she sees only my imperfections? If I love her and think so much of her, I am certainly not demonstrating that with my actions. Or lack thereof, as the case may be.

  Speaking of love. The way you feel about Trey is becoming more obvious with every exchange. I wonder, again, if he might be the one who sees beyond the scar tissue to your soul?

  With that, I’ll close. Be well, 007. Write when you can.

  Art

  * * *

  The moment he hit send, a surge of guilt washed over him. This exchange was beyond manipulative on his part. He was encouraging her to trust him and yet he was being completely dishonest. Yet even as those thoughts came, the others came too. This was the only way he could know her true feelings and thoughts. The more they wrote, the more obvious it became that there were so many aspects of her life she kept to herself. Getting to know her better only gave him more insight into how to win her heart. He would stay the course for now.

  He knelt by the side of the bed and said a silent prayer. Please God, help her to see we’re meant to be together and to forgive me once she knows what I’ve done.

  4

  Autumn

  * * *

  Autumn’s Monday at work was one of the busiest she could remember. A batch of nasty summer colds had brought many people into the pharmacy for antibiotics and cold medicine, along with the usual elderly customers picking up their regular prescriptions. The heat had spiked to the midnineties, and the heat pump in their old building could not keep up. By three that afternoon, it was in the upper seventies behind the counter. Driving home, she blasted the cold air onto her face. She was still hot and sweaty when she pulled into her driveway.

  Her cottage was stifling, too. Not realizing how hot it would get, she’d left early that morning without turning the air conditioner on. Normally, it was cool enough by the beach that she only turned it on when the temperatures spiked over eighty-five.

  She closed all the open windows and turned the air on high. While she waited for the rooms to cool, she poured herself a tall glass of ice water and went out to the patio. She drank and stared longingly at the beach. There was hardly a grain of sand without a person or an umbrella. Many people were in the water. She wished she was one of them.

  She thought about Trey’s offer of the Mullens’ pool. Was she foolish to have said no?

  Her doorbell rang. She walked through the house to the front. It was Trey. He carried a shopping bag with the Phil’s Swimwear logo on the side.

  “I’ve brought you a present,” he said as he handed her the bag.

  She shook her head, laughing. “You’re pushy, you know that, Wattson?”

  “It’s ninety-five degrees and the Mullens’ pool is waiting. For you and me.”

  She opened the bag and peered inside to see a blue suit with white polka dots. “You bought me a suit?” She held it up for better inspection. The suit was a one-piece with a halter strap and looked to be around the right size. “How did you know what size to get?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not that hard to figure out. Plus, the lady helped me.”

  “You drove all the way to Stowaway to get this for me?”

  “I had to go up there to pick up something for another client. When I saw the swimwear shop, I was struck with inspiration.”

  “You’re crazy. I’m not going swimming.”

  “You are.” He spread his hands out in front of him as if he feared she might bolt for the door. “I’m going to take you, but I’ll stay in the pool house the whole time. You can swim to your heart’s content. I won’t look. I promise.”

  She st
ared at him, then back at the swimsuit. The water would feel so good. It was just Trey. She could trust him to give her the space she needed. Could she do it? “I haven’t been swimming since I was a kid. We had a creek nearby we used to splash around in.”

  “It’ll feel good. Come on. Let me do this for you.”

  He looked so pathetic she couldn’t bring herself to reject the idea. “Fine. I’ll go. But just for a few minutes.”

  He grinned and swooped her into his arms for a hug. “You won’t regret it.”

  An hour later, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in the changing room at the Mullens’ pool house. The suit fit well, even though it emphasized her flat chest and lack of curves or muscles. And God, her skin was blindingly white. She shifted her gaze to her legs. From the thighs to her knees, they were normal, although more stick-like than shapely. The trouble started just below her knees and ended at her ankles. Her right leg was streaked with surgery scars; the left was misshapen and twisted with the angry dent in her calf.

  She reminded herself of how much worse it could be than cosmetic.

  Be thankful they carry you around. You could have lost them both.

  She grabbed the oversize beach towel and wrapped it around her waist.

  “Are you out there?” she asked from behind the door.

  “Yes,” Trey said. “Is everything okay? You’ve been in there forever.”

  “I’m fine.” She came out from behind the changing room door.

  His hair wet and unkempt, Trey stood near the pool table holding a stick in one hand. He wore a pair of shorts but nothing else. “I cooled off while I was waiting.” He set aside the pool stick. “I’ll just stay in here while you swim.”

  She nodded, flushed and overly hot. This was stupid. She was an idiot to have agreed to this. Now Trey had to hide in the pool house while she swam?

  “Go ahead,” he said. “The water felt great.”

  She held her towel in place with clenched fingers and walked to the French doors that led out to the pool deck. With her hand on the knob, she turned back to look at him. “Come with me?”