Her House Divided (Beach Haven Book 1) (11 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Sean’s mother was in the hospital waiting room when Tara and Ethan arrived.   There was no time for introductions or shyness; she pulled Tara into a hug right along with Ethan.

“Suzanne, how is he?”  Ethan asked.

“I don’t know anything yet,” Sean’s mother told him.  She was tall and dark-haired like her son, and Tara noticed deep laugh-lines around her mouth; it was easy to imagine the woman smiling or laughing just as easily as he did.  “They took all three men back and refused to let any family members go with them.  I just don’t—I don’t even know if he’s—I don’t—“

“Shh.”  Ethan wrapped his arms around her.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?  A soda?” Tara offered.

Suzanne Jackson pulled away from Ethan, shaking her head.  She gestured toward the other people clustered around the waiting room and singled out a middle-aged man in a yellow turn-out coat.  “That’s the Fire Chief,” she told them.  “And most of these people are family members of the other two men.  He’s been running back and forth taking care of all of us while we wait.  Believe me, I’ve had enough offers of coffee and Pepsi to last me a lifetime.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“He said that the roof collapsed while the firefighters were inside the home looking for the family they thought was trapped in there.   It took a few minutes to get to the men afterwards and by then . . .”

“What about the family?”  Ethan asked as her voice trailed off.

She shook her head again.  “Turns out they weren’t in the house at all.  They weren’t even home.”

A man in scrubs came out and spoke quietly to the Chief, who bowed his head and then led him to a family on the other side of the room.  A wail rang out.

“Mikey,” Suzanne whispered.  “That’s Mikey Garcia’s wife.”

Tara clutched Ethan’s hand, but she doubted if he was even aware of her presence any more.    He kept his other arm firmly around Suzanne’s shoulders and looked everywhere but at the grief-stricken family. He was breathing heavily.

It seemed as though they waited there for hours, but in reality only a few minutes passed before the Chief headed their way with another doctor.  “Suzanne,” he began, his voice gentle.

“Is my son alive?”  She demanded.

The doctor nodded.  “Sean suffered a serious head injury and smoke inhalation,” he told them.  “He needs some help with his breathing right now, and he’s very disoriented.  But he did regain consciousness for a short time.  He’s –“

“Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

Tara hung back and let Suzanne and Ethan go on without her.   They didn’t seem to notice, and she wondered if she should wait here or go back to her hotel room; one thought of that quiet, impersonal space made up her mind for her, and she sat down
.  Better alone here than alone there,
 she decided.

The days away from Ethan had been torture.  Being with him tonight felt so good, despite their concerns over Sean.  She had missed the way he smelled, the warmth of his arms around her, the sound of his voice when he murmured in her ear.  She wanted nothing more than to sink into his embrace and tell him how she felt.  She ached to say that she loved him. 

A burden.

Jacqueline’s words kept running through her mind in an endless loop.  
She was a burden.
 

She could forgive Ethan for the business with the loan.  Hell, she couldn’t blame him for looking into all of his options.    She could even understand his secrecy on the matter.

But Ethan was a young man who deserved better than a lifetime of taking care of her.  He deserved someone healthy. Someone who wouldn’t doom him to a future of doctor appointments and pain medications and physical therapy.  Someone 
whole
. 

Someone who wasn’t Tara.

She had asked Melissa to drive her out to the Seashell that night to retrieve her belongings, hoping to avoid seeing Ethan and yet feeling disappointed when she found the house empty.  It took just a few minutes to gather up her two suitcases, and few more to hesitate over Bea’s jewelry box.  Technically, half of the jewelry belonged to her, but she didn’t want to take anything that held any special meaning for Ethan.

The house phone had begun ringing while she argued with herself over the jewelry.  It was Suzanne, Sean’s mother, looking for Ethan because Sean had been hurt; all thoughts of jewelry and wills and even Bea Ahrend were replaced with just one thought
:  Find Ethan
.

Now that she had found him and they knew Sean was alive, she needed time to strengthen her resolve.  Those moments in Ethan’s presence had left her hungry for more time with him. 

She stood up again and stretched.  The chair was uncomfortable and her neck ached from sitting there too long.  As Jacqueline had reminded her, she was going to be dealing with pain for the rest of her life.  Special chairs, pain medications, a constant need to rest . . . mentally, she ticked off items on her ever-growing list of her needs now that her life had changed so drastically.

“Tara?”

Ethan was suddenly there beside her.  She hadn’t heard him walking back out to the waiting room.

“Is something wrong?”  She asked.

“He’s resting.  Suzanne needed some time alone with him.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.  “What about you, Ethan?  Are 
you
 all right?”

“Still worried about him.  I won’t be all right until I see him open his eyes.”  Ethan rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.  “I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t—“

“Don’t what?  Tara, I’m sorry for everything.  I screwed up.  Please come home.”

Home
.  Tara drew a shuddering breath and closed her eyes against a wave of emotion.  “I . . . can’t.  I’m sorry.”

“You can’t forgive me?”

“It’s not that,” she told him.  “It would be different if we had met a year ago, or even six months ago.  If only we had met before my accident.”

“You’re getting better.  I’ll be there with you every step of the way.  I’ll help you.”

“No.”  
You deserve better.  You deserve someone you don’t have to help and care of.  You deserve a woman who can give something back to you instead of always needing something.

“’No’?  That’s it?  Just ‘no’?”

“I’m sorry.”  She went up on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his cheek.  “Give Sean a hug from me when he wakes up.”

“Tara, I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Good-bye, Ethan.”

Chapter Nineteen

After Sean was released from the hospital, Ethan got into the habit of dropping by his house after work every night.  The firefighter recovered quickly from his close call, but he struggled with headaches for the first few days, which left Ethan feeling some concern for his old friend.  Later, after the headaches had passed, he found that it was just easier to visit Sean than to go home to the empty Seashell every evening.

“Go home, Ethan,” Sean finally told him one night. “I’m back at work, and I go back on full duty with the Department next week.  Everything is back to normal.  You can stop checking up on me.”

“Wow.  You’re welcome.”

Sean laughed.  “Dude, I’ve got a date in an hour.  I appreciate everything, but you’ve got to go.   Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but she’s a lot prettier than you are.  And she smells better.”

Wordlessly, Ethan reached for his coat.  Sean stopped him with a hand on his arm.  “You might want to think about going on a date, too,” he said.  “Get out, go meet a nice girl.  Or a not-so-nice one, if that’s what you’re into.  But it’s time for you to start moving on.”

“I 
have
 moved on.”

“Right.  That’s why you haven’t gone forward with the paperwork to buy out Tara’s half of the house.”

“I—I’ve been busy.”

“Right.”

Ethan grabbed his jacket and pushed past Sean.  His friend was right; he had been putting off finalizing the sale, waiting for Tara to make the next move.  He kept telling himself that he was waiting out of concern for her well-being; he heard from Melissa and Dan that she had started school and gotten an apartment, and he knew she must be exhausted
.  Let her have a little longer
, he thought every time he was tempted to pick up the phone.

“You’re still an idiot,” Sean told him.

“I know.  I screwed up with the whole loan business.”

“Call her.  Talk to her.”

“’No’.”  That’s all she said to me, Sean.  I asked her to come home, told her I was sorry, and all she said was ‘no’.  She said things would be different if we had met before her accident, and I told her I didn’t care about that.  I even said I wanted to help her, and the only things she said to me was ‘no.’ “    Ethan took a deep breath and tried to smile at his friend.  “Thanks for the advice anyway, Pal.  I’ll leave you to get ready for your date.  Just remember to take it easy – you’re still recovering from everything.”

“I’m not made of glass.”

Don’t treat me like a china doll.

“Ethan?  You okay?”

If only we had met before my accident.

“I’m an idiot.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”  Sean patted him on the shoulder.  “The truth hurts, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Idiot.”

* * *

Tara got a thank-you card from Suzanne Jackson a few weeks after that night at the hospital.  She was touched by the gesture, and somewhat surprised that the older woman had even noticed she was there that night.  According to the hand-written note, Sean had recovered and was already itching to be permitted to resume his job with the fire department.

She re-read the note during her break at beauty school, tucking it carefully into her smock when she was done.  She could just imagine the spirited debates going on between Sean, his mother and Ethan.

In the weeks since she had said farewell to Ethan, her life had moved steadily forward.  She moved into a tiny studio apartment within walking distance of the beauty school where she had registered to begin classes for her Instructor License.  The combination of attending school and physical therapy was exhausting, but also liberating.  It felt 
good
 to be taking charge of her life again.              

As long as she didn’t think about Ethan.

That was the hard part.  She thought about him from the moment she woke up missing his arms around her to the second she drifted off alone in her tiny fold-out bed.  She checked her phone countless times every day, even though she told herself she wouldn’t answered his calls anyway.    And she relived the scene in the hospital waiting room, seeing the hurt in his eyes and willing him to understand that this was for his own good.

He’s better off without me
, she told herself a hundred times a day.

“Miss Tara?”

Startled, she glanced up from her cold coffee and realized that one of the young students was peering into the break room.  Even though she was a student herself, the Cosmetology students were required to treat student instructors with the same respect they showed fully licensed instructors.  It still seemed odd to be called “Miss Tara” by students who were only a few years younger than she was.

“Yes, Lisa?”

“There’s a problem out on the floor, and um, Miss Kathy, um—“

“Take a deep breath and start over, Lisa.”

Lisa did as she was told.  “I messed up a haircut,” she blurted.  “It’s 
bad
.  Miss Kathy wants you to come out and talk to the client.”

That can’t be good
.  Tara stood up quickly and set her cup in the sink.  If the other student instructor was in over her head with this one and needed help, the haircut must be 
really
 bad.

“I used the wrong guard,” Lisa told her as they hurried down the hallway.  “I thought it was a three but it was a one and then I tried to fix it and then it just got worse.”

Dear Lord, she scalped him!
  Tara picked up speed.

The salon portion of the beauty school was large and open, with rows of mirrored stations and black salon chairs.  Black-clad students worked at nearly every station, either on paying customers or on mannequin heads attached to the counters.    All of the students were openly staring at the blond man seated in the chair at Lisa’s station.

Ethan.

Tara froze.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.  He was staring in the mirror with an expression of horror on his face – and with good reason.  The right side of his head had been shaved down nearly to the scalp, while the left side was still long and somewhat shaggy.  The top and back of his head showed large chunks of gouged-out spots where the hair had been cut almost completely to the scalp as well.

“Oh . . . my,”  she breathed.

He spun the chair around to face her.  “I just wanted to talk to you!”  He wailed.

“Ethan, I . . . Oh, Ethan.”  Tara bit her lip.  Laughing right now would 
not
 be a good thing.  Definitely not.

“Can you fix it?”

She coughed to cover up the giggles that were trying to break through.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her instructor watching, waiting to see how she handled the situation.

“Of course,” she told him, motioning for Lisa to step forward and pick up her tools again  Step by step, she showed the student how to cut the hair shorter and blend it until it closely resembled Ethan’s usual style – albeit a much shorter version of it.  “Now turn the texture shears this way,” she finished.  “Follow the comb and one . . . two . . . three.  See how that blends right in now?”

Lisa beamed.

“Tara, wait—“ Ethan tried to stand just as the student tried to remove the haircutting cape, and he fell back into the chair.

“Lisa, please try not to strangle the clients,” Tara deadpanned.

“I want to talk to you, Tara.  Please.”

“Is there a problem, Miss Tara?”

Tara winced as her instructor approached.   “No, Miss Jackie.”

“You know we have a policy here about leaving personal matters at the door.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”  She shot Ethan a look, silently begging him to drop it.

He seemed to be particularly dense today.    She groaned inwardly when he jumped from the chair and flashed his most charming smile at Miss Jackie.  “This won’t take long,” he told her.  “I promise.  And after what I just went through at the hands of one of your students, I think you can let me have five minutes with your student instructor.”

“Well . . .”

“Tara.”  Ethan seized her shoulders and turned her to face him in what was becoming a familiar gesture.  

“Ethan, this really isn’t the time or place for this.”

“Yes, it is.  I miss you. Please come home.”

“No.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and it doesn’t matter 
when
 I met you.  I’d feel the same if I’d known you before your accident.  I just want to be with you.   I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath
.  The rest of my life . . .

No.  The rest of her life was going to include pain, possible surgeries, therapy.  There would be doctor’s appointments and extra precautions in everything that she did, and it wasn’t fair to force Ethan to be a part of all of that.  Why couldn’t Ethan see that it was about more than a few scars?

She could still hear Randy’s words:  “
Why would I want a crippled wife?”

“Ethan . .  .”  Tara fought back tears.  “You don’t deserve to be stuck with a needy cripple like me.”

“The only one who sees you as needy or crippled is 
you
.”

She gasped.

“I finally figured it out,” he told her.  “You’ve gotten it into your head that you’re so needy and pitiful, but nobody else sees you that way.  You told me not to treat you like a china doll, but you’re the one acting like you’re too fragile to be treated like a real woman.”

“But—“

“But 
what
?  I love you.  With or without your scars.”

“You . . . love me?”

He pulled her close and kissed her, claiming her lips with his.  She pressed her hands against his chest to push him away, but instead slowly curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled him even closer.  She kissed him back hungrily until the whoops and applause from the students around them broke through.

“Do you believe me now?”  He asked hoarsely.

She couldn’t speak.

“Marry me, Tara.”

“On one condition,” she said breathlessly.

“Anything.”

“We wait for your hair to grow back in before we take the engagement pictures.”

*The End*

Thank you for taking the time to read Her House Divided. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Thank you,

A.J. Goode.