Fleeting Moments (7 page)

“It’s a beautiful plant.”

I flinch as a voice I’ve dreamed about for so long fills my body with warmth. I don’t turn, scared it’ll all just be a hallucination. I can’t bear anymore disappointment. Anymore crazy.

“She deserves that much,” I whisper.

I’m probably talking to myself right now, but I just can’t seem to care.

“She does.”

“You are following me?” I ask. My fingers tremble, but I keep stroking the soft leaf.

“I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Same thing.”

I hear him squat down behind me, feel his body heat radiate into my back, yet I still can’t turn around because seeing him will only make this worse. Yet I want to, so desperately. I want to see him with every single part of my soul.

“Are you still breathing, Lucy girl?”

Am I still breathing? “Can you breathe when you’re drowning?”

He goes silent.

“Why are you here?” I say, my voice shaky. “Why can’t I see you? Talk to you? Know that you’re a real person? Is your name Hunter or Heath? Are you actually my imagination?”

A soft finger touches a stray hair on the back of my neck and swipes it away. “My name is Heath, and no, you’re not imagining me.”

“Then why can’t I find you?” I whisper, my body trembling as his finger glides down to my exposed shoulder, trailing across my skin.

“Because I don’t want to be found.”

“Why?” I plead, desperately.

His finger glides over my neck, under my jawline, and then up to my cheek where it stops and strokes backwards and forwards. My breath is stuck in my throat, and my chest is so tight it hurts. For a minute, nothing moves.

“It’s just the way it has to be.”

“Everyone thinks I’m crazy. I . . . I’ve wondered if I am.”

His big hand cups my cheek and I turn into it, closing my eyes. My tears tumble down and over his fingers. “Don’t let people tell you how to feel. You have to stop looking for me and stop talking about me. You’re not crazy but they’re not going to understand this.”

“I don’t understand this,” I sob.

He moves closer until his chest is pressed against my back. His other hand comes around and cups my cheek until both his big hands are resting against my face, closing me in, keeping me warm, pulling me together for just a second.

“You don’t have to understand it. Just believe in what you know and stop trying to make other people understand. They’ll never understand. I have to go now.”

I try to turn. He grabs me by the shoulders and stops me.

“Please don’t go again,” I whisper.

“Try to keep breathing, Lucy girl.”

He leans in and his lips graze over my hair, barely there, and then his hands drop. I clench my eyes shut and sit like that for a few minutes. When I turn around and stare, he’s gone.

Just like always. He comes in moments.

Fleeting ones.

~*~*~*~

I
slam the front door and shrug off my coat. Something jingles in the pocket and I reach in, pulling it out. There on a tiny key ring is a dandelion with some of its tiny white strands flying off. It’s beautiful. I’ve also never seen it before. I turn it over and see on the back is an initial.
H
. My heart pounds, and I clutch the trinket to my chest.

He put this in my pocket at the park today.

I smile, a tiny smile. The first in days.

“What’s the smile about?”

I spin around to see Gerard coming through the front door. I stayed out all day, so it doesn’t surprise me to see him coming in now. It’s probably five in the afternoon, or close to it.

“Just had a nice day,” I say, tucking the tiny key ring into my pocket.

“Did you stay at the park?”

I shake my head, even though that’s a lie. “I went to the store, to the mall—things like that.”

He smiles, but it’s barely there. “It’s good to see you’re getting out and about again. Have you thought about going back to work?”

I work at a local restaurant, and they’ve been more than understanding with my need to have time off. I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to go back yet, but I suppose I should talk to them about it, at the very least. “I’ll give them a call, but I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“You can’t stay in here forever. The best thing you can do is move on, and the best way to do that is to make your life as normal as it was before.”

I stare at my husband, hurt and a little pissed off. “I witnessed something traumatic, Gerard. It was only a few weeks ago.”

“I know that,” he says. “I’m just trying to help.”

He hangs up his coat and walks down the hall into his study. Just like that the conversation is over. My chest clenches and I lift my hand out of my pocket, staring at the tiny dandelion. What does it mean? What does any of this mean?

I don’t know, but I’m determined to find out.

~*~*~*~

I
jerk upright in bed, sweat trickling down my face as the nightmare I just woke from subsides. My heart pounds and I press a hand to my chest, trying to breathe. I automatically reach for Gerard only to find he’s not there.
Again
. Since he went back to work, he’s been spending more and more time at the office and less time at home. He barely comes to bed. I’ve found him more than once sleeping in his study.

It’s like he can’t be near me.

That hurts.

I climb out of bed and flick the light on, padding down the hall. I reach his study and open the door, peering in. He’s staring at his laptop, his body slumps with tiredness. If he’s so tired, why doesn’t he come into bed? “Hey,” I say softly.

He spins around, glancing at me. “Hey. What are you doing awake? It’s late.”

“It’s only ten and I had a nightmare.”

His face goes blank. “Sorry.”

God, where has my husband gone? “Gerard, can we talk?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “About what?”

“About this. About us.”

“I don’t know what there is to say, Lucy. Things have been strained since it all happened, and I don’t think it has anything to do with what you saw.”

“Please don’t start this argument again,” I plead.

His eyes meet mine. “You still believe he’s real. You think I can’t see it in your face? I’ve seen the searches on Google.”

I take a step back. “You’re checking up on me.”

“You are still searching for him and refusing help. What will you have me do?”

“Believe me!” I snap.

“I don’t,” he grunts. “I don’t believe you, and I’m sick to death of your obsession over this non-existent person, mostly I’m sick of you refusing help.”

“I’m not doing this again,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m not talking with you about it, you’re still making me feel guilty.”

“I want you to stop.”

I flinch. “Pardon?”

“I want you to stop thinking about him, talking about him, and searching for him.”

“No,” I say simply. “He saved my life, but more importantly, he’s supported me when I most needed it.”

His eyes narrow. “Really?”

The way he’s talking to me right now, the way he’s mocking me—anger bubbles forth and I spit, “Yes! When I planted that rose for our baby and you left because work, as always, was more important.”

His face grows red, and I know my words are cruel. I don’t take them back, mostly because I can’t, but also because my pride won’t let me. “Now you’re imagining that you’re seeing him.”

Imagining
. I can’t take this anymore. “I’m done here.”

I turn my back to him and hear his chair scrape back. “Seriously, Lucy. If you’re imagining him, you need more help than I can give.”

“He’s real!” I scream so loudly I scare myself. My hand goes up and clamps over my mouth, horrified.

“Tomorrow I’m calling a doctor. I can’t take this anymore.” His voice growing cold.

“What?” I whisper.

“You need help. If you won’t take it, I’ll make you get it.”

I turn on shaky legs and rush out. He calls me, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

I need to get out of here.

I
drive to the baseball stadium.

I haven’t been there since that awful night, but tonight I know it’s time to go back and face it. Maybe there will be something, anything that will give me the answers I need, or maybe I’m just grasping at straws because there is no other way out. Rain falls as I near, coming in heavy drops, sliding down my windscreen as I come to a stop in the empty parking lot. There is no one around, but there is still police tape everywhere.

With trembling hands, I push my car door open, stepping into the freezing cold rain without second thought. My eyes scan over the dark stadium and I walk towards it, my feet lifeless on the pavement. I stop at the front entrances that are fully blocked off and just stare. Sounds, memories, pain—it all flashes back into my mind like a nightmare.

Screaming. Gunshots. People crying and begging.

“Hunter?” I croak.

“Yeah, Lucy?”

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

I sink to my knees at the gate, my fingers finding the soft grass beneath me, and I sob. I break; I let it all go, including the girl I was. I know now that I’ll never be her again, and she’ll never be me. I’m a different person, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not. My marriage has crumbled; I can no longer pretend it hasn’t.

The rain keeps coming, mercilessly, soaking me to my very bones. I don’t care. I stay on the ground, crying, shaking, getting saturated because it’s the only way I can cope.

Strong arms wrap around me.

For a second, I’m stunned. My body is hauled off the ground.

I start to squirm, crying hysterically and trying to see the man holding me.

“Lucy girl, hush.”

Heath.

Always the hero.

Always the intruder.

How can someone so successfully be both?

I make a pained, squeaking sound and cling to him. I throw my tiny arms around his neck and hold on, pressing my face into his chest, clutching him as if he’s the only thing keeping me breathing. He walks me to my car, but I’m too hysterical to do anything but hold on with everything I’ve got.

“Calm down, sweetheart.”

I clutch him harder, my fingers curling into his shirt.

“Lucy, look at me.”

With great effort, I pull back and look up at him. He’s stares down at me, his eyes intense. A streetlight in the parking lot lights up his face, and I realize in that moment just how much I’ve needed to see it. Those eyes. That mouth. The hair falling over his forehead. I should have turned and looked at him that day in the park. I should have etched him into my mind.

“Everyone thinks I’m c-c-c-crazy,” I sob. “My husband is going to force me to see a doctor.”

“Calm down for me.”

“I can’t. I can’t. I’m trying, but I can’t. Nobody believes me. I’m so alone. So afraid.”

Our eyes hold and meet. He’s so beautiful.

“Your family is only trying to take care of you. Imagine how this looks for them?”

“They think I’m crazy!” I cry.

“You’re not giving them any other choice.”

“No,
you’re
not giving
me
any other choice,” I cry, shoving at his chest. “Why would you do that to me? Why would you just keep coming back? If you don’t want me in your life, then you shouldn’t keep showing up and making things so much worse.”

His eyes flash with regret. “I’ve told you that you shouldn’t be looking for me.”

I cry harder, my body shaking. “Then stop showing up and making this even more confusing.”

“I have to keep an eye on you because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Why would I get hurt?” I yell, pulling back and looking up at him.

He studies my face. “Because I know you keep asking about me and continue to mention me. You have to stop doing that.”

“If you’d let me contact you, I wouldn’t have to.”

“I can’t exist in your world or any world right now. Don’t you understand that? I can’t confirm who I am to your family or anyone else.”

“Why?” I yell, exasperated.

“Just trust that it’s how it has to be. Stop mentioning me, Lucy. Stop looking for me. I know about the email to the stadium.”

I flinch. “I was just trying to find out if you were real.”

“Give me your hand.”

He takes my hand and pulls it against his heart. “Do you feel that? It’s a beating heart. You’re not crazy. I’m real. I’ve been here, watching you, doing my best to come into your life when I can, but you’re making it difficult. You need to start trying to fix yourself, and maybe, one day, I can introduce myself for real—but that time isn’t now.”

“I don’t want to fix myself. I don’t want any of it anymore.”

“You have to try, Lucy girl.”

“I can’t,” I stammer and my face grows red with embarrassment.

He looks up, his eye catching something in the distance. “I have to go.”

“No,” I cry, clutching him desperately. “Please don’t go again. I can’t live with it. It’s confusing me.”

“I have to,” he says, prying my fingers from his shirt.

I cry harder. So hard my body shakes.

“Jesus, I’m sorry, honey,” he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing my forehead. “But I have no choice—I hate this as much as you do.”

Something sharp stabs into my neck, and my entire body goes woozy.

“Please, just trust me. This is for the best.”

My mind spins and I’m not cold anymore.

“Don’t leave me again, moment.”

“Moment?” he whispers, at least, I think he does.

“A fleeting moment. You go as fast as you came. Just a moment I can’t hang on to. Please let me hang on.”

Warm lips graze my forehead and then my world goes dark.

~*~*~*~

I
wake alone in my car that’s still parked at the baseball stadium.

It’s daylight.

I blink and sit up, staring down at my clothes. I’m wearing a shirt I don’t recognize, but my pants are the same. I clutch the fabric in my fingers and bring it to my nose, inhaling. Heath. It’s his. It wasn’t a dream. Tears pool in my eyes and I reach up, rubbing my neck. Did he drug me? Did he change my clothing and put me in his shirt? I don’t understand. Why would he do that?