Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) (16 page)

Her eyebrow raised and her expression changed. She motioned for him to sit, encouraging him to continue.

With sincerity, he spoke low, “I know that I hurt Aria, but I wasn’t really trying to.”

She scoffed at his statement, mocking him, “Your state of mind now would make me think that time and distance have given you some clarity, but I don’t know if I believe that, Declan! At the time, you did a pretty damn good job of tearing her apart every time you could—every time she extended love or kindness to you!”

He could hear the anger rising in Jeannie’s voice. He wanted to make her understand, but he wasn’t certain if he could explain himself.

Searching to find the words, his subconscious kicked in, making him unsteady on his feet with the events of the day, and his leg began to throb with pain.

Jeannie saw the anguish rush over his features, and reached her hand out.

“I’m fine,” he strongly said, shocking Jeannie with his abrasiveness.

Noting his tone, he softened and was immediately repentant.

“I’m sorry, Jeannie. I’m still not used to this,” he said as he drew her attention to his incompetent limb. “It’s hard for me to accept help—from anyone—not just you…”

Jeannie pulled out a chair from one of the small tables.

“Put it up!” she ordered.

Walking over to the door, she locked it and turned the sign over to indicate “Closed”. The downpour continued outside, and there wasn’t a single soul to be found on the wet street.

Turning back, Jeannie settled herself across from him. It seemed to be a good day for a long chat.

She noted that Declan still wasn’t comfortable making eye contact, and she decided that if there were to be anything constructive coming from this visit, she’d have to help him
break the ice
.

Declan’s closed fist rested on the table, so in a kind gesture, Jeannie reached over, picked up his hand, and placed it in hers.

He opened his fingers as if he’d been given back a lifeline.

“There was a reason you came here today.” Jeannie smiled.

He looked up at her with eyes of exhaustion and sorrow.

“I’ll hear you out, Declan,” she said, “but I can’t promise more than that.”

He nodded. It was what he had struggled with for months, yet never gave himself permission to do with anyone, and he hoped that he’d be able to make her understand something that he didn’t fully understand himself.

“I’m going to
try
to tell you my side,” he said, “if that’s even possible.”

Jeannie sat back, attempting patience. She hoped he’d do the same.

“I’ll hear you out, sweetie…and I’ll keep your confidence,” she assured him and watched as his big shoulders relaxed.

He knew she spoke the truth or she wouldn’t have made the statement at all.

With eyes that pleaded for forgiveness, he struggled to begin. Anguish strained his voice, and at first, he sounded like he swallowed grit.

“First…you have to know that I TRULY didn’t intend to cause Aria pain.” His expression was restless and tight. “You have to believe me…”

There wasn’t an ounce of dishonesty in his eyes and a veil of understanding washed over Jeannie as she listened to him speak.
Déjà vu
registered as she noted that she’d heard these words before. Her hand began to tremble slightly, as did her bottom lip. Conflict came into play, and it filled her.
No one in pain ever intends to hurt their caretaker
, a lesson she had learned all too well.

Her eyes misted as she looked deep into Declan’s. She wanted the truth as much as he desired to tell it. Listening as he recanted days and weeks of agony, she knew far too well the story. When, at last, he had purged himself from the guilt of hurting the people that he loved, she turned her small hand from underneath his strong one, and into a position so that she could squeeze his reassuringly.

“Sweetie…I believe you…” she said in barely a whisper…

Permission. Jeannie was giving Declan permission to tell the truth. Her belief in him ignited something inside. He wanted to tell her everything—no, he
needed
to tell her everything.

His head fell down to his chest. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this day, but the weight of the world had just dropped off his shoulders. Jeannie was someone he admired and respected from the beginning of their relationship. Her simple statement to him was a silent confirmation that he wasn’t a purposeful monster in the events of the past months. She understood why he had done some of the things he had—and she didn’t hate him. Perhaps there was something redeemable still within.

Hopeful that the time for self-flagellation was over, he began to empty himself of the disgust and contempt that he had worn since the accident. She had urged him to unload himself of it all, and that was exactly what he was doing. It was a start. The conversation they were about to have just might be the first step in rebuilding what was left of his shattered personal life.

Knowing and trusting that he could expect complete honesty from her, he cracked open the vault he’d made filled with reservations. He’d carefully placed them inside since he’d been hurt, as he allowed Jeannie to see the pain.

“I don’t believe in miracles anymore, Jeannie,” he confessed, “so you don’t have to feel inspired to give me all the answers.”

She smiled in understanding, giving him the consent he needed to continue.

“I—I…” stammering, he pulled his hands back and extended them behind his damp hair in exasperation, desperately trying to find words for the pent up emotions.

Inhaling a deep breath, he found her patiently waiting for him to begin again.

“It was just too much.
All of it
.”

He then leaned forward, resting on his forearms, trying to concentrate on how to best explain without offending.

“The business…it was going well, but we…Aria and I…we’d had a fight. I was handling it all—the business and our relationship. My relationship with Aria was just that—a
real
relationship. She thought that had to do with the argument we had—but it didn’t. I remembered even more today.”

Jeannie’s understanding wasn’t clear at all.

“No?” she asked.

“No,” he emphatically stated, attempting to clarify. “See…Let me try this again…Aria had told me the night before that Marisol was after me—wanted me in a relationship kind-of way—and I was only concentrating on the business, so I didn’t see it. She was partially right. I never saw Marisol that way. She was the
easy girl
, I do remember that—if you know what I mean…” He looked as if he didn’t want to elaborate.

Jeannie confirmed she understood his meaning, so he went on.

“I’m still a little confused about it all. What I do remember is that Aria and I had fought about that—Marisol having other motives. Bits and pieces come back to me. I remember Marisol showing up at the house. I remember that I was in a relationship with Aria, and I know it was serious because we were living together. I also remember that she was right about that particular thing about Marisol—that she
wanted me
. I remember that I wanted to tell her, or I was going to tell her when she got back—from the store, I think—that she was right about her.

“I just had a conversation with my brother—before coming here, I mean. As I was driving, another of my memories came back…I know how much Aria meant to me. Marisol has been lying to me. She’s been trying to convince me—since the accident—that
she
and I were together, and that my relationship with Aria was just me fooling around”—He looked pathetically at Jeannie—“She tried to flip them, and I fell for it.”

Jeannie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from spitting out hurtful words. She wanted to help her daughter, but in order to do that, she had to help Declan.

“I haven’t told anyone about any of my memories coming back, Jeannie—not even Carter.” His sadness overwhelmed him. “I feel like a fool, believing all the lies.”

Sighing, Jeannie looked up, while leaning back to gain some composure before she spoke.

“At the house, Declan…when Aria walked in…was that woman playing you, or were you playing
with
that woman—in other words,
were you and Marisol playing Aria
?”

His expression told the truth before his lips even formed the words.

“Hell no! I would
never
play Aria like that! Don’t you know me better than that?”

Her eyebrows raised, and the truth rushed out with sarcasm.

“Well, no, Declan, I don’t!” she spat.

His crushed expression gave her a mixture of satisfaction and sadness. It was bittersweet.

“I deserve that,” he sadly replied, “but I loved Aria, Jeannie, I know I loved her more than I’ve loved anyone. Somewhere…even now, down deep…I can’t get over her. I
know
I loved her.”

Jeannie knew she should feel pity—that she should be feeling compassion—but some leftover rage found its way to the surface as she remembered Aria crying those same words to her with a broken heart over him.

“Put yourself in Aria’s place, Declan! When your memories come back to you—came back to you—did you feel any of the hurt and hopelessness that she did?” she angrily asked. “For every action, there’s a reaction! She shouldn’t have run—and I’ve told her that. It was a childish,
knee-jerk
reaction, but all she could think of was getting away from the thing that was hurting her!”

She reached across the table to grip his bicep, getting his attention. Her anger showed.

“Think of how you would have felt—how
you
would feel—if you had been in the same situation! If you’d seen another man with his hands all over her. Would you have behaved rationally?—No! Don’t answer that!”

Her outrage forced her to her feet, and she pointed her finger accusingly at him.

“You would have punched him, or thrown him out!” she said with contempt. “You sure as hell wouldn’t have waited for an explanation!”

The trembling crept into her voice and threatened to make her cry as she remembered how broken Aria became in the months that followed because of what she witnessed on Coastal Highway, and how she felt responsible for everything that had happened to him. The memory knocked the wind out of Jeannie as effectively as if she’d been beaten, and she sat, almost collapsing from the emotion, into the chair across from him.

When she recovered after a few minutes, she spoke to him in a calmer, but passionless voice.

“She could never have predicted that accident, Declan—and you know it—but she spent months
blaming herself
for it—and
you let her
. You tortured Aria by alienating her, and she tortured herself with guilt. She walked herself into a self-imposed hell—and you pushed her there step by step!”

He was guilty. Jeannie slapped him in the face with it, but he knew it. Something in him snapped. He had never put himself in Aria’s place, yet he claimed he loved her. Jeannie’s words doused him with the ferocity of ice water, and he finally felt the shivery coldness he had inflicted on the woman he once claimed he worshipped. Jeannie had successfully reversed his insight, leaving him to feel nothing but remorse.

A note of disapproval filled his expression as his eyes found hers.

“You must hate me.
She
must hate me.”

Complete remorse set in and he sat dejected. He hung his head in shame as his spirit continued to splinter.

Jeannie crossed her arms, and ran her hands up and down them as if to rid herself from an imagined chill. She contemplated something constructive to say, but could think of nothing now that both of their damaged emotions had been laid bare. All that would suffice was the truth.

“I don’t hate you, but I hate what you did.”

She knew that her honesty could be a building block and continued to assault him with her thoughts.

“I hope that you’re hurting now with some degree of the hurt you caused her. Not because I simply want you to be in pain, but because you were so shallow”—She reached out to touch his cheek—“You see, Declan, you’ve never been in her shoes—loving someone and wanting to take their pain away, only to have them treat you worse than an animal, as if you have no feelings at all. Aria has an unbelievable heart. She didn’t deserve that—and you know it.”

She looked at him with an expectant expression, wanting nothing more than a simple truth.

“Do you still love her?” She had to ask.

He nodded at her with red rimmed, weathered eyes that began to form pools of tears.

“I don’t know if I deserve her,” he said, lost in his misery. “I’m damaged. I know I am, and I don’t know if anybody can help me. She deserves better.”

Jeannie shook her head at his stupidity. “You don’t make decisions for Aria, Declan. That would be a big mistake.”

Lifting his chin, she gave him a motherly look.

“I don’t know if you and my daughter are strong enough to ever get back what you once had, but I believe you when you say that you didn’t set out to hurt her through all of this.”

Jeannie’s throat strained as she continued to speak.