The Last Embrace (32 page)

He kisses me suddenly, brief but strong. So he felt it, too. I kiss him back, not hesitating, surprised at how right it feels. Then he pulls back and there is fear in his eyes. I lean forward and draw his lips to mine. A minute later we break apart, breathless. “I had no idea,” I murmur.

He smiles ruefully. “Because you never saw me. All you saw standing in front of you was Charlie.”

I open my mouth to tell him that it isn't true, only then I see that it exactly is. I had always been so wrapped up in Charlie I hadn't been able to see past him. “I'm sorry.” I touch his cheek, marveling at its softness beneath my fingertips.

But he stiffens and pulls away. “You love who you love. I don't blame you for that. But I don't want to be a poor substitute for my brother. I don't want to be second choice. And I don't want this to be about my family.” The old, angry Liam seems to surface for a moment.

“It isn't,” I reply quickly, meaning it.

He takes another step back. “Good night, Addie.” He walks inside, leaving me alone and shaken, unsure what had just happened between us.

I hear his footsteps on the stairs and then the floor above. Should I go after him and try to make things better? I do not want to let him just walk away again. But it will do no good—he has walked in the shadow of his brother for so long, some part of him will never believe me.

I go upstairs to the room where I am staying, still confused. Liam had wanted the kiss, too; I could feel it. Why does this have to be so complicated?

There is a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Liam appears, a dark silhouette in the doorway. “Addie, I'm sorry. It's just that for so long I wanted you to see me. I thought we were the same, a couple of outsiders, different than the rest. But you were always chasing Charlie.”

“It was over long ago,” I say, the realization crystalizing as I speak it. “You can't let go of some parts of the past and not others. Don't I deserve a fresh start, too?” He does not answer. “It's not about Charlie. Not anymore.”

I stand and walk to him, pull him into the room.

My lips are upon his now and we are drinking each other in and it is still not enough. He pushes me back, opening me in a way I have never quite felt before, without boundaries or control, different than anything before.

I groan, a guttural, foreign sound from somewhere deep. My hands reach up to curl underneath the bottom of the headboard where it meets the mattress. My back arches. My head twists from side to side, as though knocked by violent waves. Sex with Liam is different from the measured tenderness I experienced with the only other lover I had known. In bed, Charlie had been like he was when running or playing football, measured and graceful. But Liam's movements are a racehorse unharnessed, as powerful as they are urgent. His kisses are almost bites. He grabs me to keep me from falling off the bed as we roll frenetically from side to side. He lifts my skirt and enters me. I scream.

After, we lie in a breathless tangle. Our eyes meet. “Wow!”

“Yeah.” The lights are on, I realize. With Charlie it had been darkness, hands fumbling. But now we are before each other, exposed. I shiver. Mistaking my nervousness for cold, he reaches for the edge of the blanket and wraps it around me. I burrow in it, grateful for the shelter, and nestle closer in his arms.

* * *

When I awaken, I'm assaulted by feelings of confusion and guilt. Is this wrong? With Charlie, we had been planning to get married. But to let so much happen with Liam so soon... I am not that kind of a girl. I came here to pack away boxes and move on. This is not the time for getting involved with anyone, especially Liam. Nothing between us could ever work or be simple.

I sit up to go. Feeling me pull away, his eyes snap open. Suddenly awake, he grabs me and draws me close.

“Liam...” I try to say between his kisses. I pull back, averting my eyes from the low bit of his stomach.

“What is it?”

“I think we made a mistake.”

“Okay, so we won't do it again.” But his hands travel down my body.

I pull away. “Dammit, Liam, is it always that simple for you?”

“I just don't understand why it has to be complicated. You want out, fine with me.” A note of defensiveness crept into his voice.

“I'm sorry. But this is hard.”

“No, losing Robbie was hard,” he says stiffly. “This is just life.”

“It's not that simple.”

“It's exactly that simple. You've constructed this wall around yourself, Addie. It reminds me of someone I once knew,” he adds, smiling ruefully. I see him as a boy, so defensive and pushing everyone away, too afraid to get close. “But I won't let you shut me out.” My eyes wander toward the door. “Don't, Addie. Leaving now will just make things more awkward the next time. It's been a beautiful night.” I feel my cheeks warm. “In a few hours the sun will be up and I'll make you breakfast. What do you say?”

I lean back beside him and rest my head easily against his chest. “It's just weird, you know? Like I had to go all the way around the world to find this.” Suddenly it seems like one big circle.

“Maybe going away brought you home again.”

“Maybe.” I had always felt some sort of connection to Liam, both of us outsiders. But I had never understood it until now. I settle back in his arms. There is a kind of clarity about him now, a strength forged in the fire through which he had walked. He might have continued his downward spiral, spurred on by his grief. But he had chosen to climb back up and live.

“You believe me now, that this is just about us?”

“I do.” His voice is sincere, a man calm and confident in his place. “I mean, you chose to leave Charlie, right?”

“Right.” Grace had been there, but if I fought I knew that Charlie would have been mine. I had left, though, because I could no longer live under the weight of all that had happened between us.

“You could stay,” Liam says, a mumble in half sleep. My breath catches. “This will never be whole without you.”

“I'll stay for now,” I reply. “To help you with the house.” More I cannot promise. I gaze into the darkness of the rafters. Outside, rain beats steadily against the rooftops. “We won't be able to paint tomorrow.”

“We'll work on the inside.” His voice is untroubled.

I nod. I never did mind the rain. “But, Liam...” I hesitate.

My mind reels back to hours earlier when we were working on the house. “Look.” He showed me a part of the yard, set off with wooden beams, where his mother could have a garden. I saw how much he had wrapped up in his plan. Liam had tried to create everything exactly. It would take more than some paint, though. No matter how carefully he restored the house, Robbie would never come running around the corner. Memories were one thing, the future quite another. Could it ever be home again?

I want to tell him that it might not work, that even if they do come he might not be able to set things right. He seems open now and so vulnerable and I want to save him the disappointment of having his hopes crashed. But hope is all he has right now and I cannot take that away from him.

I wrap my arms more tightly around him and will his plan to work.

I struggle against the tide, fighting to stay close to the shoreline. I try to grasp a large weathered log, but the piece of wood breaks free with the next wave and I am reduced to clutching at the ocean floor, the liquid sand running futilely through my fingers. With every ounce of energy, I fight to stand and bury one foot deep in the wet earth. But even when I have anchored myself, I continue to be dragged by the tide until it seems that I might be torn in two. I am beaten insistently by the wind from the waist up, while the undertow wraps around my calves like a whip. When I can withstand the pain no more, I throw my arms up with abandon and fall backward, allowing the waters to engulf me and sweep me away.

I awaken with a gasp, rather than a scream, strangely calm despite the violent images. I blink my eyes open. Sunlight blazes through the curtainless windows, bathing the room in light. My muscles ache in a strange but not unpleasant way and my cheek is raw from where Liam's stubbled face had rubbed against mine, over and over again. I stretch and turn, reaching for Liam once more. I find myself looking for Liam, needing him. Self-loathing rises in me—I cannot—will not—depend on anyone again.

But the space beside me is empty and below I can hear the dull, repetitive rhythm of Liam's saw. Memories of the previous night flood my brain. What had happened? And what did it all mean?

Pushing the questions away, I change into clothes and head outside, eager for fresh air. I bypass the back porch where Liam is working and set out for a brisk walk. I start instinctively in the direction of the beach. As I near the boardwalk, I stop, surprised. Once I would have avoided the water, but strangely now I am drawn toward it. I take off my shoes and the damp sand is cold under my feet as I walk the beach parallel to the shoreline, but staying back from it. Gulls cry out as they dip low to the water. The wind seems to change directions. The air resists me, whipping sand across my skin; it takes all of my effort just to keep moving.

I pause to rest. A warplane buzzes overhead, and I look up at the sky in that nervous way I have not quite shaken from the air raids in London. It is one of ours, of course. Taking in the wide contours of its wings, I cannot help but think of Charlie.

I tear my eyes from the sky, focus straight ahead. I think back to my earlier nightmare. My dreams have evolved, I realize. In the earlier years, I'd been nearly powerless. Lately, I had been able, albeit with great difficulty, to resist the current a bit. “I'm getting stronger,” I say aloud. If my dreams could change, then maybe they aren't inevitable. Does there exist a remote chance of ending the nightmares entirely? Energized by the possibility, I start back.

I do not go to the Connallys' but back to our old rooms at the duplex where my clothes remain, to shower and change. As I dry my hair, a car door slams below. Someone is here. I'd been so caught up in my night with Liam that I'd nearly forgotten: the other Connallys are coming. Let it be their parents, I pray.

But Charlie is always early. Through the window I spy him, stepping out of the car, just as he had the day we met. He walks with a slight limp, a scar that will perhaps fade over time or maybe not heal at all. For a moment, my heart soars.

I finish dressing and then rush down the stairs. Near the bottom, I stop. Despite my shower, Liam's scent seems to linger around me, screaming the truth. This time last year Charlie and I had been planning a future together. How has it come to this?

I take a deep breath and step outside. Charlie turns. “Addie,” he says, that catch still in his voice, taking me in as though it had been years and not just days earlier in England. He stares at me with disbelief. He didn't expect to see me and he is surprised, even more so than in Washington. “What are you doing here?” His words stab at me. This was my home, too.

But before I can respond, the passenger door to his rented Oldsmobile opens and Grace's long, willowy frame appears. “Hello, Adelia.” Grace steps toward me, impossibly chic with her hair in a silk scarf, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. As she nears Charlie's side, my heart breaks. Seeing him standing with Grace, it is like the time he had gone on that date at the shore, only a million times worse. My eyes sting. The quiet haven Liam and I have created these past few days seems fragile and overfull. I'm in the way. I should leave.

“Liam,” Charlie says, looking over my shoulder. His voice seems to choke on the word and I know that this is the first time the brothers have seen one another since everything happened. Charlie recovers and starts toward his brother with long, confident strides. Liam stands frozen, his face helpless, overwhelmed by emotions and the reunion that is so much harder than he had imagined.

The brothers shake hands, unable to feign a hug. “Addie's here,” Charlie remarks. How odd that this should be the first thing that they discuss. Close behind me, I feel Liam stiffen. He does not want to share me.

Liam laces his fingers in with mine. Charlie's eyes drop lower and then rise again, widened with surprise. Liam's gaze lifts defiantly to his brother's, daring him to say something. I brace for confrontation; neither Charlie nor Liam is one to back down. I pull my hand away, unwilling to be caught between two men again.

Grace walks up beside Charlie and for once I am glad she is here. “Hello.”

“I'm Liam,” he offers, trying to break the tension. “And this is Addie.”

“We've met.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Beside me Liam tenses again, uncomfortable with the history he does not know.

“Nice to see you again, Grace,” I manage to say.

The brothers eye each other icily. Charlie's fists are clenched low to his side.

“Thanks for coming,” Liam offers.

“I wanted,” Charlie says slowly, “to be here for Mom.”

Liam raises his hands, acknowledging that it will have to be enough. “Mom and Dad won't be here until tomorrow,” Liam says. So for tonight it would just be the four of us, with no one else to break the awkwardness.

The boys walk to the car to get the bags. “I heard your plane crashed,” Liam says, switching to the war, somehow an easier topic.

“I was in a dogfight over Munich,” Charlie replies, describing it all to his brother in a way I have not heard before.

“I wanted to go, too,” Liam offers, surprising me. I cannot picture him enlisting. Would it have been a shot at redemption—or suicide? “They wouldn't take me, though, after everything that had happened.”

At the mention of the fighting, Charlie grimaces with frustration. “I should be over there.” Some part of him was still with the soldiers he had left behind.

“He wanted to go back, or even to the Pacific,” Grace says in a low voice so the boys cannot hear. A knife shoots through me as I remember the pain and fear of his going to war the first time. “But they wouldn't clear him medically.” Even as I exhale with relief, I feel for Charlie. Being sidelined and unable to help is so contrary to who he is—it has to be killing him. I start after him, my first instinct to try to offer comfort in the way only I can. Then I stop. It isn't my place anymore.

The boys have come inside and Liam is showing Charlie some of his work on the house. Charlie peers out the back door critically. “You aren't rebuilding the shed.”

“No, I thought it would leave more space for the garden.” The tension returns between the brothers, their rift unhealed by time.

“Let's go to the beach,” I blurt. Anything to break the awkwardness between them.

Both boys looked at me with simultaneous surprise. “You?” Liam asks.

I shrug. “I didn't say I was going in the water.”

“Addie is afraid of the ocean,” Charlie explains to Grace.

Liam chimes in. “Yeah, and there was this one time when we first met her that we threw her in.”

“We?” Charlie repeats with mocking disbelief. As the boys carry the story, talking over one another, a look of curiosity crosses Grace's face. She has Charlie, but there is still a part of his past she will never share.

A wave of sympathy for Grace washes over me. “Come, I'll help you get settled.” Grace smiles thankfully in return. She isn't the enemy really, I reflect as I lead her up the stairs to the guest room Liam has just finished restoring. Even if she had not come along at the field hospital, Charlie and I would not be together. It was timing and fate—if I dare to believe in that again—and who we are that had kept us apart—not another woman.

An hour later we are settled on the beach, the air a degree or two cooler with the first hint of fall. The smell of suntan lotion tickles my nose, sending me back. Charlie pulls a football from his bag. “You aren't serious.” Liam groans.

“Of course.”

“All right. You asked for it.” Liam leaps to his feet, planting an easy kiss on my cheek that sends shivers through me.

“Your leg is too weak,” Grace frets. I, too, worry that Charlie cannot manage. But he limps gamely after his brother.

I watch, marveling how the light and the way they move are unchanged after all these years. Once I would have had my camera with me to capture the moment. The photos might have been the same, save for the boys' size—and the fact that two of them are missing.

A few minutes later they return the ball to the blanket. Liam runs to the water's edge and dives in, owning the waves as he did in his surfing days. Charlie follows, leaving me alone with Grace once more.

I peer north, drinking in the familiar topography of the tall hotels and piers. The shore has the feeling that the war is over already. The beaches are crowded, the boardwalk bustling. But the scars of war remain. The Convention Center, once used to train new recruits, now houses convalescing veterans. I imagine them sitting by the door in their wheelchairs gazing sadly across the ocean at the unseen fighting that had ruined their lives forever.

“You don't like the water?” Grace asks, trying to make conversation.

“I've always been afraid of it,” I say. “And then after everything happened with Robbie, I hated it even more.”

“But he drowned in the river, right? Not here.”

“Yes, but it's still the water.” It's all jumbled together somehow in my mind. “I didn't like it, even before.” For a second, I'm annoyed. It's really none of her business. But she is trying to be kind. I take a deep breath. “I'm sorry we didn't have time to get better acquainted in England.” Liam is not the only one who needs to make amends. “My aunt needed me to come home. It was a difficult time.”

“It still is,” Grace blurts, and I know then that Charlie still lives with his ghosts.

“Time heals,” I reply softly.

“I hope so.”

I had been so focused on my jealousy of Grace, I never stopped to think how she might feel about me. “I didn't ask for that. It's over, Grace, and if I'm being honest it has been for a long time. We're different people now.”

“I know, and I'm glad he's got his memory back.” Grace's chin juts out defiantly. “I want him to choose, not win by default.” Her words are an echo of Liam's as she stands and takes a step toward the ocean.

* * *

That night Liam grills again, steak this time, the charcoal briquettes sending up embers like tiny fireworks into the almost dark sky. At the table, Charlie produces a bottle of red wine. I eye the glass he holds out to me uncertainly. I desperately want it to dull the awkwardness and pain, but do I dare in front of Liam? “It's okay,” Liam says calmly. “I'm fine.”

When we've finished and cleared up, Liam heads back outside. “A few more hours of work. I want to get the garden just so before Mom arrives.” He does not ask Charlie to help and Charlie does not offer.

Grace yawns. “Excuse me. It's been a long day with the travel and I'm exhausted.” She starts for the stairs, then turns back. Doubts flicker across her face at leaving the two of us alone. But she is too proud to hover.

Charlie watches her protectively as Grace climbs the stairs. I expect him to follow, but he remains seated, dividing the rest of the bottle of wine between our two glasses. “You're looking well,” I observe. “You have your memory again, too.”

He nods. “All of it, thanks to you. When I saw you, it came flooding back.” Was he glad? Or were there parts he would rather leave forgotten?

“What are you going to do now?”

“I'm too injured for active duty. I've been offered a promotion, and a job in Washington if I want one. But I don't know.” He, too, has been reshaped by his experiences, perhaps too much so to ever go back.

“You could go to Georgetown at night.”

His face brightens. “I could, couldn't I?” School is an old dream, to dust off and try anew. If only everything else was that easy.

“I'm glad you're well.”

“Thanks. The rehab was intense and Grace has been a wonder.” He speaks her name a bit self-consciously and I feel the punch in my gut that might never go away. “She's a lovely woman. But this thing that has always been between us...” He reaches out, hand floundering midair. “I can't fight this.”