Vivian (6 page)

Vivian watched him hurry away. It wasn’t very often she made someone so nervous.

The term
make yourself at home
was always odd to her. The house was small and old. It would need a lot of updating over the next year, but it was cozy, she thought.

The shelf where the TV sat looked to be a handmade shelf. It had detailed carvings running down it and was beautifully stained.

She couldn’t help but be drawn to it and run her fingers down the carvings. As she did her eyes drew to the photos on the shelves. A mass of pictures of Stephanie and Charlotte over the past few years stared back at her. But what she noticed was they were all photos with a woman—Linda.

Vivian’s heart stalled with a giant kick that physically hurt. None of the pictures of Charlotte were current. In the center of all the frames was a family photo. Clayton with his arm wrapped around Linda, Stephanie on his hip and Charlotte in Linda’s arms, perhaps only a few months old.

She couldn’t help but want to touch it.

“
I didn’t know if you liked cream.” His voice carried through the room, but there was deep sadness in it.

She turned to see him in the doorway watching her. “Is this Linda?”

He tucked his lips between his teeth as he walked toward her. Handing her the mug of coffee, he nodded.

A faint smile formed on his lips. “Yeah, that’s her. Beautiful, isn’t she?”

Vivian swallowed hard and looked at the woman with the firm, athletic build. Blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders and her smile was bright.

“
She is. You have a beautiful family.”

He nodded still looking at the picture. “Charlotte might have been three months old. We were hiking in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. What a view.”

Still, his voice hadn’t returned to normal. Now it actually shook when he talked. It was at that moment she realized there was a reason Linda hadn’t been there for dinner.

Noting the sadness that filled his eyes and his voice, Vivian raised her hand to his arm, just as he’d done to her the night before.

“
Where is she?”

“
Seattle,” he said flatly as he continued to stare at the photo, but now his eyes grew moist.

It really wasn’t what she thought he’d say.

“
Seattle? Why didn’t she move with you?”

Finally, he turned, his eyes brimming with tears. “She’s buried in Seattle.”

Her heart exploded in her chest and she felt her own tears burning in her throat and then her eyes. It didn’t take but a breath and a sorrowful look from Clayton to have them spilling down her cheeks.

“
Oh, Clayton.” She wanted to brush away her tears, but she couldn’t remove her hand from his arm. She wanted to touch him.

“
C’mon, now.” He cleared his throat. “We’re in the same boat here. I can’t let you get all emotional about my loss.”

She looked around the room and saw the small coffee table behind her. She set her mug down and turned back to him. Then she moved to him and pulled him in. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stood on her toes and held on. Her head rested on his shoulder, but he was stiff beneath her. But she wasn’t going to let go.

A moment later she could feel his body quiver beneath hers and his arms came around her, one hand still holding a cup of coffee.

He was crying against her hair and she was sobbing into his shoulder.

They were both broken and they held each other tighter. They were both wounded and they each cried a little harder.

“
Daddy.” A soft, faint voice said behind them.

Vivian slowly pulled back and Clayton wiped frantically at his eyes.

“
Hey, baby.”

“
Why you cry?” Charlotte asked and it broke through Vivian’s hard exterior and she had to turn from the little girl to wipe away her tears.

“
Just missing mommy.”

Vivian turned to see the girl simply nod her head. This was an obviously normal reaction to her seeing him cry. Yet the young girl didn’t cry.

“
Frozen
.”

Clayton chuckled. “I’ll put it on TV. Go get the girls and you can all watch out here. Vivian and I will go talk in the kitchen.”

Charlotte nodded and ran to the bedroom.

“
I’ll take our coffee in there,” Vivian offered and with a nod he handed her his mug.

She walked back to the kitchen where she stopped, noticing the sink full of dishes. That wouldn’t do for this man. He needed some help.

Vivian set the mugs down on the small table in the corner and moved toward the sink where she began to arrange the dishes onto the counter.

Logically she looked under the sink for the dish soap, where she found it, and filled the sink with suds.

“
You’re going to do my dishes because I made you cry?”

She turned to look at him. He was leaned against the doorway watching her. So relaxed. So sexy. She could simply eat him but, but he was broken too. That she needed to remember.

He’d said they were in the same boat, but really, they weren’t.

She’d lost Adam years ago. The fact that she’d even gotten pregnant with Ava was a miracle. She and Adam had pounced on each other one time that trip. Hormones had raged, sex had happened, then the fights started and he’d left.

But Clayton still wore his ring.

Their situation was nothing alike.

“
I’m going to do your dishes because I’m a little emotional right now. I need to occupy myself and you could use some help.”

“
I don’t need help,” he said, but when she looked at him, he was smiling again.

“
Let me. I’m going to explode if I don’t do this.”

His eyes were locked on hers and he moved to her. “I know how you feel.”

“
You do?”

He rested his hand on her arm and turned her to face him directly. Then both hands were on her arms and she was gazing up into his still moist, reddened eyes.

“
How did Adam die?”

Really? He was standing two inches from her, holding her arms like that and he wanted to know about Adam?

“
Landmine,” she choked out the words. “He saved Brock then led them out of harm and into a mine field.”

Clayton nodded. “Brave man.”

The tears were back and her body just wanted to fall to the floor and curl up in a ball.

“
Yes. He was brave.”

A tear rolled over her cheek and Clayton raised his hand to brush it away with his thumb.

He bit down on his lip, slid his hands down her arms until their hands clasped together. His eyes locked in again with hers.

“
Fourteen year old boy was distraught by his parents’ divorce. He’d begun acting up in class, but Linda took him under her wing. She helped him with homework and talked to him for hours about how he felt about what was happening at home. She’d had Charlotte in May, took off the last month of school and went back to work in September. It had given the boy all summer to stew over this crush he had on his teacher. On Linda.”

Vivian’s hands began to clench around Clayton’s. He wasn’t looking into her eyes anymore. He was looking down between them at their hands clasped together as if they were both holding on for dear life.

“
October second he decided that he was mad enough that he took a gun to school.”

Vivian held her breath.

“
He shot the secretary who stopped him from going into the school because he’d been expelled due to threats. She survived. He shot a girl who happened to be kissing a boy in the corner because it angered him. She survived. The boy went after him, he shot him. The boy died.”

Vivian gasped for breath and held it too.

“
Linda had her class locked in the room. He was prepared for that. Somehow he’d broken the lock to her room prior to his entering that day. All it took was a kick with his foot. Linda stepped in front of her students to protect them. He shot her, then shot himself.”

The breath came now and so did the tears. They rolled down her cheeks and straight to the floor. Their hands stayed firmly clasped together, her fingers numb, but not letting go.

“
He survived. She died.”

Never had Clayton told that story to someone. Either people knew it or they didn’t. And never did he want to tell it again.

His heart was racing so fast he thought he’d better sit down and breathe, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t let go of Vivian’s hands.

Her tears rolled off her cheeks and had puddled between them on the floor. The beautiful lips that would smile at him were swollen and red, and so was the tip of her nose.

“
I moved here to separate the girls from it. He was a juvenile. He won’t be in prison forever.”

“
You seem so strong. How are you so strong?”

Clayton shook his head. “I’m not. Strong would be staying in Seattle where our families were. Strong would be visiting her grave every day. I ran. I ran to escape it so I didn’t have to see it every day when I drove down the street. I ran so no one would look at me and think
you poor man.
”

“
You needed to run. What else would you have done?”

“
For a month I drank. Another month I exercised until they nearly hospitalized me. Then I got help.”

Her head rose and her eyes seared into his. “What does that mean?”

“
It means I think you need help too. And if there is a God or there is fate, I think this is the path I was meant to be on. A path right to you.”

Now she let go. “Don’t say you’re here to save me.”

“
That’s not what I meant.” He raked his numb fingers through his hair. “I’ve had two years to let this eat at me. I asked for help. I got it. I asked for help for the girls. They got it. I felt as though I’d gotten enough help that I could move on—move away. Your wounds are still fresh, Vivian. You haven’t faced it all yet. I want to be here for you.”

“
You’re talking crazy now.” She wiped her eyes and turned back toward his sink of dishes and soapy water.

It all burned in him now. Linda’s loss. Adam’s loss. Vivian’s defiance. And that urge to move on.

He took her arm and spun her toward him until their bodies were pressed together. He expected her to fight him—slug him even. But she didn’t

Clayton cupped the back of her neck in his hand. Her lips parted as he looked down at her. He had to remind himself it was okay to move on. Both of them could move on.

Closing his eyes, he lowered his mouth to hers and took control of moving on.

It ached in Vivian’s head, her chest, all the way to her toes—the need. His mouth was on hers and she opened to his kiss—warm and inviting.

Her back was against the wet counter, but who would care, when a man could make your head spin as Clayton was doing to her.

The hand at the back of her neck slid up into her hair and his other hand came to her waist.

It had been a long time since a man held her like this. His body pressed to hers so firmly she could feel the heat from his skin through layers of clothes. The taste of coffee on his lips and the explosion when his tongue pressed to find hers was enough to get drunk on.

Vivian raised her hands to his chest and his heart hammered against her fingertips. He deepened the kiss even further and her breath was a moan against his mouth.

She lifted her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life, as her heart began to beat in erratic rhythm with his and then began to tumble, somewhere she never thought it would tumble again—in love.