One to Love (One to Hold #4) (27 page)

But I had to fight. I couldn’t lie in this bed and cry another day. I had a job. I had a little boy... Ripping the blankets aside, I pulled open my door. Patrick was there on the couch in my living room, stopping me in my tracks.

“W-What are you doing here?”

He stood and walked groggily to me, pulling me into a hug. I fought against the fresh tears that threatened to return at his warmth. “You stayed with me when I thought I’d lost Elaine. Now I’m here for you.”

The tightness in my throat made it difficult to answer him. “Oh, Patrick. There’s no coming back from this.”

His hands smoothed my back, and for a moment we were quiet. Still, I couldn’t fall apart. I wouldn’t let myself.

“You’ve got to get home to our little boy,” I said. “Tell him I’ll be there for a visit soon—give me a day or two. I don’t want to cry in front of him.”

Patrick nodded, wiping my hair off my cheek. “Okay.” He hugged me again. “You’re going to make it through this. You will.”

I nodded, tucking my head against his shoulder. “I think I’ll go back and lie down for a bit first.”

“Your friend’s been over a couple times. She left you some food that smells delicious—tomato-stuffed cabbage?”

“You eat it, okay? I might throw up if I eat anything.”

His lips tightened and he nodded. “Get some rest.”

Heaviness pressed hard on my shoulders as I walked back to my bedroom. I had to get back to work. I had to keep moving forward. Life didn’t end because once again I made a wrong choice. No matter what, I had to survive this.

Picking up my robe, I staggered to the shower.

* * *

M
ariska’s eyes flew wide when she saw me walk into the gym. “Kenny!” She ducked under the counter and ran to me, pulling me into a hug. “I rescheduled all your clients for today. You basically have the day off.”

My body was shell-shocked, but I shook my head. “I want to do something. Call somebody and tell them to come in.”

She stepped back, still holding my hands. “I’d love for you to train me. Tell me what you want to do. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I don’t know. I only know I can’t...” The idea of stepping into that boxing room made my stomach lurch. “Please let...
him
know he can take over my old boxing routine.”

“Oh!” She blinked quickly. “You don’t know?”

As much as I hated it, my heart beat faster. “Know what?”

“He’s gone. He asked Rook to help him get on with the freighter crew. They pulled out last night headed across the Atlantic. Rook said they wouldn’t be back for months. If at all.” She chewed her lip, watching my face. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you sooner.”

“He left on the freighter?” Nothing made sense anymore. “But he can’t swim.”

“You could’ve knocked me over with a feather, too. Remember at my house? The coffee?”

But I was struggling with a different memory. Ripples of pain clutched my chest as images of our last night together filled my mind. I’d hit him with my fists, but I’d destroyed him with my words. He would never come back. Not after what I’d said.

What was wrong with me? He killed Blake! Where was my loyalty?

My voice was quiet. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, Ken,” Mariska’s voice was broken. “How can you say that?”

“I’m going to the steam room.”

Walking away from her, I headed to the back. I’d never liked the steam room. It was dark and hot, and the steam made it difficult to breathe. I pulled the door open and went inside with all my clothes on. Sitting on the concrete bench, alone in the thick whiteness, I let the heavy, wet air flood my senses.

Inhaling a deep breath, I wondered how it didn’t drown me. I put my elbows on my knees, looking at my palms for a moment—at the little black heart clear as a bell in my hand. Then I put them flat against my eyes, trying with everything in me to hold on, to take one more breath, not to fall apart.

One more inhale of suspended water—
please smother the pain in my chest.
I fought against the sob trying to fold me in half.

No matter what I told myself, it wasn’t going to work. I’d never forget him. Still, I had to learn to live without him. Just like before, I didn’t have a choice.

––––––––

C
limbing the gangway of the
Sea Empress
was a lot like entering the gates of East Jersey State Prison. Only, back then I was filled with rage. Today it was only emptiness and pain.

When the men said they were heading out, this ship was the only way I could think to try and escape it. Twenty-six crewmembers were onboard a 600-foot vessel, transporting 4,500 containers. Basically, it looked like an enormous aircraft carrier holding the stacked backs of hundreds of semi-trucks. It was also considered small by merchant-ship standards.

I stood on the deck as we put out, watching the waves below. Captain McKinney held a pipe in his teeth as he spoke. “An oil tanker sank in the Bay of Biscay on our last voyage.”

A Danish captain, he was the man who traded free gym memberships for miscellaneous furniture and electronics deliveries. He would apparently ship humans as well when he needed backup crew.

McKinney had been making this journey for almost thirty years, and based on his reputation, my parole officer allowed me contract-worker status and provisional papers for the voyage to Hamburg and back under McKinney’s direct supervision.

I had no idea what all was onboard the
Sea Empress
, and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I couldn’t swim. I didn’t care if I died, but I hadn’t gone into those details with the captain. I’d only said it was my first time on a boat.

Listening to his story now, with three thousand miles of ocean ahead of us, it seemed like an appropriate sentence for me. “What happened?”

“Snapped in two. Just like that.
Crack!
” He turned his pipe over and slapped it against his wrist. His accent sounded French. “But you shouldn’t worry. Cargo ships don’t break.”

“They blow up.” A crewmember carrying a long, metal tube on his shoulder laughed as he passed us.

“We’re not carrying explosives, Anders!” McKinney hollered back and started to walk, so did I. He wanted to talk, and I had nothing to do but listen. I’d be lying on my cot down below otherwise. “Our biggest concern is the weather. We’ll make it to Hamburg in three weeks easy, but when the weather kicks up, a lot of the cargo can be lost overboard. That’s our pay disappearing into the depths with every box.”

“What do we do to stop them?”

“Nothing. Sometimes we have to cut them loose to avoid capsizing.” He shrugged lighting his pipe. “Hazards of the trade.”

We passed a quiet moment, and I looked across the bow at the thousands of containers, some twenty-foot in length, some forty. I wondered why I hadn’t started at the shipyards in the first place. Looking down at my palm, I remembered why. Doc had told me to start over, to live my life. I saw where that got me.

“Many fatalities on these trips?” Something sick inside me hoped he’d say yes.

“Not at all.” He puffed smoke in a blue haze around his head. “Collisions at sea can result in death. Or pirates. But we’re not passing through narrow channels or dangerous lanes. We should be fine.”

We were stopped again, and I was still looking at my palm, the heart. It was so small. I stared at it holding all the pain of what I’d lost.

“Why are you on this voyage, mate?” McKinney was watching me.

I decided to answer him truthfully. “Nothing left to lose.”

“Ahh, so you’ll be the one out in the storm trying to curb our losses?”

I shrugged. “If it’s not that, it’ll just be something else.”

He slapped me on the shoulder. “In the past when I thought all was lost, that was when I realized what was most important.”

It would’ve been good advice in some other situation. As it was, I only nodded and started walking again. I knew what was most important. I’d held it in my hands, and then I’d lost it.

––––––––

I
wouldn’t let myself think about him. I wouldn’t let myself miss him. A month had passed, and running had become my new obsession. I would never step foot in that boxing room again, but there were loads of options when it came to getting outside and running as hard and as far away as I possibly could. The problem was coming back.

Rook was pretty patient in the beginning, but now he wanted me to turn it into a group fitness option. He said if I took that pain and used it, I might look up one day and find it was gone. I didn’t bother arguing with him, but that was never going to happen.

I sat at a small table opposite the juice bar working out a trail route when an older fellow entered looking for me. He was thin with sandy brown hair. It was longish, in a style that used to be fashionable, and he had grey peppered at his temples. Kind brown eyes studied me from his thin face, but I had no idea who he was.

“He said his name is Gary Burden.” Mariska spoke quietly as she stood beside the small table where I sat.

I frowned up at her. “I don’t know anybody by that name.”

“Do you know anybody named Doc?”

I was on my feet at once headed to the front where the older fellow stood. “Are you Doc?” I asked, searching his expression desperately.

It was ridiculous for me to feel this sense of urgency. Slayde had known this man in prison. He wouldn’t be here to give me good news.

His brown eyes lightened when he saw me. “You have to be Kenny. I feel like I’d know you anywhere from how he described you. Only your hair...”

The purple was gone, and now it was back to straight, dark brown. “Why are you here?”

“My number came up. I got out a few days ago, and I thought I’d visit my friend. Is he here?”

He was so cheerful, but that weight was back in my chest. I’d done my best to drown it in steam, run away from it until my lungs burned, pretend it never existed, but the reality was, it was always with me.

“He went away, I’m sorry.” 

Doc’s brow lined. “Went away? But that’s impossible. The last time I talked to him...” I could only assume he read my expression and realized with every word, he was killing me a little bit more. “Would you be willing to tell me what happened?”

How did I say this out loud?
He was asking me to repeat words I wouldn’t even say in my head.

“He... I guess you know he was in prison for murder.” The man nodded. “We didn’t know it at the time, but it seems the man he killed was...” I couldn’t say it. That old pain sliced through my heart with a vengeance.

“It was someone you knew?”

I waited, turning the truth over in my mind like a sheet of paper. A sheet of paper that held what? Answers?

Quietly I said the words, “It was my husband.”

Mid-afternoon was always a slow time at the gym, and for a moment we sat facing each other, the silence pressing hard inside my ears. He didn’t speak, and as the seconds ticked past, I realized I wasn’t going to break down. I guessed that meant I’d finally turned to stone.

“I’m sorry,” Doc spoke at last. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around what you just said.”

I wasn’t about to repeat myself. “I don’t have another way to say it.”

He paced, rubbing his scruffy chin seeming lost in thought. I remembered how Slayde used to refer to Doc’s mantras and words of wisdom. “That’s a pretty strange twist of fate.”

“That’s all you got?” I was being shitty, but fuck it. I was so far past caring anymore. “You don’t have some eternal truth for me?”

He nodded slowly. “Maybe. The Universe has a way of restoring balance. In some cultures, if you kill someone, you become responsible for their land, their family... their wife.” He caught my look and continued. “It’s a primitive system, I know. I’m only noting the comparison. Today we just kill you, widows and orphans be damned.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I was tired, and I didn’t have time for this.

“I’m talking about forgiveness.”

Turning the word over in my mind, I thought about what it could mean for me. “I was thinking about loyalty.”

“I understand that.” He nodded. “Tell you what, would you have dinner with me tonight? I think I’ll stay at Slayde’s place. He told me if I was ever in town to crash there, and maybe when he’s back—”

“Does he still have it?” I tried not to think about what it could mean if he did. He’d be back one day.

“I’ll find out, I guess. If not, I’ll wait for you there. I’d like to talk to you some more.”

I glanced at the clock. “I’ll be finished here in a few hours. I’ll drive over after.”

“Good. See you then.”

* * *

B
eing in Slayde’s living room filled me with a mix of emotions. The finger paintings we’d made still hung on the wall in the kitchen, and I honestly couldn’t look at them. It hurt too much. At the same time, being here, knowing Slayde still had the place... I wasn’t comfortable with the flood of hope running through me that maybe someday he’d be here again.

“The door was unlocked,” Doc said allowing me inside.

“He always left it unlocked.” I thought about that a moment. “I guess he didn’t like locked doors.”

“More like he didn’t have anything worth stealing,” Doc laughed. “This place is empty.”

Our first night here crept through my thoughts like a painful intruder. “He said if I ever lost everything, I’d be surprised at how much I didn’t need.”

“That’s just the kind of thing he would say.” Doc was energized. “It’s why I wanted to talk to you a bit longer.”

Glancing around, I raised my eyebrows. “Want me to order takeout?”

He seemed to remember we were meeting for dinner. “Yes! You probably know all the best places.”

“I wouldn’t say
best
, but I know places.”

Thirty minutes later, we were splitting take-out Thai food and discussing twists of fate. Doc was clearly a frustrated philosopher, and from what I gathered he’d been something of a prison guru.