A Heart of Time (18 page)

“You don’t have to tell me anything at all,” she says. “Do you have a picture of your daughter on you? AJ told me how adorable she is and now I just need to see for myself.” I know this is another trap but I can never stop myself from showing off Olive. I slip my wallet out of my back pocket and open the flap to pull out the picture I have of her. I lean forward, holding it between my two fingers for Amy to take.

She meets me halfway and slides the photo out of my loose grip. Studying it for a moment, another smile finds her lips. “She looks just like you. I take it your wife must have had the blond hair, though,” she laughs. She laughs because my hair is jet black and Olive’s is so blond it’s nearly white.

“Yes, she’s all Ellie, right down to the words she uses and the way in which she says them.”

“That must be nice,” she offers simply. Again, I expected a: “
And how does that make you feel?”
but she doesn’t say that
.

“It’s a great reminder,” I add in.

“Does Olive enjoy the snow?”

“Not really. She is one of the very few children who would rather sit inside and sip hot cocoa than get all bundled up to go out and make a snowman. She prefers the warm weather.” And just like that, I’m yapping like a fool. Clearly, this woman knows exactly how to get me to talk.

Amy leans forward, pressing her elbows into her thighs. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with you, Hunter. It sounds to me like you’re a doting father and just a little lonely without Ellie. That doesn’t exactly define the word crazy. I know that’s why you must think you’re here right now, but most of the time, I just listen to things no one else wants to hear you say over and over.”

I lower my head in debate. I know I need this but I also know what happens every time I cave to the idea of therapy. It opens old wounds and I end up exactly where I am right now. “I don’t know,” I tell her.

“And that’s fine,” she says, pressing her lips together. “Take all of the time you need. Amy reaches to her desk and retrieves a business card from a little marble tray. “If you decide you need someone to listen to you, call me.”

I take the card from her fingers and slip it into my coat pocket. “Thank you,” I mutter. I’m glad she didn’t ask me to make an appointment or make me feel guilty for not making one. I’m thankful she isn’t pushy and is honestly allowing the decision to be mine, unlike AJ and I’m guessing Mom, who is likely hiding behind AJ.

As I stand from the chair, I feel a vibration in my back pocket. Without considering the thought of being rude as Amy is reciting the hours in which she can be reached, I look down at the screen of my phone, seeing the notification of a new text message. I press
read
.

Ari: I’m here.

I quickly thumb the keys to ask:

Me: Where?

Ari: My shop. 250 Main Street.

I peer up at Amy, who is now watching with a curious expression. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

“Yes, it’s great.” It’s more than great.

Her brows knit together with confusion. “Whatever that message was, it certainly changed your mood pretty fast.”

“It’s—“ I hesitate before unveiling more information about my life. She seems more interested than anyone else I would share this with, though. “It’s Ari, the woman who has Ellie’s heart.”

“I don’t understand,” she presses.

Elation is bubbling in my stomach and I just want to leave but I remember now that AJ is waiting in the lobby for me, and I’ll have to explain to him why I have walked in and out of here in ten minutes.

I look back down at my phone, pondering for a moment before typing in my next message.

Me: Will you be there in ninety minutes?”

Ari: Yes, I will be here until five today.

I glance up at the clock and sit back down in the seat, removing my coat to make myself more comfortable. I interlace my fingers and rest them on my knees as I lean forward. “Ellie died giving birth to our daughter, Olive. To my surprise, beyond her death, she had a private agreement outside of our joint will that stated she would donate her heart if the situation were to arise. Since she died from an aneurysm, her request was fulfilled. Weeks after Ellie’s death, I began receiving letters from the recipient. They were all anonymous. Five years have gone by, and last week, for the first time, the woman with Ellie’s heart asked to meet me.”

Amy looks intrigued—beyond intrigued, really. There’s a passion filling the question in her eyes. She must love what she does...hearing the stories, then trying to place the puzzle pieces back into the perfect picture she never saw in the first place. Without direction or an image to copy, it must be difficult. “It turns out I have met this woman a few times before. She’s wonderful and captivating, and she knows secrets about my wife that Ellie never cared to share with me. This has all come to a culmination in the past week and it feels as if my mind is imploding.”

Amy laughs quietly. Not a mimicking type of laugh, a sympathetic and commiserating type of sound. “We just got through about five sessions worth of information in three minutes,” she says, leaning back in her leather chair, which whines against her weight. “People don’t always keep secrets to hurt others. Sometimes they keep secrets to protect the ones they love. I’m curious, though, you said Ellie and this woman knew each other?”

“I guess so; though, I’m just learning this now,” I tell her.

“How interesting,” Amy says. “Are you going to continue searching for the answer?”

“How can I not?” I respond. The constant thoughts of Ellie keeping secrets from me have consumed me and caused ripples in the life I have tried so hard to put back together. “Yes, I need to see this woman again.”

“Do you think you are happy to see this woman because she owns this secret or because she has a piece of Ellie alive within her?”

“Both,” I tell her. Of course, it’s both.

“Do you have feelings for this woman?” she continues.

Flashes of Ari’s eyes seep into my mind as I consider this answer. “I’m not sure. I was in the beginning of a nice relationship with a woman who happens to live across the street from me, but she isn’t exactly interested in being with me as I figure out my feelings for Ari, the woman with Ellie’s heart.” The answers are so simple, yet the resolution is so difficult. I’m not sure anything will ever be resolved and I could end up in the same situation I was in before I met Charlotte. Alone. If I never find another woman to be with again, it will be fair, though. Most people aren’t lucky enough to have an Ellie in their life for as long as I did and then live on to experience anything even remotely close again. I’ve come to terms with living out the rest of my life focused only on Olive, but it seems lately that a part of me wants to be selfish, as well.

“Your mind must be aching from the number of thoughts coming and going each minute of the day,” Amy says. “I do think you’re going about this the correct way. You’re sparing the woman you were with any discontent and you’re being fair to yourself to learn what your feelings are for this other woman.” Amy uncrosses her legs and scoots toward the edge of her chair, reaching over to my hands. “For a person whose family thinks he is a mess, you have yourself put together quite well.”

My focus locks on Amy’s hand resting on mine. By the looks of her rippled skin, I’m guessing she is around Mom’s age, which tells me that she’s not only speaking from wisdom and knowledge but life experience, as well. It’s a bit comforting, I suppose.

“I want to come back and talk with you again,” I tell her, looking up into her hazy light eyes.

“You tell me when and I’ll be here.” She pulls out a planner and opens the front cover while she leans toward her desk to retrieve a pencil.

“Next week, same time?” I ask, feeling a slight weight lifting from my shoulders.

She jots my name down into the appropriate box in her planner and reaches to her desk once more for a card. She writes the time and day down on the back of it and hands it to me. “I’m looking forward to hearing what happens with Ari,” she says with a lopsided grin. “Good luck, Hunter.” Amy reaches out to shake my hand and I return the gesture. As I stand once more, replacing my jacket over my shoulders, I feel more space inside of my lungs, like it suddenly became a little easier to breathe.

While walking from the office door, my phone buzzes in my pocket again. I slide it out and see the school’s number calling.
Shit.

I answer the phone, pressing it against my ear, listening to the pre-recorded message telling us that the bus will be bringing the children home an hour early to due to the impending blizzard.
A blizzard at the end of March?
Awesome.

I press through the wooden door, finding AJ comfortable on one of the chairs, thumbing through Better Homes and Gardens. The sight of him reading that particular magazine makes me laugh. We are carpenters, but it ends with the floors, especially for AJ, who has no color coordinating abilities considering he’s color-blind.

“Shit, that woman is magic, huh? A smile and everything,” AJ says, placing the magazine down on the side table while standing up.

“Thank you,” I tell him, feeling a twitch in my chest and twinge of pain behind my eyes. Maybe I’ve been blind to it and Amy possibly enlightened me just a touch, but I realize it’s nice to know I have people who love me and care about my well-being while I work through this mess. Even my jackass brother who is going through his own shit right now.

“We have to get home. School let out early and Olive’s going to be back in forty-five minutes.”

“Dude, have you seen it outside?” AJ asks. “You might want to call Charlotte to see if she can get her.”

And just like that, irritation seeps back in. Not at anyone but at the thought of missing my opportunity to talk to Ari today. “I’ll call her when we get into the truck.”

The moment we step outside, I see that AJ isn’t exaggerating. Three inches must have fallen in the past half hour we have been in here. I pull the sleeve of my coat over my hand and brush the snow off the windshield on the passenger side before sliding in.
This sucks.

We pull out onto the road, going less than ten miles an hour, as it’s almost impossible to see out of the window with how hard the snow is falling.

I dial Charlotte’s number and listen to the three rings before she answers, sounding out of breath. “You okay?” I ask her.

“Yep, just shoveling now before it gets too heavy,” she says.

“I’ll clean your driveway off when it stops. You’re going to pull your back out again.”

“It’s fine, Hunt, really, but thanks. Do you need something?” Our conversations sound so friend-zone, but I do care about her as more than a friend and there are many moments where I wish our timing was different.

“AJ was nice enough to drag me to a therapist beyond my willingness to go on my own. I just got the call from the school and we’re trying to get back but there’s a line of brake lights in front of us right now. I’m worried we won’t get there on time.”

A huff of air creates a loud scratching sound in my ear. “You went to talk to someone?” she asks, a hint of hope filling her voice, telling me she was likely in on this intervention, too. “Hearing that makes me really happy.”

“I’m glad,” I tell her softly, almost intimately, speaking nearly under my breath to avoid the looks from AJ. Although, with how hard he is focusing on the road, I don’t think he even realizes I’m on the phone.

“I’ll get Olive and bring her back here until you’re home. Don’t rush, just be careful, okay?”

“I will,” I tell her.

“Is AJ driving slow?” she asks.

“Yes, Mom,” I tease.

“Hunter, don’t start. We both know how AJ drives.”

I’m smiling at her anger but she would normally have a valid point. Today, though, AJ isn’t even hitting ten miles per hour. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

I can hear a smile on her lips as she says, “Whatever.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The traffic has
cleared, or the three accidents, I should say. People in New England seem to think they’re superheroes in the snow with their front-wheel-drive cars. AJ’s truck is a little skittish but it’s only because his pick-up bed is empty—thanks to me canceling our job for the day. We pull down the street of the bus stop just as we see the bus slowly creeping down the hill. Olive is probably upset right now. She doesn’t like when things change or are out of order. It makes her nervous. I step out of the truck just as the bus comes to a stop. The snow is thick and heavy as it covers my head. I pull my hood on and step up beside Charlotte, who looks like an Eskimo.

“You under there?” I nudge my shoulder into hers.

She tugs on the hood of her coat, allowing only a little opening for her eyes to show. “Are the roads bad?” she asks.

“They’re not good.”

The door of the bus squeaks open and Olive jumps off the bottom step right into a mound of snow. Her lip curls as she tiptoes around the big piles that haven’t been plowed yet. “It’s cold!” she shouts, making her way over to me. I wrap my arms around her, doing my best to warm her up.

“Hey, as much as I hate this damsel in distress crap, my washer is leaking and I have a week’s worth of laundry to do. Any chance you can take a look at it tonight?” The last of her question is cut off with a loud heave as Lana swings her arms around Charlotte.

“I lost another toof, Mom!” Lana points to the big gap in the front of her mouth.

“My goodness, you have no more front teeth!” Charlotte says through laughter.

“Do you think the toof fairy will make it in the snow?” Lana asks.

“Yes, she’s magical and strong. She can make it through anything,” Charlotte explains, squatting down in front of her.

“Just like you, Mom. You’re magical and strong and you tell me all the time you can make it through everything. Remember you said it last night when you were crying on the phone?”

Taking in the conversation between Lana and Charlotte, I’m filled with questions as I wonder why she was crying last night and who she was on the phone with. Not that it’s any of my business but I hope she’s okay.

“Lana, start walking with Olive,” she says, standing back up and brushing the snow from her knees.

Charlotte looks over at me, her eyes wide. I’m guessing she’s either hoping I ask or hoping I don’t ask. “Spill it,” I say.

“It’s nothing,” she responds, taking a few steps backward and turning to head home.

I look over to AJ in the truck, waving at him to get his attention. He cracks the window and I shout over, “I’m going to walk home. I’ll see you in a few.” The window closes and the gears grind as he turns the truck around to go down the street.

“Hunter, you don’t have to play this role, remember?” Charlotte says through a shiver.

“Don’t make me beg, Charlotte. What’s going on? And I’m not playing any kind of role. I care about you a lot. You’re the one who doesn’t want to be with me right now...”

She looks at me like I did something wrong or just said something stupid, which seems to be the norm lately. I question if anything intelligent ever comes out of my mouth these days. “And I care about you a lot, but I don’t want to get into it—” She exhales with exaggeration.

“Why were you crying last night?” I ask again.

“You just asked me that...”

“I’m persistent. So, why were you crying last night?” I ask in a softer voice as we catch up to the girls.

“Because that jackass took away my goddamn child support,” Lana says in a mock-adult-Charlotte voice.

Jesus.

“Lana,” Charlotte snaps. “What did I tell you about eavesdropping, and what did I tell you about repeating things you hear me say in the house?”

A strong pout pulls across Lana’s lips, a bad fake pout, “I forgot,” she says. Then, she yells, “Olive! Look!” And the girls run ahead until they reach a snow bank created by a plow. Olive stops and watches as Lana climbs up and then slides down into the street. “Come on, Olive!”

Olive contemplates for a long second, knowing her aversion to the cold snow, but I think she notices the amount of fun Lana is having and decides to join her. Without snow pants, the two girls instantly become soaked from the makeshift slide. Normally, Olive would have a fit about being wet, but evidently neither of them feels it, or they’re having so much fun, they don’t care. If only life as an adult could be so carefree.

Charlotte drops her gloved hands into her deep pockets, walking one step ahead of me. “Are you okay?” I ask.

Her head shakes under her hood and snow dusts off of the material. “Can you fight this in court?” I ask. I don’t know much about divorces or how they work but I can’t imagine whatever is happening isn’t fair.

“He took a job for an underground contractor. He’s being paid illegally and isn’t reporting any income. To the court, it looks like he doesn’t have a job or money so they can’t force him to pay child support,” she says. I’m having a hard time hearing her with the snow blowing and the kids screeching so I take her arm and force her to turn around, keeping my eye on the kids at the same time.

“How did you find this out?” I ask.

“My lawyer called.”

“What’s next?”

“I don’t know, Hunter. Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can’t help you unless you give me the details.” I realize she didn’t ask for help but she clearly needs someone to at least talk to.

“I didn’t ask for your help. There’s nothing you can do for me,” she says. “All that matters is I’m going to lose my house if I don’t figure this out.” Sadness tears through my chest as I consider the thought of Charlotte and Lana not living across from us anymore.

“I won’t let that happen to you,” is the only thing that comes out of my mouth. I’m not sure how I can promise that but it seems like the only thing to say and the only thing I want to say. “We both know I have plenty of space in my house, so just know you have that as your backup.”

“Hunter, how could you offer such a thing?” How could I not?

“Charlotte, how are you still questioning how much I care about you and Lana?”

“I’m not questioning that. I’m questioning every other part,” she says, pulling her hood back down so it hides her eyes. She turns around and continues walking as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. It’s lit up and ringing a soft tone. I take a step closer as she studies the name on the phone and intentionally brings it in front of her so it’s out of my sight. It doesn’t matter though because I already saw it. Someone by the name of Lance.
Lance. Who the hell is Lance?
I’ve never heard her mention a Lance, and why wouldn’t she pick up the call? Although she has taken her glove off and is now texting someone—Lance, I assume. Is she seeing some guy named Lance?
I am still the one she asked to look at her washing machine.
Is that a good thing?

I give Charlotte the space I’m guessing she wants and grab the two girls, one under each arm, as I shuffle down the snow-covered street. The girls are hitting me and shaking their snow covered fists at me through laughter. I love how much these two love each other and it’s just another reason I would be heartbroken if Charlotte moved.

As we approach our driveways, I assumed the lack of conversation might get awkward but there is zero awkwardness as Charlotte takes Lana by the arm and leads her up their driveway without so much as saying goodbye.

“Is Charlotte mad?” Olive asks. Obviously, it isn’t in my head if Olive is noticing it, too.

“Not sure,” I tell her, tugging her into the house. “I need you to go change your pants because we have to go out for a few minutes.”

“Where are you going?” AJ asks from the other room. “It’s horrible out there.”

“Yeah, where are we going, Daddy?”

“The store,” I answer.

“We have food,” AJ responds. “Dude, you shouldn’t be going back out in that.”

I’m looking back and forth between AJ and Olive, both looking back at me. I take my phone from my pocket and thumb in another text to Ari.

Me: Are you still there?

A minute passes before the three little dots flicker beneath my text.

Ari: Unfortunately. I don’t think I’m going anywhere tonight.

I replace my phone in my pocket and glance over to Olive. “Do you want to come with me or stay here with Uncle AJ?”

AJ is glaring at me and crosses his arms over his chest. “Olive, why don’t you stay here and help me make something yummy for dinner.”

Olive covers her mouth and giggles. “Uncle, you can’t even make Lucky Charms.”

I laugh along with Olive because it’s true. AJ lunges for her and flips her over his shoulder. “Oh yeah, little girl?” Giggle fits erupt as he tickles her until she’s breathless. “That’s why I need you to stay here and help me.”

“Okay, okay,” she agrees. “Daddy, I should stay here with Uncle so he doesn’t ruin the food.”

“Where are you really going, Hunt?” AJ asks. I look at Olive, now realizing that bringing her with me wouldn’t have been a good idea, nor do I think she should know where I’m going. Allowing her to get attached to any other woman in my life right now isn’t healthy for her. Not yet, anyway.

“Go upstairs and change your pants,” I tell Olive. “You’re soaked.”

She skips up the stairs, followed by her door closing.

“Ari is stuck at her shop and she agreed to talk to me. The sooner I can figure all of this out, the sooner I can stop debating my life decisions,” I explain.

“For the fact that you are acting partially normal this second, I won’t give you shit for trekking out into a blizzard for some chick—not that it’s normal to do that.”

She isn’t some chick. AJ knows this but that’s how he sees her. Arguing this won’t help anything, it’ll just waste more time. “Do you mind watching Olive for a bit? I’ll try to keep it under two hours.”

“Dude, it’ll probably take you two hours to get there in this crap.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” I tell him. I look out the window, watching a plow fly by. “I’ll be fine.”

Olive comes flying back down the stairs in sweatpants and t-shirt with her dress-up apron on. “Ready!”

“When I get home, I want to hear more about what happened with Alexa,” I tell him. I do feel guilty for completely ignoring his life issues.

“Not much to tell,” he says. “In fact, I’d like to forget her name all together.”

“Understood,” I say, slipping on my jacket.

“Make sure you’re home in time for dinner, Daddy,” Olive shouts from the kitchen.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Another giggle floats through the air. “Love you, Olive.”

“Love you!”

Two hours. Pft. Try twenty minutes. I followed a salting truck half of the way, which sort of worked out perfectly. At least they’re keeping up with the roads. As I’m driving, I realize I never responded to Charlotte’s request to fix her washing machine. Well, she’ll just have to wait or let Lance take care of it.

When I pull up to the flower shop, I create a spot for myself along the sidewalk. I’m sure I shouldn’t be parking here right now since the plows are trying to get by but there’s nowhere else to park. Plus, Ari’s car is buried right in front of me.