Burning Ember (52 page)

Knowing I don’t have to face this inescapable agony alone makes it almost bearable.

For more time than I’m probably aware of, I inspect the damage.

I finally confess, “I did this the day I found her.” In my mind, I rewind and replay that night and how the flames devoured the newly framed wood and crawled up the front of the house.

I was a mess. Because not only had I become best friends with my good buddy Jack, and was on bottle number two, but also because finding her like that had ruined me. Ruined the man I’d been, the future I’d planned, and my chances of fulfilling the memories with the child I’d dreamed of. I just wanted to put an end to it all. Erase it as if I’d never had the damn dreams in the first place.

So I tore off my shirt and shoved a piece of it inside the bottle. After taking a lighter from my pocket, I lit the shirt and for a split second, I considered not tossing it.

That’s how fucked up I’d been. The pain had consumed me and I was going to let the fire finish the job.

It took minutes to destroy months of work.

But losing Dana and the baby weren’t the only things gutting me that night.

She’d cut my life into pieces and left me to live it broken. And instead of punishing her, I’d lost it and punished the nearest person I found fault with. With my bare hands, I’d taken a life. I did it and ignored every warning my conscious threw at me. I didn’t spare a second to concern myself with who he was besides her drug dealer. Or whether or not he had a family of his own.

I killed him in cold blood, and I was going to hell for it. I knew there would never be anything I could do to change that fact.

“Why would she walk away if she had you . . . and this?” Doll whispers.

“She didn’t know about this. Nobody did. Not even my brothers. It was meant to be a surprise.”

“You never told anyone?”

“No one besides Cap even knew she was pregnant.”

“Oh, Mav. Why?”

I shrug. “Because they’re all about pussy, and green, and partyin’ ’til you pass out on the floor. How were any of them gonna relate or know what the fuck I was goin’ through? We’re not made from the same grade of grease. I’ve always known that. I love ’em. But we have a different idea of what a good life looks like.”

I don’t give her time to grasp my meaning. Instead, I pull her to the back of the truck and bring down the tailgate. Another bolt of pain flares through my chest as I yank the black bag toward me.

Retrieving the bag this morning from my bedroom at the clubhouse was hard enough. Every time I touch it, I relive that day and the month of utter frustration I spent looking for Dana. I relive the rising hope, and then the desolate fall. I relive trying to kill her, and then turning every ounce of my anger on the guy Cap threw in front of me. I relive each punch that pulverized his face into nothingness, and how with each hit I felt a little bit more of the man I was slipping away.

That’s what everything in here represents. Everything I lost, including myself.

I don’t know how many times I’ve taken this bag out to the fire pits behind the clubhouse intending to burn it, hoping that when only ash remained, it would somehow mean an end of the torment and regret that bombards me daily. But I could never do it. And the pain never ceased to crush my chest.

Even in this moment, I’m in no way ready to open it and show her everything, but I don’t think there will ever be a time when I will be. So why not now?

I unfold the blanket I brought and shake it out over the bed of the truck.

Ember comes to stand beside me and watches intently as I unzip the bag. The Bible comes out first. It’s black and engraved with the initials JMG on the bottom right hand corner of the cover.

“My mom gave me this. It was another reason why I stopped fighting her and Paul. This was my dad’s.”

She traces the gold letters with her finger. “What do these stand for?”

“John Matthew Gunn.” I slowly flip through the pages until I find the ones I’m looking for. “At first, I wasn’t sure it was his. It didn’t look like it had ever been opened. But then I saw this.” I show her the Book of Job and all of the scriptures highlighted in different colors. In the white margins are his thoughts written down in a sharp messy script. “My mom showed me some old letters he’d written her too. The handwriting matched.”

“Why do you think he highlighted only these parts?”

Giving a slight shrug, I reply, “I figured it was the only part he’d read, or the only part he could relate to.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “I must have read this thing a couple dozen times, and some of the ones he highlighted are still my favorites.”

As Ember leafs through the pages and studies some of the passages, I pull the other books out that are about what to expect when you’re expecting a baby. Some have post-it notes sticking out and most of the pages are dog-eared. Putting the Bible down, Ember eyes those too.

“You read all of these?”

My chest constricts. “Yeah, I wanted to know what I needed to do to be ready.”

The box is next and, as my fingers curl around it, my stomach bottoms out. “This was supposed to be the first gift of many,” I explain as I hand it to her. Ember hesitates to take it.

I nod and say, “Go ahead . . . open it.”

Her eyes shift down and through the clear plastic, she can see what’s inside.

Her hand shakes slightly as she opens the box and pulls out the doll. She handles it as if she’s terrified it might break. But it’s tough like her. It’s not going to break.

“That’s why I started callin’ you Doll. Why I wanted you gone that first day. I was tryin’ to forget. And you made it all fresh and new and every time I looked at you, I saw this.”

She turns the redheaded doll in her hands. I know she’s seeing the similarities. The hair, the blue-green eyes, the freckles on the doll’s cheeks, and even the blue, plaid shirt.

“I thought it was because . . .”

A pang of guilt spikes through me. I shake my head. “No, but I couldn’t tell you the truth at the time. So I let you believe that was the reason.”

While she reverently touches the doll, I take the tube out the bag. My fingers fumble as I work the lid off. It takes me a minute to pull the papers from the case and remove the elastic binding them. But when I do, I unroll the blueprints and lay them out on the bed of the truck for her to see. Then I bend down and get a few rocks to place at the corners. She tucks the doll in the crook of her arm, and she comes to stand partially in front of me.

Her fingers follow the lines on the paper, though she doesn’t actually touch it.

Her breath hitches. “It’s beautiful.”

Yeah. It was going to be beautiful.

After she scans it, I pull that paper away and let her see the back of the house. Her hand hovers over the back porch.

“I was going to put a porch swing right there. I thought if the baby had trouble sleepin’, I could bring her out here and rock her to sleep.”

I swallow the thickness blocking my throat. I pull away the next paper. A sketch is revealed, and a heavy weight presses down on my chest. My throat completely closes with emotion this time. It takes me a couple of seconds of me pushing it all down to be able to speak again.

“This is the nursery.”

Ember reaches out and studies the tree.

“The branches were book shelves. And the trunk had a door she could go through into a small little play room just for her.”

She traces the tree with her finger. “I designed this wall to have those letter blocks. You know the ones kids play with, the old-school wooden ones. They’d be shifted so maybe when she got older she could climb to the top and sit in this little nook here and read by the window.

“I was going to start a growth chart here, and then put the bed there. I wanted this arch to look like a half moon so if I used a dimmer light it would work like a night light in case she was scared of the dark.”

Doll sniffles and at the same time, I look at her in time to see a tear drop from her chin and land on the blueprint. I’ve been so lost in my design that I hadn’t realized how seeing this would affect her.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” She’s frantic as she sweeps the cotton of her shirt over and over the wet spot.

I still her hand. “Hey, it’s all right.”

“Mav, I’m sor—”

I turn her and cup her cheek. Tears are streaming down her face and filling her beautiful, teal eyes. She tries to look away from me, but I won’t let her. “Don’t. Don’t hide from me.”

I sweep her tears away. When I have to raise my shirt to get the new ones because they’re not stopping, I chuckle and she gives me an embarrassed, sad smile.

Hell . . .
she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I slowly take the doll and lay it on the tailgate. Lifting her chin, I kiss her watery lips. “I didn’t think I’d ever let another woman get this close to me again. Didn’t trust a soul to know what makes me weak. I don’t know everything about you, but I trust you with this.”

Her hands slide around my waist and she lays her head on my chest. “This doesn’t make you weak, Mav. This makes you a good man.” Almost imperceptibly, she murmurs, “I know what you mean though. I didn’t dare tell anyone about Will. Not until last night.” Her arms squeeze me tighter. “I trust you too.”

After everything I did to her, she shouldn’t, but my heart fucking soars at the knowledge that she does.

I smooth my hand over her hair. “Maybe all the shit in my life was meant to happen. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standin’ here holdin’ you. And I can’t imagine doin’ anything but this right now.”

For a long time we stay as we are. The only sounds are of the insects and the birds around us.

“It’s peaceful here.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

My eyes travel over the wreckage. “I don’t know. Maybe sell it. I’d have to hire a crew to come in and bulldoze it, clean it up, but then maybe one of our clients could finish buildin’ here.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t sell it.”

“No?”

“The foundation is still good, right? Some of it must be salvageable. You could rebuild it one day . . . when you’re ready.”

“It’ll take a lot of work, babe. More work than just startin’ over somewhere new. I’d have to tear it down and rebuild it.”

“Yeah, but you can’t sell your dream to someone else. That just seems wrong to me. Doesn’t it to you?”

My eyes scan the trees separating us from the Rio Grande. There’s enough land here to build a separate work shed and maybe put in a pool. Enough yard to put an enormous steel swing set and teeter-totter. Have a club family barbeque.

Warmth fills my chest. “You think it’s worth the extra work and time?”

“If it’s what you want and what’ll make you happy, then it doesn’t matter how much time it takes.”

My knees weaken with the temptation to fall to one knee and propose to her. Fucking crazy. I know.
Because Jesus . . .

The ring of my cell phone cuts through the air. I pull back and take it from my pocket. I glare at the clubhouse landline number. Clarity hits and I’m thinking I should probably thank the person on the other line for interrupting my train of thought.

As I answer, Ember turns away a little and her eyes flicker back to the blueprints.

I clear my throat a couple of times before I answer. “Yeah,” I rasp and watch Ember slide her fingers under her eyes as she removes more tears.

Bluesy music is in the background and someone shouts for Rigor. Then Edge speaks, “Hey man, where you at?”

“Just runnin’ a few errands. Why? What’s up?”

He muffles the phone, and says, “Give me a sec.” Then a moment later, he comes back on the line. “Star’s a clinger man, why the fuck hasn’t anyone cut her loose?”

“I did,” I laugh. “Brought her back special for you.”

“Well, fuck. Next time don’t do me any favors. The bitch is in my face every time I turn around.”

“Didn’t think you’d find that to be a problem.”

“Yeah, well it is. Fake tits are just not my thing. And fuck, she screams like a goddamn cat in heat when she comes. Bugs the fuck outta me.”

“You call to tell me that, or is there a point to this phone call?”

“Harty har har, fucker. We got church at eight. Afterward, the boys wanna party.”

“When don’t the boys wanna party?”

He chuckles. “Part of the crazy life we lead, man.”

Don’t I know it.
“Alright. I’ll be there.”

“You bringin’ your girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep her close. GBs are comin’ again tonight. And Taz said Smoke wasn’t lookin’ at Bodie last night, he was watchin’ you with your girl. Said he followed you into the parkin’ lot and watched you two leave.”

A fog of unease slowly rolls over me.

“You do somethin’ to piss him off?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Griz said he’s got a thing for redheads. And probably thinks he’s got a shot since she’s not claimed.”

Smoke wasn’t the only fucker eyeing my girl last night. Plenty of brothers were watching us. But something about Smoke makes me twitchy. I don’t want that crazy fuck anywhere near Ember.

I think about not having Ember there tonight. But at the same time, I don’t want to leave her anywhere unprotected either. Better with me at the clubhouse than somewhere else alone.

“I’ll be there.” I hit end and pocket my phone, close the distance between Ember and me and wrap my arms around her. She leans back into me.

“Who was that?”

“Edge. He’s wants us all at church tonight.”

Ember looks at me over her shoulder and gives me a perplexed expression.

“It’s a meeting we have at the clubhouse in the chapel.” When she still looks confused as fuck, I chuckle and explain, “The room I told you was off limits and only for brothers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, listen, there’s another party afterward. It won’t be as out of control as last night, but I’d like it if you’d come.”

“Okay.” She nods.

“Good. And one more thing.”

She leans forward and peaks into the black bag. She playfully asks, “What. You don’t have Dana’s remains or her skull in here too, do you?”

I shake my head but inside cringe. No, the one skeleton I keep hidden isn’t Dana’s. And that secret is one I’ll most likely carry to my grave with me.