Somebody Like You (11 page)

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re awake.”

She pushed the tangles of hair from her eyes. “Obviously. Why are you still here? I told you I’d hang the swing myself.” Her bare foot tapped against the cool linoleum floor.

“And I told you I’d do it.”

Was she going to stand here and argue? She’d learned, growing up with three older brothers, to pick her battles. “It shouldn’t take two hours to put up a swing.”

Stephen raised his arm, motioning to the garage. “Well, neither of us can hang the swing until the weather warms up. So I organized things for you. Wanted to help.”

Haley’s eyes tracked the arc of his arm. The towering wall of boxes had disappeared. In its place were the beginnings of space and order. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t unpack much—just some of the tools.” Stephen dusted
off his hands on the front of his jeans. “Mostly I tried to rearrange the boxes into categories: living room, bedroom, bathroom, office, books, that kind of thing.”

Did the man have a superhero complex or something? Why was he so determined to help her? “Why?”

“Well, you have to admit it was a mess in here.”

Did he think she was lazy? She stood straighter, jabbing a thumb into her chest. “I was going to get to it.”

“When did you move in?”

“Two months ago. I’ve been busy.”

Stephen Ames could do the eyebrow arch, too. “And the baby’s due—”

“In April.” Haley held up her hand to ward off another appearance of Sam’s lookalike smile. “I can do this myself.”

“But I’m here.” Stephen had the nerve to move a box from one pile to another. Wasn’t he paying attention? “I want to help.”

“Why?”

“You’re Sam’s . . . wife. That makes you my sister-in-law—”

“We are not
family
.” She gestured between them. “I didn’t even know you existed until three days ago, and the fact that you and Sam were close for the first part of his life doesn’t require me to have a relationship with you. I answered your questions.
I’m done.
I don’t need your help. Now, if you don’t mind, I just woke up and I’m starving. I’m going inside and I would appreciate it if you’d leave like I asked you to do before I took a nap.”

The two of them faced off across the expanse of the garage. Was the man going to argue with her? That’s what Sam would have done—challenged her until he’d backed her into a corner and then kissed her until she gave in or forgot what the argument was about.

But his brother tucked his hands into his pant pockets. Nodded. Offered the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at her wounded heart. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome”?

She hadn’t asked Stephen Ames to bring her baby—Sam’s son—a gift. And she hadn’t asked him to hang the unwanted toddler swing in the tree—just the opposite. And the man had no right organizing her boxes.

She wasn’t about to thank him for intruding in her life.

Before she could think of a reply, he was gone. He didn’t gun the motor of his Mustang as he backed out the driveway. Didn’t grind the gears or peel out of the cul-de-sac. He even tossed a wave in her direction.

H
aley hadn’t expected Skyping with her family to make her homesick.

Of course, she’d called on a Wednesday, the night her mom put on a huge pot of taco soup—enough for her adult sons, her “daughters-in-love,” and her grandchildren. She issued a no-pressure, open invitation—and whoever could make it was welcomed with her mom’s hugs and her father’s corny puns.

Haley bit into her reheated Papa John’s six-cheese pizza. Yeah . . . didn’t quite match her mom’s homemade soup, thick with browned hamburger, kidney beans, chopped onions, and taco seasoning. Topped with sour cream, shredded cheese, and crushed Doritos, it equaled a taco in a bowl.

“Hey, Hal! How’s my little sister?” David’s face appeared on-screen.

“I’m your only sister.”

“Yeah, yeah—always talking back to your big brother.” David’s grin reminded her of all the times he’d teased her growing
up. “So, what’s up? How’d I manage first place in the Skype queue tonight? Mom’s waiting for her turn.”

Haley adjusted the laptop screen, centering the computer on the dining room table. Now that she had a chance to talk to her brother, how did she begin? “Is Mom around?”

“No—you want me to go get her?” David half-rose from his seat, his body blocking the screen.

“No! Wait. I need to talk to you privately.” She waited as David sat down again, still unsure of how to recount everything that had happened. If she’d learned one thing from her three brothers, it was to say things straight-up. No melodrama. “So I found out that Sam has an identical twin brother.”

David’s eyebrows rose, even as his mouth hung open. “That is a sick joke, Hal.”

“I’m serious. He showed up at my house a few nights ago—I thought he was a ghost.”

“What did the guy want?”

“He wanted to find out about Sam—they’ve been estranged for a dozen years.” She wiped her hands on her sweatpants, surprised that they were trembling. “I pulled a gun on him and told him to leave.”

“Attagirl, Hal. So that’s it, then?”

“Not really. I finally agreed to talk to him, and he’s come by once more. But I think he’s figured out that there’s no sense in showing up here anymore.”

“You’re okay?”

Her brother didn’t need to know about her sleepless nights. “Yeah. Do you think I did the right thing?” She held her breath, waiting for David’s answer.

“You’re a big girl, Hal. It’s your decision to make. Obviously Sam didn’t want to have a relationship with this guy, so you don’t have to either. Pray about it. If yes is an option, no
is an option, too.” David leaned back in the rolling desk chair. “You’re telling Mom and Dad, right?”

“I have to.” The thought of relating the story of Stephen Ames’s appearance one more time dragged her down like a water-filled parachute. It would have been easier to talk to everyone face-to-face—but who knew when she’d get home? For now, Skype had to suffice for connecting with family. “She’ll worry.”

“She’s our mom—it’s what she does. But you know she prays more than she worries.”

“You’re right.”

“I always am.”

And just like that, David had her laughing.

She could still see him tackling the fifth-grade boy who’d hassled her for the first half of the school year. She’d done everything she could think of: confronted him, avoided him, told her parents, told the teacher—but the boy kept on bullying her. David, who was already a freshman in high school, showed up the day the guy actually grabbed her and pushed her around.

David sat on the guy’s chest, ignoring the fact that the kid was sniveling and begging for mercy. “You touch my sister again, and I will pound you into the dirt. Got it?”

He walked her home, telling her to stop crying and to not tell their mother what had happened. Right before they got to their house, he stopped her. “Listen, Hal, I had your back today. But I won’t always be there. You’re a Jordan. You’re tough. Don’t let guys like that get to you. You’re not some sissy-girl.”

David was right. She knew the Jordan family rules:
No tears. No tattling.
Keep up or go home.
From the time she was a toddler, her three brothers had insisted she adapt to their pace—or not tag along. And she’d have done anything to be with David, Johnny, and Aaron.

The next time a boy hassled her, she decked him. She ended up in the principal’s office—but her brothers applauded her. And to this day, the
No tears
rule still worked.

“Hey, Hal, did I lose you?” David knocked on the computer screen.

Haley shook her head, dispersing the memories. “No . . . I’m still here. Go ahead and put Mom on. Just do me a favor, please.”

“What?”

“Help her adjust the computer screen. Last time we Skyped I talked to the lower half of her face the whole time.”

Sam.

Just the whisper of his name through her mind—no image—scattered the slim façade of sleep.

Haley pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and kept her eyes closed. Opening them would allow reality to destroy the last remnants of rest. Reveal all the stark changes in her life.

The bare taupe walls of the bedroom of the house she’d bought using the life insurance money she received . . . because Sam was dead.

She’d sit up in the bed, push herself to her feet, and walk toward the bathroom . . . and not be able to resist looking over her shoulder and seeing the other side of the bed. Unslept in. And no reason to count the days until Sam’s deployment ended.

One toothbrush by the bathroom sink. Just her face in the mirror. Sam wouldn’t be in the shower, the scent of his musky soap-on-a-rope lingering on the steam.

Haley squeezed her eyelids tighter.

God, I know you said you’d bring good out of this.

But when?

I know that I have to be patient . . . but if I could get even a small glimpse of the good in being alone. In being pregnant—alone. In doing all of this—today, tomorrow . . . all of the tomorrows piling up in front of me like a lifelong train wreck—alone.

Haley lay in the bed. Waited. The only sound her breathing.

Come on, God. Say something.

She hadn’t asked
why
exactly. She wasn’t even asking for that all-encompassing peace that passes all understanding.

I’m tired of swinging between numb and overwhelmed, God. Isn’t there something in between? Where’s the firm ground? Aren’t you supposed to be the stability of my times? Some unseen enemy tore my life out of my hands . . . My heart is mangled . . .

Stop.

Haley opened her eyes.

Walls. Floor. Ceiling.

Reality.

In the midst of the brutal starkness, she still believed in God . . . and she wasn’t asking for more from him. To have more—and then have it destroyed—was too cruel.

It was good to be up early after another night in a Springs hotel. To be outside, catching the first glimpses of the blues and pinks of the sunrise in the ever-lightening sky overhead. Stephen leaned against the hood of his car, the air filled with a bite of frost. The parking lot dug out of a steep Manitou hillside filled up with people intent on getting an early start hiking the Incline. Maybe he should have taken up Chaz’s invitation to hike to the summit, but Stephen wanted to talk about his brother, not gasp for oxygen while he ate Chaz’s dust. He hadn’t even
been certain Chaz would return his call when he’d left a message for him at the battalion. They’d talk. Chaz would brave the Incline, and that would be the end of this attempt to find out more about his brother.

It was only seven in the morning and the parking lot was almost full, hikers already tackling one of the most popular trails in the area. He’d never understood the attraction of scaling the wooden ties left over from a cable car that used to take tourists up the side of the mountain. But from the number of people heading up the Incline with backpacks and water bottles or CamelBaks, he was in the minority.

“You sure you don’t want to join me?” Chaz appeared on Stephen’s left.