A Gift from the Past. Carla Cassidy
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weary resignation sweeping through her.
He turned to leave, but paused and turned back to face her. “Claire, it is good to see you again.” He didn’t wait for her to reply, but instead turned once again and left, walking briskly down the sidewalk.
She sank down on the steps, watching until he was out of sight.
Joshua.
He’d been a teenager from the wrong side of the tracks, raised by an alcoholic uncle and she’d been the sheriff’s granddaughter. They’d been fifteen when he’d first asked her out and on that very first date she fell hopelessly, helplessly in love with him.
She’d spent the last five years of her existence trying to forget him and everything that had happened in that last year of their marriage.
She stood and brushed off the seat of her pants, hoping he didn’t intend to stay too long. One thing was certain, while he was here, she would keep her distance, both physically and emotionally.
She couldn’t go back to that place in time, couldn’t dwell in ancient memories. She feared that if she did, she would lose her mind to the grief and never surface again.
Chapter Three
It was just after seven when Joshua returned to the house. He carried with him a large suitcase of clothing and his state-of-the-art laptop computer.
He was tired. He’d been tired for the last year. From the moment he’d left here five years earlier, he’d thrown himself into work, as if achieving success would banish his heartache. He’d worked long hours, seven days a week to make something of himself, to fill the lonely hours that would otherwise be painfully empty.
He wasn’t sure whether it was his success or merely the passing of time that had finally healed some of the grief he’d left here with, but he no longer felt crippled by the weight of what had been lost.
In fact, it was time to move on and that’s what had brought him back here. He had to resolve the past before he could forge ahead with his future.
Claire opened the door before he could knock, obviously expecting him. Gone was the anger and resentment that had sparked in her eyes earlier in the day. Apparently, she had resigned herself to him being here.
“Come on in,” she said and opened the door wider to allow him entry.
“Thanks.” He maneuvered through the door and dropped his suitcase just inside.
“Hey, Joshua, get your things stored away and come watch this quiz show with me,” Sarge said from his wheelchair in front of the television. “I want to see if I can still whip your butt at answering the questions.”
Joshua laughed. “Okay, just let me get settled in.” He turned to Claire. “Sit down and relax. I know the way to the spare room.” He picked up his suitcase and headed down the hallway.
The first door on the left was Sarge’s bedroom. The first on the right was the room that he and Claire had shared during their marriage. The second door on the left was the bathroom and the last door on the right was the spare room.
As he approached the room where he would be staying, an unexpected knot of tension balled up in the pit of his stomach.
The door was closed and he hesitated a moment, his hand on the knob. The last time he’d been in the room, there had been blue curtains at the window and a teddy-bear wallpaper border around the ceiling.
The room had smelled of little boy and been filled with all of Joshua’s dreams, his hopes, his love.
Drawing a deep breath, he turned the knob and opened the door. White lacy curtains billowed at the window, bringing the scent of summer into the room. Pale-yellow walls matched the sunflower designs on the bedspread and accentuated the white wicker furniture.
There was no hint of baby’s-breath-and-powder scent, no lingering reminder of the beloved child who had once slept here, played here.
He placed his suitcase and laptop next to the single bed, almost able to hear the childish giggles that had once filled this space.
Baby Sammy. Named after Sarge, Claire and Joshua’s son had become the center of the universe on the day he’d been born. With Joshua’s dark hair and Claire’s smoky eyes, he’d been a little charmer with a ready smile and an easy disposition.
I miss you, Sammy, he thought. He missed Sammy and Claire and Sarge and the way things had been a long time ago.
“I just remembered that you like extra pillows.”
He whirled around to see Claire standing in the doorway, two pillows clutched to her chest. She held them out to him.
“Yeah…thanks.” He took the pillows and tossed them on the bed, then walked to the window and peered out onto a backyard as tangled and overgrown as the front. “Do you have a lawn mower that works?” he asked and turned back to look at her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t come back here to mow the lawn.”
He smiled. “True, but if you remember, I used to enjoy yard work. I don’t mind doing it, really. I spend most of the hours of my day sitting at a desk. The physical activity will be good for me.”
She uncrossed her arms and offered him a tentative smile. “Lately there just haven’t seemed to be enough hours in the day to get everything done. Sarge doesn’t like to be alone and he’s been so cantankerous it’s been hard to get people to sit with him.”
“Claire?” As if to prove her point, Sarge’s voice rang out.
“We’re coming,” she answered and together the two of them left the bedroom and returned to the living room. Joshua sat on the sofa, vaguely disappointed when Claire sat across the room in a chair instead of on the sofa with him. He wouldn’t have minded if she’d sat close enough for him to smell her sweet fragrance.
The evening passed quickly. Although Sarge couldn’t see, his mind was sharp as a tack and he and Joshua battled each other answering questions on first one game show, then another.
During the commercials, they chatted and it didn’t take long for Joshua to get a picture of what life had been like for these two during the past three years. Since Sarge’s blindness, Claire’s sole job was taking care of Sarge, and Joshua had a feeling there had been little time for leisure or fun in Claire’s life.
It was also apparent from several things that Sarge said that money was always an issue, that between his small monthly checks and his medical needs, there was never any money for little extras.
If only Claire had cashed the checks he’d mailed to her, surely the extra money would have come in handy. But he knew why she hadn’t. Claire had a healthy dose of pride; couple that with the hatred of him she’d professed when he’d left, and he’d never really been surprised that she’d refused any money he’d sent her.
It was just after nine when Sarge fell asleep in his chair and Claire said she needed to put him to bed. She wheeled him down the hallway and disappeared into his bedroom. Joshua waited a couple of minutes, then walked down the hallway.
When he looked into the bedroom, he saw Claire struggling to get Sarge from the wheelchair onto the bed. She’d already managed to take off the old man’s shoes and socks.
“Come on, Sarge, you’ve got to help me here,” she murmured, her arms wrapped around the man’s chest.
Joshua didn’t hesitate. He gently moved her aside, then leaned down and scooped the thin man up in his arms and placed him on the bed. Sarge mumbled something incoherently in his sleep, then turned his head and began to snore.
“Thanks,” she murmured, although her voice held no gratitude, but rather an edge of resentment.
He nodded curtly. “You want him undressed?”
“No, he’ll be fine for the night. In the morning I’ll