Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
CALLIOPE
My body is a live wire, bleeding electricity into the bed sheets while my mind races and my stomach churns. So much has happened in such a short time. My cabin has been robbed and ransacked. I’ve learned that being the anonymous artist called Nameless was far from Arlow’s only secret, and I’ve revealed my true, flawed self and past to him. Someone is trying to extort us, and we may both be in danger. My brain is chaos, filled with warring possibilities, all of them dire.
I don’t know what to do. If I thought this was Carl’s doing, I’d leave, if only to keep Arlow out of it, but it doesn’t seem likely to me. The note said we have a week. Does that mean they’ll leave us alone until then? Will things escalate after that deadline?
Am I ever going to be safe anywhere?
That last thought brings tears to my eyes, and I turn over with a harsh frustrated sigh. I’m never going to fall asleep.
“Calli.” Arlow’s voice is soft, but my body jerks, shaking the bed.
“Jesus, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” He lays his gun on the nightstand and crawls into bed with me. “I can’t sleep. You’re too far away from me.”
Says the man who keeps everyone at a distance. That’s another reason I’m not leaving. Arlow is finally letting me in. He may not love me, but he needs me, and I need him.
“I can’t sleep either.” His scent comforts me as I move closer to him. “Will you hold me for a minute?” Strong arms pull me against his warm body without hesitation, and I lay my head on his chest.
“You’re shaking.” There’s no hiding the tremble of my fingers on his abdomen. His large hand swallows mine and he holds me tighter. “And all tensed up. What can I do to help you settle?”
“You’re doing it. I’ll be alright.” Already my muscles are beginning to soften, my jaw unclenching. “You always manage to stop my brain from chewing on itself. You might be magic. I wish I could bottle you for every anxiety attack.”
He strokes my hair, and I close my eyes, wrapping myself in the comfort of his presence. “Not sure how long I’d last in a bottle. It probably wouldn’t smell good.”
“Shut up,” I scoff, lightly pinching his side.
“Have you thought about a pet? I’ve heard that can help anxiety too.”
“Actually, I was going to ask you how you’d feel about chickens, or maybe a goat.”
His chest rattles with a chuckle. “I was thinking more like a dog or cat. Something cuddly. Maybe a rabbit.”
“Have you ever seen a baby goat? They’re the most cuddly thing ever.” My heartbeat has returned to a normal rate and the buzzing of my skin is fading.
“And the chickens?”
“Are you judging my emotional support chickens?”
“I’d never dare.” The continued brush of his fingers over my scalp soothes me toward sleep. “Everything’s going to be alright. I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over. We’ll get through this week together.” As the welcoming dark pulls me under, I feel his lips on my forehead. They feel like love.
The next few days are blissfully quiet. Arlow and I fall easily into a daily routine. Whoever wakes first makes coffee and breakfast, then we get anything that needs to be done around the place taken care of. The charred remnants of the glider are cleaned up from the driveway. Arlow spends time drawing while I read and make another attempt at crocheting. We watch movies together, listen to music, and play cards or a game when we’re bored. Arlow has an older gaming system that doesn’t need to be online, and we spend a fun evening trying to beat one another on games I haven’t played since I was a kid.
Arlow slips into bed with me each night without a word, but it’s not for sex. As much as we’re trying to pretend everything is okay, an undercurrent of tension runs through everything. The suspense is hard to handle, but being wrapped in his arms every night makes it bearable.
We only leave the property briefly to run a few errands or shop for groceries. Neither of us say it, but we’re both afraid of what we might come back to if we’re gone too long. I call our internet service provider hoping we might get it back earlier than expected but get told the exact opposite. It could be a total of three weeks. They apologize, rattle off some reasons for the delay, and offer discounts when service resumes but that doesn’t help us get our cameras online now.
On Thursday, Arlow sticks his head into the living room where I’m reading about the PH of different soils and how it affects which vegetables to plant. “Do you want to go with me to have dinner with Earl? I can call and tell him we won’t be there if you don’t feel like it.”
His reluctance reflects in his tone, but we can’t stay home every second forever. “I’d like to go. It’ll be good to get out of the house a little. I’ll take him some blueberry muffins.”
His jaw drops in mock outrage. “You made those for me.”
“I made those for us , and I’ll make you more. Don’t be stingy.”
“Will you put streusel on top?” His lips tilt into a playful smile that never fails to make me grin too. How can someone so ruggedly handsome also be so damn cute?
“I’ll think about it.”
I’m happy to visit Earl again. I’ve only been back once since that first time, and he was thrilled to see me. We played cards again and I’m determined to beat him at Rummy eventually. We pick up dinner at Hatty’s Seafood Shack as usual—he’s a creature of habit for sure. Arlow said he long ago stopped asking because he always wants the same thing.
It gets dark early this time of year, and I take my time down the winding country road. As we approach Earl’s place, red and blue lights flash through the trees. “Arlow,” I murmur.
“Something’s wrong,” he says, and I speed up, pulling into the driveway.
An ambulance sits near a squad car, and an old pickup I’ve never seen blocks them both in. Harvey runs up to bark at us as usual. “That’s Earl’s brother, Larry, on the porch,” Arlow says.
The words have barely cleared his lips before he’s out of my car, his strides eating up the dirt. Harvey gets between my legs, desperate for attention, and it slows me down. Before I even catch up to them, I know Earl is gone by the expression on Arlow’s face. He stands with his shoulders slumped, nodding as Larry speaks to him. I slow my steps, hanging back a little to allow them a moment to talk.
Arlow looks back to see me and holds out his hand. “Earl passed away. A stroke they think.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I tell his brother, squeezing Arlow’s hand.
“Thank you. He was a stubborn old bastard. Had two strokes before but he wouldn’t give up his beer or fried food. At seventy-five, you can’t blame him much, I reckon.” His brother looks to be in his seventies at least. He looks up at Arlow and rubs his rheumy eyes. “He was really fond of you. Looked forward to your dinners every week.”
Arlow nods, his eyes welling up too. “He was a hell of a guy. I’ll miss him.” Harvey runs up, nosing his way between us. “Do you need someone to take Harvey?”
“No.” He slaps his leg and Harvey trots over to him. “We’ll get along okay, I reckon.”
Arlow lays a hand on my shoulder. “Can you give us a minute, please?”
“Of course.” I swallow the lump in my throat and regard Larry. “If there’s anything you need or anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
I return to the warmth of the car while Arlow takes a seat on the porch beside Larry. They talk for a few minutes before Arlow shakes his hand and walks back to me. I shift the food we brought to my backseat. It looks sad now. Earl won’t get his beloved hushpuppies.
I lean over and hug Arlow as soon as he gets into the car. “I’m so sorry.”
He hugs me back. “Thanks. It wasn’t unexpected, you know, with his age and health but still.”
“I know. Is there anything we can do?”
“That’s what I was talking to Larry about. He said they weren’t holding a funeral, and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t because of financial constraints. It turns out Earl was adamant about that. He told his brother that funerals are morbid and stupid, and people should spend their time focusing on life not crying over worm food.” His lips twitch. “That’s a direct quote.”
“That sounds like him.”
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
Arlow is quiet the rest of the evening. He doesn’t want to talk and retreats to the corner chair with his drawing pad, but I stay nearby, a silent presence to make sure he doesn’t feel alone. It isn’t until we go to bed that he’s ready to talk.
We lie facing one another and he rests his forehead on my shoulder. “The coroner said he’d probably been dead for a week before Larry found him. I may have been the last one to see him when I visited last Thursday. I should’ve checked on him more often.”
“Hey.” I cup his chin and lift his head. The sight of his reddened eyes raises tears in mine. “You were a good friend to him. This isn’t your fault.” He nods, and I wrap my arms around him. We hold each other as I run my hand up and down his back.
“I don’t want that to be me.” Torment permeates the words of his confession. “The thought of being alone for all those years. So alone that no one even fucking knows I’m dead for a week.” He pulls in a deep breath, fighting to keep his composure.
Of course he would see similarities between them. Earl may not have chosen a solitary life. For all I know, he simply outlived most of his family and friends, but it comes to the same in the end.
I cradle Arlow’s face in my hands and look him in the eye. “That’s not going to happen. Listen to me. You’re loved. No matter how much you’ve isolated yourself from your family, they love you. Distance doesn’t change that. I know you want to protect them…and me, but that’s not how it works.”
“I don’t want to do that to anyone, leave them to hurt for me.”
“I know.” He’s tearing my heart out. His anguish is palpable. To feel such guilt over letting people love him is terrible. “But that’s the price we all pay to love each other. Love and grief are braided together. We don’t get to choose between them or opt out of either. That’s life. You’ll hurt for your friend now, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have let you in.” I brush my thumb over his cheek. “You’re afraid to be loved, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it or that you can avoid it. You aren’t alone. There are people who love you whether you like it or not.”
The words that want to follow are held tight behind my lips. He doesn’t want to hear that I love him, and this isn’t the time. He falls asleep in my arms, and I hope I’ve managed to give him even a fraction of the comfort he brings me.