Take It - Part Two (4 page)

“This was my mother's. It's all I have left of her, so I keep it close to my heart. But I can’t tell you how many people I’ve whacked in the face with it over the years, treating victims on the scene. It’s a hazard really.”

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," I offer, feeling the blazing fire between my legs start to dwindle. The odds that anything will happen between Pierce and me right now are slim. Likely my thirst will never be fully quenched again. I can’t even find a damn vibrator in the things my mother brought over from my apartment. She’s likely moved them over to storage. I might as well be lost and wandering through a celibate desert. I’m guessing there is no such thing, but that’s how I feel.

"She's been gone quite a while now. Cancer.” He pulls in a deep breath and steadies his hand as he finishes up what he’s doing. “There, you should be comfortable for a few minutes while I go get my first aid kit. It doesn't look bad at all, now that I've wiped away the blood. Is there a nightgown or some pajamas I can get for you before I go?” He pauses to take note of my still flowing tears. He probably thinks I’m in pain or depressed about my accident. If he only knew I needed so much more from him than first aid, maybe he’d oblige. Pierce seems like a really accommodating guy, but I don’t have the guts to show him what would make my tears run dry right now. Apparently, only Harrison brought out the bold, demanding side of me.

“These things have a way of sorting themselves out. All you have to do is get through right now.”

"I-I'm sorry. It's just I really wanted a bath. I feel so dirty. I must look terrible."

"You look fine, Jenny. Once we've taken care of your cut, maybe I can rig something up so you can take a bath. Then I'd better get going."

"Do you really have to?" I whine. I hate the woman I've become. Whining has never been in my repertoire of persuading a man. I didn’t have to employ any tactics. "I really could use someone to talk to other than my mom."

"I'd love to stay, but it just wouldn't do for your mom to come home and find a strange man in her daughter's bedroom. I'd never want her first impression of me to be something like that."

"I hardly think you're a stranger now, Pierce. You’ve saved my life . . . twice.”

"Just take it easy so I don’t have to do it a third time. I'll be back in a minute," he assures me with a wink as he disappears to go get his first aid kit.

I close my eyes as soon as he's gone, but of course, I can’t relax. There's way too much junk spinning around in my injured head. Harrison's betrayal, my job, my mom—this new man trying to help me.

True to his word he returns quickly, taking care of my cut with cool tenderness. All done, he straightens up and replaces his medical supplies in the first aid kit. I tell him where to get the items I need for a bath, wickedly hoping he'll volunteer to give it to me. It isn’t that I am wildly attracted to Pierce, although he is attractive. It’s more that I want to feel better. To feel pleasure rather than this pain.

He does as I've asked, blushing when I coyly ask if he wants to stay while I bathe. A discreet distance away, of course, out in the hall or something, I suggest. Harrison would have jumped right in, in fact, his hands would be all over me by now, but Pierce shyly says he'll get a chair and sit out in the hall in case I need him.
I could use you now
.

"There," he says, as he fetches one of Mom's kitchen chairs and sits just outside my door. Since he can't see me, I have my privacy, but we can still talk. The wicked part of me is hoping he takes an occasional peek through the space between door and threshold.

"I know next to nothing about you except you're a terrible driver and you’re living here with your mom. You don’t expect her home from work soon?"

"Mom works in a bookstore. Thinks of it as her own personal library. I can picture her, reading every juicy romance on the shelves, craving each happy ending almost as much as she craves chocolate. It’s more than a job to her, and she won't be home until lunchtime to check on me. I’m sure she’ll have a book in hand that I will have no desire to read."

“I'll hang around to make sure you don't fall again or something. Just long enough to get you back to bed."

Should I invite him to join me in bed? No, I’m being insane to even consider it. I’m still too twisted up in my love affair with Harrison and the way he made me feel to think straight. You don’t beg strangers to pleasure you, to lessen your own sorrow.

“I tried to repair your door on my way back in here. I have it closed and locked, but I'm afraid I made a mess of the outside."

"Mom will never notice. We don't use that door anyway. It’ll probably stay like that for the next twenty years. Without my dad being around anymore things don’t really get repaired or changed around here.”

“Is your mother a widow?”

“I wish,” I mutter, forgetting how callous that must sound to someone who doesn’t know the circumstances. “My dad ran off years ago. He was a cheater, and he broke my mother’s heart.” I think for a moment about my own heart that feels fractured right now.

"My glorious dad wasn’t much better, a typical Irish cliché if ever there was one. Angry as a wet cat. The only thing he ever loved was his bottle. He drank himself to death.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I say, feeling guilty for wishing my own father dead.

Pierce trails off like it’s ancient history. “I should fix the door the right way. I’ll come back tomorrow—that is, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," I say, wishing I could reach out and touch him. I need a friend badly right now, especially one with the power to take my mind off Harrison. I like the way Pierce is looking at me, even though I’m not much to look at right now. He seems simple in the best way possible. "What brought you out here anyway? You couldn't have known I'd take a fall. Do you cruise up and down the streets looking for ladies in distress?"

"My sister said I should give you a call, but I remembered your cell phone was pretty smashed and there wasn’t any other number listed for you. Have you replaced your phone? I was hoping to get your number so I could check in.”

“No, I’m going to wait until I can go out and get one myself rather than sending my mom out for one. She knows nothing about them. That's really sweet of your sister to think of me, considering I destroyed her boat. My insurance will take care of everything." The fact that he’s keeping in touch with me at all is too big for me to even address.

"Including driving lessons?" he jokes. "Just kidding, but why were you driving so fast anyway? You had to be aware of the fog."

“I think I’m ready to get out of the tub now.” I pull myself into a sitting position and lean forward to pull the plug. As the water starts to gurgle its way down the drain I grab the towel Pierce left out for me.

“Once you’re ready I’ll give you a hand getting out. Can you reach the towel?”

I consider saying no and dropping the towel so far away from the tub he’ll need to come in and see me as I am, naked and desperate for distraction. But it doesn’t seem fair to him. Pierce isn’t here to make me feel better in that way. It’s not his fault Harrison got me hooked on a new level of ecstasy and intimacy I crave every second of every day.

“All set,” I say and he tentatively peers in the bathroom. When he’s sure I’m covered he comes in the rest of the way. Pierce easily lifts me up out of the tub and places me on my feet. I wobble a bit and his forearm is instantly there for me to lean on. What an interesting man he is, giving so much but seeming to expect nothing in return; my entire life, my career, has been filled with men willing to help me as long as I play by their rules.

I'd like to think I'm keeping quiet because I don't want to draw him into my miserable existence, but I'm not that noble. Mom would be thrilled—Pierce is exactly the kind of man she dreams about for me. I can tell just by the few encounters we’ve had. I stay silent because I don’t know if I can keep myself from making some completely inappropriate proposition.

"Thanks Pierce. For everything," I croak as he supports my weight on the way to my bed. He’s laid a pair of pajamas out and looks at me with a raised eyebrow, seeming to wonder if I can get into them by myself.

“I should be able to get dressed. It won’t be pretty, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure everything you do is pretty, Jenny. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

I feel myself blush as Pierce steps out of the room. I can hear him back in the bathroom cleaning things up.
Who is this man?

"All dressed?" Pierce's strong voice asks from the hallway. "Took a look at that front door. Looks like an easy fix. Lucky for you, when I'm not on duty, I work in construction."

Wickedly, I get an instant arousing image of Pierce striding toward me wearing nothing but work boots and a tool belt.
"I don't know how I can ever thank you enough, Pierce. I barely know you, and you've been this sweetheart. I didn’t know men like you still existed. If you could see the ones I’ve crossed paths with lately you’d think I was crazy.”

"I just believe in paying it forward. You know, the old golden rule." Pierce folds his arms and leans against the doorframe of my room.

"Golden rule?" I do actually recall something about that from my childhood. I blame my mental lapses on the blow to my head.

"Do unto others as you wish them to do unto you."

In my book, with a seething pain in my heart from Harrison, it should be rewritten as do unto others
before
they do unto you.

"You can’t actually be this good. I don’t believe that kind of man exists anymore, so you’ll need to convince me. I know nothing about you. You need to fix that. Your mom and dad have both died, and your sister lives on the Cape. Tell me more." I have a pang of loneliness, and I’m hoping Pierce sticks around a little longer. I don’t like what fills my mind when I’m alone in this house.

"Well, we're a family of Irish firefighters. Goes way back. An ancestor of mine was actually a New York fireman until the Civil War. He joined the Union side, serving in the Irish brigade until he died at Fredericksburg."

"I was hoping for something a little more relevant,” I laugh. “What does your sister do?"

"Actually, I have two. Katie—that's Kathleen—and Lisa. Katie is a nurse. She's the one whose boat you hit. She was on duty when you had your accident. Gave me one helluva tongue-lashing when she found out how I yanked you from the wreck."

"You saved my life. I heard the firefighters on the scene giving you hell too. I forgot about that until just now. I wanted to speak up then but I couldn’t. Well—" My hesitation leaves Pierce with an opening to cut in.

"Look, I'd better get going.”

"Wait,” I call out nervously. “Where are you from, like where do you work?” I can hear the desperation in my voice. I feel a bit like the ball has just ended and if Pierce leaves now I’ll have to chase down clues to find out who he is.

“South Boston. I've got to be back on duty day after tomorrow, so I thought I'd come see you today. Look, I really do have to be going—got to go pick up little Kelsey at school."

"Kelsey?"

"Lisa's kid. My sister is what you might call . . . a fallen woman. Sort of the family embarrassment. We do what we can to keep things normal for Kelsey."

"Drugs?” I blurt, wishing I could call back my words and tenderize them.

"Good Lord, no. Lisa's an unwed mother. She had Kelsey out of wedlock. Lots of bad choices from there."

"Oh. I'm so sorry," I squeak, unsure of whom I’m apologizing for. I’ve never really thought of having a baby without being married as much of a crime these days.

"Not nearly as sorry as she was when my dad found out. No need to really get into my family’s skeletons though. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can talk about happier things. Like you.”

"Y-yes," I stammer.

"I’ll see myself out. I promise not to kick the door in tomorrow if you promise not to try to do too much by yourself. No need to be out there trying to conquer the world. If people offer you some help, take it.”

Pierce disappears, and I hold my breath as the words
take it
ring in my ear. What a different message the same words can hold with different men speaking them. Maybe the words were right from Harrison but the meaning was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t be out there banging down doors and taking what I want. Maybe I should be surrendering to the fact that I can’t manage on my own. Maybe help is what I should be taking. 

True to form, Mom doesn't notice a thing. She comes bubbling in, babbling about the misadventures of some dashing eighteenth-century rogue and the poor sweet noblewoman he seduces.
If only you knew what happens in the real world, Mom.

We have a pleasant enough dinner. It's Thursday, so it's baked potatoes, halibut steaks, and corn on the cob. Saturday it'll be beans and franks. Mom's never varied her menu since I was a little girl. At least there are no lima beans. That'll be Monday. Hopefully I'll be well enough by then to slip away with Tracey or Pierce.

We wade our way through a forced conversation, talking about the bookstore, her latest heart-throb novel, and employment opportunities. I don't bring up Pierce or the drama that transpired today. All I want to do now is go to my room and cry my heart out to Tracey. I rise from the table and notice she had set our plates away from each other in the seats we would have taken when I was a kid. Rather than sitting across from each other or side by side we are where we would be if the rest of my family were here. But instead of mocking her I throw my arms around my mom, giving her the warmest hug I have in years. Sure, she has hang-ups; she'll never change. I don’t want to become her. But she tries. She's always been there for me, her heart full of love.