The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (68 page)

“No,” he interrupted. “Let’s not play the ‘what if’ game.” He pulled me tighter and placed a kiss on my neck.

“I think…” he said between kisses, “that we should…” he traveled down my neck towards the collar of my blouse, “just worry about today.”

***

My eyes snapped open and I put a hand to my chest, trying to settle my heart’s frantic beating. Next to me, Jason slept, one arm draped over my waist.
 

It was the dream again.
 

I knew how to finish the picture.
 

I slipped from the bed, pulled Jason’s t-shirt over my head and left the room. The night sky was black, with almost no moon, so I flipped the switch in the kitchen to give me some light on the porch.

It didn’t take me long to work out the details for the figure’s face and when I was finished, I put the brush down on the easel, and picked up the photo.
 

I looked back and forth between the picture in my hand and my painting. “I think I might be figuring it out,” I said aloud.

My work done, exhaustion settled over me. I put the picture in its place on the easel and padded back into the bedroom where I tucked myself under Jason’s arm again. He groaned in his sleep and pulled me closer.

Chapter 22

“Just go outside to the porch and I’ll bring something out,” I said and swatted Jason’s hand away from the fruit bowl. I gave him a gentle shove towards the door. I knew if he didn’t give me some space, we’d end up back in the bedroom and I needed to eat something.
 

“How do I know you can cook anything?” he asked. “I think I’ve always been the one doing the cooking.” He grabbed me and pulled me in for a kiss.

“I’d hardly call cutting up tomatoes and cheese ‘cooking.’ I’m perfectly capable. Now go.” I unwound his hands from my waist and pushed him away.
 

After my middle of the night painting session, I’d slept deep. Waking up with Jason’s arm still draped over me made me smile. It’d been years since I’d cuddled all night. Jon and I usually pushed as far to each side of our king-sized bed as possible.

From the moment I’d woken up, I’d let myself relax into the easy familiarity of things with Jason. There was no room for negative thoughts in my mind. I’d read years ago in Positive Perfection: Ten Easy Steps To A Positively Perfect Life, that when you felt good about something, you should do your best to banish any and all negativity and let the good feelings take over. It was about time I took that little piece of advice. I was determined not to let my good mood slip.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Jason said. “But only because I want to enjoy the morning sun before the clouds come in.” He lifted the scarf off the window and peered out. “Looks like we might be in for a storm finally. When the clouds start to build like that, it means the valley will be socked in. Could be cozy,” he added, as he dropped the scarf and leaned in for another kiss.

“I told you to get out.” I gave him another push and then flicked him with the dishtowel.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, as he rubbed his backside. He crossed the room, laughing as he went and pushed open the screen door.
 

I smiled as I watched him go. It was nice—the ease between us. Maybe something I could get used to? Before I could dwell on that thought, I turned my attention to making breakfast.
 

“So,” I called out, “I’m thinking eggs.” I peeked into the fridge. “Are you okay with that?”
 

“Eggs are great,” came the reply from the porch.
 

I put the basket on the counter and opened the cupboards, searching for a frying pan. After a bit of rummaging, I finally located one among a pile of pots I hadn’t used yet.
 

“How do you like them? Fried or scrambled? I make awesome scrambled eggs. Just don’t ask me to make pancakes. Pancakes are definitely not my specialty.”

It seemed like forever ago that I’d burned breakfast. The memory crystalized in my mind and I stopped what I was doing. It was a call from Dad that had caused the ruin of breakfast.

How was Dad?
 

I hadn’t given him so much as a thought since the last time I’d seen him, and I certainly hadn’t phoned to check on him or Connie. I’d have to call them later. After Jason left. I hadn’t been a very good daughter. Something else I’d failed at.

I forced the negativity from my mind. Positive Perfection had also said that by distracting yourself with a task, you could block unhappy thoughts from intruding. I got back to work on breakfast.
 

“Jason, do you want orange juice or milk?” I called outside again. “I’m not good with this coffee press thing.” I turned towards the door and waited for the answer. When it didn’t come, I muttered, “Orange juice it is,” and poured us each a glass.

Where was he?

I took the juice with me and headed to the porch, using my back to open the screen door.
 

“Jason, I can’t start cooking if I don’t know how you want your eggs.” I turned around. “Jason?”

The porch was empty.

He couldn’t have left. Not after everything.

I crossed the porch and stepped down onto the gravel pathway that led around to the drive. When I turned the corner of the house, I froze and dropped both glasses. They shattered on the stones, covering my legs in sticky juice.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled and jumped over the broken glass. I ran towards Jason, who had wrestled a man down to the ground, wrenched his arms behind his back and was kneeling on him, having pinned the man’s face into the gravel.

“Stay back,” Jason said. “I found this creep skulking around the cabin.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shut it.” Jason increased his force on the man’s back, effectively shutting him up. “I tried to call to you, to tell you to stay in the house.” Jason turned his head towards me.

“I didn’t hear you,” I said. “I was getting…it’s not important.” I shook my head and focused on the man. “Who is he?”

“Becca,” the voice on the ground said.
 

“I told you to shut—”

“No. Wait,” I said, stopping Jason before he could smash the man’s face into the ground again. “He said my name. Let him up.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Let me up, you asshole,” the man mumbled, having gained a bit of leverage.
 

“Dylan?” I fell to my knees, landing next to him. “Jason, get off him. It’s Dylan.”

“Who’s Dylan?” he asked, but reluctantly shifted his weight, allowing my brother to push up into a sitting position. Dylan touched his cheek and pulled his fingers away, looking for blood.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “No thanks to him.” Dylan jerked his head towards Jason who was shifting from foot to foot, still ready for a fight.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I tried to call,” he said. “But it kept going to voicemail. I need to talk to you.”

Avoidance, I remembered. Step six in Positive Perfection had been avoidance. It was okay to put off unpleasantness for the sake of a positive day.

I pulled him to his feet, and said, “Can I have a hug?”

“Of course.”

It’d been years since I’d seen my big brother, but he still felt the same. Ever since we were kids, Dylan had been a solid presence I could rely on. That hadn’t changed, and I relaxed into his embrace.

“How are you?” he asked. “Really?”

“I’m okay,” I said into his shoulder. “I really think I am.”

He pulled back and examined me at arm’s length. I used the opportunity to do the same. His chestnut hair was streaked with gray and the lines around his eyes had deepened, but he was still the same Dylan.

“I missed you,” I said. “It’s been way too long.”

“I’m sorry—”

The sound of rocks clattering interrupted our reunion. We both turned in the direction of the noise to find Jason, not very subtly, kicking rocks against a stump at the edge of the lane. In all the excitement, I’d totally forgotten we weren’t alone.

“Oh, Jason.”

He picked up a rock and tossed it from hand to hand as he walked over to us. “This is your...” He let the question trail off.

“My brother,” I said. “This is Dylan, my brother.”

They nodded at each other. “I’d say it was nice to meet you,” Dylan said, “but under the circumstances I don’t think that would be very accurate.”

“Sorry about that,” Jason said. “I didn’t know who you were.”

“And I still don’t know who you are.” Dylan looked up to me.

“Oh, sorry. Dylan, this is Jason. He lives in the valley and works for Sheena.”

Dylan accepted Jason’s outstretched hand. “Sheena? You mentioned her before, right?”

“You’ll meet her, I promise.”
 

The men shook hands somewhat awkwardly and then took a step away from each other. I stood between them and looked from one man to the other. After a few seconds, I broke the silence. “Dylan, you must be hungry. How about some breakfast? I was just about to make eggs.” I grabbed my brother’s hand and pulled him to the porch. Before I rounded the corner, I took a look back at Jason, who had returned to kicking rocks.
 

“Go ahead,” I said to Dylan. “I’ll be right there.”

Dylan glanced between me and Jason before nodding. He stepped over the broken glass, and disappeared onto the porch.

“I’ll get this,” Jason said and bent to pick up the glass. “I’ll give you two some time.”

“This is kind of awkward, isn’t it?” I said.

“Well, it’s not really the way I thought we’d be spending our morning. Awkward is definitely one word I can think of.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was coming.”

He rose and touched my cheek. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll get rid of this mess and make myself scarce. I should probably get some work done before it rains, anyway. Those clouds are getting darker.”

He bent and kissed me quickly. It felt wrong. Forced somehow.

“Go. Spend some time with your brother. I’ll see you later.”

So much for Positive Perfection. I made a mental note to throw those books out.

I walked across the porch where Dylan stood, his back to me, staring out over the meadow.
 

“Is it like you remember?” I asked, when I got close.

“It hasn’t changed a bit. It’s exactly the same.” He turned to face me; his smile reflected his memories.

The air around us was thick, but cool with the impending storm. The clouds overhead continued to build and darken, but the sky didn’t look like it was ready to release yet.
 

I reached for Dylan’s hand and said, “I really missed you. It’s been way too long.”

He squeezed me in his grip. “I know. I missed you, too. I’m sorry I’ve stayed away.”

I smiled, letting him off the hook. “You’re here now. And I’m starving. Let’s go inside and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

I led him towards the house but he stopped when we approached the easel.

“Are you painting again?”

“I am. It feels so good.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. It really does feel unbelievable to paint again. Freeing somehow.”

“It’s so much like Mom’s work.” Dylan stared at the painting. He brought his fingers up to touch it, but at the last moment pulled away. He turned to me; his brown eyes shone with unshed tears. “You’re just like her, Becca.”

“I don’t know about that. I didn’t even know her. I didn’t even know she painted. Not until a few days ago.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds and I tried to read the expression in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to tell me something. When he didn’t, I grabbed his arm. “Come on.” I pulled him away from the easel. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

***

I placed a basket of fresh bread on the table and sat down across from Dylan and the two plates of steaming scrambled eggs. I still couldn't believe he was in front of me. It'd been so long since we'd been together, and it was great to see him, but I couldn't help thinking of the way the morning might have gone had he not shown up.

As if he read my mind, Dylan asked, “Will security be joining us for breakfast?” He took a bite and watched me as he chewed.

“I don’t think so.” I examined my eggs and pushed them around the plate with my fork.
 

“Not on my account, I hope?”

“No, I'm sure he had work to do.” I took a bite.

“Is that what he was doing here? Working? Kind of early in the morning to be doing maintenance, don't you think?”

I met his gaze, and the challenge in his voice. “What are you saying, Dylan?”

“Becca.” His tone softened. “I don't know what's going on with you. I don't know why you ran away—”

“I didn't run away.”
 

“Okay. Well, I don't know why you're here. And I don't know what the maintenance slash security guy has to do with it.”

“Jason. His name is Jason.”

“Right, Jason.” Dylan took a slice of bread from the basket and tore it in half.
 
“Becca, I'm not going to get all big brotherly on you—isn't that how you put it on the phone?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Anyway,” he continued, “I know I'm not in a place to comment on your life or your choices.”

“Then don't.” I went back to pushing my food around, my appetite vanished.
 

“It's just, you and Jon—”

“What about me and Jon?” I dropped my fork, letting it clatter onto the plate.
 

“You've been together forever, Becca. You guys have always had the perfect life. You have everything.”

“I had enough. I don’t know if I want it anymore.”
 

As I spoke the words, something inside me released. Was that all there was to it? It was so simple. A sense of calm and acceptance filled me. I'd had enough.
 

“I’m sure that whatever happened, you can fix it.” Dylan said. His voice brought me back to the conversation.

“Whatever happened?” I repeated.

“Yes, whatever happened to make you run away.”
 

“I told you—I didn’t run away. I just had enough. Of everything. Do you know it’s been years since I’ve done anything for myself? And even if I did have a chance, I wouldn’t know what to do, because I have no idea who I am anymore.”