Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found) Read online

  Twice in a Lifetime

  Copyright © 2014 Ruthie Henrick

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, incidents and characters are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book or portions thereof in any form or by any means whatsoever, including photocopying, recording, or using any information retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  http://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9914164-1-7

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For the Big Kahuna

  My Once in a Lifetime

  Alexandra Tate had loved her husband. Then she’d hated him. But after three years of laying her soul bare, she could finally accept him.

  She just said goodbye to Doctor Baker for the last time. Pulled away from the therapist's office and drove through town with the woman’s words echoing off the block and stucco buildings lining the street. “You’ve had quite a journey, Allie. I’m pleased with the progress you’ve made. I think you’re ready to leave the past where it belongs. In the past.” The comfort of her doctor’s arms as she offered a final hug was meant to warm her. As was the boost of parting advice. “Be happy.”

  By all rights triumph should shimmer in her veins. The hard part was over, after all. But instead of the thrilling sensation of accomplishment—the invisible cloak of victory she longed for—the only sensation curling through her right now was the passive lassitude of acquiescence.

  On a sigh she turned her car into a nearby strip mall. She’d put her life on hold to search for answers, and found few. But she could live with that. Eyes bare against the bright morning sun she scanned the parking lot, whipped into an empty space and climbed out. Doctor Baker was right. It was time to move on.

  An easy slap anchored the hem of her sundress before it caught a gust. The clack of her strappy sandals echoed off the sidewalk as she dashed into the florist. The fragrance—heavy, heady, nearly cloying—assaulted her as she swung open the door.

  The beefy woman behind the counter didn’t bother to look up, just continued to stuff pale pink roses one after another into a sea of citrus stems and airy fern. “Help you?”

  With a quick scan of the displays, Allie spotted what she presumed was her order. This part was easy, she knew what he liked. She cleared her throat to get the woman’s attention.

  “Excuse me, I called earlier. The name’s Tate.” She aimed a finger toward the cooler. “Are those mine?”

  The woman raised her eyes—just her eyes—and peered over the top of safety orange frames. Fake pearls were barely visible as they hung from one ear to the other across the back of her fleshy neck. The gaudy garland caught the glasses as she slipped them from her nose with fingers stained green. “Tate, you say? Imagine they are.”

  Allie drummed the counter as the florist shuffled across industrial vinyl in orthopedic shoes, then returned and slid the tissue-wrapped bundle across the counter. In an impatient scrawl Allie signed the charge slip. “Thanks for your help,” flew over her shoulder on her way out the door. She’d be on the freeway within minutes.

  Her thumbs tapped the rhythm of the bass line pouring through in-dash speakers as her tires whined on the blacktop. The rude glare of morning sun sliced through the windshield, forcing her to dive through her purse for sunglasses. She slipped them on as she cruised the freeway, heading east. Her day—which for three years was slated as her independence day—in reality fell a little short.

  But she was limping from the battlefield whole.

  Mirrors checked, she steered her vehicle into the fast lane. After three tumultuous years she would allow herself no more guilt, no more self-doubt. Her breath escaped in a rush of relief as welcome as the cool air blowing into the sedan through vents.

  Even mid-morning, it would take a while to get through traffic. Her bare legs stuck to the leather seat as she shuffled to settle comfortably. In the past she needed this time to gird herself. To prime. But after today’s visit with Doctor Baker it was merely a trip across town.

  At least, she needed it to be that.

  Following Ben’s accident she’d needed to start a new life—she had no choice. But now, with time as a buffer, she was changed. She was solid, confident. Once again in control.

  With a flick of the turn signal she dodged cars one lane at a time until she landed on the off ramp. The route through town was a warren of twisted streets, but she was off the tangle of the interstate, and nearly there. The sign stood just ahead. Sunnyside.

  Her foot light on the gas, she eased around the corner. Patchy shade spilled through towering jacarandas as she crept along, the respite from the harsh mid-August sun welcome.

  The slow breath she drew in through her nose was calming. The air she expelled through pursed lips was no fiercer than a whisper. Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she eased onto the shoulder at the end of the lane and parked her aging sedan. This sense of peace was new, but she was more than ready for it. Her chest rising and then lowering, she let one more calming breath fade from her lips before sliding out, clutching a bouquet. Sunflowers. Pert, and happy. Not too… girly.

  She smoothed her cheery blue dress and brushed stray wisps from her face as she strolled to the familiar stone bench and perched on the edge. Warmth seeped through the thin cotton tucked beneath her thighs, a harbinger of the day ahead. Phoenix—a modern city steeped in history and culture—was home. But monsoon season in the desert was no picnic.

  She set the blossoms on the seat beside her, rested her palm softly over the stems as if holding her husband’s hand. “Hello, Ben.” She managed a nostalgic smile. “Happy anniversary.”

  After a muffled cough she struggled to speak. Tilted her head back and let her eyelids slide shut as words crawled up her throat and were halted by a bitter blockage. The lump appeared with no warning, clotting her throat, unwelcome and impossible to talk around. She swallowed it back, freeing her thoughts. Freeing her emotions which, after her appointment this morning, still rode near to the surface. Freeing her.

  She needed to talk—it was the reason she came here. For three years now she visited him from time to time. But always on this day.

  She lifted the flowers and held them in her hands. In the beginning, in the first months after he was gone—after she knew—she found herself overwhelm
ed. Guilt, shame, anger all swamped her. If only their lives—if only he—had turned out differently. But her emotions were tempered by time now and she could at last look back and remember Ben fondly.

  She missed him. Missed the hours they spent together. Chatting, catching up at the end of the day. After so many years together, how could she not?

  She conjured an image of their son, and a smile stole onto her face. “Trey’s ready to leave for college next week.” If she had a mirror she’d find a bit of dimple denting her left cheek. She always hoped she would outgrow it, but never did, much to Ben’s delight. Memories of their son’s childhood filtered through her mind. “We dreamed of this day often as he grew, didn’t we? You would be so proud of him.

  “You’d be proud of Jake, too.” Jake, Ben’s best friend, who still ran the company he and her husband built together. “He’s there for us whenever we need him.” And even though they had a rough beginning, her and Jake, they’d developed a strong familial affection for each other over the years. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already spoken with him this morning.” When the steamy hot shower she’d envisioned following her sunrise run turned out to be nothing more than a tepid spray. Her smile turned rueful. “He’s at the house right now, replacing the water heater.”

  Her heart gave a familiar skip. What would she do without Jake?

  With only the slightest breeze to ruffle her hem, the air lay as heavy and uncomfortable as a wet woolen blanket. She lifted her arms, dragged up the weight of hair overdue for a trim, and gained momentary relief from the hot and sticky. She let a smile bloom. “I’ll start work on my classroom this afternoon.” She lowered her arms back down, let her hair tumble around her shoulders even as her naked left hand lifted to cover her heart. “I’m so excited about the new school year; you know how I always get.”

  Her students—herds of rambunctious kindergarteners—also helped rescue her over the past few years. The children amused her, and filled an empty part of her soul. It was their fresh-faced enthusiasm that she loved most about her career.

  What she wouldn’t give for a flock in her own home.

  Wrenching heartache shifted inside her, forced her to return to the bench. More than a topic of discussion, their family—or rather, the size of their family—was the basis for nearly all the arguments between her and Ben. Trey was their child—and only Trey. But it wasn’t supposed to be that way. Ben promised.

  Her eyes flooded, and she blinked back the useless tears. On a huff she stood, prowled the area fronting the bench, sunflowers drooping in her fist. After three years she still didn’t understand what Ben did, or why. But it was in the past. She couldn’t turn back the clock.

  She was no longer angry, yet tears trickled down her cheeks. Once again, tears of regret. Regret not only for herself, but for Trey, for Jake, even for them. Whoever they are.

  She stopped, turned. Dropped the limp flowers on the granite headstone and her voice thickened. “Why Ben? Why, when we made plans? So many plans.” Today she put them all to rest. Her eyes slid shut, then flicked open to study her clasped hands through the blur of tears.”

  The question—the demand to know—elicited no answer. She turned back, sank once again onto the bench. She was ready to let go. She was. But first she would cry just one last time.

  “Damn you, Ben.”

  Nineteen Years Earlier…

  Mother Nature was just plain showing off, the black-hearted bitch. A dazzling blue sky painted the backdrop for wispy veins of sheer clouds. The fragrance of springtime wafted in on a breeze. Allie propped her hip against the sill of the open window and stole a moment to wallow in the warmth of the sun. The sun she had no time for today.

  In response to her roommate’s monologue she turned toward her, folded her hands against her chest and mocked a swoon. “Yes Reese, I heard it all. He’s tall, he’s brilliant, he’s a stud.” Was there any hope of shutting her up?

  A sultry sweet aroma tickled her nose, followed closely by the sound of laughter. She dropped her hands, turned back to face the outdoors and let her eyes scan the yard. Virginal white clusters of jasmine lined the manicured lawn, but it was the upstairs neighbors who caught her attention. Shirtless and barefoot even in March, the hunks from 2A were blowing off the brilliant Wednesday afternoon with a Frisbee and a six pack.

  Reese continued to rhapsodize.

  She pretended to listen.

  She lifted her chin and let the warm afternoon breeze tease her skin and ruffle the curls that framed her face. The gods of academia were against her. Why should she be stuck inside writing a term paper when the sun, the warmth, beckoned her outside? She heaved a long, ponderous sigh. The day was lazy, made for lolling. It was the type of day she would normally oil up, catch some rays with the girls. A masculine yell had her darting her eyes, locating the source.

  Mmm. Or maybe spend a long, slow afternoon with someone special.

  If she had someone special.

  It was hopeless. She turned back to her single-girl bed, clambered on and surrounded herself with research books and loose-leaf paper. Pale redheads did not bronze, anyway. And she did not have time—not right now—for someone special. Legs pretzeled, she focused on curriculum development rather than Reese, still chattering about her latest hunk of manflesh.

  Wait. What? She whipped her head around. “Forget it, Reese! Absolutely not!”

  “Come on, Allie.” Designer heels stuttered as Reese Fielding spun to a stop in the miniscule room. “What do you have against Ben Tate? He’s an awesome looking guy.”

  Allie curled her lip. “I hear he’s a player.”

  “So, like, play for a change.”

  “And he’s a jock.”

  Reese smirked. “It’s not a dirty word.”

  Allie swept a hand over the clutter surrounding her and let her words snap. “You make goo-goo eyes at Jake all you want. I have a paper due Monday.” And a stack of announcements to address, and lesson plans to prepare. “I have no interest in—her finger jabbed in Reese’s direction—a blind date.”

  As usual, Reese heard only what she chose to hear and merely lifted one shoulder. “What-ever. It’s just pizza, you know? And besides, he’s like way fun.”

  Reese pretending she wasn’t annoyed was almost comical. But she was annoyed. Oh, Allie knew it for certain. Didn’t matter how long she was gone from the coast, Reese’s Valley Girl emerged a living thing when she was wound up. But a blind date? Oh no, that was a bad idea for many reasons. She dug her fists into her hips. “You’re a giant pain in my ass.”

  “Come on Allie, do this for me? We can double. Ben’s like Jake’s best friend since they were babies.”

  Allie slapped the frilly pink comforter, which set pages of her term paper flying. “Do I need to remind you I don’t know Jake either?”

  “So? I’ll be there. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  She could give her a list—with bullet points—but flipped her off instead. Much better.

  “I bet you’ll like him.”

  With her hands full of papers, Allie paused, cocked her head. “You’re putting way too much effort into this. What’s in it for you, Reese?”

  Reese was unfazed by the glare aimed her way. She merely rolled her eyes and huffed. “Look, you’re a nice girl. You’re always doing things for me. I just thought I’d do something for you for a change.”

  Allie studied her thoughtfully. Reese could be sweet. If she set her mind to it. “Really? That’s all?”

  “Sure.”

  She would have gobbled the lie, too. Swallowed it as eagerly as a mama bird with a nice, plump worm, if only Reese made eye contact. Her eyes narrowed again. “Dammit, Reese. Spit it out.”

  Reese probably would have continued to argue, so she stretched her glower into another outright glare.

  “I sort of cut Jake off until you both agreed.”

  “Crap.” It was all so clear now. She let the papers scatter around her. At least Reese seemed embarrassed. �
��A little extreme, don’t you think?”

  Reese sank onto the side of the bed. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  Embarrassed and miserable. Good.

  “Guess I forgot one little detail.”

  “Yeah. Guess so.”

  Reese held out on her guy once before, during summer break, thank God. Because nothing screamed edgy like Reese without regular action between the sheets. And with mid-terms looming, Reese could not afford to be edgy.

  Allie collapsed back into the pillows, her arms outstretched. Her mom always told her compassion was a virtue, but not today it wasn’t. Today it was a curse. She rolled her head to meet Reese’s hopeful stare, her shoulders taking a swift slump into the thick comforter, her chin lowering to her chest. “I don’t know if I’m more disgusted with you or myself.” She gritted her teeth. “When are we doing this?”

  “Saturday.” Reese fell back beside Allie, grabbed her hand with a chuckle and squeezed. “Oh Allie, it won’t hurt a bit.” Reese lifted her free hand and traced the letter X over her heart. “Promise.”

  Wearing nothing but plaid boxers and a snarl, Jake Taylor leapt from the ancient sofa to pace. “Fucking Michaels!” He prowled the room, fingers tunneling through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “Bottom of the ninth, my first no-hitter of the season, and what does that prick do? He tanks it for me!”

  Ben’s eyes darted from the game on TV. He hung his head and let it sway. “It bites ass, man. That throw from Taggert whizzed past him like a stray bullet.”

  “And Jefferson—that jerk couldn’t beat his grandfather in a snail crawl, but there he was, safe on first. Sucking wind.” Jake snared his roommate with an accusing glare. “You would have caught that ball! Damn it!” He dropped back onto the ratty tweed and glowered at his roommate, the sportscaster blabbering in the background.

  Ben gave him a what can you do shrug and gestured toward his sling. “I’m off the DL next week, dude. I’ll have you covered.”

  He didn’t want Ben Tate’s platitudes. He wanted him back on the field.