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“You should go get some rest. Tomorrow may not be much shorter if we’re going to get your cabin cleaned up and secured.”
“And I’m going to the gun shop.” I should go to bed but first I return his question. “Will you tell me what you’re thinking?”
He sighs, places the empty glass on the table, then sits back, his shoulder resting against mine. “I was thinking that I’m being selfish asking you to stay here when you may be safer at a hotel, but I hate how the nights feel without you.”
There’s such a raw vulnerability in that confession. He isn’t asking me to stay only for my benefit. This situation is hard for him. He needs me now too. “I don’t want to go to a hotel. I feel safer with you.” My plan to spend less time with him is not off to a great start. I lay my head on his shoulder, and he tilts his to lean against mine. I don’t want to take the conversation back to an upsetting place, but there’s something I need to know. “Is your heart okay, now? Was it a congenital thing?”
He seems reluctant to answer but does anyway. “Congenital yes, but it’s not limited to my heart. It was a symptom of a condition called Marfan Syndrome. It causes a range of problems and characteristics that differ by case. Some are mild and some are more severe. Excessive height, long limbs and fingers. A lot of people with it are built very slim. Gangly. I was until I hit my twenties and started putting on more bulk. It can affect sight, blood vessels, cause deformities in the breastbone,and in more serious cases, damage your heart. There’s no cure, and it can remain undiagnosed for a long time, like it was with me.”
“But the surgery fixed your heart, the most serious issue?” I ask, desperate for clarification that will tell me he isn’t still in danger.
“It doesn’t work that way. That’s why I don’t date or have relationships. It’s better for me to keep some distance so others don’t get hurt.”
Fear strikes me and I sit up to look at him. “Are you dying, Arlow?”
His smile is full of reluctance, which isn’t reassuring. “Not in the degenerative sense. Some people live a normal lifespan with Marfan Syndrome, even when the heart is affected. I take a pill to keep my blood pressure down and I know my limits when it comes to exercise but there’s no foolproof preventative. Twice a year, I have tests to monitor my heart, and right now it’s okay. But at any time, those tests may pick up on an abnormality and I could die in surgery or of a heart attack. It’s always going to be hanging over my head, waiting. It’s not good for people to get too close to me when my life could be short-lived.”
When I shake my head and open my mouth to protest, he cuts me off. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore tonight, okay? Like you said, it’s been a long day.”
It’s hard not to argue and try to change his mind because that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, but I nod, letting it go for now. He’s upset, and I hate to leave things this way. “Okay, I just have one more question before I go to bed.” He can’t disguise his resigned sigh as he regards me. “Has anyone ever made aDo you know the Marfan Manjoke? Because I’m not going to be able to resist.”
Maybe half a second passes before he throws his head back with a laugh and pulls me into a warm hug. “No, only you, Peach.”
I’m not surprised that both Arlow and I sleep in after our late night, not to mention the alcohol. I heard him go to his room about an hour after me, while I was still reading about Marfan Syndrome on my phone.
Everything I’d assumed about him was wrong. He wasn’t pining over an ex but dealing with the memory of a traumatic event—one that may have come back to torment him if his ex’s brother is responsible for everything that’s happened.
My heart breaks for him. For what he went through and the ways it’s still affecting him. There was so much I wanted to say last night. How we’re all temporary, medical condition or not. That his guilt and fear of hurting others shouldn’t sentence him to a solitary life.
It’s terrifying to know that he has a higher chance of another damaged valve, along with other possible issues that would put his life at risk, so I can only imagine how he feels living with that. But if he thinks it’ll push me away, he doesn’t know me well enough yet. As friends or lovers, I’m going to be here for him regardless.
Since I’m the first one awake, I start cooking breakfast, and call the private investigator to tell him the picture he sent me is indeed my father. He promises to let me know the second they find that name currently checked in or renting a place in Indy. Before I let him go, I add a request that I’ve been debating over.
“There’s another person I need to locate, but under no circumstances do I want him to know or be contacted if you findhim. His name is Carl Becker. I’ll email you the information I have on him.”
“Is this another family member?”
“No, he’s a man who has given me trouble in the past. I want to know if he’s anywhere near me. My house has been robbed and vandalized along with my car recently. It’s highly unlikely that it has anything to do with him. He has no idea where I am and no reason to care, honestly, but I’ll feel better knowing he’s far away.”
He agrees to look into it for me, and I second guess myself the moment we hang up. I’m probably overthinking things. After all, I’ve changed my name and moved twice. Besides, Carl has no legitimate reason to bother me anymore. His only link to me is dead.
Arlow grins at me from the kitchen doorway. He looks so good, dressed in jeans and a dark blue button up shirt. “I can’t remember the last time I woke up to the smell of bacon.”
“I figured that would get you out of bed. The coffee is hot, and I’m making omelets. Do you want one?”
“I’d love one.”
We avoid any talk of our conversations from last night, and instead focus on our plans for today. I need to go to the hardware store for new locks, the gun shop, and I want to put together a gift basket for Mona. Since Arlow wants to go with me for the locks, he suggests we run our errands together.
“I have an appointment at the barber at two, but you could drop me off and shop for the gift basket stuff then,” he says. “If you don’t mind driving.”
“Sounds good to me.” It suddenly occurs to me that he’s always asked me to drive if we go somewhere together. The day he and Lee rushed back to help me when the man was in the woods, I noticed Lee was driving Arlow’s truck. At the time, Ihad bigger things to think about and assumed he’d probably had an edible or something. “Do you dislike driving?”
His eyes land on mine for a second. “I don’t drive with a passenger. I haven’t since the accident.”
He’s afraid it could happen again, and it may not be an unreasonable fear. “No problem. I like to drive.”
After breakfast, we head out to start checking things off our list. The hardware store is a quick stop where Arlow convinces me to get the strongest deadbolt locks, along with new doorknobs. The pistol I purchase at the gun shop is just like one I used to have; one I know I’m comfortable with shooting.
