Lark Lake Lodge

Chapter Twenty-Three

Presents and Triggers

Miguel was waiting on the porch when we arrived. I felt a bit of sheepish déjà vu. Our pattern had become: I ran, Harlan came to get me, and Miguel held down the fort while Harlan was away. Miguel was always glad to make the extra money, but it just felt a little weird that for the second time, his overnight shift was the result of my impetuousness. It probably didn’t help that Miguel was grinning too broadly. I felt like a teenager who’d gotten caught doing something stupid getting dragged home by Dad and having to face her smug little brother.

“Everything is clean. They’re all fed. I’m going home to crash,” he said, trotting down the porch steps as we hopped out of Harlan’s truck. “Next time you guys have a fight, could you do it at a decent hour? This crack of dawn shit is for the birds. ”

Harlan must have called him in at five or six in order to pick me up at Brian’s by mid-morning. Poor Miguel. When I was his age, I was useless before noon. He drove off as we headed inside and as soon as I set foot in the foyer, Roger was at my feet, wagging his tail furiously, greeting me with a low howling hello, and looking up at me with pure adoration. The goofy little guy had missed me almost as much as I missed him. As I squatted down to rub his silky ears, I had the strangest feeling. Harlan was ahead of me and didn’t notice my eyes well up with happy tears. He carried my bag into the bedroom and returned a few seconds later with a puzzled look on his face and Ralph at his heels.

“Are we living here? Together?” I asked.

“Uh…do you want to live here? We could live at the lodge…I don’t know. I figured we’d have to talk about that.” He eyed me as I looked around, floored by the feelings that being back in his house had sparked. “Do you…do you want to live with me?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling at him and soaking up his relieved sigh. “I just…this might be weird, but walking in the door I felt like I was coming home.”

He grinned from ear to ear, and I swear to God he actually glowed. He took me in his arms and our world was righted. Our beginning was set. We were living together in his house and we would be very happy there. Being the trifling ass that I am, I couldn’t help but make one provision.

“You will let me spruce up the place, I hope. The mini blinds are killing me.”

My face was pressed to his chest and the vibration of his low laugh made me smile. “Finish the lodge first. And then yes, you can do whatever you want with this place.” He released me and took my hand, pulling me past the front room and into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of presents for you.”

This guy was unreal. I dodged his calls and worried him for days, and still he installed a new sign and got me presents? Another wave of guilt hit me. I really didn’t deserve him. He reached into the cabinet over the counter by the phone. He kept first aid supplies and ibuprofen in there, along with some pens, scratch paper, and a screwdriver. He pulled out a pink box and put it on the counter in front of me, gently pushing it closer until I saw what it was—a pregnancy test.

“How did you know I haven’t taken one already?”

He grinned. “I think I would have heard from you one way or the other.”

He was right. I picked up the box and took a deep breath, spying what looked to be a flicker of fear in his blue gray eyes. How was that possible? I was the one terrified of being pregnant. Maybe now that we were really going to find out one way or the other, the reality hit him.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that my terror had waned in the face of all of Harlan’s kindnesses and the homecoming feeling I had walking into his house—our house. If I was pregnant, it would be all right. It might even be amazing. Squaring my shoulders, I took a couple of steps toward the bathroom before he stopped me.

“Hang on…I’ve got one more thing for you,” Harlan said in a shaky voice.

What is he up to?

He disappeared into the bedroom and was back in a matter of seconds. His breath was shallow but it wasn’t from the extremely short run. He was nervous. I’d never seen him in such a state. Harlan only had a few settings: quiet, angry, amused, and aroused. You could throw in hungry and working, but those didn’t usually affect me directly. Nervous and afraid didn’t usually make the list, but now it was undeniably what he was feeling.

He stepped closer to me and spoke. “I wanted…I wanted to do this before, because I didn’t think it would mean as much after you took the test.”

Do this? Do what? Oh God, no.

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small velvet box. A wave of nausea hit me like a brick wall. He was going to propose. And for some reason I wanted to run again. Every good, warm, and settled feeling I had about us flew out the window. Something about the thought of another marriage made me itchy all over and full of panic.

“Maisie, you’ve completely changed my life,” he began.

I didn’t hear a single word after that. He might as well have been proposing under water. A flicker of disappointment broke through my terror, knowing that he was probably saying the sweetest, most thoughtful things and that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy them because I was too busy trying not to have a heart attack.

His proposal triggered me in the worst way. It was a reminder that everything is great in the beginning. I had so many fun days with Rob that were similar to, but not quite, my lovely drive home with Harlan. The future always seems promising. And then things go horribly wrong. People lie. They do selfish things in service of their own needs and desires. This time it would probably be me hurting him. I’d already dragged the poor man through hell a couple of times. I was sure to do it again.

I was too broken to be anyone’s wife. He deserved better. And I couldn’t sign anything, couldn’t legally and spiritually tie myself to a man again…at least, not yet. The idea of marriage felt like a cage. I felt suffocated and immobilized. It came out of nowhere and hit me hard.

The hum of his lovely words stopped and my eyes cleared. The terrified thoughts ricocheting in my head finally quieted and I looked at him. He was on one knee, holding out an open box with a gorgeous radiant-cut diamond in a platinum setting. His expression was expectant and hopeful. I was about to crush him completely and the weight of it overwhelmed me. My head swam and my guts churned. When I felt the first gag, I knew I had to make a break for the bathroom .

I ran past him and straight to the toilet. I fell to my knees and said a not-so-fond farewell to my waffle.

Harlan was there immediately, kneeling next to me. He pulled my hair out of my face with one hand and gently rubbed my back with the other as I very unattractively retched.

“You poor thing,” he softly cooed.

By the time I sat back on my knees, stomach empty and body completely drained, I was full of dread that my puking episode would soon be over and it would be time to give him an answer. Everything in my head was screaming an answer I knew he didn’t want to hear, and I had no idea how to tell him. He handed me a glass of water, and I thanked God for another brief moment to pull myself together. I took it and rose to standing. I rinsed my mouth out and then reached for the mouthwash—yet another stalling tactic, but a necessary one.

He eyed me with pity as he hovered. His vibe was a combination of concern and intense anticipation. I think his ideal turn of events was that as soon as my nausea faded, I’d squeal with delight, slip on that gorgeous ring and, with giggling elation, agree to be his wife. I would have loved to do that for him, but his proposal had made me feel like I was sinking into quicksand.

“I need some air,” I said.

I walked past him and out of the bathroom, making my way through the kitchen and out onto the side porch. Roger followed. I sat on the steps with a fifty-pound hound sprawled across my lap, stroking his belly and praying Harlan would leave me alone for a bit so I could figure out how to let him down gently. Surprisingly enough, he did. As I sat thinking, I breathed in the fresh spring air laced with the usual hints of pine mixed with a soft mossy scent of freshly cut grass. Looking around at the tall swaying trees, their buds having just opened and transforming the once bare, brown branches to brilliant greens, I was annoyed at how gorgeous my surroundings were .

It’s always weird when you’re having major life drama in the midst of an otherwise beautiful day. I watched the Bassets frolic behind the fence and listened to the calming lap of the lake on the shore in the distance. It was all so damn picturesque and serene; the complete opposite of the black dread that oozed within me.

I took several deep breaths, but the nausea and panic just wouldn’t ebb. The screen door opened and a shudder ran through me. The moment of truth had arrived.

I don’t know if it was good or bad that he hadn’t caught on that my vomiting and odd mood were related to his marriage proposal. He remained quietly supportive as he sat on the porch next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked sweetly. I wanted to die. The nicer he was to me the worse I felt.

It was my turn to be deep and silent. I swear I didn’t answer him for a solid fifteen seconds, which normally would have been a torturous wait for me. I just couldn’t figure out what to say to him.

“Not really, no.”

He was no fool. I didn’t have to say more than that. His arm dropped and he scooted away from me, leaving a foot of space between us. He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked down at his boots. He’d taken off his flannel so I stared at his white undershirt spread over his muscular back. Even in the midst of crushing his dreams, I couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the man. Roger seemed to sense that something was amiss. He sat up and looked back and forth between us like he was at Wimbledon.

“You don’t have to say anything. I think I have my answer.” The hurt in his voice was gutting.

“I’m so sorry,” I said as I placed my palm on his thigh. He leaned away, stung, and I retracted my hand. “It’s just…marriage is such a huge thing. It’s a major commitment. ”

“So is having my baby,” he snapped back.

I spoke the lie I’d been telling myself for days. “We don’t really know for sure that I’m pregnant.”

My words propelled him off the porch and down the steps. Roger followed, agitated, letting out a nasally whine. When he reached the bottom of the steps he ran a hand through his hair, and then spun around and threw his arms out to his sides in exasperation.

“Well, I hope to God you are pregnant. Otherwise, I’m the first guy on the planet to make a girl puke by proposing to her.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but I was desperate to cut the tension, so I quipped, “You’re probably not the first. I’m sure there are plenty of proposals during flu season.”

“Don’t joke about this! Is this all some big joke to you?”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry,” I said, and really meant it. “I just can’t get married, Harlan. The ink is barely dry on my very ugly divorce and I’m still licking my wounds.”

He ran his hands through his hair again and calmed a bit. “I know that. I guess I thought I could try to help you heal. That maybe if you felt safe and cared for…I dunno.” He shook his head and stared at the ground.

Then the longest silence of all time stretched out between us. But this time he wasn’t staring at me with his intense misty blue eyes. He was looking at everything but me, and I was trying to figure out a way to draw his attention.

From day one he’d been focused on me. He stared, he helped, he listened, and I took it all for granted. I was a selfish jerk and desperate to try and salvage our bond.

“Can’t we just live together? We’ll finish the lodge, and if there’s a baby, we’ll raise it. We can be happy without a dumb piece of paper.”

It was the wrong thing to say. His face reddened and he began to pace back and forth at the bottom of the porch stairs, his work boots pounding the dirt. My nausea returned. This time it was out of worry.

He stopped on a dime and glared at me. “So, you’ll live with me, open a business with me, and have a baby with me, but you won’t marry me? Is that it? That’s so damn backward.”

How had we gotten here? Minutes ago, we were elated about moving in together. Half an hour ago we were giggling and flirting in his truck. A couple of hours ago, we were practically having sex in a diner parking lot. And now it felt like we were at the edge of breaking up.

“Why do you need this so badly?” I asked.

He laughed, but wasn’t amused. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Maisie, I just drove six hours to bring you home! Maybe if you’re my wife , you’ll think twice before bolting across the state every time we have a fight. I need this, because I need to know you want to be with me.”

“And my word isn’t enough?”

“Honestly…no. You say one thing and then you get spooked and run. For my own peace of mind, I need something official between us. I need to know that you’re mine .”

“Yours?”

My question was a strangled whisper as a reckoning slammed into my chest like a wrecking ball courtesy of the caveman tone in his use of the word mine . The entirety of my time with Harlan flashed before my eyes in a nanosecond. As each event, decision, and interaction ran through my mind, I realized that I’d been lying to myself from the start. I’d wanted to rehab the lodge as a badass independent woman, and every single thing I’d done since I got there had either been Harlan’s idea, decision, or direct hands-on work. My independence was a sham. I’d justified his old-fashioned ways by taking into consideration the feminist books he’d read and his general open-mindedness, but it didn’t change the fact that his ultimate goal was to have me be his . Hell, he’d been asking me to stay with him since the day we met. My heart pounded and I felt gaggy and flushed. The walls were closing in. He wanted to own me and I’d only just won my freedom.

“So, I’d be one of your possessions? Like your truck or something?” I asked.

His face flushed and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “Oh, come on, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do I? You’re pretty old-school, Harlan. How do I know that you’re not some ‘my wife is my property’ guy? I mean, you don’t even know how to send a text.”

“Oh, so because I don’t have a smart phone, I’m a misogynist? Can you hear yourself?”

“Can you hear yourself ? You said you're mine like you plan to trade my dad a goat and three chickens for me.”

He stopped in his tracks and finally looked at me. The pain in his eyes tore me to pieces, because I knew I’d put it there. “Have you considered, even just for a second…that I wanna marry you because I love you?”

The wind was knocked out of me. And something inside me determined I was one hundred percent unworthy of his declaration, and therefore it was untrue.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do! Don’t tell me what I feel for you!”

I had to change the subject. I just couldn’t deal with everything he was willing to give me. I didn’t feel equipped enough not to screw it all up. “You’re just trying to do the right thing. And I really appreciate it. I really do. But first off, it’s not 1890. And secondly, I haven’t taken the damn test yet.”

“I told you! That’s why I asked first! If you took that test and you were pregnant, any proposal I made after that would be suspect. No matter how sincere I was, you’d presume I was doing the honorable thing. I wanted to ask you now so you knew I did it because I really love you.” Seeing Harlan hurting and defensively ranting at me really agitated Roger. The dog sat at Harlan’s feet, crying loudly. “Knock it off, Rog.”

Everything he said made sense except the part about him loving me. We’d hardly been together long enough for that and I was too much of a mess for anyone to love. My disbelief might also have stemmed from my past experience with declarations of love—or lack thereof.

In the whole time we were together, I must have told Rob I loved him upwards of ten thousand times. He told me exactly twice. Once when he asked me to marry him, and once when he was drunk after a golf outing. Every other time I was treated to you’re the best , or I don’t deserve you, Maze, or worst of all, the good old me too .

As in all things, where Rob lacked, Harlan excelled. He had no problem putting his feelings into words and my love-starved brain deemed his declaration disingenuous merely because he’d made it. It was wholly unfair and illogical, but feelings rarely follow logic, and my emotions were a bubbling cauldron of hot-messness. I was in the worst place possible to make life decisions, yet the crucial time for that seemed to be upon us.

Roger let out a thin, nasal cry again. This time, Harlan let out a sigh and petted the worried pup on his silky head. He stood and locked eyes with me.

“Maisie, I would do just about anything in the world to make you happy. And all I’m asking in return is this one thing. I need this commitment from you and I don’t think it’s asking so much. And if you can’t give me that…”

Of all the terrifying sentences to not finish. Was he really going to trail off and leave me hanging on something that gutting?

“What? Are you saying if I don’t marry you, we’re over?”

He stared up at me for a second and then straightened his spine. “What’s your answer? Are you going to marry me or not? ”

When had all the tenderness he felt for me left him? Given the cold way he spoke to me, it would be astonishing to think he really wanted me to say yes.

It was nearly impossible to form words around the softball-sized lump in my throat, but somehow, I did.

“I…can’t. I’m so sorry, Harlan.”

The quiet storm returned. He didn’t yell. He didn’t pace. He simply walked up the porch steps and into the house. Roger followed him but stopped at my side, looking up to me with sad eyes. I stroked his head, but it felt ridiculous to try to calm the dog when I was freaking out inside. I was terrified as to what was coming next and it ended up being the worst possible thing. Harlan re-emerged with my bag and dropped it next to me. He stared down at me with hard, distant eyes as though I was a complete stranger.

“I can’t do this anymore. You should go stay at the lodge.”

The breath left my body. He’d been my unwavering constant. He was always there for me to lean on; there to say the right thing or to fix what was broken. And now I’d pushed him far enough that I broke us and he was done fixing it. My eyes immediately filled with sorrowful tears that spilled over and onto my cheeks.

“I’ve been trying for so long to make you happy, to make you care about me…to make you stay. I’m exhausted. And I think it’s time I stop fighting and let you go.” He stared a moment and then disappeared into the house again.

I felt like my heart had been removed from my chest with a rusty steak knife and some jagged pliers. I stood up slowly. Every inch of me felt achy and bruised. As I bent over to pick up my bag, fat tears fell from my eyes onto the boards of the porch.

Harlan appeared outside once again. He handed me the pink pregnancy test box. I took it and stood staring at him, praying this was all a nightmare .

“If you ever get around to taking that and it’s positive, let me know what you want to do. You know I’d never abandon my child.” His words were like ice and fire at the same time.

As he turned and disappeared into the house, I knew in my heart of hearts I’d gotten exactly what I deserved. I ran one too many times and then I rejected him. He’d hung in there longer than anyone should have. Adding insult to injury, Roger followed Harlan into the house, taking one last look back at me before disappearing with his true master.

I made the trek to the lodge slowly and along the way let loose my woeful sobs. All along the fence the dogs followed me, seeming very concerned about my miserable state. By the time I hit the tree-lined path, my stomach was so wrecked, I almost threw up.

I plodded on to the lodge. This place was the reason I originally came here. And now it had to be the only reason I stayed.