Sheltered - A Short Story Page 2

  Brent chuckled. He stood up and crossed the room to the photograph and took it off the wall. He held it in his hands as his face began to soften. His eyes glazed over as if he was looking through a lens at something for the first time.

  “You know, it’s funny,” he began after a few silent moments. “I see this picture everyday but I haven’t stopped to look at it, I mean really look at it in some time.”

  I smiled at him. I knew the feeling all too well.

  “When I was a kid, we would go camping every weekend in the summer – never missed a weekend. It’s what inspired my love for the outdoors.”

  “Is that why you moved out here?” I asked, trying to spur on the conversation.

  “Yeah, partially,” he began, setting the picture back in its spot then walking back to his seat. “That and I needed an escape.”

  “From what?” I asked.

  Brent sighed. I could tell we were moving into uncomfortable territory and the last thing I wanted was for him to feel like I was pressuring him.

  “Never mind,” I said after a few moments of silence. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, I will,” he said reassuringly. “It’s just that I haven’t spoken of these things in a very long time.”

  He sat back in his chair and straightened his back. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the table as he looked off into the distance.

  “After high school, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I joined the Marines. Best eight years of my life were spent in the Marines,” Brent briefly smiled at this, but then the smile quickly faded. “But some of the stuff I have seen – it just won’t leave me alone. It’s like its haunting me – a ghost stuck on my shoulder. I lie awake at night thinking about what happened and if I would change anything. And honestly? I don’t have an answer. My brothers were killed in front me and the fact that I can’t say that I think they should be here tears me up.”

  Brent began to mask his emotions with a laugh and in response I smiled uncomfortably.

  “So, I moved out here. I figured if I could be by myself and learn to live with myself, then maybe one day I can rejoin the rest of the world.”

  “Seems like a hard life,” I said softly.

  “We all have a hard life,” Brent said as he chuckled. “But as long as we are doing the best that we can at being the best that we can be, there’s no room to be unhappy. You should seek the happiness that you know you deserve.”

  My fingers were quickly fidgeting with themselves. What he said was true, every word of it. I wanted to desperately tell him what had happened – what I had been through. I knew that of all people he would understand. But the thought of bringing up Sloan and the abuse was too fresh for me to handle. At that point, I thought if I could bury it somewhere deep – somewhere where no one would ever find it, then maybe my life would get on track.

  It was later that night and we had just finished supper when I stood up and walked over to where Brent was washing dishes. He didn’t say anything as I stood there, watching him clean. He flashed me a smile before returning to his task.

  “I want to thank you for what you have done for me,” I said, looking away. “I don’t know of anyone who would have done this.”

  Brent stopped washing and stood up straight. “Really? No one?” he asked, half teasing.

  I simply shook my head.

  “Well I guess I’m a singularity,” he said jokingly. “And this singularity says you’re welcome.”

  I chuckled at his humor and silently thanked him for not prodding for more answers. My hand reached into the sink and grabbed a cleaned plate. The towel next to me was soon in my hands as I began to dry it off.

  “You are the guest in this house,” Brent began, grabbing the plate out of my hand. “It is my job to do the chores. You must relax. Why don’t you go start your book?”

  “I think I might,” I said through a smile.

  Brent went to set the cleaned dish in the drying rack when the dish slipped out of his hands. Out of instinct, I reached for it and caught it, but so did Brent. Our hands both held the dish and instead of pulling apart right away or even laughing about it, we both stared at our hands touching. The way we touched, however simple it was, ignited a desire in me for more. After a few moments, we both looked up into each other’s eyes and smiled.

  “I think I’ll go start that book,” I said blushing.

  Brent continued to look at me, not as if he was concerned for me anymore, but more as if his eyes were opened for the first time. Quickly, I turned and headed towards the sofa. I held the book in my hands and opened it to the first page but didn’t read it. In all of this, I never thought that maybe it was possible to love again. But maybe, just maybe, Brent had sparked an old flame, one that I had nearly forgotten about.

  Once Brent was finished doing the dishes, he crossed the room and began setting logs into the fireplace carefully. After that was done, he took a handful of wood shavings and placed them under the logs, forming a pyramid. He reached up and grabbed a book of matches off the mantle and lit one, holding it up to the wood shavings. Soon, a warming fire was roaring, and Brent sat down next to me.

  “I would ask you how the book is but you’ve been on page one for the last fifteen minutes,” he said jokingly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head. “I’m sure it’s a really good book, but I just have a lot on my mind at the moment.”

  “I get that,” Brent replied, tapping the rhythm to a song that I couldn’t place on the arm of the sofa.

  I began to take in my surroundings – the cabin, the woods, the fire – it was beginning to get to me. It was as if this was supposed to be the perfect romantic evening that I was supposed to spend with Sloan, only it never happened. My fingers fidgeted as I sat there trying to fight back my fears and worries. I began to focus on my breathing like Brent taught me, I thought about a pleasant childhood memory, I sang a song in my head – none of it was working.

  “Brent?” I said, the tremble in my voice giving away my feelings. “Again, I sincerely appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know if I would ever be able to repay you, but I can’t stay here. If I do, something bad will happen.”

  “Nothing bad is going to happen, Devyn,” Brent said sincerely. “Whatever it is, I can protect you.”

  “You don’t understand,” I began, the tears beginning to flow. “It’s dangerous. If I’m seen with anyone- with you – something will happen to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I can take care of myself – have for years.”

  “You’re not understanding!” I belted out, burying my head in my hands.

  Brent slowly reached over and placed a hand on my back. He began move it up and down sending soothing pules throughout my body. He then moved over so he was even closer to me and put his other hand on my arm. It was that very action that made me lose all control. I wept uncontrollably and as I did, Brent pulled me in and held me. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t need to. We sat there for what seemed like hours – him holding me, me sobbing – but it felt right. I had cried many times over my situation with Sloan over the years but this was the first time I felt I had ever truly let it all out. And in front of a man I had just met nonetheless!

  “Devyn, Devyn,” he said over and over again softly.

  My tears then began to slow down and my breaths returned to normal but he still held me. I picked my head up from being buried in his chest and watched the fire crackle and pop. I felt that my life was like the logs in the fire – strong to a point, but under immense heat and pressure, I would simply burn up. But with Brent, I didn’t feel that way. He made me feel like I could conquer anything and that I should seek the happiness that I knew I deserved.

  I sat up some but was still putting most of my weight on Brent’s shoulder. I still couldn’t look at him so instead I continued to watch the fire. Brent watched the fire as well and for a long time, neither of us said anything. My mind was drawn back to the pr
esent moment when I noticed that Brent still had his arms around my shoulders and was running his thumb up and down my upper arm. Something in me said that I should stop it, but a much stronger part told me to let it happen. Seek the happiness that I knew I deserved.

  My head turned slowly until I was looking up at Brent, his scruffy facial hair and rosy lips only inches away from my face. He was still focused on the fire but his lips would occasionally open and close as if he was saying something. After a few moments of watching this, I knew that he was in fact singing something to himself. His eyes darted in my direction and at the sight of me watching him, I turned away blushing.

  “Want to know what I was singing?” he asked softly.

  I turned towards him then slowly nodded.

  “How about I sing the first part and you guess what song it is?”

  A smile crept on my face as my obvious answer. Brent cleared his throat then began to softly sing.

  “When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom…”

  “Let it be,” I finished.

  “Haha, yup,” he said while laughing. “You got it. Classic Beatles.”

  “Brent?” I asked, watching him intently.

  “Yes, Devyn?” he said.

  “I need to know something.”

  “I’m an open book – ask away.”

  Terror began welling up inside of me as I slowly leaned in closer to him. He watched me as I inched closer to him but didn’t move. When we were only a few hair widths apart, I paused. My fears were becoming too much for me and I considered backing off and apologizing profusely. But something pushed me forward and our lips touched. We held it there for a brief moment and while it seemed like only a second, that kiss had lifelong effects on me. I backed away and began to blush.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, pushing myself away from him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No need to apologize,” he said, then pausing to embrace a smile. “Why did you do it?”

  In that moment, all I could was sigh. “I needed to know if life does go on. That something can happen again.”

  “It does,” he said sincerely. “Life has a way of mending the wrongs we’ve been dealt – the broken pasts and failures. That is, if we let it.”

  I looked up into his eyes. “I want to let it.”

  He returned the same look of longing. “So do I.”

  We leaned into each other and shared another kiss. Our arms were intertwined and at that moment, as were our souls. The fire continued to burn long into the night, though, for most of it neither of us even noticed it was there.

  A single ray of morning sun broke through the window and kissed my closed eyes. I fluttered them open just to quickly shut them again – my eyes not adjusting as quickly as I would have liked. An ugly, long yawn slipped out as I stretched my arms above my head. I turned my head on the pillow and saw Brent soundly asleep next to me. At first, I was worried at seeing him there. I was, after all, a married woman. But that thought quickly vanished as he slowly woke up.

  “Morning,” he said softly, his voice still bearing much of the night’s sleep.

  I smiled at him, my hand coming up and running it gently down the side of his face. Brent flashed a crooked smile back before yawning and raising his hands above his head.

  “Last night,” I began slowly, “was exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

  His hand came up to my face and with his thumb, he outlined the edges of my lips.

  “Thank you,” he said in return, leaning in and placing a kiss on my lips.

  A girlish giggle slipped out as we pulled apart. Everything in me was saying that I should stay with him, to trust him – he could and would protect me. I just didn’t know what that looked like. But if it resembled anything like the past 24 hours, then I was sure everything would be alright.

  “What time is it?” Brent said, quickly reaching for his watch.

  He squinted his eyes for a moment so that he could see the fine details of the watch before leaping out of the bed and onto his feet.

  “We’re going to miss them!” he said, reaching for his shirt.

  “Miss who?” I said curiously.

  “I’m sure you remember,” he chuckled.

  A few moments later we found ourselves sitting on the front porch watching the mother deer and her baby. It was just as beautiful, if not more than the previous morning. I felt like I could have sat in that chair with Brent beside me, holding my hand, all my life.

  “You know,” I began, “you should name them.”

  “Name them?” he asked. “I don’t know. I’ve never been much for naming things. My boyhood dog was named Dog.”

  We both shared a laugh as I stared at our interlocked fingers.

  “But I suppose you’re right,” he said, staring out into the yard. “Any ideas?”

  “Hmmm,” I pondered. “What about Cassidy for the mother?”

  “Cassidy,” Brent said slowly. “I like it. And for the baby?”

  I brought a hand up and began to stroke my chin to mock my deep thinking.

  “We can’t just name it any old name,” Brent began. “It has to be a name worthy of the grand and majestic Cassidy.”

  “Oh, I agree,” I responded. “But to over think such things would be a terrible waste of our time.”

  He turned to me and flashed a mischievous smile, which I returned.

  “Baby good to you?” he said quickly.

  “Good enough for me!” I replied.

  His arms were instantly wrapped around my shoulders as he pulled me into him. We shared a long and passionate kiss with Mother Nature observing. His hand came up and gently rested on my chest. My breaths began to grow heavy as he moved his mouth from my lips to my neck. I had never been loved by a man like that before, and I never wanted it to stop. But then, that terror of a husband crept back into my mind, ruining whatever splendid moment we just shared. I slowly pushed Brent away and hung my head.

  “What is it?” Brent asked sincerely, placing a hand on my knee.

  “Brent,” I began slowly, “You’ve been great to me – better than anyone ever has before, but you should know something.”

  “You have a litter of children at home? A pile of student loans you’ll never get rid of?” he asked jokingly.

  “No, nothing like that,” I said, trying to put off what I knew I had to say. “I’m married.”

  Brent sat up straight in his chair, his face turning expressionless and his eyes locked on an unknown subject in the yard.

  “You’re married?” he asked, not really sure if he wanted an answer.

  “But it’s not like that!” I began to plead. “These marks – that gash you bandaged up – its from him. He would do this to me on almost a daily basis.”

  “He beat you?” Brent asked, sorrow quickly slipping into his voice. “How could he hurt you?”

  “I’m not a perfect person – I make mistakes. When he drinks, which is all the time, those mistakes seem like they’re life or death,” I said, slowing down my voice as I focused on not bursting into tears. “It’s been like that since the beginning.”

  “Why didn’t you leave him?” Brent asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess because I knew – I thought – that there was no way I could ever live a happy life without him.”

  Brent placed a sincere hand on my knee. “Is that what he told you?”

  I thought about it and sure enough, it was Sloan that was always telling me that. He wanted to make sure that no matter how hard he beat me, I would never leave. Slowly, I nodded.

  “The other night he came back to our campsite drunk and angry – I had forgotten to put his wallet in his truck. He…he…” it was then that the tears began to flow.

  Despite everything that I wanted to tell Brent, I just couldn’t at that point. The previous night was coming back to me in drowning waves – the strangling, the beating, the fear. Instead, Brent leaned over in his chair and wrappe
d his strong arms around me, letting me sob until it felt better.

  “I’ll protect you,” he whispered. “Nothing is going to harm you.”

  At that moment, I believed him.

  We found ourselves sitting at the table finishing up our lunch later that day when Brent flashed me a warm smile. After our talk on the porch, the subject of Sloan hadn’t been brought up and Brent did his best to keep the conversations light hearted. A large part of me felt an immense relief knowing that Brent knew about Sloan. It was as if there were no more barriers between us and we could start a new life – together if he would have me.

  “I really, really think you should read Into the Wild,” he said, chuckling. “I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it is! And it might even encourage you.”

  “Encourage me how?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Well, like I said yesterday,” he began, leaning back in his chair as if he was about to start a lecture, “it’s about a man who is so unhappy with his life that he does whatever it takes to make him happy again – even if that meant cutting off some of what was comfortable to him – wealth, material possessions, old relationships.”

  I smiled then hung my head. I knew what he was hinting at. I didn’t know if I could ever simply cut Sloan out of my life completely. I wanted to, desperately, but I was just unsure if it would be feasible.

  “Brent,” I began slowly, “I’ve been married to Sloan for eleven years. That’s eleven years of my life that I can’t get back. I’m not sure I can just simply throw it – him – aside like that.”

  “Devyn, he beat you,” he said, his words hitting me like knives.

  “I know he did,” I began, “but I’m sure that deep down, people can change, right?”

  “People don’t change, Devyn, only the way they make themselves look changes.”

  Brent was right and I knew that. I had to stop letting my doubts creep in and find a way to move on, leaving Sloan in the past.

  “You should call the cops,” Brent said, as if it was a fact.

  “No,” I quickly said. “I can’t do that.”