Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(67)

Going up to her yoga room, she removed the photo album from the table. The small lit candle next to it floated in a wooden bowl of water. She paused, holding the book to her chest.

This was wrong.

She’d learned to recognize the signs. Sadness could still grip her when she thought of the past, but these days it was more balanced by the other good things in her life. Yet right now she was gripped by the despair she’d felt on his past birthdays, when she’d been alone. The familiar, terrible feeling brought a spurt of panic, as if she was suddenly on the edge of a rain-drenched bank and was about to slip, fall back into the muck below, and she might not find a way out this time.

She shouldn’t have done this by herself. She should have told Jon what she did on this day, let him know. But she hadn’t. Maybe she should take the cake into town, to K&A, share a piece with everyone. Go to her yoga studio and repaint the one wall that she’d decided to make a softer yellow color.

She tightened her arms around the photo album. But this was Kyle’s day. She couldn’t…leave him, on his birthday. But she needed to call Jon. Right now.

Shifting the album to one arm, she drew the phone out of her pocket and held it against her forehead, emotions warring in her. Then she hit the one digit to speed dial his number.

The phone rang behind her. She spun and nearly jumped back a foot as she saw Jon leaning in the doorway. The photo album slipped from her grip, but he closed the distance between them and caught it before it could hit the ground. Setting it aside, he pulled out his phone and answered it. The twitch of his lips as he did so didn’t dilute the seriousness of his dark blue eyes.

“What can I do for you, sweet girl?”

She wet her lips, staring at him, her mind whirling. With him so close, his voice created an echo with what she heard through her phone. She held the phone to her ear, silly really, but he was standing there as if he was in his office, miles between them.

That was the problem. By doing this alone, she’d put a distance between them that had no place in their relationship. And had brought back that terrible loneliness when she’d been genuinely alone in the world. She remembered what he’d murmured to her at their wedding, when they were dancing.

You stand in my soul; I stand in yours. That’s the room we always share, no matter where we are.

She clicked off the phone and set it aside. He did the same, putting it in his suit jacket, his steady eyes never leaving her.

“I was calling you because I wanted to hear your voice,” she said. “And I wanted to tell you why I stayed home today.” She found she couldn’t form those words yet, though, so she fished for something else to lead into it. “Um…what are you doing back?”

“I had to finish up a report for Lucas at the office, go over it with him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have left this morning. I was coming back afterward, but I was hoping you would call first.” His gaze slid to the phone and back to her. “You did.”

The warmth in his voice eased the tightness around her heart. “I’m sorry, Jon.”

He’d slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks, but he bent forward and brushed his lips along her temple, making her close her eyes and move her hands to his chest, palms resting against the heat beneath starched cotton.

“Tell me why you’re sorry,” he said.

“I think you already know.”

“I do. But tell me. I want you to say it while looking at me.”

She forced herself to open her eyes and look up at him. Though he wasn’t overly tall, she was only about five-three, so there were about seven inches difference in their heights. His face was close, though, bent attentively over hers.

“Today is my son’s birthday,” she said. “I always stay home on that day. I bake him a cake. The first year, after he died, I planted poppies, in remembrance of him, both as a soldier and as my son. I’ve propagated them over the years. Those are the poppies I brought to our home here, in pots, from the balcony of my apartment.”

He nodded. He’d complimented her on how well the flowers were doing during their blooming season. Many men paid little attention to the details of their home. He missed nothing, always noting if she’d hung a new picture or bought a seasonal throw rug. “Earlier this morning, I cleaned up the spot where I planted them and added a border. I used the rocks I’ve been collecting around our place, and on our trips together. After I bake the cake, I look through the photo album of his pictures. That’s what I was about to do next.”

She looked down, then remembered, and looked back up. He closed his hands around her upper arms, adding support as the rest of the words came.

“I cry. I sleep. I think of what might have been. I think of him every day, but I give myself one day out of the year to let it all out, all the feeling I have about losing him.”

“Alone.”

She swallowed. “I’ve always grieved him alone.”

His lips tightened, but his tone gentled as he touched her face. “Do you want to grieve him alone? A truthful answer, Rachel. If this is something you prefer to do by yourself, you can tell me up front. I’ll try to respect and understand that. I’ll go back to work, think about you, hurt for you, and when I come home tonight, I’ll comfort you however you need, but if you want that space, you have it. No wrong answer.”

He meant it. She could tell him yes, to go back to work, but it wasn’t a truthful answer. And truth was important, to them both.