Then she cleaned the house. She'd never thought that cleaning could be interesting - much less fun - until then. She went into work more bubbly than she had been before. She'd been surprised that afternoon when Marie had come in after school that afternoon to say hi. She said that her dad was at the post office, so she had just walked on down to say hello. Taylor came in to get her a few minutes later, and spoke briefly with Ashley. They arranged to meet the next morning just for the heck of it.
The rest of the day slipped by. Ashley, for the first time in a long time, barely noticed the rapid disappearance of daylight.
Ashley approached the house Taylor had instructed her to go to. It was in one of the newer housing subdivisions that hadn't been around when she had been growing up. The yards were smaller than those of their old neighborhood and were scattered with more toys. There were a few people out with young children, enjoying the pleasant weather.
She went to knock on the door, but it opened before she got the chance. Taylor peeked out at her from behind the door. "Hi!"
She gave him a funny look. "Uh…hey."
"Enter. Be forewarned: it's a lot of 'mauve'," he said, making a face of disgust. "Trust me. It's pink."
Ashley stepped over the threshold, and peered around. "Wow. Um…pink. Mauve. Whatever. It's…nice."
"Don't lie to me," he said. "You don't like this whole color scheme either. It reminds you of Barbie Dreamhouse, doesn't it?"
Ashley just looked. "She's a pink fan, huh?"
Taylor sighed. "One of her more prominent flaws," he admitted.
"Prominent?" Ashley asked. "It's taken over your entire house!"
He had to laugh. "Well… She's the housing genius. Not me. She suggests something, I go along with it. Well, unless she wanted to put giant pink statuaries of naked clowns in the middle of the living room. I'd have to say something about that."
She snickered and sat down on the flowered "mauve" couch. "It's nice. At least it's not gold and red."
"You know, that was MY first choice," he said, flopping down next to her.
"Why am I not surprised?" she tittered. He smiled at her.
"How is your Dad?"
"He's good," she replied. "He's not, you know, there yet."
"That's great," he said. "What about your mom? How's she taking all of this?"
"You know her. The epitome of level-headedness," she said. "She seems to be pretty calm about it, but I think she's a little upset."
"I think I'd be a nervous wreck. I mean, they've been together for nearly 40 years now," he said.
"40 years in June," she said.
"I can't imagine being with Chloe for another 25 years," Taylor said. Ashley stared at his profile. He said in a ragged voice, "It's just hard to believe that the kids will grow up one day, and it will just be us."
Ashley looked at her hands. "Why's it so hard to believe?"
He shrugged. "Chloe's just not the kind of person I picture myself growing old with, you know? After she retires, she'll probably want to travel, and I'll probably go with her. But…I just want someone who will let me do my gardening and who will jitterbug with me on my 75th wedding anniversary."
Ashley's mouth turned up in a smile. "Can she jitterbug?"
"Not a lick," he said. "Maybe I'll dance with you, huh? Think you'll stick around?"
"I was there for your wedding. I'll be there for your anniversary," she said. "And if you ask nice enough, I might get up in front of all those people and make a fool out of myself dancing with you, too."
Taylor grinned. "I'll be a fool with you. Don't worry."
"You're always a fool," she teased.
He sighed. "What career in France possibly could have offered you better benefits than the one you've got right here?" he asked.
"And what career is that?" she asked, confused.
"Making cruel jokes about me," he said.
She grinned. "I'm a nurse."
"Oh, so you get to make cruel jokes about all of your patients, huh?" he asked.
"I get to poke them with needles and do many other unsavory things," she said with a menacing laugh. "Any more questions?"
He rolled his eyes. "I thought you wanted to be a doctor."
"Oh," she said. "I do. I mean, I've got all the qualifications and everything. I just haven't started a residency anywhere. It just hasn't been that important…"
"What stopped you?" he asked.
"Jeremy's death, mostly," she said. "I mean, I was about a year into med school when he died. He left a lot of money to me, so I didn't really have to work. I just kind of took a break for a while. I finally decided to get certifications for a registered nurse and did that instead."
"You were happy?" he asked.
"I lived in a big house, all by myself. I had no family nearby, and all of Jeremy's family was dead. My co-workers all had lives of their own. It was pretty lonely," she confessed.
"Wanna tell me about it?"
She squinted at her fingernails, making them focus and unfocus before her eyes. Her words were lodged in her throat. He scrutinized her expression, soaking in every last bit of thought he could squelch from her face alone.
"Ashley?"
She said quietly, "I married someone who didn't even love me. We were both lonely and unhappy, and my poetry caught his eye. I looked good to him at the time, and he looked pretty damned good to me. Who was I to complain when God sat a good-looking, intelligent, wealthy man practically in my lap?"
Taylor was quiet. She went on. "We'd gone out on a couple of dates and decided that it would be a wise decision if we were to get married. We got a marriage license and said some pointless vows in FRENCH - neither of us was even French - at a decaying chapel in the country and considered the deed to be done. We consummated the relationship that night at a bed-and-breakfast 10 miles away, and then we drove back to his house. The next day he went to work, I went back to school, and we barely spoke to each other outside of polite dinner conversation. I even slept in a different room. We were married by title only. I never had a husband who made the effort to make me feel like I was more than an acquaintance living under the same roof."
He drew in his breath sharply. Her face was dark and sad. "We'd been married for about 3 years when he died. It was a stupid little car accident. I attended his funeral then went home. I had no kids, no friends, and no family. Nobody was there but a few servants who tended the house. And there was me. If I did any grieving after his death, it was only because I was lonely."
"I'm sorry," he finally uttered.
Her despondent eyes stared into his. "My life has been miserable. Nobody deserves to have to lead the life I do. I've been living like a recluse. I'm no social butterfly, but I'm not a total introvert. I like to have friends. I like to hear real human conversation every so often."
"I didn't know," Taylor said gently. "Your mother told me you wanted to go back to France so you could study medicine. I thought it was what you wanted to do. They told me your marriage had been some sort of faery-tale, match made in heaven. I was so sure that you were happy. I wish you would have told me."
The room was engulfed with a terrible, resounding silence. Ashley's eyes welled with tears as she looked at him. "I couldn't talk to you anymore," she sobbed. "I couldn't stand to hear so much as your name without drowning in self-pity. I didn't want to know how perfect your lives were. All I could think of was her and…"
"And what?" he asked.
"And how my life might have been if it hadn't have been for her," she said. "How I wouldn't be sitting here right now, crying to you about how miserable my life is when I should really be counting my blessings. How I wouldn't live in a world where when I walk out onto the streets, the voices I hear are still completely foreign. How I wouldn't be running from my past."
Taylor found himself hugging her, pulling her body to his and stroking her hair. "Ashley, you don't have anything to run from anymore. You've got me."
She pulled away from him abruptly. "I don't," she said piercingly. "Don't feel guilty about it, 'cos it's no fault of your own. I know that. I've got me, Taylor. That's all I've got. Daddy can't help me, and Mama can't either. And you can't, because you've got enough problems of your own. I don't have you. If anything, I should be more afraid of you than anything else."
"Why?" he asked.
"If I'm not careful, I might get you in trouble," she told him. "I know, Taylor, beyond a doubt that I love you more than I ought to. I want to be with you in the worst kind of way. I know that you would do anything for me if I asked you to. And I also know that you've got a wife and three kids to be there for. I've got to keep my distance from you. I can be your friend, but I can't be anything more."
"I know," he said guiltily.
"Do you know?" she asked. "Do you know how easy it would be for me to give in at this very moment and kiss your mouth? I know you would kiss me back, and I know it would be more than an innocent kiss. But I don't give in. I can't."
"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows knit with intensity.
"Because I don't want to lose you again," she said. "You're worth the suffering."
He exhaled suddenly for seemingly the first time since she'd said she'd loved him - said she'd wanted him. He struggled to even admit it to himself, but at that very moment if she had let down her guard for even an instant he would have done something desperately wrong. The agony of sitting here so close to her knowing that he couldn't do anything with her was better than the agony of knowing she was thousands of miles away and that there was nothing he could do to have her by his side. "You're worth it, too."
Ashley's breathing was shaky for a moment after that. A stale silence loomed over them. She got to her feet. "You said that we were supposed to have fun this morning."
"So I did," he said, standing with her. "Well…"
"What do you do for fun in these parts when you're a stay-at-home dad and a visiting-home widow?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled.
"The same thing you do when your two fourteen-year-olds without driver's licenses," he said, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice.
"I'm driving!" Ashley said.
"What?!" Taylor said. "No, way!"
"Yes way!" she said. "I limit myself to one potential suicide mission a year, and I've figured I've already expended that on the plane trip over here."
"I'm a great driver!" Taylor argued.
"You duck murderer!" Ashley shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Give me the keys, Stick Boy. Or otherwise I'll tell my mom where that duck really went."
"You wouldn't dare," he said.
"Oh wouldn't I?"
He saw the light that flashed in her eyes, and reluctantly pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. She took them and hurried out the front door, Taylor close on her heels.
