Whispered Prayers of a Girl

I smile. “Because he may have other plans.”

I can tell he doesn’t like my answer, but he nods anyway. I pass a brief glance at Kelsey, then face forward again. Pulling the keys from the ignition, I suck in an encouraging breath, and exit the car.

As I walk across the yard, my eyes catch on the partially built house. My heart hurts when I notice some of the walls that were standing yesterday are now lying in a pile beside the rest of the house. I know him tearing down the house had to have pained him.

My legs shake the rest of the way to the porch and my heart pounds an erratic rhythm that I can hear in my ears. I stop in front of the door and will the nerves away. I lift my hand and rap my knuckles against the wood, then realize my knock was more like a light tap, so he probably didn’t hear it.

“This is stupid, Gwen,” I mutter to myself. “Get a hold of yourself.”

I knock harder and release a big whoosh of air as I wait for him to answer.

And I wait.

And wait some more.

I frown, wondering why he’s not answering the door. I turn and look around the yard, but don’t see him or Gigi. A look at the barn shows the door firmly shut. I knock again, but get the same silent response. I contemplate going back to the car and leaving, but instead, something compels me to try the doorknob.

It’s unlocked.

After a moment of hesitation, I twist the knob and push open the door. The house is quiet when I peek inside.

“Alexander?” I call, and still get nothing.

I look back at the kids in the car before pushing the door the rest of the way open and stepping inside. The TV is on with the volume down and there’s a light on in the kitchen, both indicating he has to be around here somewhere. Again, I wonder if I should go out to my car and call him, but decide since I’m already here, I may as well try to find him.

“Gigi!” I say loudly.

A second later, Gigi comes running out from the hallway and skids to a stop in front of me, her tail thumping against the floor.

I run my fingers through the hair on her head. “Where’s your daddy, girl?”

Her tongue falling out the side of her mouth is my answer and it makes me laugh. I tilt my head to the side, listening for any sounds, but besides the whoosh of Gigi’s tail against the hardwood floor and the crackle of the fire, it’s silent.

Knowing I should probably just leave, but feeling an uncontrollable need to see Alexander now that I’m here, I head toward the hallway Gigi came from. She trails behind me, making me feel a fraction better about being in Alexander’s house without his knowledge. At least she’s there to chaperone.

The spare bathroom door is open when I pass by it, and as expected, he’s not in there. Just as I reach his bedroom doorway, a creaking sound comes. I know that sound. It’s the bathroom door in Alexander’s room.

I stop in my tracks just outside the doorway as a billow of steam releases into the bedroom, followed by Alexander, wearing nothing bu

t a towel wrapped around his waist. I’m completely transfixed and feel like a creeper when all I can do is stand there and stare at him. His back is to me as he opens a dresser drawer. Strong muscles flex and move as he grabs something out and closes the drawer. There’s a tattoo on his upper right shoulder that looks to wrap around to the front, and another that covers his entire left side. It’s a jumble of a bunch of different things, but I’m unable to tell what they are. Unconsciously, I take a step closer to get a better look.

His head snaps up when he hears the creak of the floor, and he whips around. I snap out of my daze and am just about to apologize for sneaking up on him, but my words catch in my throat. On his back, there’s not one burn mark that I could see. On his chest though, it’s a different story. The right side of his torso is completely covered in scars, all the way from his shoulder to below the towel. My eyes travel down past the towel that ends just above the knee and see the scars continue down.

“What are you doing here?” his gravelly voice asks, and my eyes snap up to his. He’s standing there staring at me, one of his brows raised.

My tongue stays stuck to the roof of my mouth for several seconds before I can force it to start working.

“I… uh… I,” I stammer. I avert my eyes away from him, hoping not looking at him will help me answer his question. “I came….” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder toward the living room. “The kids and I came to see you.” I bring my eyes back to his for a brief moment, then move them away again. “No one should be alone on Christmas.” Then I finish lamely, “Mrs. Myers sent food.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I bring my eyes back to him. He’s still standing in front of his dresser, but his hands are balled into fists at his sides, clutching whatever he took from the drawer tightly, and he seems tense. I swallow past the dryness in my mouth.

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

He still doesn’t say anything, and I open my mouth to apologize, but he interrupts me.

“You and the kids shouldn’t be here right now.”

I ignore his near nakedness, push past my nerves, and step into the room. Tilting my head to the side, I ask, “Why?”