The Eleventh Hour, page 15
Move feet! Move! He pleaded with his limbs. I can win this time! Fight back! Never give up!
Dawson sprung upright in bed as he gasped for air. Heaving for breath, his eyes darted around the cabin as he frantically patted the mattress on either side of him. When he found the dense unmoving substance beneath him, he closed his eyes and concentrated on evening out his breathing as sweat trickled down the neckline of his shirt. Addison tilted on her side beside him, making Dawson inch to the side of the bed and lower his feet to the cool, wooden floorboards. Burying his face into his palms, he scrubbed wearily before standing and lumbering over to the kitchen. Welcoming cool air whooshed against him as he peered inside the refrigerator and fumbled for a bottled water. Twisting off the green cap, he tossed it in the sink before falling into a chair at the table.
That dream always made his veins turn to ice and his heart race. He thought by now he’d be used to the horrific sequence, since he’d been having the same nightmare for years. As always, after each episode, he’d analyze and pick the dream apart, attempting to come up with a solution. In his mind, conquering his hallucination would be the only way to get them to stop.
A stirring moan from Addison halted his thought process. His eyes sliced to her in the dark, watching her move. Taking a last chug from the bottle, he left it on the table and ambled over to the bed. Sinking in beside her, he trailed a light fingertip at her temple, feathering down to her jawline. Still asleep, she swatted his hand away as if he was a pesky fly, making him smile.
Not for the first time, he cursed his circumstance. He cussed his past, his present, and his future. He knew first hand that life could be excruciatingly cruel, but having Addison at his fingertips and not being able to grasp onto her was nothing other than pure, agonizing, unbearable torture.
But he knew his hands were shackled and there was absolutely nothing he could do to alter his current situation, or his past for that matter. He sighed, thinking, he’d just gotten to the point where he had resolved himself to his destiny, but now with Addison laying in front of him, the cycle of hell seemed to be starting all over again.
Leaning forward, he grazed his lips at her hairline and then climbed into bed, cupped her backside, looping his arm around her stomach, tugging her in close. He nuzzled her ear, whispering thoughts that would never be murmured aloud, and then buried his nose in her hair to breath her in, savoring her smell, touching her body for the last time, hoping with all his heart that his memories would last a lifetime.
THE NEXT MORNING, Dawson carried Addison’s suitcase down the stairs, and placed it in the trunk of her car. With his chin still tucked, he trudged over to the driver side door and held it open for her. When she took a seat, Addison could feel her heart fracturing at his hard jaw, tense eyes, and lack of physical contact. She stared straight ahead out the window that was covered in sap droppings, smeared with dusty dirt.
Still no words were exchanged, so she flipped the ignition to start the car. When she looked up at him, his eyes were still drawn to the cabin on the other side of the vehicle. His body language was so cold, so aloof, so distant. She couldn’t stand this side of Dawson. She slammed the car door and yanked the gearshift in drive, only to hear his knuckle rap against her closed window. She hit the button to lower it, hoping, praying, that he’d changed his mind, but when she looked into his face, she knew otherwise.
His blue eyes looked almost grey with black rims. His teeth were clamped tight, his jaw grinding back and forth. He leaned down into the window with one hand still on the roof. Finally, for the first time all morning, their eyes met.
“Don’t try to contact me in any way. This is over. Done. No matter how much time passes, you will never change my mind, Addison, so don’t even try.”
He slapped the roof twice, turned on his heels to jog up the stairs and shut the cabin door without ever looking back.
Hour Eight
ADDISON MOPED AROUND the bakery for the next two weeks. She called Dawson’s sister on a daily basis, begging for advice, but the only thing she got in return was Ellie stating that she had to support her brother’s decision, and for Addison to move forward with her life without him in it. Eventually, Ellie stopped taking her phone calls altogether, so Addison tried calling his mother at the gallery, who also avoided her like the plague.
Now, it had been fourteen days since she’d last seen Dawson.
Three hundred and thirty-six hours without any contact whatsoever.
Not because Dawson wasn’t interested in her, but because he held a secret that he refused to reveal.
Miffed at the injustice, Addison’s sadness morphed into irritation. She began stomping everywhere she went, slamming doors, chucking ruined cupcakes across the room toward the trash bin, clanking pots and pans, and clamping her lips closed, choosing not to speak, rather than act as if everything was peachy in her life.
At the beginning of week three post cabin, Emily had had enough. She pushed Addison out the bakery door, telling her not to come back until she had things sorted out with Dawson. They needed a final breakup that Addison could live with, or they could get back together. Emily didn’t care which, just as long as Addison could get her life back on track.
Ripping off her apron, Addison tossed it on the passenger seat. She thought about heading home and throwing some paint against a canvas, but her heart wasn’t into it, so she knew the attempt would be fruitless. Instead, she headed toward the highway, pushing down hard on the accelerator, determined to get some answers.
Although Addison wasn’t aware, she parked down the road, her previous stalking location. She slammed the car door shut and tromped up the street to Dawson’s house, determination straightening her spine and quickening her pace. She was hoping with all her heart that Dawson wouldn’t be home so she could pin Ellie down for some answers.
She rapped twice authoritatively and then wound both hands behind her back. She wasn’t expecting Shelby, Dawson’s niece, to answer, and her heart melted at the sight of her barefoot in a bright green sundress, her halo of ringlet hair bouncing at her shoulders.
Addison’s stance instantly softened as she bent at the knees. “Well, hello there.”
Her tiny hand lifted by her face. “Hi. Who awe you?”
“I’m Addison, a friend of your uncle’s.”
Ellie then appeared, reprimanding her daughter for opening the door without her being present. She straightened with her hands anchored to her daughter’s shoulders.
Addison held up both palms. “I just want to talk to you for a few minutes. Then I’ll leave. I promise.”
Ellie lifted a tense hand to knead her neck. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry, Addy.”
“Just one cup of coffee. That’s all I’m asking.” Her eyes involuntarily filled when she added, “Please.”
She took two steps back, pulling her daughter with her. “One cup. That’s it.”
Relief washed over Addison as she stepped right into the family room of the house, which had several of Dawon’s pieces from the gallery and a black sectional couch, with blood-red throw pillows. The rug underneath was a long white shag and the lamps and accessories were brushed pewter. They traipsed through the house to the kitchen in back, which also had a warm modern flare, with grey cabinets topped in black marbled granite.
Ellie gestured for Addison to take a seat at the toffee-glazed wooden table, and then walked over to the counter to make coffee. Shelby stood to the side of her mother with one hand draped around her knee as a security blanket, eyeing Addison from across the room.
She pulled on her mother’s shirt, her chin tilted as far up as she could manage. “Is dat Uncle D’s giwlfwiend?”
“No, sweetie,” she whispered back.
“Do you fink she wants ta color?”
Her mother squatted down to her level. “I think Ms. Addison and I need to have an adult conversation, so how about you go upstairs to your room and draw me a beautiful picture while you wait for us to be finished.”
“Can I draw hers one, too?”
Ellie’s eyes darted over to Addison. “Um, sure, but she might be gone by the time you’re finished.”
“Den I’ll mails it to her.”
She swiped her finger down her nose. “Good idea.” She patted her on the butt. “Go on now, and be sure to shut your door; you know how chilling it gets up there.”
Her pattering feet ran by as she darted out of the room and down the hallway behind Addison. Ellie then took the seat adjacent to her, holding two cups of steaming coffee, her eyes weary at the conversation that was about to take place.
“I really don’t know why I even let you in. I can’t give you any information, Addison. This is a waste of your time.”
Addison leaned forward, needing her to understand her plight. “Ellie, I don’t think you would be saying that if you would have seen us at the cabin. Dawson was so loving, caring, and sweet.” She fisted a hand at her chest. “Your brother really and truly cares for me. I know he does with all my heart.”
She linked her finger through the handle of her cup. “I know my brother’s capacity to love, Addison, he shows it to me and my daughter every single day.”
Addison leaned back in her seat, attempting another approach. “You don’t want Dawson to live his life alone, do you?”
Her eyes dropped for a heartbeat, and then lifted. “No, I don’t, but that’s his decision to make, not mine.”
“Why is he doing this, Ellie? Why won’t he let anyone in?”
“I’ve already told you, that’s not my story to tell.”
Addison’s anger bubbled to the surface. “Yes it is, Ellie. Don’t you see you’re partly to blame?” she pleaded intensely.
Her tone hardened. “How am I at fault here?”
“Because you’re just as guilty as he is.”
“I’m guilty?” Ellie asked, indignation sparking her decibel. “The only thing I’m guilty of is loving my brother!”
“You call that love, letting him rot away in this house by himself?”
“That is what he wants, Addison! And he’ll always have us,” she added in angst.
“Ellie, Dawson needs a love that you and Shelby can’t give him. He needs to be touched, to be wanted as a man, to be fulfilled by a woman and you are holding him back from that!”
She shot out of her seat for her rebuttal, making Addison do the same, just as they heard the garage door squeaking open. Ellie’s eyes widened as she gripped Addison by the shoulders and pushed her into the laundry room at the end of the kitchen. She quickly clicked the door shut, her eyes giving Addison the stern warning to be quiet.
ELLIE RUSHED OVER to the kitchen table, scooped up the two coffee cups, dashed over to the sink and dumped the contents before shoving them in the dishwasher. She returned with a dishrag to wipe up their wet ring marks and push in their chairs, just as Dawson lumbered in from the garage.
He threw his keys on the counter in a huff, which screeched across the granite.
Ellie was at her breaking point after her conversation with Addison. She wheeled around on him, barking, “Dawson, I’ve had enough of the crappy attitude! As of today, I’m officially done!”
He turned to her, seemingly stunned by her outburst. “Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right! You’ve been storming around here for weeks and I’m finished with it.”
“You’re finished with me…in my house?”
She threw up her arms in agitation. “What’s with you, anyway?” and then added under her breath, “Usually you’re in a better mood after you get laid.”
He jabbed a finger in her direction, warning, “Don’t go there, Ellie.”
“Go where, Dawson?” she asked factiously.
“You know what I mean,” he ground through clenched teeth. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Her?” Ellie spat back. “She has a name Dawson and it’s Addison.”
“I know her damned name, Ellie.”
“If you’re so stinkin’ grumpy without her, why don’t you call her?”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can!”
“This conversation is officially over,” he started to storm past her, but she latched onto his arm and yanked him back hard.
“This conversation is not over, and neither is your life! You need to give you and Addy a chance!”
His face turned beat red in fury. “A chance? A chance to do what, Ellie?” His arms elevated and then dropped in defeat as his facial features pinched together in disgust. “You want her to watch me wither away to nothing, watch me drool all over myself, clean up after me after I piss my pants? Is that what you want, Ellie?”
“You’re twenty-six, Dawson! Dad didn’t have any symptoms until he was in his fifties,” she pleaded exasperatedly.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not putting her through what you, me and mom went through. Period. End of story.”
“But you’re not symptomatic, Dawson! There’s a chance you never will be!”
His flood gate burst as he yelled, “I am symptomatic! I have been for months now, so back the fuck off!”
As her chest heaved in at Dawson’s confession, his eyes lifted over her shoulder and she watched all the color drain from his face. Ellie knew without turning around that Addison was standing behind her, shell shocked at what she’d just heard.
Cursing, Dawson spun on his heels, stormed out of the room, reared back, punching his fist through the drywall, before flinging open the front door and disappearing through the opening.
Ellie dropped her head as it spun in nauseating circles. Dawson has been suffering for months? And she had no idea? How is that possible? Addison’s trembling voice snapped her out of her reverie.
Her voice was shaky and weak. “What is wrong with him, Ellie?”
Without turning to look at her, she whispered, “You need to go, Addy. I don’t want to talk about this.”
Her tone grew stronger. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what Dawson is suffering from.”
Ellie turned, still in a fog over her brother’s confession, and grabbed ahold of Addison’s elbow, roughly escorting her to the door. “You need to leave, now.”
She stumbled out the door, begging further, “Ellie, tell me, please.”
ADDISON DIDN’T EVEN remember getting on the highway. Her head was a convoluted mess after hearing Dawson was suffering from the same brain tumor that his father died from. She couldn’t even pronounce the name of the tumor, but Ellie had said that it was not malignant, but very fast growing and deadly. The fact that Dawson had been suffering with symptoms for several months flabbergasted not only her, but also his sister. Apparently, he had been suffering in silence.
Had he been to the doctor?
What was his treatment plan?
Had he been having radiation or chemotherapy and hadn’t told anyone?
Was surgery an option?
Once again, she had so many questions, but no answers. She turned off the next exit, did a U-turn at the first stoplight and headed back toward Coos Bay. This time, she wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines and wait for information like she had in the past. For once in her life, she was putting her foot down.
She knocked on the front door for over five minutes. When no one answered, she walked to the garage and peeked in the window. Dawson’s car was gone, but Ellie’s was still there. She skirted around to the back door on the stone patio and banged again, this time loud and firm. The blinds were open so she could see into the kitchen. She watched Shelby peek her head around the corner from the hallway and wave to her.
Addison smiled and waved back, but then the child disappeared. She rapped again; this time with the heel of her hand. They obviously knew she was here, but still no one answered. Apparently, this was a standoff between her and Ellie.
“That’s how you want to play this, Ellie?” she called out boisterously. She stalked over to the cushioned patio chair, clasped onto the back and drug it over to the door, positioning it so that she could see directly into the glass, then plopped down, crossed her legs and entwined her arms.
A few minutes elapsed with no sign of movement, but then she saw Ellie walking in her direction. Addison stood, thankful that she was ready to talk, but was flabbergasted when she just loomed over to the door and ripped the blinds shut.
“Fine!” Addison yelled. “But I’m not leaving until I get answers!”
She fell back into her chair and scrunched down to where her head was resting against the back. She knew she may as well get comfortable. This stalemate was going to take a while.
Addison wasn’t even sure how long she sat there because she left her phone in the car and wasn’t about to go retrieve it. All she knew is that she was starving. Her stomach was grumbling with hunger pains on a consistent basis, but still she stayed firm.
As the sun began to set, Addison began pacing the stone patio to stretch her legs. Although the bay was at her fingertips, she couldn’t even enjoy the rippling water or the multiple boats trolling along the waterway. Her focus was on the house and the information contained within it. She needed answers and she wasn’t going anywhere until she got them.
At nightfall, Addison curled up in a ball on a lounge chair to fend off the chill of the early evening air and the breeze rolling in off the bay. She almost didn’t hear the door clicking open or the pitter patter of child’s feet. She looked to the side and could barely see Shelby due to the fluffy, red blanket she held in her arms.
“Mama said to give you dis.” She pushed the blanket into her hands. “She says go home, dis is a famwey matto.”
It took a second for Addison to understand, but then it dawned on her. The child was trying to say this was a family matter. So Ellie was willing to show her compassion, but not communication.
