Free Benevolent by Leddy Harper Page A

from seeing it.
    Not that I was one of those men that thought their women should be in the kitchen, but she used to love cooking for me. Once she miscarried, she stopped. In fact, she stopped so many things. Her cooking me dinner was the first of many things; I just knew it.
    Even though she seemed as if she was getting better, she was still quiet while we ate. I wasn’t expecting that, especially after her ranting on and on about shopping while I was at work. It all began to make sense once she did start talking.
    “So, I was thinking. I’ll go to see Doctor Greiner next week, but I don’t want to be on any pills. I don’t want to feel fucked-up all the time. So what if I just went to talk to him?”
    “I think that’s a great idea, Gabs. Whatever works, you know that.”
    “Well, I was thinking that because I don’t want to be on any medication if we’re going to start trying again.”
    Damn it. I thought it was going to be a good night. I should have known better.
    “Gabi, I told you, we don’t need to think about that right now. Let’s work on you first.”
    “I am, Dane.” She was getting defensive and loud.
    “I know that, and I appreciate that. It’s not gone unnoticed. However, it’s going to take more than one day to fix it. It’s going to take more than one shopping trip or one call to Doctor Greiner. It’s going to take more than one visit to see him.”
    “And then we’ll try again?”
    “When the time is right, then yes, we will try again.”
    What I didn’t tell her was that even then, I would still be hesitant. The depression she fell into after the miscarriage wasn’t the first one. She battled with it so many times before that. And although she’d manage to find her way back, something else would happen and she’d find herself right back there again. It wasn’t like she was just a depressed person, there was always something horrific that happened to her that put her there. So even though she was on the road to recovery, I feared another shoe would drop and she’d be just as bad as or worse than the last time. It always got worse. Every single fucking time. I didn’t know how much more I would be able to handle. But I knew I couldn’t leave her over it. Leaving her over the depression would mean I was leaving her over what had put her there in the first place. And I would never be able to do that. The memory of the very first time she battled with it was something I would never be able to forget. And for that, I couldn’t leave her. I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted her to get better. And I wanted more than anything for misfortune to leave her the fuck alone.
    After dinner, she went to take her bath and I decided to use the time to take a walk along the beach. I hadn’t planned on going back to the pier, the memory of the night before nearly ruined that safe haven for me, but my feet led me there and I followed like the slave my body was.
    Just as I was approaching it, I noticed her. I didn’t see her until I was right up on the old pier because she was standing in the surf on the other side. The sun had gone down, but there was still remaining light in the sky, bright enough to see her clearly once I made it there.
    I turned around, but she’d seen me by then.
    “Now who’s stalking whom?” she teased.
    I spun back around in the sand and faced her. Again, I didn’t plan on walking toward her, but my feet moved and I followed. I was beginning to think my feet had GPS straight to Eden.
    “Like I said, the beautiful always get stalked.”
    She smiled. I smiled. And there was nothing but silence.
    “I shouldn’t be here,” I finally said.
    “No, you shouldn’t.”
    “I should go home.”
    “Yes, you should.” She spoke, but her words were mostly filled with air and heavy breathing. I could practically see her internal struggle. I noticed it because it was the same struggle I was feeling inside.
    “No.” I shook my head. “This is my pier. I have been coming