“Ash is my friend, Drew. What’s even more important is that he considers me to be his friend, and God knows he hasn’t anyone in his life he can count on. I’d never betray a confidence of his.”Peter had raked his hand through his hair, looking exasperated.“Hell, I don’t even know half of what he’s lived through, but I assure you, it wasn’t pretty. If he wants to talk to you about it, he will.”
Shudders still rippled through Ash’s body. What horrors had he seen to make him so lonely? The memory of that night in the restaurant hit him as he recalled Ash running from the table, returning pale and shaken a while later. Was this the same thing? Did he have some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder that triggered at certain events or times? He’d talk to Rachel about it. Maybe she would know.
“Hey. How’re you doing, buddy?” He smoothed Ash’s hair back from his face, keeping his touch light and gentle. “Feeling better?”
Ash shook his head, still pressed against Drew’s chest. “I’m mortified. I never meant for you or anyone to see me like this.” His words were somewhat garbled, but he made no move to pull away from Drew’s embrace.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone has a breaking point. I was a basket case when my parents died. I cried for weeks.”
“Different,” Ash mumbled. “You couldn’t help yourself. This was my fault. By now I should be strong, able to handle myself.”
Without thinking, Drew took Ash’s face between his hands, staring deep into his fathomless eyes. “Not everything that happens to us is within our control, my friend. Sometimes life gives us a swift kick in the ass, and we have to do the best we can with what we’re given.” Before he thought too hard, he bent down but caught himself right before his lips made contact with Ash’s bristly cheek. He remained suspended there for a moment, feeling the sharp inhalation of Ash’s breath, sensing the tenseness of Ash’s body beneath his arms. Ash had closed his eyes, his long black lashes like fans on his skin. With the lightest touch, Drew caressed Ash’s face.
“Drew, what are you doing?” But Ash made no move to draw away.
“Damned if I know.” Not one damn clue. But Drew didn’t stop.
Ironically it was Ash who pulled away. “What’s happening here?”
“Why don’t you tell me? I walked in, and you were suffering. I’ve never seen anyone so broken and hurt.” Drew put his hands on Ash’s shoulders. “Don’t turn from me. We’re friends now. Talk to me.”
“I-I can’t.” His gaze remained pinned to the floor.
With a resigned sigh, Drew moved back. “What are you doing tonight?”
That clear, glittering gaze lifted and held his. Drew was pleased to note, a small grin quirked Ash’s lips. “I have no plans, Doc. What were you thinking?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Want to visit my grandmother with me?”
To his utter surprise, Ash’s eyes lit up with a pleased glint. “I’d love to see Esther. I promised her some cookies the next time I came, so we’ll need to stop at a bakery.”
What an amazing transformation. In what Drew knew must be some kind of survival technique Ash employed to get him through the embarrassment of breaking down in front of someone not quite a stranger, not quite a friend, the man’s whole demeanor changed, and he slipped back into his charming, careless personality. Drew decided not to press the issue, thinking when and if Ash wanted him to know, he would tell him.
“Great. Everyone else is gone. I’ll lock up the offices and meet you in front.”
“Sure. And Doc.” Ash’s eyes glimmered for a moment with emotion, then reverted back to their normal, blank facade. “Thanks for everything.”
Desperate to keep it light, still unsure of his own strange feelings swirling around in his head, Drew cracked a smile and shrugged. “Sure. No big deal.”
Within ten minutes, the two men were on their way to his grandmother’s house. They stopped in Carroll Gardens, and while Ash picked up some cookies, Drew ran into the cheese store to pick up some of his grandmother’s favorites, as well as his own. He spent a little time tasting both the cheeses and the crackers that accompanied them, and decided to buy several different kinds. That, along with the wine and the cookies, would make for a nice visit.
After storing their purchases in the trunk of Ash’s sporty car, they were on their way again, to his grandmother’s house in the heart of Flatbush. After WWII and her escape from Poland, Nana had found the few remaining members of her family here in Brooklyn and never left. It was the only place, she once confided to him, she felt safe. He and Rachel loved the small house she and Papa Seymour—“Sy” as everyone called him—had shared. It was their safe haven. All his best childhood memories revolved around Rachel and him visiting, spending many weekends helping Papa in the garden growing vegetables and Nana cooking in the kitchen.
They pulled up to her modest, wood-framed house and parked in the driveway. Her impatiens were in full bloom in the front yard, the interspersed pink, white, and red color reminding him of peppermints, while the pots of crimson geraniums lined the steps up to her redbrick porch. A faint scent of barbecue from a nearby house tickled his nose, causing his stomach to rumble with an ungracious noise. Summertime was great, as the daylight lasted near to nine at night.
Ash chuckled. “Hungry?”
His face heated. “I missed lunch, so yeah.” Hoisting the bag, he spoke over his shoulder. “The cheeses and rest of the stuff will tide me over, though.”
Ash grinned. It seemed once again he’d managed to push aside his emotional disintegration, forgetting how close to complete collapse he’d been. In a way, Drew understood. Didn’t he do the same, shoving aside his fear of being alone, the loneliness so deep and black sometimes he stayed up all night rather than succumb to sleep and his nightmares? Adopting the cat had solved only a small part of his problem.
“Nana? Where are you?” He stepped into the small entranceway, decorated with framed pictures of his family, all the way back to when Nana came to this country from Poland. There were no pictures of her as a young child, or any of her relatives, as she’d come with merely the clothes on her back. All her immediate family, her parents and three siblings, had been lost in the war. Turning to Ash, he beckoned. “She must be in the kitchen, listening to the radio. Follow me.”
“I have been here before, you know. I know where to go.” Ash’s grumble brought Drew up short.
Why someone like Ash wanted to spend time with Drew’s elderly grandmother was still a mystery to him. Another intriguing puzzle piece of the enigma that made up Asher Davis.
Now it was Ash’s turn to flush red. “Esther invited me to come whenever I wanted.” A defensive note crept into his voice. “I bring her cookies.”
