by Grea Warner
The congregation’s sobbing dimmed to pure silence as everyone watched Irene stand up. She waited for Ed, who quietly directed the children to Ryan. And then Kari’s parents followed their daughter down the aisle to the back of the church. Since Maks was one of the pallbearers, it was then our turn. Ryan blew out a huge gust of air and started us out the pew. He drew each of his children to either side of him and held on to their little hands. Sitting in the pew with us, Dylan and his family stepped out behind me. But Ryan had yet to start walking. I wanted out of there. There were too many eyes staring at us with a mix of pity and gawk. I wondered why he hadn’t started down the aisle. The casket was out of sight and Ed and Irene nearly were, too. And then I found out.
Ryan bent down and hoisted Joel into his muscular arms, amid his son’s protest that he was too old to carry. “We need to make room for Bethany.”
The knotting pit in my stomach, which had only grown tighter throughout the service, loosened the teensiest of bits. The aisle was too narrow for all four of us across. I was prepared to simply follow behind like a lowly dog who had been punished. But Ryan’s heart, in the midst of all he was dealing with, saved me from the banishment. He gave me the smallest of closed smiles, and I joined him to make our way outside.
Just as I thought we had finally made it out to the fresh, open air and could start back home—since Ryan couldn’t see subjecting the kids to the actual burial—an obstacle catapulted itself in front of us. Not only was the press positioned at the bottom of the church’s outdoor steps, but Irene was standing in front of them as if she was a famed conductor of a prized orchestra. Ryan immediately froze, causing the kids, me, and his brother’s family behind us to do the same. After supposedly claiming she didn’t want press, Irene—with Ed silently beside her—was actually thanking the media for being there. A low growl emerged from Ryan’s throat. I refocused to hear her saying that Kari’s music would live on forever. As she continued to talk, she seemed to actually be enjoying it more and more, and I wanted to growl. It was almost as if she was doing a media promotion instead of attending her daughter’s funeral. I saw Ryan looking around, especially behind him in the direction we had come. More and more people were emerging, expecting to exit, just like we had hoped to do. It wasn’t until Irene mentioned the kids and said she was going to personally make sure they would be stars as popular as their mother, that Ryan truly reacted.
As Ryan said Irene’s name in obvious disgust, I grabbed his hand, and Dylan motioned to the kids. “Sallie, Joel, come back here.”
Ryan let Joel down and the kids went to their uncle. Then Ryan’s body seemed to broaden, as if he wanted to physically create a barrier between the kids and the media ... and Irene. I did the same at his side.
Ignoring Ryan, Irene continued to talk about the kids, saying they would have her guidance. I squeezed Ryan’s hand harder. Despite their differences, Ryan had never let the kids know about his terse relationship with their maternal grandmother. In fact, he was overly generous, even letting his ex-in-laws see Sallie and Joel when Kari had been out of town. But I knew neither Ryan nor Kari were necessarily enthusiastic about the kids going into show business. And even if that was what they wanted, it was much too early for such a proclamation to the media and certainly inappropriate at their mother’s funeral.
Irene must have taken a mini breath or the press just got tired of her, since they started calling out to Ryan. Being connected to him, I could feel his whole body expand and contract before he reacted. I had no idea what it was going to be, so I geared myself up for anything.
He turned back to his brother. “Can you take the kids?” He lowered his voice. “Get them out of here. There’s a side door. Meet us at the house?”
“Absolutely. That is where I’m parked, anyway. Come on, Team Thompson. We’re looking for the escape route.” I did a half chuckle at Dylan’s attempt to create a bit of sunshine on an extremely mentally overcast day.
“Go with Uncle Dylan. I’ll catch you spies later.”
Joel seemed a little more of his energetic self as he gave Ryan a fist bump and the cameras clicked in unison. On the contrary, Sallie rolled her eyes, as if suddenly she was the adult among us. But she wasn’t. In reality, she was a seven-year-old who had lived most of her life dealing with the spotlight. And that was the first time I think I saw her lose some of her innocence. They were not spies. They were sad, hunted, confused little kids.
Once we watched Dylan and the rest of the Thompsons diverge back into the church, Ryan started the two of us down the steps. I appreciated his strategy. We would forge straight ahead, bearing a few flashbulbs, just so the kids would be spared.
“Ryan,” a member of the core called out. “Sorry about your ex-wife. Anything you would like to add to Mrs. Hynes’ comments?”
“Don’t engage,” I whispered with emphasis because if there was anything that would egg Ryan on, it was Irene or something derogatory about the kids.
“I won’t.” Not letting go of my hand, he ignored everything else, including Irene, as we continued walking.
“Ryan?” Another voice called out.
“Please respect our privacy.” He looked at them briefly.
“What about your wedding?” The voice continued anyway.
When Ryan did a shuffle in his step, I looked the few inches up to meet his deep blue eyes. It was my turn to curve my lips a little for encouragement. He breathed in through his nose, and we walked silently until we reached his car.
We cleared the church lot and the street before Ryan called Dylan. I wasn’t sure if he waited because he thought the press might actually pursue us, or if he simply needed time to calm down. But, regardless, he did need to find out about the kids.
“You all good?” he asked once Dylan answered.
I heard Dylan’s reply via the BMW’s speakers. “We’re good. All buckled and on the road. Say hi to Daddy, kids.”
“Hi, Daddy,” they seemed to say in unison.
When Ryan didn’t respond right away, I glanced in his direction. The day had been emotionally draining for him—grief, anger, love. Hearing those two little voices and knowing they were safe, might have been his tipping point. He brought his hand up to his face and shook it a little.
I rubbed my left hand on his right thigh, and he managed the words into the car speaker. “Hi, guys.” He then directed his comment to his brother. “They won’t enter the neighborhood if you want to head over there now.”
“Didn’t know how long you’d be,” he replied. “So, we already decided on ice cream and cookies. Or is it only frozen yogurt and tofu around here?”
When I did a half chuckle, Ryan let his out, too. “You sure?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“Thanks for being here, Dyl.” Ryan’s words and the way he had embraced Dylan when he had first seen him in the church showed how much it did truly mean for Ryan to have at least part of his family there.
“Already had the full weekend scheduled for you, bro.” Dylan was supposed to be Ryan’s best man that day on completely different coasts. “Glad I can help. Sorry this was how it ended up being.”
I knew Ryan was looking at me. I could feel him. But I had turned my head to the side window. He didn’t need to witness any additional sadness.
“Yeah. All right. Bethany and I are heading home. We’ll see you in a little while.” Ryan disconnected his phone and then spoke with me. “We have plenty of food,” he noted the neighbors’ condolence contributions. “I guess we’ll just set up the guest room for them. Levi can stay with Joel or on a sofa,” he said of his nephew.
“They booked a hotel overnight and then are heading back tomorrow,” I corrected Ryan, since he really hadn’t had much time to talk with his brother when he arrived.
“Huh? Why?”
“Wanted to be here but not intrude.” I relayed what Dylan had told me on the way into the church.
“They wouldn’t be—”
“They’re going to enjoy t
he sites. I like that we’ll spend some time with them today, though. Dinner—” I stopped my thought as my phone rang. Looking at the screen and recognizing the name, I answered. “Hey, Ella.” It was my sister—the maid of honor’s turn.
I met Ryan’s eyes. They still reflected his pain and sorrow. But his attempted smile showed me he knew my family meant the world to me, too.
Ella said she was the Opala family representative, making the call to find out how things went. Our parents didn’t want to interfere but knew I would call if I needed them. And Garrett wouldn’t know what to say. So, Ella was the logical choice, which at the moment was good for me. She wouldn’t sugarcoat anything or make me necessarily overly sentimental for home. Yet, she was a good sounding board, being the closest to my age—less than two years younger.
We talked about the service for a little bit. While our conversation wasn’t being broadcast via the car’s speakers, I knew Ryan understood most of it through my dialogue. He did some sighing in the midst of the lane changes and curving bends in the roads. Ella said she actually saw a livestream of the impromptu interview Irene made. Then she brought up what was supposed to have been the other day’s event—our nonwedding. She mentioned Carolina’s weather and how they donated some of the already-made bakery items to a homeless shelter.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” I tried to sound at peace with it, and I trusted that would eventually be the truth. I knew our wedding would happen ... just not that day.
I was glad it was a Saturday, so the commute from the church to Ryan’s house wasn’t as long as it could have been on a workday. When Ryan accessed the gate of his private housing community, there were thankfully no paparazzi camped out. I knew he needed to get home and out of the car. He needed to move around. The jittery way his body seemed to move in the BMW reminded me of his energetic five-year-old son ... and that was pretty much the opposite of the chill man I was used to.
“Ella?” I talked back into my phone. “If that’s it ... if everything is fine, tell everyone we’re okay and I’ll talk some other time. We have some ... It’s a hard day.”
“Tell her I said thanks,” Ryan added, and I did so, not questioning why but assuming he appreciated my family’s support almost as much as I did.
“Tell beach-bod”—she used the nickname she had crowned Ryan with before even meeting him—“he’s proving to be a good one.”
“He is,” I agreed, but didn’t actually repeat it since we were in the garage and, as predicted, Ryan needed out.
The first few minutes we were in the house were shrined in silence. Ryan placed his keys on the hook in the breezeway and ventured through the hall to the living room. I trailed behind, allowing him to do or say whatever he needed to. And neither the subject of his words nor the fury in how he presented them surprised me.
“How could Irene do that?” Walking around in an ill-shaped circle, he contrasted my solid stance near the sofa and coffee table. “Family. Family! The kids are my family. Only family belongs in the front pew,” he mimicked his former monster-in-law, causing Lyric, who was ready to greet us with affection, to back away to the edge of the room. “And then ... then to imply that Joel and Sallie are going to be mentored by her? Over my d—” He stopped himself, surely in ironic respect of the day. “Kari wouldn’t have even wanted that. You know, in fact, there’s no real reason for that woman to even see the kids. I bet I don’t have to legally or otherwise. It’s not going to be the same. I’m not going to sit by and allow her to mold my kids or ... uhhh!” He partially screamed and then continued. “Or use them for sympathy or publicity. And the way she treated you? She couldn’t even acknowledge you? Couldn’t even say hello or, geez, nod her holier-than-thou head? She—” He suddenly stopped pacing and truly looked at me for the first time since starting his bashing-Irene rant. “Why aren’t you telling me to calm down or something?”
“Because you need to get it out,” I spoke simply, and then admitted, “And I don’t disagree with you.”
“Hmmm.” He nodded ever so slightly.
“Go ahead, Ryan. It’s the perfect time since the kids aren’t here.”
“It was—today was—hard enough, without ... her.”
“I know.”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks? For what?”
He walked the few steps or so over to me and brought me into his embrace. It was fiercely strong at first but eased as he spoke. “For being here, Lenay. For knowing what to say and what not to say. For helping Sallie. For having more grace than I will ever have. For being the mature one of the two of us, despite me having ten years on you. For loving me despite all my issues.”
Well, I hadn’t expected all of that, especially when I truly felt like I had failed in every aspect of the entire day. Not letting our bodies unlock, I placed my lips on his to show my appreciation for his kind words. And then I admitted my own disdain. “First of all, I was ready to tear that woman apart. Is my tongue severed?” I teasingly stuck it out at him. “I think I was biting it so hard, it has to be.” When his slight smile emerged, I continued, “And, second, talk about knowing what to say, mister. I think I might need to write down those beautiful things you just said to me and make them into lyrics.”
“Go for it, Lenay. I think your manager might approve.”
“Manager ... cowriter ... fiancé.” I touched the cheek of all three rolled into one and could feel the tension that had been residing there since we had first set out on our sad day begin to ease.
“Any news from Carolina?” he asked, still in my arms.
“Well.” I sighed. “It’s raining. The church even has a leak. Everything ... the whole world seems sad.”
“Hmmm,” he mumbled before pulling away. “Hold on a sec. Stay right here. I’ll be right back.” On his way out of the living room, he bent down and rubbed the dog. “Sorry, bud.”
I only got to have a little Lyric love myself because Ryan was back in a matter of minutes. In his hands was a bouquet of magnolias with a red rose in the middle. It was an exact replica of what I had intended to carry down the aisle that day.
I tilted my head ever so slightly at my man. “What? What is ...? How did you ...?”
“I know this was supposed to be our day, and it’s just a small, little thing. I didn’t want to not do anything.”
“Ryan, how did you get these?” I brought them into my arms, as if they were a cherished newborn child.
“I have my ways.” His smile was legit enough to actually make his cheeks slightly rise.
“I love you.”
“We’ll say those words in front of family and friends, Lenay. I promise you. And you know how I am about promises.”
“I do.” My heart filled with appreciation and a little more hope. “Maybe you’ll even kiss the bride.” And due to the little tease in my voice, I got a preview of that act, making the day not completely all depressing.
Chapter Five
“Aaaaaaa!”
Ryan’s body shooting up in bed forced mine to do the same thing. Although, the sheer terror in the shriek had immediately woken me up as it had him. I quickly adjusted my nighttime eyes to acknowledge the worrisome features on Ryan’s face. It hadn’t been him who had spurred out the frightening sound. It was one of the kids. And since I had been in a sound sleep when it happened, I didn’t know which one or why.
“Wha ...?” I sat up a little better.
“I don’t know.” Adorning just red sweat pants, Ryan started getting out of bed. “I’ll go find out. Stay here in case.”
In case? Geez, did he think there was an intruder? We lived in an alarmed house surrounded by a gate inside a gated community. Nevertheless, I glanced at my phone, prepared to call for help if need be.
“Daddy?” That time I knew for sure it was Joel. But his voice sounded more sad or worried, not terrified out of his mind like the initial catapult-awake scream. Before Ryan could react or say anything in reply, the little boy—whose room was furthest down the
hall—called out again, “Daddy?”
Ryan pursed out some air and looked at me. “That sounds a little better. I’ll be back,” he proclaimed and exited our room.
The next voice I heard wasn’t Joel’s or Ryan’s—it was a sleepy Sallie’s. “Joel? Daddy, what’s going on?”
I got out of bed then, too. Two of them. Two of them awake at three-forty-five in the morning—the morning after their mother’s funeral.
Ryan was more than a capable dad, but I knew I needed to help. Shuffling into the hallway in my lengthy, oversized blue and white tank top, I saw Ryan kneeling in between the kids’ rooms. Both Sallie and Joel were looking at him.
“Joel, you okay?” Ryan asked.
“I had a bad dream.” The little boy clung onto his small stuffed dog, Eli, which I hadn’t seen him play with in quite a while.
“Joel scared me, Daddy.”
“Ry, if they need to come into our room ...” I offered.
Ryan had a rule about the kids staying in their bedrooms. It was more for their own safety when they were younger. But it was definitely for our privacy, too.
“Uh.” He looked up at me from his crouched position. “Well, maybe let’s try this first.” He slid his back down the wall so he was in a completely seated position. Straightening out his legs in front of him, he patted both of them. The kids took a seat on either of their dad’s legs without a second thought.
