by Grea Warner
Live music started coming from the room I had vacated as I reassured Vail that calling was the right thing to do. “It’s okay.” Taking a couple more steps away, I decided not to sit on the nearby velvet lime sofa until I knew everything was definitely all right.
“It’s ... well, Joel started telling lots of stories about him and Kari.”
It didn’t slip past me that Vail felt comfortable calling Kari by her first name. But she had been a national superstar who everyone “knew.” I was just a struggling songwriter.
“And then Sallie got upset. I tried to, you know, do things ... play with them, but it didn’t really work. And I know it is past what time they are supposed to be in bed. They want their dad.”
As if on cue, Ryan entered the lobby and did a heads-up nod as a silent query into what the phone conversation was about. When I mouthed Vail’s name, Ryan’s eyebrows furled a little in concern. I held up my hold-on-a-minute finger to him and resumed talking on the phone.
“Yeah, he’s right here. Can you put them on?” As Vail agreed, I handed my phone to Ryan. “The kids want to talk with you.”
“Sals? Joel?” Ryan spoke into my phone. “Hey.” He paused to listen to his children as I sat. “Hey ... hey ... slow down.” Ryan shook his head. “Quit arguing and tell me nicely what is going on. Sallie, you first.” He sat next to me, watching as I peeled my feet out of my strappy heels and rubbed them—I definitely wasn’t used to wearing those. “He’s allowed to—Joel, wait. That’s what I am saying.” He listened for another moment and then said more calmly and sympathetically, “I know.” A sigh. “I know. We’re going to head home now, okay?”
Ryan looked at me with a part-sorry/part-question shrug. I tilted my head onto his shoulder and nodded in agreement. In reality, I was ready. We knew what would happen with the public and press the first time we truly emerged from the sanctuary of our home. And perhaps it was good we broke the seal so to speak. But, even more so, it was good we had an excuse to leave.
Ryan told the kids he loved them before hanging up and handing me back my phone. “Sorry or not?” he asked me.
“About leaving?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Not sorry,” I admitted.
His chuckle was so slight it was barely noticeable. “Me, too. Today was a lot for them with camp and us being out. I think they just need to see me.”
“It’s all good, Ryan. Except for the fact that I’m hungry. Will you make some of your infamous mac and cheese for me when we get back?”
“You mean my gourmet mac and cheese?” He smiled, surely recalling the first lunch he ever made me at his house, which was by far gourmet but a comfort food for sure.
“Debatable.”
“You’re on.” He stood up, holding out his hand for me to do the same. “Let’s go in quickly and say our good-byes.”
“How about I meet you at the car?” I suggested, not wanting, now that I was out, to go back into the flashiness of the main room, even if for only a few minutes.
He scoffed in a joking manner. “Bailing when I need you most. Thanks a lot, Lenay.” He pecked me on the lips. “See you in a couple minutes.”
Ryan handed me the car keys and then made his way back into the boisterous room. In contrast, I found my way out to the peaceful nighttime air. The silent walk to the car was a perfect opportunity to give my mind a chance to have thoughts of its own ... and not just what was appropriate to say in a room full of music movers-and-shakers.
It took a little more than a couple minutes, but Ryan finally met me at the BMW. “Home it is,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat and went for his seatbelt.
“Ry?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t start the car yet.”
“Okay ...” he said slowly.
He watched as I carefully climbed over to his side and sat on his lap facing him. The parking lot was full of cars but not people. It was really early for anyone to be leaving the party but late for even fashionably latecomers to arrive. But, in all honesty, I didn’t care if anyone saw us. We shouldn’t have needed to hide. We had done that before, and I never wanted to do it again. Besides, my car action wasn’t anything dirty.
“Hi?” he said, and I laid my head on his chest, feeling the tautness of a man who appreciated fitness and hearing his healthy heart beating steady.
“I needed a second of this—you and me, silence, our own private shelter—just a second or two.”
“I need a million more.” He partially sighed.
“I will never bail on you.” It was something else I had done once and never wanted to do again ... even though, in the long run, it was what we had needed. When he lifted my head to look at me directly, I clarified, “I know you were teasing, but I wanted to let you know that for sure.”
“Well, if you haven’t yet, I’m thinking I believe you.” His smile was slight and soft but I knew full of truth and appreciation.
***
The weight of Ryan’s body reentering the bed caused my partial sleep status to become a little more awake. I hugged my pillow, turned, and curved onto his side. I couldn’t see him well since it was dark in our room, but I could hear the sigh in his voice.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Hmmm,” I mumbled. “You didn’t. How is he?”
I felt his breath expel on top of my head before he answered. “Finally asleep again.”
“At least he didn’t wake up screaming this time.”
“No. No. There’s that. And he didn’t wake up Sallie, either.”
“Did he tell you about it?” I rubbed my hand along his washboard abs, hopefully as a way to soothe.
“That’s just it. He says he doesn’t know why he’s awake.”
“Not a nightmare?”
“No. He said he didn’t like sleeping, and he wanted to see me.” Ryan’s hand running down the length of my long, dark brunette locks felt good.
“Hmmm,” I hummed. “The way he jumped into your arms when we got back tonight ... He held on so tight. It was like you had been gone for weeks.”
“Sallie pretty much, too.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, but hers had been a little slower and reserved ... Sallie-like.
“Joel asking for me in the middle of the night ... bring back any memories?”
“Yep.”
My mind traveled back to the first night Ryan and I had ever spent together. Joel had called out for his father similarly back then. He had been going through a tough sleeping pattern with the adjustment of Kari being on tour for so long. Things had been stable since, though. But, now ... well ... Kari wasn’t on tour.
“Damn her.”
It was like I froze. I had heard him correctly. But it was completely unexpected, especially because I was pretty sure he was referring to the same woman I had just been thinking about. Slowly, I propped myself up on my elbow to face him.
He looked at me the best he could in the darkness. “Damn her for leaving them. No matter if she did it on purpose or made a stupid, stupid mistake, it was her choice. And she altered those kids’ lives forever.” He shook his head as if trying to make himself stop. “Maybe ... you know what? Maybe”—he threw his one arm up—“it is for the best.”
“Ryan!” I immediately admonished.
“I’m sorry.” He covered his mouth with his hand momentarily. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t. I would never want ... Geez.” Another huge gust of air. “I, God, don’t know what to do or think.”
Neither did I. I didn’t know how to help the kids or him. He was experiencing a loss, too, although he hadn’t really acknowledged it. Whether that was for the kids’ or my benefit, or whether it was self-denial, I wasn’t sure. The only thing I did know was he needed my love and support more than ever. So, I rewrapped my body around his, and it was my turn to hold on to him extra tight.
Chapter Six
“Out of all our kids, Ryan is the one who really did things his own way. I think he always f
elt a need to.”
It was neat having a chance to truly talk with Ryan’s parents ... especially when he wasn’t present to argue or dispute the truth. But what Mrs. Thompson had just said really wasn’t news. Ryan, himself, had told me, as the youngest of four, he had always felt like he was in competition to do everything the others were doing but better. And that drive was what led him to his successes in life—honor roll, athletic scholarships, band manager, and now owner of a very prosperous talent agency. He never stopped.
“Want to know something funny?” Ryan’s dad chimed in. When I nodded and the kids gazed at their grandfather with even greater anticipation, he continued. “So, yeah, Megan is a teacher like her momma was, and Teagan does things with the farm with me. And what is a vineyard? A wine farm.”
“Ha! I never looked at it that way.” But it made sense.
“Yeah, here Dylan thought he wasn’t part of the family business.” He chuckled. “And your betrothed?”
“What does betrothed mean?” inquisitive Sallie interjected.
“Person to be married to.” Ryan’s mom shook her head. “Your pappy likes to throw out big words every now and then to prove he knows more than just pig and cow talk.”
“Oh, shush, silly woman.” He smiled at his wife. “So, anyway, don’t tell our youngest, but he takes after his papa, too.”
“Yeah? How?” I mean, physically, I could totally see the resemblance—both had strong chiseled cheekbones and similar eyes—but professionally?
“My garage band.” He drummed on the kitchen counter and joked, “I’ve been ... What’s that called when you try to sell your product to a company?”
“Pitching,” I answered.
“Yes. Yes. I’ve been pitching to him for years. No such luck.”
“Did he tell you there are lots ahead of you and you aren’t mature enough?” I jokingly replayed the words Ryan, as a judge, had told me at my Singer Spotlight audition.
“Not many more mature years after sixty-seven.” He chuckled over his age.
“Sure there are.” Mrs. Thompson was tsking her husband while helping her two grandchildren spread icing on the cake.
Along with a last-minute card, hand-painted rocks/paper holders, and a frame for other artwork the kids drew, that was going to have to do for Ryan’s Father’s Day gifts. The next-day holiday had kind of snuck up on us between the wedding-that-wasn’t and Kari’s death. And it had been something Kari had helped the kids with the year before. So, I hadn’t originally planned anything at all.
I walked across the kitchen to where my phone was ringing on the dinette table. Recognizing Ryan’s ring and number, I answered. “Hey, where are you? I expected you home by now. We need to talk about your dad’s talent.”
Ryan’s reply was partially overshadowed by his father’s bellowing laugh. “Um ... yeah, sorry. It’s gonna be a while. My folks are there, huh?”
“Yeah. Where are you?” I repeated.
Ryan had texted earlier, saying he was going out for a beer with Maks since they had gotten through Kari’s things rather quickly. I had wondered if the speed of the task and the consequent drink afterward were both due to the men’s emotional states. Regardless, he still should have been home for his parents’ arrival. But he had not been. And when I found out why, at first, I was scared, and then I was angry.
It seemed like he sucked in his breath before answering. “I’m getting checked out just as a precaution to make sure I’m all right, and then I need to go to the station and see how we can settle this.”
“What? What does that mean ‘getting checked out’? Are you hurt?” I hadn’t realized my worried reaction came out so loudly until both Ryan’s mother and father turned in my direction.
But I focused on Ryan’s response. “I’m fine. It’s procedure—documentation—so no one sues anyone.” He sounded calm but tired and annoyed.
“What are you talking about? What happened? And what do you mean the station? Are you talking about the police?” I rattled off my list of questions, only then piecing the second part of his original statement together.
He gave the answer I was hoping he wouldn’t. “Yeah. It’s nothing. Really.”
“It’s not nothing!” I screeched, not caring who was looking at me. “What happened? Why are the police involved?”
“I can’t get into all of it. I went to the bar with Maks and there was a little altercation with Olsen.” As soon as he said that name, his speech pattern got quicker. “Scuffle. Everyone’s fine. No serious charges. It’ll take a bit, but I’ll be home.” And then he stopped because it was obviously my turn to say something. When I didn’t, he cautiously called out my name. “Bethany?”
“Fine. I’ll see you later.”
Click. End call. Enough.
***
Physically, he looked all right. There weren’t any noticeable marks from the confrontation or whatever it was. Emotionally, though, was another story. Ryan appeared beat and concerned. I knew because his eyes hadn’t left mine since entering the house and room. I refused to let the straight line my mouth had formed budge. I hadn’t talked with him since hanging up and, even though I was happy he was home and safe, I was still upset with what had happened. And he knew it.
“We signed you up for wrestling so you knew how to properly let go of aggression,” Ryan’s dad broke the beyond chill in the air.
“Yeah, well ... this was a little different than teenage angst.” Ryan vocally acknowledged his father but still looked at me.
“Doesn’t seem all too different to me.”
Under other circumstances, I would have laughed at or high-fived Mrs. Thompson’s comment. Ryan’s mom was a straight shooter. I suppose she had to be, as the mother of two boys and two girls, and being a retired teacher and high school principal. I hadn’t had many opportunities to really get to know Ryan’s parents since they lived in Iowa, but everything I had gotten to know portrayed real, true, wholesome love.
“What about any charges?” Mr. Thompson asked.
“A mutual, off-setting kind of thing. Paid a fine for the police being involved and disturbing the bar.”
“Ryan Lucas Thompson, honestly, what were you thinking?”
Ryan’s eyes swung to his mother then—her tone had dictated it. “I didn’t even see him at first. He approached us. You know, sympathies to Maks,” he attempted to explain. “And then he had the gall to taunt me ... with what happened ... with Kari and him ... like it was the best thing ever.” I closed my eyes and tried a calming breath through my nose as Ryan asked, “The kids ... they’re asleep?”
I opened my eyes just to give a nod. I wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice. Believe me, he didn’t want to.
Mrs. Thompson added to my response about the kids. “Not too long ago.”
“Why didn’t you walk away?” Ryan’s dad got back to the original topic with a question, but he immediately followed it up as a directive. “You walk away.”
“I would have. Maks ... he started it so—”
Mrs. Thompson interrupted her son. “Mercy ... it’s like when you all were children. It doesn’t matter if someone started it. You be the one—"
“When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.”
Even though I didn’t want to show it, I was amused by Mr. Thompson’s farm analogy, but Ryan wasn’t. He was only concentrating on me. “Bethany?”
“Are you all right?” Although bland in presentation, I managed to have my first words to him be out of concern.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “All checked out.”
That was all I really needed right then. I was already mad, and the more he explained, unfortunately, the worse I was getting. But I did want to make sure he was physically all right. And then I really didn’t want to hear any more. So, I promptly walked out of the room.
He found me only moments later, standing on the backyard patio. It had been the location of our first date and had always held a special place in my hea
rt. But more importantly right then, it was separate from the confines of the house ... far from where the children were sleeping in their rooms and no one would see or hear how upset I was.
“You don’t want to be near me right now,” I said as he closed the patio door.
“Yes, I do.” He sounded wounded or tired or older ... or all three.
“Ryan, no ... you ... don’t. Really, you should give me some space.”
But the only space he allotted was a less-than-a-minute pause in the conversation. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
My question seemed to throw him. “For ... for getting in the fight.”
His answer only infuriated me more, and I let him know. “Over her,” I cried out. “Over her. She’s still coming between us.”
“She—"
I was too upset to cry but not to state what I was feeling. “No. It’s the truth. From when we first got together ... we couldn’t even be together ... because of her. Because Kari’s social standing was more important than the world knowing we were in love.”
I know he tried to halt his disappointed sigh, but he couldn’t. “Betha—"
“And when she OD’d the first time and you went to her side?” Honest to goodness visual flashbacks of us cutting our romantic weekend short and tearing into the hospital parking lot a year before seared my brain.
“The kids were with her.” His voice rose a tad.
“I know. I was going to say I understood. I did. And after rehab, she settled down. But it was always a passive-aggressive thing with her toward me. I know you know that. And I understood. I understood that was the dynamic. I could live with it because I knew you loved me.” Dang ... the tears weren’t visible, but they were marching their way to the starting line.
