Life on the Porcelain Edge

by C. E. Hilbert

  27

  Tessa glanced over Ella’s shoulder.

  Ryland had stepped away, seeking privacy for his call.

  “Things seem to be going along with the two of you,” Ella said.

  Tessa bit the side of her cheek. “He told me he loved me.”

  Ella tugged her into a crushing hug. “Oh. my! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “I like breathing, Elle.”

  “I am sorry.” Her curls bopped around her head. “But isn’t this exciting? What did you say to him?”

  “I told him I am in stupid love with him, too.”

  Ella’s hands shot to her mouth in a fruitless effort to stifle her romantic glee. “But how did this happen? When did you know you were in love? Did he kiss you? This all seems so sudden, don’t you think? Wasn’t he the bully who caused you difficulty through school?” Her stream of questions bubbled over and the truest Ella swam to the surface of her carefully reigned personality.

  “Elle, the wedding will be over before I can answer all your questions. Let’s just say, I’m as surprised and delighted as you by this turn of events.”

  “It’s quite delicious, don’t you think? Star-crossed lovers never quite fitting until one day…” Ella released a sigh. She linked her arm through Tessa’s and they leaned against the railing, watching the mix of natives and tourists weave the crowded street below. “If I’m not too intrusive…what was the kiss like?”

  Tessa chuckled and leaned against her friend. “Better than the best writing could ever describe.”

  “So I guess New Orleans is on hold?”

  “I want to take time. Not rush anything.” Tessa glanced back to where Ryland paced in deep conversation. “But if I let my mind wander, I could conceive of only being a tourist ever again.”

  “Ahh…I do love love.”

  Chuckling, Tessa turned at the soft click of Ryland’s shoes on the concrete. With one shot of his drawn features, her smile faltered. Her heart sped. “Is Emma OK?”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed. “Emma’s fine. Sean called. Joe’s been in an accident.”

  “Oh, no. Is he OK? What can we do?” She tried to ignore the slight trill of pleasure running through her at the mention of her and Ryland as “we”.

  “All I know is he’s in the hospital. The hospital couldn’t give Sean more information, because Joe’s still being evaluated. Sean hasn’t been able to get hold of Mac, and Sean can’t get a flight until tomorrow, so he asked if I could go to the hospital and manage any decisions or possible press.”

  “How will you get to Joe faster than Sean on a plane tomorrow?”

  “He’s here, Tess. He’s in New Orleans.”

  ~*~

  Orderlies and nurses zipped through the waiting room in Tulane Medical Center Emergency Room calling patient names.

  Ryland was at the central nurses’ station speaking to a doctor.

  Tessa clutched his suit jacket tight against the chill racing through her system. She didn’t care what Joey had done. She just wanted him to be OK. Father, please be with him. Help him.

  A wide palm encompassed her praying hands. Without a glance, she released her grip laying her palm open.

  Ryland laced his fingers through hers. “Holy Father,” Ryland said, his voice low and intimate. “We lift up JT to Your loving, healing hands. We don’t know the details of what brought him here tonight, Father, but we trust Your holy embrace can heal the brokenness in any life and we claim that tonight for him. We thank You for Your gift of grace and healing. In Your Son’s holy name. Amen.”

  Ryland’s prayer was a salve to her flayed spirit. She leaned against his shoulder, seeking the comfort she’d once coveted. “Thank you. What did the nurses say?”

  “They haven’t received a copy of the emergency medical power of attorney from Sean. They won’t tell me anything other than he’s in the hospital. He could be in surgery. ICU. CCU. Or just have a broken collar bone. I feel so helpless.”

  “I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “He couldn’t be in better hands. This is one of the best hospitals in the city. I had my appendix removed a couple years ago and everything was wonderful.”

  “You don’t have an appendix? I’ve waited all this time and you’re a chopped up model? I guess no one’s perfect.”

  “Hey?” She slugged him in the shoulder. The shadow of a grin tugged at his lips. “You’re teasing me. Still a little touchy, I guess.”

  “I think you’re perfect. Appendix or no appendix.”

  “Ugh, did you read that on the back of a greeting card?” She tugged her hand from his.

  “No, you bring out the poet in me.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Listen. Roses are red. Violets are blue. To T.T. Tarrington, I will always be true.”

  She chuckled. “That’s awful.”

  “I should probably leave the writing to you and Emma.” He brushed his lips to her forehead.

  “Sound plan.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Jessup?” A doctor draped in scrubs loomed over them.

  “David?” Tessa recognized the tall, lean, slightly tan doctor from church small group. “When did you start at Tulane?”

  “Tessa?” She stood and he immediately enveloped her in a tight embrace. “When I finished my residency they recruited me to be the emergency attending. Where have you been? I was hoping to debate this month’s book with you. “

  “Taking care of my dad in Ohio.” She stepped back from his hug, sliding to Ryland’s side.

  “You two know each other?” Ryland asked.

  “Umm, yeah. We’re in small group together. Ryland Jessup, this is David McCullen.” Tessa said. “But we can catch up another time. You have news on Joe?”

  “Yes. We received Mr. Taylor’s medical power of attorney and his brother’s consent to discuss his condition and course of treatment with you. Would you follow me?” He led Ryland and Tessa through the maze of gurneys and waiting patients to a small span of rooms with frosted glass doors.

  Through the door sat two overstuffed chairs and a small love seat. David sat on the arm of one of the chairs but Ryland leaned against the open wall consuming the majority with his broad shoulders. Tessa hesitated entering the room, unsure of her place in this moment. She wasn’t dating Joe anymore. She shouldn’t be privy to his secrets.

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  Ryland shook his head. “JT and Sean will be fine with you knowing. Please sit.” He guided her to the small love seat.

  David leaned forward and shut the door with a slight push. “Mr. Taylor was admitted roughly two hours ago with multiple lacerations, a broken wrist, a torn ACL and some internal bleeding forcing emergency surgery. The team was able to successfully stop the bleeding; however with the mix of amphetamines and alcohol in his system, we’ll need to monitor him for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

  “Do you know what happened, Dr. McCullen?” Ryland asked. “Was he driving?”

  “No. He was the passenger. The driver had minor injuries and is set to be released in the next few hours. The driver was just under the legal limit. The police are choosing not to pursue action at this time as no one, aside from Mr. Taylor, was injured.”

  “Has anyone called asking about Joe?”

  A fog floated over Tessa. Ryland’s and David’s conversation hummed in her ears. Her mind zoomed through questions she couldn’t answer. Amphetamines? Why would Joe take a drug banned by major league baseball? Drinking? At least he wasn’t driving, but was the driver intoxicated? This was not the Joey Taylor she’d known since kindergarten or the sweet man who’d courted her the past few weeks. What kind of pain was he enduring to be trying to escape it with extremes?

  “Tessa?” David’s voice broke through her haze. “Tess, are you all right?”

  Both David and Ryland squatted before her.

  Ryland brushed his fingers across her cheek.

  The touch registered the dampness. How long had she been crying? “I�
�m OK.” Her voice was a mix between a croaked frog and laryngitis.

  “You’re sheet white,” Ryland said.

  “I’m fine. Really.” She pushed his hand aside and straightened to as tall as her body would allow. “When can we see Joey?”

  “He’s in recovery, but he won’t be moved to a room for a few hours.” David said with a pat to her shoulder. “Visiting hours will be done before you’ve an opportunity to see him. Why don’t you go home? If there’s an issue the hospital will contact you.”

  “David, please isn’t there any way?”

  He dropped his focus to the chart. “The nurses in recovery are friends of mine. I might be able to swing something for you, but I can’t promise.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. The room tilted to the left. Stumbling forward, Ryland snatched her into the crook of his arm, tucking her to his side.

  “Are you OK?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Just a little lightheaded.”

  David’s face twisted to a frown. “When was the last time you ate? You know how you get when you don’t eat.”

  Ryland’s entire frame stiffened and his grip on her tightened.

  “I know. As soon as we see Joey, I’ll make Ryland take me to get some food. Deal?”

  “Deal. Let’s sneak you on up.”

  Ryland and Tessa followed David through the emergency room to a bank of elevators. The trio rode to the third floor—the ding of the floors punctuating the whine of elevator tunes. She sucked in shallow breaths. The buzz of her brain fought against the swell of nausea rolling in her stomach.

  Ryland stood stiff beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, but his silence cascaded a waterfall of worry through her. What was he thinking? Feeling? Her old memories of jokester Jessup clashed with the clenched jawed man holding her. If his intensity matched his concern, what had she missed in her fogged state in the consultation room? She released a slow breath as the doors slid open.

  David ushered them to a quiet corner to the left of the nurses’ station. He chatted in low whispers to an attending nurse.

  Ryland stared forward, his jaw pulsing.

  “Are you OK?”

  He nodded, shifting his focus to her, anxiety shadowing his steely gaze.

  She lifted her hand to his chest—resting lightly above his heart. “He’ll be OK. I know it. Things will get back to normal.”

  “What’s normal, Tessa?”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but David motioned them forward.

  “He’s sleeping in the third bay. Since he’s the only patient in recovery, Jill’s being gracious enough to let you visit him.” David winked at the petite redhead hiding a smile while she shuffled papers behind the desk. “You’ll only have five minutes. I want to warn you. He probably won’t wake up. He looks worse than his condition. He has bruising from the accident, and he’s pretty bandaged, but he’s stable. We expect him to make a full recovery.”

  Beeping machines and the drip of medicine through Joe’s IV broke through the silence.

  “Oh, my.” A soft gasp seeped through Tessa’s lips.

  The beautiful man, who, only days before walked her home and kissed her good night, was engulfed in layers of crisp white cloth. His head was wrapped with gauze and the bit of face she could see was swollen and scraped, beginning to show signs of transitioning from red to bruised purple. Tears sprang from her eyes, flooding her vision. Stepping out of Ryland’s grip, she rested a hip on the side of Joe’s bed and brushed his bangs from his forehead. “What did you do, Joey?” She whispered.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes.” David’s voice dropped low. “Be careful of the wires and his wrist.” The subtle squeak of rubber against the floor signaled his retreat.

  She swallowed against the surge of weeping wanting to bust from her body. Joe looked so weak lying in the sterile bed, his face devoid of the joy-filled spark.

  Ryland hovered at the curtained entrance. With legs spread wide, his arms were laced across his middle and his narrowed gaze observed the full length of his best friend.

  “He’ll be OK.” She said.

  Ryland turned to her. His eyes crested with tears unshed. “I should have stopped him. I knew. This is my fault.”

  Tessa stepped to him, forcing him to drop his focus to her. “Listen to me. This is no one’s fault but Joey’s and the driver’s. Joey made his choice tonight. For reasons we may never understand. It was his choice. We can love him through to healing, but healing will be his choice too.”

  “Thank you.” His hand brushed her hair over her shoulder, caressing the length of her neck with a slow, steady cadence waking her dormant butterflies and reviving her sagging spirit. With a quick peck to her forehead, he whispered. “Let’s get you some food. I’ll take care of everything else in the morning.”

  “We will, Coach. We will.”

  28

  When Ryland had left Tessa’s twenty-four hours earlier, he’d never believed he’d again cross the threshold. And yet, he sat legs outstretched on her L-shaped sofa staring into the distant chaos, a recap of the day’s events playing on his mental highlights reel. Six months ago, if he’d been given coffee by his future-self, complete with the accounting of this day, he’d have snorted the scalding beverage through his nose and recommended a good psychologist. How was a person to balance the realization of a lifelong dream against the near destruction of his best friend?

  “If I keep offering you pennies for your thoughts you’ll have Emma’s college paid before she enters elementary school.” Tessa handed him a glass of water, setting her cup of tea on the ottoman. Scrubbed clean of the layers of caked make-up and dressed in threadbare sweats topped with a plain white tee, she embodied every simple, soft dream he had.

  “You look amazing,” he whispered.

  “Pfft.” She shook her head. “I look ready to crawl under my covers and sleep for six years—but six hours will do. How are you? Did you talk to Sean?”

  “His flight arrives at ten-thirty. He’s heading straight to the hospital. I extended my hotel room until Friday. Hopefully, he and Mac will sort this situation long before then.”

  “Are you staying?”

  “No. I need to get back to Emma and school. I just wanted to take something off of Sean’s plate. He’s always doing for everyone else—especially JT.”

  She stretched her arm across the sofa and squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t know how I blinded myself to your generosity all these years.”

  “If I’d only known at six that being nice to JT’s big brother would get you to smile at me, I would’ve totally skipped Suzi’s On Main and written you a list of all the nice things I planned on doing in the future.”

  “Oh, those stupid underpants…”

  With her chuckle, the breath he held released a flood of relief through his body.

  “I may never fully forgive you for the thirteen years of torture. What a horrible nickname.”

  “One day, I’ll explain how good intentions are similar to the best laid plans.”

  “They do often go awry.” She lifted her mug to her lips, blowing soft to cool the steaming contents.

  His phone chirped, drawing his attention. He swiped to answer a number he didn’t recognize. “This is Ryland Jessup.”

  “Whew.” The voice cracked. “I’m glad I finally connected with you, Ryland. This is Charlie Messing, JT’s agent.”

  Ryland remembered meeting Charlie at a Spring Training game a few years earlier.

  “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

  “Sean said you’re running point on the JT situation until he gets down to New Orleans. I’ll be there on the red eye out of Las Vegas tonight. Any updates on his progress?”

  “I’m sorry Charlie, but if you’ve talked to Sean, he would’ve told you how JT was doing. I’m not comfortable sharing my friend’s medical status with someone I’ve met one time.”

  “Understood. Appreciate your discretion. Not everyone in yo
ur situation could be so trusted. Sorry to put you in a tough spot. Just worried. JT’s my best client and I consider him a friend. You can imagine how the news shook me up.”

  “Well, if you want to do something for your friend and client, I suggest you ensure you are the last person to hear this news until JT decides what to do.”

  “Roger that. Night.”

  Ryland tossed his phone on the ottoman and walked to the broad expanse of windows.

  “What did he say?” Tessa asked, her reflection just to the right of his in the window. Two silhouettes with nothing but time. How different reality was from an image. She slid her arm around his waist, resting her head against his bicep.

  “Charlie’s just worried. We all are. How could JT be so stupid? Riding with someone who’d been drinking? Not caring about anyone but himself. I knew JT was self-centered but I never thought he was selfish. His brothers have dealt with enough loss for a lifetime. They’ve cleaned up after JT for decades, and now almost ten years after their mom died, they’re still mopping up his messes.” He kicked the wall four times shaking loose mortar like snow on their heads.

  “Hey. I have a security deposit I’d like to get back.”

  “I’m sorry…” Resting his forehead against the glass, the tears he’d checked since early this morning burst through to sobs. Body shaking, he slid to the floor. Shedding the coach’s armor he diligently used to keep the world at bay, he wept.

  Tessa cradled him to her chest. “It’ll be OK.” She said. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, her fingers not quite touching.

  But in her half hug he felt more comfort than years of marriage or friendship. She gave and asked nothing in return.

  Moments turned to minutes. Minutes turned to he-didn’t-know-how-long, but finally his tears shifted to a trickle. His breaths came in a steady stream rather than gulps. He pushed himself to sit, resting his back against the rough brick wall. With little thought to propriety, he lifted Tessa in his lap and held her tight to his chest, unwilling to release his one source of comfort.

  “Joey isn’t Macy.” Tessa broke through the silence with a bomb.

  “I know.” He felt his settled anger bubble to the surface. “I never said he was.”