“OK.” The bed creaked as he stood. “I thought you might want to tell me why Ryland seemed as if he’d seen a ghost when he returned to his house last night. Or why I had a reporter greet me at the front step this morning with my Dispatch in hand?”
Thrusting the blankets from her face, she shoved herself to sitting. “What reporter? What did you say? What did he ask?”
“Well, that woke you up.” He dragged her desk chair to sit next to the bed. “I think we should talk about what happened between you and Ryland last night.”
“Nothing happened.” And nothing ever will. “We realized we don’t see life quite the same way. Tell me about the reporter.”
“He said he was looking for a quote about how you destroyed Joey’s life.” He patted her hand. “We both know that isn’t true. You couldn’t hurt that boy if you tried. I don’t know if anyone can hurt Joe as badly as Joe hurts himself.”
Throwing back the covers, she jumped out of bed and scurried to her closet. Grabbing a pair of flip-flops and her favorite sweatshirt, she hustled to the door. “Dad, I have to go.”
“Tessa Natalie Tarrington. Where do you think you are going in your pajamas?”
36
Tessa lifted her clutched fist but hesitated to knock on the worn door. She sat on the porch step, tightened her wool coat around her middle and laid her head against her long-legged lap, curling her bare toes against the brisk early spring morning. What was she thinking? Running around town in her pajamas and flip-flops? She hadn’t thought. She went straight to fixing. Sprinting from her own misery and diving into another’s pool of problems. Her go-to solution to dealing with her life: avoidance.
“Sleep walking, Tessa?” Sean’s authoritative voice broke through the bubble of pity.
She looked up.
A sweat-drenched Sean sat down beside her.
“I wanted to help Joey.”
“Don’t you think you’ve ‘helped’ my brother enough?”
She stretched to meet his gaze, her spine taunt with frustrated anger. “Listen. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t tell a soul what happened in New Orleans. Not even my father.”
“How’d you explain you and Rys making goo-goo face the last week? Only two weeks ago you were making goo-goo face with my brother. Pretty quick recovery.”
“My dad is aware of Joe asking Ryland to ‘fill-in’ for him at the wedding. And he’s also aware I’ve been struggling with my feelings…wait I don’t need to tell you anything.” Scrubbing her cheeks in frustration, she leaned against the porch pillar. “Goo-goo face, Sean? Why am I telling you about my feelings?”
“I’m a cop. People tell me stuff.” He shrugged, matching her position against the opposite column. “Now, you want to tell me how you think you can help Joey?” His tone softened a notch, shifting from cop to confidant.
“Sean, I’m so sorry about the photograph, but it was taken after we’d spent the morning with Joey in the hospital. After he’d given us his blessing. Ryland…I….we wanted to talk. In that moment I felt the freest I’d felt since I was a little girl on the Planter’s Park swings. I could finally see the path God had been clearing for me my whole life. The reasons behind the terrible, awful day. The reason I had no choice but to return to Gibson’s Run. At that moment I just wanted to revel in the newness. The perfection of the moment. I never thought we were in danger of causing a stir. We were alone.”
“Obviously not.’
“Obviously…” Silence hung between them. How would she fix this? What could she do? Where could she go? Four months ago she’d run home to Gibson’s Run. Now, she had nowhere left to run. Nowhere to find sanctuary.
“Tessa,” Sean’s deep timbre broke through her spiraling thoughts. “I know you didn’t do anything.”
Her head popped up. “What? But you just said…”
“I know what I said. It’s what I thought when I saw the paper. But Maggie talked me off the ledge. She helped me think of options for what happened. She’s good for me. Helps me to find clarity when things hit to close to the brotherly bond. I also know Sprout gave you his blessing. Regardless of how amazing you are, he would never be able to give you a fair shake with his heart. He needs to heal it first. Maybe he’ll find his own Tessa Tarrington. Or Maggie McKitrick.”
“Pretty deep for eight in the morning.”
“Second run of the day. Helps with the focus. You should try it.”
“Second? I can’t remember the last time I ran a first.”
“The first one landed me at Maggie’s, and in the process she gave me some new things to consider. She gave me a little fuel to get back here and since I’m on the late shift today, I thought I’d mull over her considerations while in motion. I do my best thinking and praying while moving.”
“I do my best thinking and wallowing elbow deep in a pint of rocky road ice cream.”
“We all have our methods.”
The first twinge of a smile pulled at her cheek. “Seriously, what can I do to help Joey? Do you want me to release a statement or write an article? Run away?” I’m really good at the last one.
“Don’t worry. This’ll blow over. Six months out of the year Joe’s in the middle of one catastrophe or another. He’ll survive. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I passed Ryland on my first run this morning. Kind of early for the coach when I know for a fact he doesn’t have anyone scheduled for his Saturday morning of suffering. Heard you two had a fancy date up in Columbus. I’m surprised he didn’t want a little shut eye. I’m also a little shocked you’re up and over here—straight out of bed—trying to fix a situation you didn’t break.”
Shrugging, she tucked a piece of her bed-worn hair behind her ear and stared at the well-manicured street, quiet on a Saturday. “I don’t know why Ryland was up and going so early.”
“Last night not go according to plan?”
She swallowed against the thickness growing in her throat, praying her tears would stay in retreat mode. “I don’t know what the plan was, but I don’t think the sleazy reporter who stalked us all through dinner anticipated being thrown into the street. And I didn’t plan to watch my future swirl the toilet bowl after falling from such a wonderful height.”
Sean kneaded the space connecting his neck and shoulders. “I think I understood four of the bevvy of words you just spewed. What reporter?”
“I think he’s from the New Orleans paper. He showed us the article.”
“How’d he track you here? How’d he even know who you are?”
“Well, about six months ago I had a…the terrible, awful day...” From the moment she stepped across her apartment threshold, to reaching for Ryland’s hand in the car the previous evening, Tessa dumped all of her problems on the unsuspecting chief of police. To his credit, he barely flinched when she mentioned the links between her washed up writing career and the notoriety of Joey’s current state. “And then when I realized I messed up Joey’s recovery, I had to try and fix it. That’s why I’m here.”
Scrubbing his face with his palm, Sean released a soft sigh. “I’m really sorry you’ve had to endure all of these obstacles. I had no idea.”
“I’m surprised Mrs. Jenkins didn’t tell you all about the terrible, awful day. The first time I saw her in Maggie’s café she asked me how I was able to show my face after I let all of those secrets ‘run out of my apartment’.”
“Well, if I’m being honest, Sissy cornered me the day after the news hit that your apartment was burglarized.”
“How could she have known?”
“She has a Google alert set up on everyone who has ever lived in Gibson’s Run.”
“Seriously?”
“We’re talking about Sissy Jenkins. What do you think?”
“You’re right.” Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she shifted to face Sean. “But I really am sorry. I think I may have drawn the drama to Joey. Just like Ryland. It’s all my fault.”
“OK. You�
��ve lost me. What does all of this have to do with Ryland?”
“Another reporter called him for a quote yesterday about his wife, Macy.”
“What about her?”
“I can’t say. He told me in confidence, but I can’t imagine a reporter would’ve found Ryland if he hadn’t been in my swirling orbit.”
“Tessa, you can’t blame yourself for every bad thing that happens to your friends.”
“Why not? I seem to be the only common denominator.”
“That’s a little self-centered don’t you think?”
“Perhaps, but that’s what I was told, anyway.” And she had to admit: facts were facts. Ryland had lived in near anonymity since Macy’s death and his retirement. Now Tessa was connected to him, he’d ended up a gossip headline in the sports section of the Times-Picayune. The secrets surrounding Macy’s life had come quickly to the surface when Ryland claimed he’d told no one else. Tessa would love to believe all of the flushing around her was coincidence, but reality was reality. Hers just happened to live on the porcelain edge.
“Tessa, I don’t know what made Ryland transform into an idiot last night. The guy has been in love with you since he stuttered. But you need to forgive him.”
“Forgive him? I need him to forgive me.”
“Maybe. That’s the thing about relationships. One person is often in the process of forgiving the other. But this situation is pretty clear. Ryland jumped to some dangerous conclusions. Granted, the circumstantial evidence was pretty heavy against you. But the straight up facts are clear. Anyone who has known you longer than a minute knows you wouldn’t intentionally hurt another person. Especially someone you care about.”
“Maggie?”
“Like I said. She’s good for me.” Sean squeezed her hand. “Ryland is stubborn. He’s kind and generous. And still really angry about Macy. I don’t know what happened between them. It’s not my business. But I’ve known him since he was like a week old, and something changed in him within months after he married Macy. His joy seemed to evaporate for anything other than his daughter. Then you came back into his life. And he seemed lighter. I thought my idiot brother messed it up, but when God is in something, nothing and no one will stop His will. Not even Sprout.”
A warm tear raced down her cheek, splattering against their linked hands. “I don’t know. Yesterday. Before dinner. Before that reporter and the picture and the news…Before everything, I would’ve staked my life Ryland was my one. I could see him and Emma in every day of the rest of my life. But now…I just don’t know.”
“He’s a thinker. He’ll need to brood. Punch the weight bag. Make some poor sophomore run laps ‘til he pukes. But he’ll realize his mistake. Sooner, rather than later. The question is, when he discovers he was wrong about you, will you be ready to forgive him?”
37
Rolling her exercise mat in a tight cocoon, Tessa swiped at the beads of sweat racing across her forehead. The hour session at the community center was led by Eloise Mayweather, a lithe former ballet dancer who graduated with Tessa.
Tessa remembered Eloise as being kind to everyone in school, often writing notes of encouragement to other students and staff. She even baked sugar-free cookies for the janitor when she discovered he was insulin dependent. For all her grace and cavity inducing sweetness, Eloise was a terrifying taskmaster when she led class.
After her heart-to-heart with Sean, Tessa had opted for mind numbing pain rather than folding herself under her covers for endless cycles of what-if scenarios. With sweat chilling against her skin, and her mind settled for the first time since dinner the night before, she knew she’d made a wise decision.
Tugging her threadbare Tigers sweatshirt over her head, she nodded to Eloise, who closed the distance between them. Her head barely reached Tessa’s shoulder, but every muscle was clearly defined. If she had fat, she kept it stored in a closet somewhere to be used only on special occasions.
“Great class. I don’t think my instructor in New Orleans could make it through your hour.”
Eloise smiled as she zipped her formfitting jacket. “I forget sometimes everyone was not a ballet student used to hours of holding form and position.”
“Well, it was awesome. I may not be able to walk up the flight of stairs to my bedroom tonight, but I’ll remind myself how much better my jeans will fit, and a night or two on the couch won’t be too bad.”
“Oh, Tessa, you always were a funny one.” She giggled. “I’m so glad we’ve been able to reconnect through class.” Sliding her rolled mat under her arm, she tilted her head. “Are you busy? Would you like to have a coffee and maybe a treat at Only the Basics? I’d love to hear more about your life since you left Gibson’s Run. It must be so exciting to be a writer. Living in such a wild city.”
“I don’t think I really experienced the wild side of New Orleans, but it’s a beautiful place to live. Always a character around the corner with a story to tell.”
“Oh! So exciting. I’d love to hear more. Can I treat you to a cup of coffee?”
Tessa wanted to do anything except talk about her life, but her only other option for the day was wallowing alone in front of the television with a friendly pint of rocky road for companionship. “Sounds great.”
Twenty minutes later Tessa and Eloise stood in a four person deep line waiting to place an order for coffee at Maggie’s little café. Throughout the chilly walk from the community center to the shop, Eloise peppered Tessa with questions. Is living in New Orleans like the movies? Did you have loads of glamorous friends? Did you write Noel Trainer’s biography? Do you still sing? How do you like teaching?
The walk took less than five minutes, and Eloise discovered more about the last eight years of Tessa’s life than her father, Lily Mae, and Ella combined. Through the questions Tessa realized how much she missed New Orleans. How easy it would be to turn and run back to the life she knew before she fell in love.
Edging a step closer, Eloise chattered about the launch of her new ballet classes at the center.
Tessa nodded at what she felt were well-timed intervals, but without the distraction of answering the endless string of questions her mind started to float to Ryland and Emma. Yesterday she’d planned to spend this afternoon with Emma working through ideas for another Guard-Ann Angel story. She thought they could spend an hour ideating, and then while the sweet little girl napped Tessa would have the opportunity to spend some quality time with Ryland. How did one’s life become so empty in less than a day?
“…and I thought I could offer classes for the mothers, too. Ballet is an outstanding workout, you know.”
Tessa nodded, although she’d only taken one ballet class. After the recital her mother thought she might be better suited for art lessons.
“What can I get for you lovely ladies?” Jenna Arnold, a kindergarten teacher who worked for Maggie nights and weekends, stretched a welcoming grin.
“I’d like a latte with three shots. Non-fat milk, please.” Eloise tugged her credit card from her jacket pocket.
“Just a coffee.” Tessa said.
“I just brewed a new Columbian roast.” Jenna slid a white to-go cup to Tessa. “It’s in the far right carafe. You’ll have to tell me what you think. Maggie’s testing a new distributor.”
“This is my treat.” Eloise said, patting Tessa’s hand. “Why don’t you find a table while I wait for my drink?”
“Will do.”
The shiny carafes drew Tessa. Standing in a double wide row along a table near the west side of the café, she filled her cup to the brim. Blowing against the rising heat from the steaming coffee, she pivoted and smacked full force into the unmistakable chest of Ryland Jessup.
“I’m so sorry!” Grabbing a wad of napkins from the table, she began patting his chest dry. “I’m such a klutz.”
“Tessa, it’s fine.” His voice was low and melted over her like butter.
“Did I burn you?” She searched his eyes for a flicker—a tiny ray of hope
last night was a fluke. An imagined nightmare she could write about in her journal or give to Lily Mae to fuel her next Young Adult novel. But his eyes were blank. Devoid of emotion. No laughter. No sorrow. Nothing.
“No.” His sigh floated over her messy bun.
“Miss Tessa!” Emma’s shout cancelled the murmured pocket conversations in the café.
Tessa spun from Ryland, kneeling to welcome the outstretched embrace of the one Jessup who loved her unconditionally. “Hey, Miss Emma. Are you getting a special treat?”
“Yep. Daddy cames home and said I deserves a Saturday special.”
“What’s a Saturday special?”
“Miss Maggie’s chocolate chip cookie with a glass of chocolate milks.”
“Oh, that is special.” She stretched to her full height, keeping her focus on Emma and not allowing the tug of her heart to control her vision.
“You gots to sit with us. We’s gonna talks to Miss Maggie abouts making my birthday cake. You’ll come, won’t you? You and Pastor Tom hafta come to my party.”
“Emma,” Ryland’s correctional tone sent swift hammers to her heart. “Miss Tessa can’t sit with us today.”
“But whys?”
“Because she’s here with someone else.” He glanced over his shoulder, toward the counter with a growing line—Maggie, Jenna, and two assistants wove around each other like a choreographed dance. “And it looks like Miss Maggie is too busy to talk to us about your cake today. We’ll catch her on Monday.”
“But you promised.”
“Sometimes we can’t keep promises.” His gaze darted to Tessa. “Let’s get your cookie and get back home. I have tape to watch.”
“But I wanted my Saturday special with Miss Tessa.”
“Sorry, E. You’ll have to be disappointed. Learning to live with disappointment is a good life lesson. Good bye, Tessa.” His voice held the soft burn of bitterness.
A final good bye. The end.
No!
“Wait. Ryland, can I talk to you for a minute.” She waved to Eloise who watched the scene unfold from a near distance. “Emma can go wait in line for her cookie with Miss Eloise.”
Life on the Porcelain Edge Page 25
