“Miss Emma,” Eloise said, stretching her long, lean fingers to the stubby four year-old fist. “I think I saw Miss Maggie put fresh Better-Than-Your-Momma’s cookies in the case. Do you want to see if they’re as tasty fresh from the oven as they are the rest of the time?”
Emma looked from her father to Tessa, her oversized gray eyes tilting in concern. Nodding to Eloise she laid her hand in the waiting palm. They shuffled through the crowded café and went to the broad bakery case to select their delicacies.
Lacing his arms over his chest, Ryland stared down at her. “Talk.”
Scanning the space for an open, private table, she caught four sets of patrons gawking at their unfolding drama and one set of eyes belonging to Sissy Jenkins, senior member of her dad’s advisory board and unofficial town tattler. Trying to do something private in Gibson’s Run was impossible. God and Sissy would know. And throughout most of her childhood, Tessa was convinced Sissy knew first.
“Not here,” she whispered, tugging his forearm to follow her. “Hi, Mrs. Jenkins.” Tessa waved, but did not break her stride until she was standing across the street by the dilapidated fountain. Sucking in a breath she turned. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re the one who wanted to talk.” Ryland’s legs were braced. Ready to take a hit.
“I know…” Chewing her bottom lip she tried to think of something to convince him she was not the nefarious character his mind convicted her of being.
“Tessa, I don’t have time for this.”
“Time for what, Ryland? Time to talk to a woman you claimed to have loved your whole life? Time to figure out how to heal the wound? Time to listen to a woman who discovered she can’t live without you or your daughter? What don’t you have time for, Ryland?”
Shoving his broad hand through his cropped hair, he turned from her, expelling air like a caged bull. “Do you know how hard this is for me? I’ve waited since I was six to have a chance with you and when I finally do I find out you’ve been using me for a story. A story.” The last words spat from his lips.
“I’m not after a story. I would never do that to you or Emma. I love you too much.”
“But you haven’t always. You used to hate me. Admit it. You blamed me for your miserable childhood.”
“I guess. But I never hated you. I wanted to hate you. The teasing. The endless hours of disappointed glances from my mother because I wasn’t popular. I admit I irrationally blamed you for that experience. But I’d never allow that pain to justify causing you or anyone else a moment of anguish.”
“I find that hard to believe since I’ve reporters calling me on every number I’ve had since high school.”
“What? How? When?”
“That’s what they’re trying to figure out. Tanner’s a big deal. His divorce is on the front page of every sleazy magazine in this country. Anyone associated with helping to fuel the divorce is front page news. Which means Macy. And by association, me and Emma.” Resting his forearms against the iron fence, he cupped his head in his hands. “There were only six people who knew about Macy’s involvement with Tanner. Where she was headed the night she died. Tanner, his wife, Macy, my mom, you, and me.
“Tanner wouldn’t want any fuel for his divorce. His wife, Aubrey, promised me at Macy’s funeral she’d protect our secret for Emma’s sake. And since she hasn’t said anything in all this time, why would she now?” Lifting his chin, his eyes threw daggers at her. “That leaves my mom and you, and I seriously don’t suspect my mom. She’d never do anything to hurt me or Emma.”
A lone tear zipped down her cheek. Swiping it away, she reached in her pocket for her vibrating phone.
“Hello?”
“Tessa?”
“Jim?” The voice of her former publisher burned through her.
“I’m so glad to catch you on a Saturday. Do you have a few minutes to chat?”
“Jim I think we talked everything through a few weeks ago. There isn’t a place for me at E&E anymore.”
“Things have changed, Tess. You’re hot, hot, hot now. That picture in the Times-Picayune was gold.”
Ryland shoved away from the fence and started to leave.
Tessa was as desperate for him to stay. “Hold on a second, Jim.” Clenching her jaw she stepped closer, feeling the heat of his anger billow off of him. She covered her phone. “Ryland, I don’t know how many different ways I can say I didn’t do this. You’ll have to trust me. Trust I’d never deliberately hurt you or Emma.” Trying to avoid the tragedy of the prior evening, she stretched out her hand, willing him to engulf her tiny fingers in his beefy callused laden ones.
Seconds ticked by.
Neither moved.
Her breath held tight.
Ryland turned and crossed the street to the bakery.
Closing her fingers, her hand clasped only air. The heart she thought was already shattered, splintered into thousands of new fragments. Swallowing against the growing tightness in her throat, she slid the phone back to her ear. “Jim, what were you saying?”
38
Ryland ripped open the door, launching the welcome bell into a fit of jingles. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for her plea. The last several hours had been the hardest of his life. Harder than grappling with his career-ending injury. Harder than telling Emma Macy died. Closing the door on the one woman who fulfilled every dream he’d dreamed since kindergarten felt as if his beating heart was being torn with deliberate malice and torture from his chest. How had they landed here?
The reporter’s call at the house had rattled him, but one look at Tessa and thoughts of Macy’s infidelity and Everett Tanner’s divorce floated out of his mind.
And then the reporter.
The picture.
The story.
And the realization Tessa wasn’t many shades away from Macy’s green ambition.
Every cell of his body was engaged in a bloody civil war. Half for his brain and the logical reason concluded Tessa’s determination to return to her career trumped everything. The other half of his body raised arms for his heart, unwilling to accept their love could be anything less than epic.
But when she’d reached for his hand, Team Brain roared to a victory.
Macy’s lies wove with the vision of Tessa melting down in Terrell’s office over her career. And then the series of events leading to the showdown in the alley unfolded in his mind. The newspaper article in her adopted hometown paper. The book about Tanner being printed by her old publishers. The answers to questions only she knew.
Too many arrows pointed in Tessa’s direction. He had no choice but to protect himself and his daughter. His heart screamed for him to take her outstretched hand, but the discipline he relied on to transform him from a gangly teenager into an elite professional athlete won. He couldn’t risk his daughter or the pain of his own heart. Not again.
And yet, his heart yearned for her. Every non-Team Brain fiber of his body strained to be next to her. Without thinking, he was standing behind her resisting the urge to yank her into his arms. Crushing her to him; ignoring Team Brain until the end of time. Why didn’t he just take her hand?
Macy.
The road of selfish ambition ruled his marriage, and he promised himself he would never allow another’s desires to overshadow what was best for Emma. He’d never have thought Tessa would have any selfish interests. She seemed to really love his daughter. She listened to Emma. Made her a priority. Spent time with her when no one was around to watch. When no one was keeping score. The love he saw between his daughter and Tessa was real. But apparently it wasn’t enough to choose Emma over an opportunity to get back in the game.
Emma waved to him from her window seat next to Eloise.
He kneaded the base of his neck. He needed caffeine.
His impromptu babysitter would need to wait a few more minutes.
Tugging his wallet from his wind pants, he ordered a large black coffee to go.
“Here you go, Coach.” Tyso
n, a junior running back, handed Ryland a white paper cup with a smile.
He nodded and swiveled into Sissy Jenkins. At just five feet tall, the woman barely made his waist, but the fear she’d instilled in him since childhood shivered through his veins. “Mrs. Jenkins.”
“Don’t Mrs. Jenkins me, Ryland Jessup. I saw you with the Tarrington girl. You should be kinder to the woman you’ve been in love with since that awful gift in kindergarten.”
The realization Sissy knew about his love life, including his awkward attempt at romance at six, churned the acid lining his stomach. “Mrs. Jenkins, I’d rather not talk about Tessa. I need to get my coffee and my daughter.”
Waving off his protest, she tugged him to a corner table forcing him to sit with power that belied her petite frame. “Listen here. That poor girl has been through it. I may have had my questions about those books she was writing, but every one of them I read was beautifully shared and eloquently written. This nonsense about her trying to pit you and that imbecile Joey Taylor against each other is ridiculous. I told Bitsy Grey, just this morning after Jazzercise, she needed to take that Taylor boy in hand. She’s been the closest thing to a mother that hooligan has had since his poor mother passed away. He’s one mistake away from not being able to reform his life.”
Sissy continued to berate Ryland, simultaneously sharing every bit of gossip drifting through town about Joey, Tessa, and him. For good measure, she threw in some snippets about Sean and Maggie’s wedding and the sad realization about Macy’s death. She knew things about his life, he wasn’t certain he knew. But if Sissy knew something, it was fact. Truth was relative. How had she known about Macy? Her Google alerts must have NSA rated security clearance. And if she knew, maybe someone outside his circle of trust was the source behind the dreaded book. Maybe…
“Listen here, Ryland Jessup. You were always a good boy. Not like those other mess-ups you called friends. Pfft!” She shook her head as she cupped his chin in her hand. “You have a soft heart. You try and keep it steeled away behind a gruff football exterior. But unlike those idiot friends, you fail.
“You’ve been in love with the Tarrington girl longer than most people in this town have a memory. I figure you have two options. One, you can believe her and the two of you can have that white picket fence dream you’ve harbored. Or two, you can keep on turning your back to her apologizing for something she didn’t do. And she’ll take a hint and stop offering.”
~*~
Two hours later, Ryland cupped his sixth coffee as he glided on the back porch swing alone. With Mabel visiting a friend for a well-deserved night off, and Emma on a play date with the five-year-old who lived across the street, Ryland was left with no distractions from his thoughts.
Staring at new buds struggling to bloom, his mind swirled with the accusations Sissy had hurled at him. Six cups of coffee in, he could admit she was partially right.
But trusting Tessa—believing everything was coincidental—was more than his bruised and beaten spirit could muster.
The sun dipped low behind the twenty-year-old maple which stood guard to the west of his lawn. With its departure, the small burst of early spring warmth slipped from the Ohio afternoon. He zipped his fleece-lined GRHS track jacket, rested his head against the back of the swing, and prayed. “Lord, I need guidance from You. I believe You brought Tessa and I together, but have I misjudged her? Has her character changed from childhood? I want to believe she is the beautiful spirit I knew from afar. But the evidence points in one direction. How can I not be leery? Once bitten. Twice shy. I wanted to believe all of the awful things Emma and I endured over the past few years would fade like a sunset, but I don’t think that’s the road we are on. Lord, why can’t I believe her? I want to. My heart wants to but my head just can’t.”
“Or just won’t.”
With a jolt, Ryland sat military straight. Coffee went flying. Again. Down his shirt. “Aww Mom. Did you have to sneak up on me?” He swiped at the liquid, beading against the fabric. At least he’d chosen water repellant instead of just water resistant like earlier.
She slid onto the swing beside him. “I’m sorry, but it sounded to me as if you needed a little startling.”
With a sigh, he muttered, “Sissy.”
“Yes. I know she can be a little too much in everyone’s business, but this time her heart is squarely in the right place. You’re being an idiot.”
“Uh, thanks? Just what every only son wants to hear from his mother.”
“Darling, I’ve only ever spoken truth to you and your sisters. I’m too old to start changing my ways.”
“Still, idiot is kind of a strong label.”
“When the label fits…”
“Thanks for the talk, Mom, but I need to go get Emma. I’m sure the Wilsons weren’t planning on feeding her dinner.” He moved to stand, but his mother’s quick hand stopped his progress.
“Young man, you’re not too old to turn over my knee.”
He glanced at his bulky six-foot-six frame next to his mother’s five-foot-four inches and stifled a belly laugh. At the ripe old age of eight he’d learned the lesson of laughing at one of his mother’s outrageous statements. And although he outweighed her by well over one hundred pounds, he figured she would find a way to stretch him across her lap and break a paddle just to prove a point. “Ryland, I don’t know the details of what happened between you and Tessa.”
“Sissy didn’t provide a detailed punch list?”
“Snarky is not an attractive quality, son.”
“Sorry.”
“As I said, I don’t know what happened between you two. But I do know I’ve never seen two young people better suited for each other. If you allow her to slip out of your life, you’ll be missing an opportunity at bliss.”
“Mom, she knows about Macy.”
“Good. She should know.”
“And now there’s a tell-all book detailing Macy’s relationship with Tanner.”
“What’s that to do with Tessa?”
“She’s a ghost writer. Of memoirs and tell-all type books.”
“I’m not seeing the link. Correlation does not equal causation.”
“Yes. I took statistics as well, but there are too many other things.”
“Such as?”
He told her about the article and the reporter. The questions and the picture. He tried to glaze over the car and the park, but his mother was a woman of details.
“And based on all of those highly circumstantial pieces of ‘evidence’—and I use the word loosely—you’ve convicted her?”
“Who else could have dredged up the past?”
“What about Tanner’s wife? I imagine something scandalous such as his affair with Macy would be quite a boon to her divorce settlement.”
Ryland shook his head. “After the funeral, Aubrey promised she’d keep the secret. She has kids, too. She wouldn’t want to hurt Emma or her own children.”
“But you think Tessa, the woman who spends three days a week with Emma, would want to blatantly hurt both her and you?”
“No…I don’t know.”
“Baby boy, that woman messed you up.”
Even after all the time since her death, his mother still struggled with Macy’s Name.
“In the head and the heart,” she continued. “She messed you up more than I ever knew. I want to hate her, but I can’t. She gave you a beautiful, smart, wonderful daughter whom I’m busting-at-the-seams proud to call granddaughter. So no, I can’t hate her. But I can hate every action she did to cause the wounds in you. The deep ones. Below the surface of the scars that flash healing, but whisper the devastation your soul has endured.
“You are a good man, Ryland. Your daddy would be proud of the father, coach, and man of faith you’ve become. Don’t allow one person’s self-hate and selfish ambition rob you of the happiness you deserve. Tessa is part of your happiness. She and Emma. They’re your gift. And they’ll help you heal the deep wounds if you trust them
and yourself enough to try.”
The sting of unshed tears burned the corners of his eyes.
Cupping her hand over his, she squeezed. “Call Tanner’s wife. Start with the logical. Not the farfetched. Logic. Reasonability is what makes good fiction. And trust me, I know good fiction. I’d have to believe the same holds true for real-life.”
39
Ryland brushed Emma’s hair—a final bedtime ritual before prayers, story, and lights out. Resting her head against his thigh, he brushed while she played with the ribbons trimming her heart pajamas.
“Daddy?”
“Emma?”
“Do you love Miss Tessa?”
His hand stopped mid-brush. Her innocent question splashed unseen ice water in his face. Did he love Tessa? Yes. Easy answer. Did he trust Tessa? Not the easiest answer. “Why are you asking?” Delay. Delay. Delay.
Emma shrugged and wriggled to make eye contact. “I love Miss Tessa and I thought if you loves her too, she could come lives here with you and me and Mabel.”
“It’s not quite that simple, E.”
“Why not? G-ma says if people loves each other theys family.”
“I am certain your grandmother did not say ‘theys’.”
Her little brow pinched across the bridge of her nose. “Daddy…”
“Sorry. You were saying…”
“I love Miss Tessa, and I know she loves me ‘cause she showed me. And I thinks you loves her, too.”
“Why do you think I love her?”
“‘cause you are always worried about her.”
“Worried about her?”
She sat straight, nodding and sending the brushed hair flying in static directions. “You always make sure she has what she needs. Likes when you went to find her in New O’leans. She neededs you and you went. You don’t wants her to get hurts. I think you loves her a whole bunches.” She laid her cheek back to his thigh and drew tiny circles with her chubby finger.
His mother was right.
When wasn’t she?
Tessa was a part of his happiness. And he was blaming her for wounds she didn’t inflict. Projecting Macy’s hurt onto Tessa. Allowing the negatives of one to cloud the positives of another.
Life on the Porcelain Edge Page 26
