Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  "Now and forever." Ignoring his flinch, I say, "I guess that means nothing."

  He doesn't open his eyes.

  "Ryan, she's gone. Donna's not coming back, those memories are gone. I think we know that now. But I'm here and I love you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

  A single tear slides down his cheek from one closed eye but he still doesn't speak. The sight of it breaks my heart. I feel it, feel my heart crack and the love I feel for him spill through me, then feel that love begin to fade. If he wasn't being so damned inflexible, we could make this work. We could find a way. But instead he's pushing me away. He won't even try. There's nothing I can do.

  "I'll move out of the apartment," I say, defeated. "Maybe Hannah will let me stay with her."

  He flicks the tear away and his eyes open. They're cool and somehow guarded. "No," he says. "Keep the apartment, and the credit cards. As long as you want. I don't want you to want for anything."

  I want for my husband, but apparently that doesn't count. "What about MMC?"

  He shakes his head slowly. "I don't know. It's been running okay, so you could probably let it keep on that way for a while. I don't know how long though."

  He doesn't know much. Except that he doesn't want to be married to me. I give a grim laugh. "I'm getting divorced and I don't even remember getting married."

  His shoulders stiffen and he looks away. "Kate, I..."

  The passion in his voice startles me. It's like he's come alive for the first time in the discussion. "What?"

  He looks back, his face and eyes now blank. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I'll take care of everything."

  Everything being the divorce, I assume but can't bring myself to ask.

  "I'll take a taxi to the train station," I say, but he shakes his head and says, "The least I can do is drive you there."

  But I don't want that, I realize. Saying goodbye at the train station? I don't know if I'll be able to control my emotions, or my desire to hug him one more time. "No. Let's just end this. Why drag it out any more?"

  He sits silent for a moment, then picks up his phone and calls for a taxi.

  We wait without speaking for the car to arrive. It takes twenty of the longest minutes of my life, and neither of us says a word. I've never felt such pain.

  How the hell did Donna walk away from love? Having it ripped away from me hurts beyond anything I could imagine, and she did it voluntarily?

  Maybe...

  Maybe he's right. Maybe she didn't love him any more and that's why she left.

  But I do. I love him. And he loves me. But somehow that's not enough.

  I sit beside the man I love, breathing the same air as him for the last time, until the taxi finally shows up. Ryan walks me to the door then stands a few feet away as if afraid I'll throw myself on him.

  We look at each other.

  I take a deep breath and slide off my wedding rings, setting them carefully on the hall table.

  I wait for a response, but Ryan just looks at the rings and doesn't speak.

  Then I pick up my suitcase and walk away from the remnants of Donna's life.

  *****

  I curl up against the window of the train, trying to look like I'm sleeping, trying not to cry loud enough to break that illusion. He sent me away. I believe he loves me, it's written all over him, but he's still letting me go. No, it's more than that: he's actively pushing me away.

  The realization angers me and makes me stop crying, and suddenly I want to let his pushing send me much further away than Toronto. I have identification now, so I could go anywhere. I want to go. I don't want to be anywhere I was with Ryan. Even sitting on the train hurts, since I went to see him with such hope a few days ago. Seeing all the places in my life where he should be and won't be is going to be unbearable.

  It hits me, hard, that he must feel that way about Donna, and by extension about me. The woman he loved is gone from him, and the one he loves now, me, is only there because his first love (real love?) is gone. It must be so hard for him to see me.

  But then why not admit that? Why all the "I can't say" stuff? I hate it. And I want to hate him, but I can't. I can't do anything but love him.

  Actually, I can. I can leave. I can go somewhere that I'll never run into him, somewhere he won't have to face me and I won't ever have to face someone who knows me.

  I'll tell him, and Jake and Hannah and my brother, once I get there. I won't be like Donna, running away under the cover of secrecy. But I'm still going to go. I will start my own life, one without Donna's shadow lurking over it. I might have her name, but I will be me. Whoever that is.

  I need to choose where to begin my new life, and by the time the train reaches Toronto, I have decided I will fly to Vancouver and start again there. I'll keep the consulting business, which will give me more than enough to live on, but I will move across the country and never again have to see anyone I remember. No Jake, no Hannah, and definitely no Ryan. A true fresh start.

  When I get home, I ignore my fatigue and order myself a plane ticket, one-way, to Vancouver for the next day. It costs a bundle but I don't care.

  It's the price of freedom.

  Chapter Thirty

  "Ms. Merrill, would you like a window or aisle seat?"

  I nearly burst out laughing. I have no idea. I don't remember ever being on a plane even though Donna traveled regularly for work. I can't even answer something as simple as this. "Let's say window." I'll watch as the plane takes me away from everything.

  I answer the rest of the airline clerk's questions. No, I have no frequent flyer membership. No, I don't particularly want one. No, I have no baggage.

  This makes me want to laugh again, since I have more than enough personal baggage to fill a jet's cargo hold, but it's good that I restrain myself because the clerk is concerned.

  "Are you moving to Vancouver, ma'am?"

  I stare at him. Am I? "Yes," I say firmly. "I am. Why?"

  He glances at his computer then back at me. "It's just unusual to take a one-way flight and have no baggage with you. In this day and age, we have to question it."

  This day and-- Oh. The terrorist stuff. Not having lived through it, I'd forgotten. I left everything in the apartment because I didn't want to take anything from this messed-up life with me. "I shipped all my things there directly so I wouldn't have to carry anything on the plane." I give him my best bright smile. "Everything I need is waiting there for me."

  He relaxes. "That makes sense."

  I'm finally issued a boarding pass and given back my passport. Donna's passport.

  I am so tired of being two half-people. Can't Kate and Donna somehow merge into one?

  I think the solution to that dilemma is still locked in Bubbly Words and for the life of me I can't figure out how to break into that damn program. It's holding my life, my memories, hostage, and there's nothing I can do.

  "Have a nice flight, ma'am."

  "Thank you," I say, and head off with the rectangle of slick paper that will let me escape.

  There's a huge line for security, so I stand fiddling with Bubbly Words and awaiting my turn. How ironic, if I crack the secure area now and find out all Donna's secrets. Would they stop me moving to Vancouver? Probably not. I think it might be too late. But I want to know them anyhow.

  There are numbers along the top and left side of the grid of letters, zero through nine. I don't feel like playing the game properly, so I tap those numbers. First all in order, then just the evens, just the odds, various different patterns. Nothing happens, of course, but I don't expect anything so I'm not disappointed.

  When I tap one then four then seven then the zero on the other side, the game gives a disapproving beep, startling me. It didn't care about anything else I tapped, so why did that matter? I try one-four-seven-one and get the same beep.

  It thinks I'm trying to do something. But what? One, four, seven... then what?

  The Bruce Williams numbers from my wallet. 14-74-13. Could it be...

&nbs
p; I tap them in order, down the left side then across the top.

  "Greetings, Donna," flashes on Bubbly Words' screen, and I stare at it in shock. Bruce's name must have been just a way to hide those numbers in plain sight. Were they the final piece of the puzzle? Am I in?

  A few seconds of frantic tapping proves I'm not. Nothing else has changed. I've gotten one step closer, though: the game now knows who I am. Who I was.

  Damn it, I am so tired of having to say both halves of that. I am and I was and no parts of my life link up any more.

  Vancouver will be good for me. A new life. Being in a new place will make all the difference.

  A cold shiver ripples over me. Why on earth would it? Where on earth could I go to escape what's happened to me? Yes, the move will get me away from Ryan and Jake and Hannah, but so what? I'll bring them with me in my mind, and in Ryan's case in my heart. I thought I could escape, but all I'm doing is running away.

  Again.

  Donna ran from her life, and I have kept up that unhappy tradition. I ran from Hannah's place, and from Ryan the day he found me. I wanted to run from Claire at the house in Ottawa, and I nearly tried to jump out Jake's fifteenth-floor window to run away, for crying out loud. I'm always running away.

  But everywhere I go, I take everything with me.

  I step out of line and find a bench, where I sit for ages. I want to get on that plane, want to lift off and change my life. Again and again I start to push myself to my feet, to rejoin the line, but I sit down again every time because I know it won't work.

  I have run so many times that I remember, and probably tons more that I don't. It's never fixed anything.

  I won't run again.

  I can't go back to Ottawa, since Ryan doesn't want me there and I don't want to be there knowing he's so close but so far away from me. But I can live in Toronto.

  It's time to take a stand and stop running, time to really live my life.

  I think.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I spend the whole next week trying to decide where I belong and what I should do.

  At my Tuesday therapy session I tell Doctor Ferraro everything that happened between me and Ryan over the weekend, and as we discuss it I start to make myself let Ryan go. He so clearly wanted me to leave him alone, did everything but kick me out the door. Why keep hanging on when he doesn't want me to?

  My Thursday session is all about what I want: Doctor Ferraro refuses to let me even mention Jake or Ryan. It's almost impossible at first, but I eventually begin to realize some things I want to do with my life. I'd like to help Hannah with her business, since I know she's passionate about it and I admire that and since I don't know if I'll ever be able to pick up where Donna left off at MMC. I also want to brighten my apartment and try every last drink on the Starbucks menu instead of always drinking my signature coffee. They're not big goals, but they're mine, and Doctor Ferraro and I are delighted with them.

  I call Hannah that same day and we spend hours together on Friday moving her business forward. It's great fun, and I feel useful and productive for the first time I can remember. In return, she buys me three different drinks from the Starbucks menu as we work and a hot-pink pillow for my apartment afterwards.

  After a weekend spent alternating between struggling with the still uncooperative Bubbly Words and trying to convince myself there's no point in finding Donna's past if Ryan doesn't want me in his future, I go back to Doctor Ferraro and let her know what I accomplished with Hannah. She's thrilled, and this time wants to talk about Jake and Ryan and where I see my future. I want it to be with Ryan, but after an hour spent discussing them both I can't stop thinking about Jake so I call and ask him to meet me for lunch. I haven't seen him for ages, since things began heating up with Ryan, and his pleasure at the invitation makes me wonder if perhaps my future lies with him instead of with Ryan.

  But the second I lay eyes on him outside the restaurant I know it doesn't. Objectively I have to admit he's better-looking than Ryan, but when I look at him that doesn't matter. All I see is that he's not Ryan. I love my husband and I don't think that's ever going to change even though he doesn't want me.

  Jake's eyebrows go up as I stand staring at him. "You okay, Kate?"

  I take a long deep breath. "I am. Things are..." I shake my head.

  "Things are," he agrees. "They sure are."

  I smile at him, and he reaches out to hug me. I press my forehead to his shoulder and give a deep sigh. My first memory of safety is his arms around me, and it does feel good to have him holding me again. But it feels like being wrapped in a plush blanket on a cold night, not like a lover's embrace. I know the difference now.

  We go into the restaurant and chat about nothing while we place our orders and await our food. He knows there's something going on, though, something deeper. I can see it in his face. I realize now that I've always been able to see what he thinks and feels, in contrast to Ryan who's so much more closed-off.

  My heart twinges, as it does every time I think of Ryan, and Jake puts his hand over mine but doesn't speak. I don't either, not sure where to start, and we sit in a soft peaceful silence until our food arrives.

  He takes two bites then says, "So. How's it all going? I've been worried about you."

  I smile, but it wobbles. "Oh, Jake. I don't even know where to start."

  I manage, though. I tell him I have fallen in love with my husband and lost him to Donna. I tell him I was at the airport ready to run but that I don't want to run any more. I tell him I'll be living my life in Toronto, because there's nothing for me in Ottawa.

  Then I tell him the last part, the hardest part to say. "I don't know whether we can be friends, Jake."

  He leans forward. "Why not?"

  Because you told me before that you really like me, and your eyes said maybe you love me? So it's not fair to you to just be friends?

  I can't figure out how to word it, but he gives a slow nod. "Okay, I admit I'd like us to be more than friends. But..." He sets down his fork and takes my hand again. "You do like me, right?"

  I nod. "But not like that."

  He gives my hand a squeeze. "I get it. I just want to know if you like me at all."

  "Of course. You're great."

  "And you aren't disgusted by the idea of dating me?" He smiles, clearly sure he knows the answer. "Does the thought of kissing me make you sick?"

  It doesn't, and in fact a shiver runs through me at the memory of our kisses. But they were all physical. The first kiss I shared with Ryan, outside that restaurant, went all the way to my soul. "That's not enough. No, you're not repulsive, but you have to know I love Ryan. I don't want to make you think we'll be something more." I take a deep breath. "Because I know we won't be."

  His smile is gone and he lets go of my hand. "It's because of the... accusation, right?"

  "No, I wasn't even thinking about that. It's just about how I feel about you."

  He's not listening. "I thought you'd believe that I didn't hurt her. I thought you knew me better than that. You certainly wanted me before. If you hadn't known about that, you'd want to be with me. If he hadn't told you."

  I raise my chin, anger charging through me. "If Ryan hadn't told me, I would still not want to be with you. Yes, at the beginning you and I had a connection, but once I found him, everything changed."

  Jake gives a cold laugh. "Sure did. You went all secretive. I bet you know exactly why Donna left him and you're keeping it to yourself so I won't judge him like you're judging me."

  "I'm not judging you. Look, do you want to know what I think of the accusation? Fine," I say, words tumbling from me. "I do think she said no, and I think you didn't hear it and went ahead. Not on purpose, not maliciously, but you just didn't see the signs. Like you don't seem to see the signs here. My feelings for you, or lack thereof, aren't from Ryan. They're all mine. And we won't be more than friends."

  He pushed his chair back and says quietly but with icicles in his voice, "We won't be that
either, if you can sit there and say you think I... took that woman against her wishes." He stands and glares down at me. "God, Kate. Not everything you think has to be said."

  He storms out, and I lean back in my chair and sigh. I didn't mean to hurt him, and I hadn't intended to admit what I thought either. Maybe I should copy my alter-ego and keep my thoughts and emotions locked away where they can't hurt anyone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Back at the beginning, Jake told me I could make my amnesia a good thing by recreating myself, and even though he and I aren't friends any more I spend the next month doing just that.

  Hannah and I work together nearly every day, and after a few weeks she offers to officially add me to her business as its CEO. I'm tempted, but I tell her I can only be unofficial until I figure out how I'll handle MMC. I'm certainly not able to take back my previous clients, since I know nothing about their lives and issues, but I'm not ready to give up the firm Donna worked so hard to build.

  I see Doctor Ferraro twice a week, and while my love for Ryan doesn't fade my anger and pain over his pushing me away begin to. She and I are thrilled that I didn't slide into depression again over the situation; while she won't let me say I'm 'cured' she does think my more stable emotional balance is a good sign that maybe the ECT and the antidepressants I've been taking since Ryan and I first kissed have made a difference.

  With the rest of my time, I read every book I can lay my hands on to expand my horizons and see what I like, work through the Starbucks menu as I'd planned, and gradually redecorate my apartment to suit the lovely pink pillow Hannah bought for me.

  It's a busy month, and a fun one, but it does nothing to bring back my memories.

  Now, at four in the afternoon on a gorgeous late June Thursday, I'm standing at the airport's international arrivals gate hoping I'm about to see someone who will.

  People pour out of the gate, and I scan the crowd. What if I don't recognize him?

  But when he appears I know him immediately, even though he's so grown up.