by Linda Apple
“Well, that’s a fine way to start.” I gave a weak smile. “Just nerves.”
“Believe me, I get it. I guess I’m just used to their disapproval.” He reached over and stroked my cheek. “But I will make you this promise. The minute they cross the line, we are outta there.”
“Oh, Ty.” My eyes began to sting. “I don’t want us to be at odds with your parents. I want us to be family. You have children. I don’t want to be the elephant in the room at family gatherings and ruin it for everybody.”
“Trust me.” He leaned over and brushed my lips with his. “You will never be the elephant. A tigress, yes. Never an elephant.”
The interior of the cab suddenly illuminated. I glanced toward the house and there stood Emma Jackson in the doorway with light from inside the foyer spilling around her and onto the flagstone porch.
“Well, gird your loins, my love.” Ty opened the door. “Showtime.”
I tried to calm my nerves while he strode around to help me out. We climbed the steps and walked between the stone columns to the massive oak door where Ty’s mom waited. She was still an elegantly attractive woman even though she was in her late seventies and a lung cancer survivor at that. But, I couldn’t help noticing the deadness in her eyes. Like a stone statue in an ancient cemetery.
She held both hands out to Ty. “Tyler. I’m so glad to see you. Even though we live in the same town, I see so little of you as of late.”
“Mother, please. I was here for supper a few weeks ago.”
Completely ignoring him, she turned her attention to me. Molten steel replaced the deadness in her eyes. “And Avalee. You finally decided to come home to your poor mother.”
I opened my mouth, but closed it. What could I say to that? Guilty as charged? Probably everyone in town held my thirty-year absence against me. Heck, I held it against myself. The few times I’d returned to Moonlight were in and out visits at best. I didn’t want to see anyone but my parents, Molly Kate, and Lexi. And the reason for my avoiding home stood before me.
Ty put a protective arm around me. “Don’t start, Mother, or we will leave now.”
Did I see surprise register on her face? She held her hand toward the door. “Come in. It’s cold out.”
Once inside, I remembered the box I clutched and stammered, “My mother sent this. It’s fudge, one of her many specialties.” I held out the package.
“Oh, how nice.” Emma looked as if I had handed her a box of worms. “I’ll have Doris put it out for guests to enjoy.”
Nothing had changed. She was still as pretentious as when Marc and I were together. We followed her into the family room where a cozy fire danced in the hearth. She gestured toward the enormous corduroy and leather couch. “Have a seat. I’ll get Marcus.”
I gingerly moved the pile of gold and copper pillows for us to find a place to sit. Ty took my hand, but I pulled it away. “Not now.”
Doctor Jackson entered the room, stoic as I remembered him. He had aged rather nicely. He still had a respectable amount of hair, which had turned white. His short-cropped beard gave him a dignified look. He peered at us through wire-rimmed glasses. “Good evening, Tyler. Avalee.”
Ty bent forward to stand, but his father held up a hand. “Keep your seat, son.” He eased down in a leather recliner across from where we sat. “Emma is instructing Doris to bring the wine.” He turned his gaze on me and after appraising me for what seemed like minutes, but were in reality only seconds, said, “I must say, Avalee, time has been good to you these past…” He rubbed his beard and glanced up at the iron chandelier above us. “Thirty years is it?”
“Yes sir. Thank you, Doctor Jackson. Time has been kind to you as well.”
He inclined his head, and then emotionally disappeared in uncomfortable reserve. We had been in the house less than fifteen minutes, and it already seemed like hours. At long last, Doris brought wine, followed by Mrs. Jackson. She lowered onto a club chair next to her husband. My stomach felt in knots. If it were not for his parents sitting across from us, I would have grabbed the bottle and turned it up.
After Doris poured the wine and left the room, Mrs. Jackson spoke. “I have to say, Tyler, your call came as a surprise.”
“In what way, Mother? I call all the time.”
Her glacier glare slanted toward me. “I was surprised you had the nerve to bring Avalee here. After all, she has made it a point to avoid Marc’s family all these years.” Her mention of Marc briefly softened her lined face but soon hardened when she looked at me. “I’m extremely disappointed in you, Avalee.”
Nettles and thistles sprang up in my soul at her words. Did she not remember our last meeting? How dare she? Everything inside me wanted to defend myself, but instead I said, “I’m sorry Mrs. Jackson. At the time, I felt the only way I could deal with losing Marc was to stay away.”
Her short-cropped white hair accentuated her reddening face. Her voice seethed through tight lips. “For thirty years?”
I stared at my lap at a loss for words.
Ty took my hand. When I tried to pull it away, he held fast.
“Mother, that was a long time ago. She was Skye’s age at that time. A kid.” He released my hand, propped his arms on his thighs and leaned forward. “However, since you brought up my bringing Avalee, I want to tell you why I brought her with me tonight. We—”
Marcus interrupted. “Your mother and I have no quarrels with Avalee. It was a senseless tragedy which hurt us all.” He picked up his goblet and held it to his lips. Before he took a sip he said, “Isn’t that true, Emma?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her. “You both were just two kids who made unfortunate decisions with disastrous results.” Marcus picked up his glass. “Now let’s enjoy our wine.”
“No, Dad. Not yet.” Ty glanced at me, took my hand again, and drew in a breath. “The reason I brought Avalee here is, well, last Sunday night I asked her to marry me.”
Stunned silence gripped the room. Mrs. Jackson put her hand to her breast. Her mouth dropped into an O, then she drew her lips in and her brows down in silent protest. Mr. Jackson only stared—first at Ty, then me, and back at Ty. Finally, he spoke. “Son, I hope you will give this more thought. After all, you hardly know Avalee.”
Ty’s mother found her voice. “Not to mention, she is twelve years older than you.” Bursting to her feet, she clenched her fists. “Tyler Jackson, what are you thinking? There are a lot of younger women who would love being your wife. You don’t want to wind up playing nursemaid to,” she thrust her finger in my direction, “her.”
I wanted to die. Right then and there. Disappear. Run away—again.
“Oh?” Ty’s voice grew hard. “Like Dad did for you?”
Mr. Jackson leaned forward. “Now see here, son―”
“—No. You see here. You took care of Mom when she was sick because you loved her. Well, I love Avalee, and if that means playing nursemaid, well, it would be my honor. You both are being incredibly rude and insensitive. If you two knew what your precious Marc had done to Avalee, you’d be ashamed of him and yourselves for the way you are acting. It’s a good thing Avalee is too kind and too gracious to mar my brother’s memory by keeping his disgusting behavior to herself.”
I put my hand on Ty’s. “Babe, let’s go before this gets more out of control.”
Ty stood. “Good idea.”
Mr. Jackson rose. “Now son, let’s all settle down and talk about this later. You just took us by surprise. You are not being fair to your mother and me.”
“Fair?” Ty’s glare pierced the distance across the coffee table. “You call that scene at the cemetery fair?” He nodded his head. “Uh, huh. I still remember Mother dissecting Avalee’s heart. I’ll remember the look on Ava’s face for as long as I live.” He shot his index finger toward his mother. “You are the reason she was gone for thirty years.”
Mrs. Jackson paled. “Why, that’s a horrible thing for you to say to your mother.”<
br />
“It is a horrible thing you did to Avalee.”
Emma Jackson’s voice grew shrill. “It is a horrible thing that woman did to this family. She might as well had killed my son—your brother—with her own hands.” Ty’s mother narrowed her eyes at me. “What is it, Avalee Preston? Ruining one of my sons’ lives isn’t enough for you? Now you want the only one I have left?”
The room grew distorted and her words sounded far away. Sparkles danced before my eyes. I felt myself sway, but Ty’s strong arms enfolded me. Breathe. Breathe.
Mr. Jackson’s voice boomed out. “Emma, that’s enough.”
Ty choked out in a whisper, “I can’t believe you just said that.”
His mother looked away and clamped her lips into a thin line.
Ty drew me close. “Come on, baby. We’re leaving.”
“Son, wait.” Mrs. Jackson put out her hand.
Ignoring her, he gave me my purse, threw my coat over my shoulders, and led me to the truck. I watched the silhouettes of his parents watching from the window as we drove away. Ty gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. All of a sudden, I felt old. Very old. Guilt, my old nemesis, returned with a vengeance. Would I ever be able to forgive myself? I laid my head back and closed my eyes willing myself to stay strong.
****
The quiet in the truck’s cab may as well have been a bullhorn in my head. I couldn’t speak. Finally, Ty broke the airless silence.
“I’m sorry,” he thumbed back in the direction of his parents’ house, “for that back there. I had no idea they would—could—be so rude.”
I swallowed to steady my voice. “I expected it. Listen, we need to talk.”
Ty stomped the break, throwing me forward. He pulled his truck to the curb and faced me, his voice low. “Avalee, don’t you go crawdadding on me. You hear? Don’t start back on that age thing again, or that you killed my brother. Got it?”
“Baby, I’m not,” I lied. “But we do need to talk—I need to talk. Tonight made me realize there are things we need to consider.”
“I don’t like the sound of this, but all right.” He pulled back onto the road. “How about a drink? And some food. I’m starving. Mockingbird Moon Pub is probably quiet tonight.”
“I could go for a Guinness. Good idea.”
Ty turned onto Silverlight Drive. Again, we rode in silence. Occasionally I glanced at him. In the darkness, I noticed him working his jaw, then noticed something else. A glint of a tear? My throat tightened. I hated seeing him hurt, and for the first time since we’d been together, so vulnerable.
The parking lot was surprisingly full for a Sunday night, but the table host found us a booth in a dark corner. Ty sat across from me, rested his elbows on the table, and looked me in the eyes. “Hey, are we okay?”
I wanted to make everything okay. I wanted to take him home with me. I wanted to elope. But he wasn’t the problem. It was me. Not only did I have problems, I was the problem. I wasn’t okay. “Yeah.”
The waiter took our order for steak pies and Guinness. While the sound system played Van Morrison’s Tupelo Honey, Ty and I sat lost in our thoughts. Soon the waiter brought our beers. Ty picked his up and murmured, “Marc’s ghost has tormented me for as long as I can remember.” He took a long draw from the thick frothy head and set the mug down with a thunk. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved him. When my parents told me he was dead, I wanted to die. As time went on, everything and everyone close to me changed. Including you.”
“Me?” I didn’t like where this was going.
“You left. After my mom waylaid you at the funeral, I never saw you again. You know, I think I loved you even then, although some would have thought it was a childish infatuation.” He raised his shoulders then let them fall. “And maybe it was. Maybe it was the way you toasted pound cake for me when you and Marc watched me while my parents were out.” He gave the briefest of grins. “But as the years went by, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Wondering where you were. What you were doing. If I’d ever see you again.” He took another deep drink and focused on the crescent moon salt and peppershakers. “A shadow fell on our lives after Marc died and never left. Holidays were the worst. Our forced cheerfulness left me exhausted. My parents canonized Marc and somehow it was decreed by acclamation that I would follow in his footsteps. It was also decided that I was not to get serious with anyone while in college or in residence.” A contemptuous laugh escaped his lips. “No one ever asked me if I wanted to practice medicine.”
The waiter brought our order. I thought I had no appetite until Ty stuck a fork into the flaky crust of his pie releasing fragrant steam. The aroma of baked onions and roasted beef made my stomach growl. “Did you tell them you didn’t want to go into medicine?”
“I tried. They didn’t accept it when I told them I wasn’t interested being a doctor, they told me I was too young to decide that. Then I tried another tactic and argued I wasn’t good enough in math and science. That’s when they decided to send me to a community college so I could build confidence, then transfer to the university in my third year.” He forked up a bite of steak, mashed potatoes and gravy. Before popping it in his mouth he smiled. “Best thing they ever did, cos that’s where I met Max.”
“Max?”
He nodded his head while he chewed, then swallowed. “My art prof.”
“Oh.” I pierced a piece of tender steak, a mushroom, and potato chunk for the perfect bite. It didn’t disappoint. “What about him?”
“Max was an avid photographer, and since photography is art, he incorporated it into his curriculum. I picked up a cheap camera and gave it a try. Man, I really got into it, trying to reflect the raw emotions and the stories behind my subjects or the beauty of nature and art. One afternoon, Max called me in his office and told me I had an eye for photojournalism. Then he asked if he could enter some of my work in a statewide contest.”
The waiter came to our table and asked if we wanted another Guinness. We both nodded our heads. The food and beer were just what the doctor ordered.
“Anyway, I won first place and five hundred dollars. Man, I was stoked. I had found my calling. Or so I thought. My parents were less than impressed. They weren’t even interested in seeing the photograph. They viewed my passion as a hobby. When I won the Photographers Forum Award, which is a big deal I might add, I had the photo professionally framed for my parents. They looked at it, said, ‘That’s nice.’ You know where it is?” He stabbed another piece of steak.”
“No.”
“Neither do I. It sure isn’t anywhere in their house. I even looked in the attic.”
“That’s terrible.”
He chewed and muttered around the steak in his mouth, “That’s the way it is.” After he washed his bite down with his beer, he glanced up at me. “That’s the way it has always been.”
I set my fork down and watched him eat. Ty Jackson was one of the most wonderful men I’d ever known. Why couldn’t his parents see that? Why couldn’t they accept him for who he was? It occurred to me that my fiancé’s soul was sitting on empty and had been running on fumes for a long time.
Right then and there I made up my mind to dedicate my life to filling his soul with love and respect, no matter what the future held for us. Emma Jackson was right. I did want her other son, not to ruin him, but to make him realize his dream. I would do everything within my power and scope of influence to insure he was one of the most successful, appreciated photographers around.
I reached across the table, took both Ty’s hands, and squeezed them. “I love you, baby.”
He inclined his head quizzically then the heaviness fell from his expression. “Wow. We will eat steak pie and drink Guinness more often.”
I picked up my mug. “To love.”
He lifted his glass and clinked mine. “To love and you.”
Ty didn’t know about my epiphany. But he would soon enough.
****
There is a saying that friendship
isn’t one big thing, it is a million little things. Lexi, Molly, and Jema confirm the truth of that statement. How desperately I wanted to talk to one or all of them after Ty dropped me off at home. Emotionally, we were both drained. The passion we’d hoped to use in soothing our emotional wounds had dissipated into weariness. He kissed my forehead, whispered, “Night hon,” and returned to his truck. I held my hand up and watched him pull out of the driveway, only dropping it as his taillights disappeared down Washington Avenue. Poor fellow. How could his mother have been so vicious? Ty deserved so much more.
Indignation welled up inside me. I wanted, no, I needed my friends. I glanced across the street. Jema’s lights were off. Hugging myself, I walked to the corner and saw Lexi’s lights on. It was late, but I didn’t care. As I walked, I ruminated over the things Marc and Emma Jackson said. Angry tears spilled down my cheeks. By the time I reached the door, I’m sure I looked a fright with mascara tracks down my face. I tapped several times before Lexi swung the door open. Her smile disappeared into a frown. “Girl, what’s wrong with you?” Concern registered on her face. “Is it Miss Cladie?”
“No.” I stomped inside and plopped on the couch.
“Ty? Is it Ty? Are you two fighting?” She slammed the door. “Do I need to go and yank a knot in his tail?” Sinking beside me on the couch, she put her arm around my shoulders. “Because I will, you know.”
I swiped at my face. “No, it’s his parents, his mother mainly.”
“Bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
She patted my knee. “You sit right there and I’ll grab us some wine.” Before she left for the kitchen she pushed several tissues in my hand. “Here, you need these. You look like something from a punk rock band.”
While Lex rattled around getting wine, I went to the powder room and washed my face. Emma Jackson would get no more tears out of me.
Lexi had just settled on the couch when I returned. “Here.” She’d chosen a warm, rich, pinot noir. “Now, tell me what happened.”
I fully expected a reaction out of Lexi as I told her about the evening’s disaster. But not the volcanic eruption that ensued. She sat beside me, a proverbial calm before the storm. A mini torrent disturbed the wine in her glass as she listened. Before I could finish my tale of woe, she had heard enough. After slugging down her wine, she blew up. “Why that witch.”
