Beyond Control

by Karice Bolton

  I needed air, time, quiet…

  The lawn was wet, and my shoes became completely soaked by the time I reached the beach. Crossing my arms in front of me, I scanned Lake Washington, watching the choppy water in the distance. Being out here gave me the peace I desperately needed. I was so angry, and I wondered if the anger would ever go away, if the knot in my stomach would ever dissolve. But was it really anger or was it fear? How could my father have known this entire time where my brother had been, why he had left? And worse yet, he never told me.

  “Gabby.” I heard Jason’s voice over the increasing wind. “Gabby, are you down here?”

  I turned around to see Jason climbing down the rocks toward the beach. The wind ruffled his hair, reminding me of the first day I met him on the bridge.

  I waved at him, smiling. I didn’t know if I was delirious or if the feelings that spread through me were actually that of freedom. Or maybe it was denial. I was wrapping myself in my own embrace with the wind chill picking up, but I wasn’t ready to go inside. I turned back to the lake and watched a barge slowly chug across the water as I felt Jason come up behind me.

  “This made me realize that I’m not missing all that much by not having a family,” he murmured, sliding his arm around my waist. I looked up at him, searching his expression as he took me in.

  “No family?” I asked.

  He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “Foster kid,” he replied as if that would explain everything.

  “Really?”

  He nodded, his arms still around my waist. “You handled yourself amazingly well in there. I don’t think I could’ve been so calm. Shit. I wanted to reach across the table and choke ‘em both.”

  “Thanks for that.” I smiled at him. “I don’t know how I did it either, but halfway through, this sense of peace settled over me.” I bit my lip and looked back toward the house. “Kind of like I don’t owe anyone anything any longer.”

  A look of intrigue entered Jason’s gaze as his eyes coasted over me, stirring a familiar warmth within me.

  “Is that so?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling the breeze pick up. “Espresso place still for sale?” I teased, watching as the Douglas fir branches began dipping with the wind. My eyes landed on the little building set back from the shore and Jason followed my gaze. “You want to know what the kicker is?”

  Jason stood in front of me, nodding and listening. It felt amazing to have someone to just listen, not pass judgment or offer advice.

  “I knew my mom wasn’t faithful. I was like five or six and walked in on her. Literally. And here my father and brother claim they wanted to shield me from it.” I shook my head and let out a sigh. “I already knew she was no angel.”

  “I’m glad you know the truth or at least their version of it,” Jason offered.

  I nodded, feeling the winds shift. The mist would soon break into rain.

  “We should probably go back inside,” I whispered, feeling Jason slide his hand into mine.

  “Or?” he asked, grinning.

  I no longer wanted to do what was right, what was expected of me. The first raindrop hit my forehead and then the second before the clouds tipped over, dumping the summer showers on us both. We were drenched in seconds. We ran toward the boathouse, my hand still firmly in his as we followed the stone path that led away from the main house. I reached above the doorframe and felt for the key. Finding it quickly, I unlocked the door, both of us almost falling over one another to get inside.

  The boathouse was filled with knick-knacks like old glass floats and vintage ship bells on every bare surface. There were two large couches positioned to look over the lake, with a large leather ottoman acting as a coffee table. This was one place that Carla had never touched.

  “I guess I’m not ready to go back to the main house,” I laughed, closing the door.

  “That makes two of us,” he said softly, bringing my hand close to his lips.

  I felt the jolt of pleasure run up my arm as I looked into his eyes. He brushed his lips over my hand, his eyes locking on mine, as my heart began to race once more.

  “I don’t think.” I stopped myself. What did it matter? Who was I trying to please?

  “Yes?” he murmured, dropping my hand and bringing me into him.

  “Nothing,” I whispered, looking up at him. The tangle of butterflies began in my belly as his gaze fell to my lips. My head was completely abuzz, knowing his mouth wasn’t even an inch from mine.

  “You’ve been through a lot,” he murmured. “And I don’t want to complicate things.”

  “I usually forget a guy as soon as I see one,” I said, running my hands up his chest. “And that’s not happening with you. I tried.”

  “I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried,” he teased, his voice rumbling through to my core.

  “I don’t know either,” I said quietly. “I like the idea of seeing where things go, but I have the worst track record.”

  “You’re worrying far too much,” he whispered, sweeping a soft kiss across my lips. I froze in his arms, wanting and waiting for more, but he didn’t offer anything more.

  “Is this your idea of not complicating things?” I asked, my voice breathless as he held me close.

  “Have you always been the one in control?” he asked, the mischief in his eyes returning.

  “Always,” I whispered, dropping my gaze from his.

  “Well, maybe that’s the problem,” he replied, releasing me.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “Looks like the rescue squad is on the way,” he said, switching the subject. I followed his gaze through the back window and sure enough, Aaron and Brandy were walking along the path, looking for me. The rain was pelting sideways, and I felt guilty for how wet they were getting.

  I took a deep breath in and nodded. “The way Brandy worries, I better go out there, or she’ll immediately think that I got swallowed by the lake.”

  Jason laughed and opened the door just as Brandy started toward the water.

  “I’m over here,” I called out.

  Aaron turned and waved, with Brandy following behind. They were drenched and quickly came inside the boathouse, shaking off the droplets.

  “You doing okay?” Brandy asked, her eyes searching mine.

  “I think I am.” I turned to look at Aaron. “I just wish you hadn’t left. I could have handled it. It’s not like I thought mom was a saint.”

  “I know and I apologize. I wish I’d stood up to dad, but at eighteen I just darted,” Aaron replied, taking a seat on the leather ottoman.

  “I can understand dad being upset, but I can’t believe he kicked you out,” I whispered.

  “I tried putting myself in dad’s shoes, and I’m not trying to defend him, but I get it. I mean what mom kept hidden from him and then told him on her way out of this world? It was cruel.”

  “Dude,” Jason interrupted. “It’s bad. It really is, but come on. The stories your father continued to tell you over the years to keep you away from Gabby…” He looked at me and bit his lip. “It’s crazy and you accepted it pretty easily. If I had family, I would have fought for it.”

  I threw Jason a grateful look for bringing that up.

  “I know,” Aaron replied. “There’s nothing I can say to change all of the things I should have done differently. When dad told me he never wanted to see me again, I listened.”

  I shuddered as his words hit me. The cruelty in those words made me cringe, and the fact that my father told my brother that was disgusting.

  “When did Bernie find out?” I asked Aaron.

  “I didn’t tell him until I got out of the service,” Aaron replied. “I kind of felt like there was no point. The man who raised me as his son rejected me, I lost my mom, and I didn’t feel like getting rejected by someone who didn’t even know I existed.”

  I wanted to be so angry with Aaron. After all, I’d spent a d
ecade collecting the anger, readying myself for when I could unleash my fury. Yet here he was telling me his side of the story, and all I felt was sadness and sympathy for him.

  “I just can’t believe dad would do that to you or to me,” I muttered. “I believed all his stories about how he didn’t know where you went and that you just took off.” I shook my head. “I’m amazed that he chased you off but kept Bernie employed.”

  Brandy nodded and glanced at Aaron. “That is kind of odd,” she confirmed.

  “I think he saw it as a form of power. You know how dad is,” Aaron replied, propping his elbows on his knees. “I don’t expect you to invite me into your life with open arms, but I hope that I can begin repairing things.”

  “I think we’ve spent far too many years apart to sacrifice any more,” I told Aaron. “But we should probably get back inside so Carla doesn’t wind up in tears over no one eating her feast.”

  Aaron nodded and stood up. “True… because this is all about her.”

  He did know her well.

  “I don’t know that forgiving dad is going to be as easy, unfortunately,” I confessed, as Jason grabbed my hand.

  “It took me years,” Aaron replied, smiling. “And I still have my days.”

  “That makes me feel a tad better,” I sighed.

  “I want to find out about your health issues,” Aaron said, turning toward me.

  “Yeah. We’ll catch up on all sorts of things,” I said, my eyes shooting to Jason’s. I felt the heat in my cheeks surface and despite the chill outside, the warmth trickled across my skin. “I just…I’m not really into making it like a…”

  “She hates talking about it,” Brandy interjected. “But she will tell you. Just give her time.”

  Grateful for Brandy, I gave a quick nod as we all walked back to the house.

  “Fair enough,” Aaron said, locking his eyes with Brandy’s.

  My world felt different. Instead of waking to the trilling of an alarm clock, I woke up to the light of morning spilling into my bedroom. I shoved the duvet down with my feet and let out a deep breath. Even though I’d managed to make it through the rest of dinner without any emotional outbursts, once I got back to the apartment with Brandy, I let the tears fall.

  I moved to the side of the bed, legs dangling, and stretched my arms toward the ceiling. Glancing at the alarm clock, I was relieved that the time displayed was only a little after six o’clock. That would give me plenty of time to make some scones to take into the office. I grabbed my robe and tied the belt around my waist and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. I thought back to the night before and how I was so ready to be angry with my brother and wound up leaving my parents house, almost unable to even look at my father. I should probably be running to my therapist begging her to fit me in, but for some reason I didn’t feel that need. For almost a decade she had to listen to me rattle off scenario after scenario about my brother. Yet now that I knew the truth, things were beginning to fit into place on their own.

  Walking into the kitchen, I turned on the oven to 375-degrees and pattered over to the pantry closet. Grabbing as many of the ingredients as I could carry I dumped them onto the counter and searched for the fluted pastry cutter in the drawer.

  Shoot! This was why I needed to get the rest of the boxes from storage.

  Finding a sugar cookie cutter, which would have to do, I began dumping ingredients into a bowl. This was my therapy. It always had been, even in high school. Opening the fridge door, I found a box of blueberries and rinsed them off. Until I could finalize my escape plan, the least I could do for myself was make my time in the office a pleasant one. And bringing freshly baked blueberry scones was a good start.

  After adding the wet ingredients and barely mixing, I placed the dough onto a floured board and began rolling out and cutting it into perfectly shaped rounds. I placed the bits of dough on the cookie sheet, brushing milk over each one before placing in the oven.

  I heard the shower turn on and started to laugh. Leave it to Brandy to make me feel guilty at the butt-crack of dawn about my priorities. Here I was making scones while she’s getting ready for a quick workout.

  “Are you up?” I heard Brandy’s voice from down the hall.

  “I am but not for the reason you’re hoping,” I laughed, as I walked down the hall. “I’m making scones for the office.”

  “Hum,” was all I heard Brandy utter as she closed the bathroom door.

  My phone buzzed as I was entering my bedroom, but I didn’t look at it. I had no idea who would be texting at this hour, but my hope was Jason. I felt my belly clench as I thought about having dinner with him. Last night, along with the tears I shared with Brandy, I also shared a bottle of wine and convinced myself now was a horrible time for a relationship. I needed to concentrate on myself and on my family. However, this morning I wasn’t quite so certain. I glanced at the clock and saw I had just enough time to shower before the scones needed to be taken out of the oven. I grabbed a pair of beige capri slacks, a white jacket and peach camisole and headed to my bathroom. As I waited for the water to warm, I stripped and tossed my robe and pajamas on the floor and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I had gotten some color this summer, thanks to the hot tub, but the scar was still quite visible. I let out a sigh and stepped into the shower, feeling the droplets run down my back.

  My mind wandered to Jason, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I thought about him running into me on the patio. The look on his face was priceless and for once, I didn’t really think much about my scar. I lathered the shampoo in my hair as I thought about why in the world the wine last night was telling me not to go out with him.

  I quickly scrubbed the washrag across my flesh and rinsed the soap off—worried I might not make the scone deadline—and got out of the shower. Toweling off and wrapping my hair up, I quickly dressed and made it to the kitchen just in time as the chime went off.

  “Those smell so wonderful,” Brandy said from the family room.

  “Hope they taste just as good,” I said, placing the tray on the stove.

  “So have you still sworn off Jason?” Brandy asked, her eyes gleaming, as she came into the kitchen.

  “Very funny,” I shot back, making a quick orange glaze to pour on top. “And why aren’t you in your workout gear?”

  “Because I think I drank most of the wine and my head is killing me,” she replied, squinting her eyes shut.

  “I almost forgot I got a text before I hopped into the shower. I’ll be right back,” I said, tossing the potholder on the counter.

  “From who?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.

  “I’m hoping from Jason,” I said, walking toward my room. I scanned my bed for my phone and pressed the screen on. My eyes scanned the words, but my mind didn’t let things compute. This couldn’t be happening. I sat on my bed, staring at my phone, unable to move.

  “Gabby?” Brandy hollered from the kitchen. “Who was it from? Was it Jason?”

  I looked at the screen as guilt flooded through me. I barely even looked at my father as I left the house yesterday and now…

  “Gabby?” Brandy repeated, coming into the bedroom.

  “My father,” I whispered. “He’s in the hospital.”

  “What?” she asked, grabbing the phone from me, verifying what all I wasn’t saying.

  “I need to call Carla,” I said, feeling as if the world was playing a cruel trick on me. I always lived to make my father proud. I knew he had wanted his son to go into the family business, and once I was in college and realized what my father’s hopes were, I switched to a business major. I tried to be his long-lost son. I put my dreams on hold or traded away for new ones to make my dad happy. I accepted Carla without any teenage drama and always downplayed my needs. The one time I spoke up about how I felt, this was what happened.

  Brandy pressed speed dial and placed the cell on speakerphone.

  “Hello?” Carla answered, her voice tired.

  “It’s Brand
y and Gabby,” Brandy spoke into the phone as I sat trembling; worried Carla was going to say something I wasn’t ready for. Not now. Not when I left barely speaking to him. “How’s Alex doing? What’s going on?”

  “He hasn’t been feeling well for a week or so, and I tried to get him to go in to see the doctor, but he wouldn’t,” Carla began. “I should have made him go in.”

  “Is it his heart?” I asked, the lump growing in my throat.

  “Yes. I drove him to the emergency room last night because he looked almost green, and he had some chest discomfort,” she relayed. “They determined he’d, at some point, had a heart attack.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, unable to look at Brandy.

  “I hope so, honey. I really hope so. The doctor’s headed this way. I’m gonna hang up now.”

  “Which hospital are you at? We’ll be right over. Does Aaron know?” I asked.

  “He does and we’re at Eastside General,” she muttered before hanging up.

  “Will you come with me?” I asked Brandy, looking up at her.

  “Of course. Is there anything you want to bring?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Can you email the office and let them know we won’t be in today. Don’t mention my father. I don’t know enough, and I don’t know what he’d want out there.”

  “Absolutely,” she whispered. “And Gabby.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, standing up from the bed.

  “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

  I attempted a smile, but I think all that came across was a grimace. She headed to her bedroom to send out the email, and I stood in my bedroom as waves of guilt ran through me. If I hadn’t made such a big deal about everything this wouldn’t have happened. I walked to the dresser and grabbed a silk scarf, wrapping it around my ponytail to keep my mind from running away on me.