Gypsy Hope: A Gypsy Beach Novel

by Jillian Neal

  “I love you too, and you didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s just get you better and then we can figure everything out, okay?”

  “I did do a lot of things wrong.” He was still stubborn, even lying in a hospital bed.

  She stood back and stared at the four nurses and two surgeons giving them kind smiles.

  “I’m assuming I have your permission to explain your injuries to Hope, right, Brock?”

  He gave another nod, though it seemed to pain him as he drew her to him, and she managed to awkwardly seat herself on the bed nearby.

  “Brock explained that he has some difficulty reading.”

  “He did?” Hope was astonished.

  Brock managed half a breathy chuckle. “I’m fucking tired of lying all the time.”

  “Not an easy thing to admit, I’m sure, but we were discussing how common it is, and that you or someone else could fill out the paperwork before we release him. Twenty percent of Americans are functionally illiterate or cannot read above a fifth grade level. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, generally a product of misdiagnosis early on. We can heal that just like we can heal your shoulder.” Dr. Milburn gave them another sympathetic smile. “He suffered a first degree Acromioclavicular Separation of his right shoulder, and he has a slight concussion. He’ll make a full recovery, but it will be several weeks before he’ll regain full use of that arm. We’ve given him something for the pain. He’ll need to take that for two full weeks, and he’ll have to wear the sling for the same length of time. He’ll need to ice it off and on for the same amount of time. He’s got some pretty bad bruising on his chest and back. The ladder apparently came down on top of him.”

  Hope tried to dam back another round of tears. Brock squeezed her hand. “I’m all right, sweetie.” She turned to him and felt herself smile for the first time in days.

  “He doesn’t need surgery, and we’ll check him again when the swelling and bruises are gone. He may need a little physical therapy, but his ample musculature did brace him in the fall. Playing sports in high school saved him several years later it seems. For the next two weeks, he’s going to need someone to look after him.” Dr. Milburn grinned at Hope.

  “I’ll be right there the entire time.”

  “I had a feeling. I’m going to leave you with the paperwork, and I’m going to watch his blood pressure for a few more hours. We had a little trouble stabilizing him after the fall due to the sheer amount of pain, I’m sure. It’s an excruciating injury.”

  “Let’s maybe leave all that off. She’s been through enough.” Brock managed to make the order as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed. Hope shook her head at him.

  “I’ve been through enough? You’re the one laying in a hospital bed.”

  The doctors and nurses all laughed.

  “As long as his blood pressure remains stable, and he isn’t sick from the concussion, he can go home this evening. We’ll leave you two to talk. Just press that button there, Hope, if he needs anything at all.”

  “Yes ma’am. Thank you, and he’s probably hungry. He’s always hungry.”

  A fully formed laugh sounded from Brock this time as Dr. Milburn nodded her understanding.

  “And Brock, when you’re feeling better, the hospital hosts Davis Program classes for adult illiteracy several times a year. We’d love to see you there,” she urged as she led the team of doctors and nurses out of the room.

  “The library does, too,” Hope added as she stared into those piercing hazel eyes she’d been terrified she’d never see again. Fear and pain had darkened them.

  “Yeah, guess I should look into that.” Defeat left his words ragged and harsh.

  “We should look into that, and a lot of other things,” Hope corrected him.

  “Okay, fine, but I just need you to listen to me. Let me say this, please.” Brock grunted with the effort of speaking. “Hope, I am so, so sorry for everything I ever did to you. I asked you to be my biology partner because I could tell you were really smart.” He closed his eyes in defeat. Tears tracked down his face and effectively shattered her heart again.

  “I know,” she tried to wipe away his tears, but he shook his head.

  “There’s more. I could tell you were smart, but I swear I fell in love with you that year. You were so sweet, and kind, and good. You made me better then, and … you’ve just always made me better. You made me believe that maybe I wasn’t a complete asshole, which I am.”

  “Brock, no you’re not,” she tried to argue, but he placed the index finger of the hand not in a sling gently over her lips.

  “I was, and I am, but I swear I want to be better for you. I want to be everything for you. I want to do anything for you, anything that might make up for this shithole of a life I’ve lived. I’m so sorry. Please know that driving away the other night when you confronted me, that was the hardest thing I have ever done. It’s also the dumbest. I will never forgive myself for that, or for lying to you all these years, but I swear, Hope, I can’t go on without you. I don’t even want to. So, I’m taking my own advice for a change and asking for help. Not that I have any right to ask you for anything at all, but please, help me. I can’t go on like this. I’ll do anything.”

  “I love you, Brock. I have always loved you. We’re meant to be together. Always. I know how ashamed you are, and the thing I want to help you with the most is letting you bury that shame and all of those demons you’ve been trying to carry between us. Because I think that’s what love is. I think there are a lot of things we have to figure out. I have a lot of questions. We need to do a lot of talking, but please know that I’m right here and I always will be, no matter what you’ve done in the past, no matter how you caught that football behind your back, or how many times you tried to cheat off my paper.”

  He broke down again and pulled her back to his chest. “I will never deserve you, but I will never stop trying to be the kind of man that you deserve.”

  Sixteen

  The gnawing sensation that something still wasn’t right continued on a week into his recovery. He was right there on her couch. Why wouldn’t her soul settle? What else was wrong? She knew, but didn’t’ really want to admit it.

  “Well, keep goin’ with it, darlin’. We’re finally getting to the good stuff,” Brock continued to tease her.

  Deciding to continue putting off the inevitable discussion they needed to have, Hope had offered to read him one of her favorite romance novels. At the time, she hadn’t really considered the fact that she would have to read several rather graphic love scenes out loud to Brock.

  Certain her face was going to actually ignite from the heat piling in her cheeks, she continued to giggle.

  “Come on, I already admitted the book is really good, and all I’ve been thinking about since you walked into that hospital room is having you back in my arms. You still won’t sleep with me. At least this guy, Rainer, should be able to have sex. He’s worked his ass off to get it.”

  Hope laughed uproariously. “I want to sleep with you, too, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” she pled for the tenth time that day alone.

  Brock rolled his eyes. “You cannot hurt me, and we can totally do it while I wear the brace.”

  “How? Because you’re not taking it off except for showers for another week, just like Dr. Milburn said.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, and my most recent fantasy involves me standing and you leaned over the side of your bed with your sexy little ass up in the air, and you looking back at me. I can definitely do that with the brace on.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Oh yeah, sugar, and I need you so damn bad.” His tone took on the consistency of gravel, and Hope couldn’t fight the desire any longer.

  “Come on.”

  An hour later, they laid in Hope’s bed, staring up at the ceiling in a bliss-filled post-orgasmic haze, but that question that Vice-Principal Singer asked Coach Chaney wouldn’t give Hope peace.

  “I love you, and it’s killing me that I can’t
hold you in my arms.” He confessed as he awkwardly tried to drag the fingers of his left hand through her hair.

  “I am in your arms, and I love you, too.”

  “This isn’t how you’re supposed to be in my arms, darlin’. God, I actually got you back and somehow you don’t think I’m too stupid to be with. All I want to do is hold you, and I can’t.”

  Hope leaned up on her elbow and stared at him. “The fact that you actually think you’re stupid is the only stupid thing you’ve ever thought.”

  His brow furrowed. “Well, I’m too stupid to figure that statement out, so try again.”

  Rolling her eyes, she sat up. “Don’t you see, Brock? You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” He started to protest, but she placed her index finger firmly over his lips. He kissed it, but let her continue. “You can’t read, but there are so many other things that you’re good at. It’s like no one bats an eye if I say I’m bad at math.”

  “But you’re not bat at math.”

  “Okay, but I’m not as good at math as I am at English. No one cares about that, but there are a lot of people that struggle with reading just like I struggled with Advanced Calculus, or art, or chorus. We assume that everyone knows how to read. Just like all assumptions, sometimes they’re true and a lot of times they aren’t. That isn’t any more true than assuming that everyone can look at an x-ray and read it just as well as Dr. Milburn, or could perform surgery as well as she could without any help.

  “Brock, you taught me to live. You taught me to stand up for myself, and not to be afraid of everything, to ask for what I want, to fall in love, and admit that I am in love. You taught me that some rules are necessary, but some are just silly. You taught me that horses and people all have something to teach us. You taught me about life. The things that you taught me are so much more important than reading, but you don’t see that. Heck, you even taught me to orgasm.”

  Laughing, he shook his head. “I didn’t teach you that. I just know how to make it happen, because you’re mine.”

  Grinning at that, she leaned down and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “You taught me to hold onto the things that matter, and to tell you how I feel, and to ask for help when I needed it. But I need to ask you a few more questions. I don’t want to ask these, but I have to. This allowing the energy and feelings around you in is tough.”

  “Ask me anything you want, sweetie. Please don’t be afraid.”

  “What was Hannah going to do to me in high school that you stopped her from doing?” Hope was certain she didn’t really want the answer to that question, but she still hadn’t garnered the courage to ask what she really needed to know.

  “Hope.” He shook his head.

  “You promised never to lie to me again. Just tell me.”

  Sitting up, Brock studied her. She let her eyes close as he caressed the side of her face and brushed her hair behind her shoulders. “She found a letter in your locker that you wrote when you were a little girl. It was a letter to your parents. She was going to run it in the newspaper along with the Senior Wills and Testaments to make sure everyone would see it. Claudia told me. I threatened to tell her old man what she did on the buses on the way to games if she went through with her plan. She backed down.”

  Suddenly, Hope could barely breathe. She would never have gotten over a stunt like that. It would have been a blow she would never have recovered from. “But, that letter was in my book in my locker. It’s still in that book. I keep it in my closet.”

  “Yeah, I got the letter back from her, and I put it back in that book in your locker. I never wanted you to know that anyone had read it. I also had no idea that Hannah’s father knew about the offer between Coach Chaney and my dad, and I certainly didn’t know he’d told Hannah.”

  Hope managed a half nod. “Thank you.” If she thought about what could have happened if the entire school had read that letter, the fear would consume her again.

  Brock wrapped his left arm around her. “That was nothing, sweetie. I owed you that and a million other things.”

  “Do you really want to be a roofer?” blurted from her mouth. There, she’d said it. She was doing this. The fear wasn’t going to win. He’d proven himself and his love for most of her life. Look at what he’d done to stop Hannah. Yes, he’d lied, but she wanted nothing more than to be his redemption. She had to know, and she had to really lead him home. She was the only one. It was what she might discover once she got him there that ate at her. The fear. She recognized it now. What if he wanted to stay there without her?”

  “What?”

  “Do you really want to be a roofer? If you could do anything you wanted in this life, would you keep being a roofer? Do you find that fulfilling?”

  She watched his brow furrow in concentration. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it, I don’t guess.”

  “Okay, well, if you learn to read really well, would you want to do something different? Go back to college or anything?”

  “No.” This time he answered readily. “I really don’t want to go back to school. Being a roofer’s just what I do. I have to pay the bills. Might as well keep it up once I can climb a ladder again. What else am I gonna do?” The dejection in his tone spoke much louder than the words he was saying.

  You have to guide him home. He was never supposed to be off of that ranch.

  “I want us to go back and visit your aunt and uncle on the ranch. I want to see it. I want you to see it, and I want to be with you when you go back. I know you’ve never gone back because you didn’t know how to get there, and that kills me. My Dad always wanted me to see more of this country than Gypsy Beach. You’re not allowed to work for another six weeks, and I’m permanently out of a job since Ms. Meecham didn’t take too kindly to me refusing to leave you for two weeks. The store can just wait on us to get back. If I had the money, I’d buy the tickets, but I don’t. I just want to experience it with you. I want us both to start living, unafraid.” I want to make certain that this life, here, in Gypsy Beach is the one you really want to live. I want to make sure you’re actually fulfilled. She bit her lips together to keep from saying that just yet. She knew he would swear he was happy there for her. But what if this wasn’t his home?

  “You’d really go back to the ranch with me?”

  “I’d love to.” She tried to determine if that was a lie. The truth was she did want to see it, but she was afraid. Refusing to give in to fear anymore, she went on, more determined than ever. “Do you think it will cost too much money, even with your workman’s comp?”

  “I’m damn lucky Ryan carried that on me. I wouldn’t have had a clue how to get it otherwise.”

  “I think the universe kind of tries to take care of us … and it might’ve also thrown you off a ladder when you were being really stubborn.” She grimaced.

  “I deserved it.” He laughed again. She loved hearing his laughter. She loved him. “If you’re really willing to go to the ranch with me, Hope, that would be the best gift you could ever give me. I don’t know how to get there, but I swear I will learn to read. I won’t let you down again.”

  “The only time in your whole life that you let me down, Brock Camden, is when you shut me out.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll never do that again either. My wallet’s in the living room. I have a ton of savings because I was terrified I would get hurt and not be able to work. Seriously, Hope, going back to the ranch would mean the world to me. You sure you want to do this? I’m supposed to be doing things to take care of you. You’ve been taking care of me for fourteen years.”

  “I’m beyond sure. Like I said, I want to see more of this country. Besides, I’ve kind of been feeling the wind kicking up. I think it wants to take us somewhere.”

  “You mean the Gypsy wind?”

  “Yep. Now, let’s go get plane tickets.”

  ******

  At the next doctor’s appointment, Brock was cleared for their trip with the instructions that he still take it easy and
see a physical therapist when they returned. As they were due to fly out the next morning, he’d readily agreed to every request.

  That night, after they’d packed and Hope had asked a thousand questions about his aunt and uncle, all of his cousins, and the ranch itself—all out of fear—Brock sat her down and held her hands in his. “I love you. Thank you for going with me. I’m scared, too, and I have never in my life said that out loud. I don’t know how to navigate the airport, and that makes me feel really stupid. I want to take care of you, and I can’t there, but we agreed to stop being afraid to live. So, you handle the airport, and I’ll handle the ranch. My aunt and uncle will adore you almost as much as I do. I know you’re scared, but together we can do this.”

  “Thank you for saying that. I’m so proud of you, Brock.”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “You have! You’re not afraid to say you’re afraid. Do you know how brave that makes you?”

  “I’m not feeling particularly brave.” He sighed out his defeat.

  “Will you try reading something for me? I found this article about it while we were at the hospital this morning, and I did some more research when we got home.”

  “Hope, I can’t read an article.”

  “I would never ever ask you to do something you can’t do. Please tell me you know that. Here. Just try it for me.” She went to retrieve her ancient iPad.

  Sighing, he followed her to the kitchen. “You know that do it for me gig is eventually going to stop working, in like eighty or ninety years or something.”

  Laughing, Hope pulled up something on her iPad, typed for a moment, and then handed it to him. “Just see if you can read any of the words or even the letters.”

  He owed her this and so much more, so he decided to give it his all. But a moment later, he looked up at her dumbfounded. “’I love you.’ Did you write that? How did I read that so fast?”

  “I typed it in a font called Dyslexie. It makes letters and words easier to read if you have dyslexia. There’s more space in the letters and on either side of them, and they weight the lines differently. You and 45 million other people in the US are dyslexic, Brock. I thought that was it because you said if you stare at a word long enough you can sound out the letters sometimes, and I remembered that you’d transposed the numbers on the shingle order. That’s very common with Dyslexia. I’d heard Ryan and your crew talk about how amazing you were with figuring out material amounts without using a ruler. Your ability to understand spatial orientation is just one of the many, many things you’re gifted at. Reading isn’t everything, but I think we should definitely go to the Davis Program at the hospital when we get home. That’s what they’re for, but this will help. For now, you can only buy a few books in this font, but more are coming.”