Breaking Ties

by Tracie Puckett

  “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants,” I said. “What about William, then? Gave it all up for Lashell?”

  “She centered her whole life around him,” Gabe said. “They left for New York before they were ever married, and she never left his side. She left her family, her friends, everything back home, and she followed him anywhere his dreams took him. And one day he woke up and thought why? He knew she deserved what she wanted as much as deserved his dream, and city-life wasn’t her thing. He had his time in the limelight. He’d done his share. So he gave up his acting shoes, brought his bride home, and he focused all of his time and attention on being the best husband he could. Lashell was elated to be home but felt guilty that he’d given up so much for her, so she begged him to take a job here on campus. He started off teaching a few introductory courses in acting, and before too long…well, he was running the whole program. And he loved every second of it.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible,” I said, and then I turned and studied his smile. “Okay, now, don’t take offense to this, because it’s going to sound a lot harsher than it’s intended.”

  “Okay?

  “Why him? What was it about him?” I asked. “Obviously the program has seen more than one or two special leaders over the years. Why the memorial for William?”

  “He started and funded the university’s scholarship program for performance students,” he said. “Under his program, dozens of students have graduated and gone on to do amazing things—students who might not have had the opportunity without the financial assistance. He inspired me to do the same. I modeled my vision for RI over years of studying him.”

  “Wow.”

  “He dedicated the last years of his life to this place,” he said. “He loved it here, and everyone here loved him just as much. He deserved the recognition.”

  He smiled, and the longer I watched him, the wider the smile became. There was something on his mind, something else he wasn’t saying … something that humored him.

  “What?”

  “Lashell hates it,” he said, almost laughing.

  “The statue?”

  “She can’t step a foot onto this campus without rolling her eyes at it. I tease her about it all the time. She gets all worked up; it’s kind of hilarious.”

  “Why?”

  “She says he would’ve detested it,” he said. “Even though the man lived his life onstage, he didn’t look for accolade in his life as an educator. He preferred performing his good deeds and services a little under the radar. He didn’t want the recognition, so naturally she hates the thing.”

  We moved in and out of the few students walking by us, and I held on to Gabe’s hand as tightly as I could. It was amazing doing that—holding him, touching him, having him on my skin.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You can always ask me anything,” he said. “Don’t you know that?”

  “It might be a touchy subject.”

  “We don’t tend to steer clear of those anyway, so why not? Give it a go.”

  “If William and Lashell were so great to you, and you swear by their goodness even now, then why didn’t they come to your high school graduation?”

  Gabe stopped walking at once, literally halted in his spot, and I’m not even sure it was intentional. He turned to me, his brow furrowed, and he glared from the side of his eye.

  “Jones,” I said, answering the question he didn’t have to ask. “He told me once, back when I first met you. He said you guys went to school together, that you graduated with his cousin. And he mentioned that no one showed up to watch you accept your diploma. I guess … no one thought you had a family.”

  “I had a family,” Gabe said. The muscles in his neck tightened. “I have a family.”

  “I know,” I said, nodding. I’d upset him, just like I’d feared I would. “I was only curious.”

  “Mom refused to go. She doesn’t celebrate my successes.”

  “I figured.”

  “And Will was sick,” he said. We started walking again. He didn’t take my hand this time, just shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. I knew then that I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’d struck a nerve, and he was irritated—with me or the topic, I couldn’t tell. “He was too sick to leave his bed. Chemotherapy and radiation stopped working for him halfway through my final semester, and by the time graduation came around, he wasn’t in any position to go.”

  “Oh.”

  “And Shelly never left his side,” he said. “In those final days, she held his hand. She never left him.”

  “Right.”

  “I woke up on the morning of my graduation and we all knew. He wasn’t going to make it through the day. I fought to stay with him, but Shelly wouldn’t hear of it. She kept saying he’d want me to go. He wouldn’t want me to miss it. I went because she promised that I had time. She said I’d make it back in plenty of time to say my goodbyes. So I agreed to go, but only if she promised she wouldn’t. If she stayed with him, I would go and get back as soon as I could.” His eyes filled with tears as he looked to the ground. “I have a family, Mandy. They are my family, but sometimes families have to make sacrifices for each other.”

  A few long seconds passed, and after Gabe’s tears had faded and his eyes were less swollen and red, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and offered it to me again. I didn’t hesitate to take it.

  “Gabe,” I said. “Can I ask—”

  “Mandy,” he said, shaking his head, his one simple word saying what he’d already said: you can ask me anything—even if it hurts, even if it’s touchy, and even if I’m not going to like it.

  “Right,” I nodded. “I asked you yesterday if you had any big regrets. I asked you if there was anything you could take back, redo.”

  “And I said yes,” he said. “Letting you walk away.”

  “But why me?” I asked. “Why was that your big regret? Why wasn’t it going to your graduation, having to walk away from Lashell and William that day?”

  “Because I don’t regret that,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I made it back. He held my diploma. He smiled at me. We cried together, and I said goodbye. I don’t regret a single thing about that day. Will taught me many things in my life, but above all else, he and his wife taught me to have faith. I had faith that he’d be waiting for me when I got back. I never doubted it for a second.”

  “Oh.”

  “Just like I had faith that this would work out with us—somehow, someday.”

  “You thought that?”

  “Mandy,” we stopped walking again, and he lifted my chin so that I couldn’t see anything but his beautiful blue eyes. “You sat at that park yesterday morning, and you told me that your biggest regret was that you’ve missed so much time. You wondered where you’d be right now if you had opened up sooner, let people in.”

  “Right.”

  “But if I were you, I don’t know if I would regret that at all,” he said, telling me what he was probably too scared to say yesterday. “You’re where you’re at right now because of when and how you made that decision to change. If you would’ve opened up sooner, who knows who your friends would be right now? Who knows if you and I would’ve ever crossed paths?”

  “Well, when you put it that way—”

  “I often forget to practice what I preach. Sometimes I forget to stop and reflect on what it was that Will taught me,” he said. “Very rarely, I still do. I get caught up in my regrets, forgetting that those things we regret are part of a bigger plan. I beat myself up over what happened to Mom and how things started with you, but then I remember Will’s lesson about faith, and his biggest promise of all.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Everything happens the way it does for a reason,” he said, drawing a grin. “And I believe that there was a reason I was meant to know you. Knowing you has given me faith every day that things are going to work out exactly how they’re supposed to.”

  “But what if they don’t?”

  “
There’s a difference between what’s supposed to happen and what we think is suppose to happen,” he said. “I have faith that what’s meant to be is going to be.”

  “Do you think we’re meant to be?” I asked. And sure, maybe it was too soon to ask that question, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want the answer.

  “I already said I had faith it would work out, didn’t I?” he asked quietly, and that whispery tone got the best of me all over again. “Of course I believe that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

  “No,” I said.

  Somehow I’d gotten lucky this weekend and didn’t have to work any shifts. All thanks to Jones and his newfound work ethic, I had plenty of time to focus on the things I actually wanted to focus on—like Gabe. And if I didn’t go rushing home, then I wouldn’t have to spend the evening with my family, and that was okay by me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to Dad, when we actually talked again, and I couldn’t get a clear read on Bailey. Since Mom’s arrival had thrown everyone for a loop, my safest bet for sanity was hanging with Gabe for as long as possible.

  “I want to take you somewhere,” he said. “Is that okay?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “Of course.”

  I stopped at my car to grab my phone, laughing at all the missed calls and texts. Not a single one of them was from Dad or Bailey. I had three of each from Gabe, and one text of thanks from Fletcher. There was even a missed call and voicemail from Haley Goodwin, so I made a mental note to see what that was all about after Gabe and I parted ways.

  “Are we going to Evergreen?” I asked five minutes later from the passenger’s seat of his car. I recognized the neighborhood, more specifically the street we were headed down.

  “Yeah, is that okay?”

  “Sure.” I looked at my DU hoodie and jeans, suddenly feeling a little too underdressed, even for a nursing home, because Evergreen wasn’t your everyday, run-of-the-mill kind.

  “So when you said your Mom owns Evergreen,” I said, reflecting on our conversation from the diner, “did you actually mean she owns Evergreen?”

  “Inheritance,” he said. “The whole estate, from here all the way down to Fifth Street. It belonged to my grandfather. His father basically built the city.”

  I found myself staring at him, wide-eyed and shocked. How was it that I didn’t know that about him? I felt like I should’ve known that Gabe came from a line of pretty important people. Then again, Gabe himself was a pretty important person, so I shouldn’t have been too shocked.

  “So you’re like … loaded, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Loaded?”

  “Loaded—lots of money, super-rich, Mr. Money Bags.”

  “Ha! Sorry to disappoint,” he smiled as he turned into the parking lot. “I’ve worked for every dime and everything I have. Now my mother, on the other hand—”

  “Forget it,” I said, shaking my head. Not only was it none of my business, I didn’t even want to think about the fact that Gabe had spent his entire adult life working for every dime, yet his mother lived her life alone inside those four walls every day, sitting on top of a major inheritance. She should’ve been helping him, especially to achieve things with RI. She should’ve backed him, funded him, given him a chance.

  “You’re wrong,” he said, helping me out of the car. He could see it in my face. I was fuming. “We appreciate things more when we earn them. I’ve never asked her, nor will I ever ask her for help.”

  “But—”

  “Emotional support would be nice from time to time,” he admitted. “But I’m working on that. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I’ll appreciate it more when it happens. I’m earning it.”

  “Your optimism sickens me, sir,” I said, smiling at him, and he took my hand as we strolled forward. We walked to the building and in through the doors of the nursing home.

  “Gabe, hi,” the young receptionist greeted him with a smile. “Two visits in one day?”

  “Hey, Sara,” he said, signing in for the both of us. “This is Mandy. We’re here to see Mom.”

  “Gabe, I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “You know your mother’s rules. She has a very strict visitor’s list, and Mandy’s not on it. I can’t let her go in there.”

  “That list changes with her mood,” Gabe argued. “You’re telling me you can’t make an exception? I’m on the list; Mandy’s with me. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I could get in a lot of trouble.”

  Gabe stood there for a second, tapping his fingers impatiently against the tall check-in desk.

  “Give me a second,” he said, brushing by me, and then he rushed down the west wing of the building without taking his visitor’s badge.

  I smiled nervously at the receptionist, twisting my lips as my eyes darted to the clock.

  “He’s trying to reason with her,” she said. “You might want to take a seat. It could be a while.”

  She was right. I watched the clock in the lobby for almost a half-hour, expecting Gabe to come rushing back at any minute and tell me that he’d convinced her. But then I kept waiting. I messed with my phone for a while, sending a brief ‘you’re welcome’ text to Fletcher and a short explanation to Dad of my whereabouts. Then I listened to the voicemail from Haley.

  “Hey, Mandy … ” She was quiet at first, almost as if she wished she hadn’t chosen to leave the message at all. “It’s Haley … Goodwin. Listen, I feel awful asking, but I was wondering if I could take you up on your offer to watch Amanda on Tuesday? I’m sorry it’s such late notice, but I have an evening shift at my second job, and I’m in a pinch. My mom usually keeps her while I’m out, but she has a prior obligation in West Bridge on Tuesday. If your schedule is already full for the evening, please don’t feel obligated. I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask, since you’d offered. You have my number. You can call me back whenever you get a chance. Thanks.”

  I returned her call immediately, accepting the offer to stay with Amanda. It’s not like I had anything else going on, and if babysitting meant I’d get to spend the evening with my favorite kiddo, I didn’t see why not. Haley was incredibly grateful that I returned her call so quickly, and I agreed to be at their house as soon as school let out on Tuesday.

  And when all texts and phone calls were returned, I fell back on the cushiony chairs next to me and stared at the ceiling.

  “Forget it, let’s go,” Gabe said, and I sat up at once.

  I jumped up from the seat, following him out the doors of Evergreen, because he hadn’t wasted a second to stop and wait for me.

  “Wait, Gabe, slow down,” I said, jogging to keep up with him. “Did you see her?”

  “Of course.”

  “And did you talk to her?”

  “Mandy,” he said, rolling his eyes. It was childish, the way he did that, and I hated that his mother had the power to bring out that kind of behavior in him. “Of course I talked to her, and look how far that got me.”

  He couldn’t have thought that waltzing into her room and telling her he’d brought a friend would somehow magically fix years of a broken relationship.

  “She knows you, you know?” he said, turning to me. “I’ve been telling her about you for weeks. I talk about you; I tell her things. I thought she’d want to meet you.”

  “I don’t take it personally that she doesn’t want to meet me, Gabe,” I said, trying to focus on anything but the fact that he’d admitted how much he talked about me. If I thought of that now, all I would manage was a smile, and this wasn’t the right moment for a smile. “There’ll be a time and place for it. This just wasn’t it.”

  “Who’s being optimistic now?” he cornered me a look, and then the smallest smile broke on his lips. “I’m sorry I dragged you all the way out here for nothing.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “I got to spend a little more time with you.”

  We headed for the DU campus t
o collect my car. It was a silent trip for the first few minutes, but then I shifted in my seat and watched Gabe as he drove, muttering to himself.

  “I’m not on the list,” I said, shrugging. “So does everyone at Evergreen have a list of preferred visitors?”

  “Only the ones so far up on their high horses that they can’t—”

  “Okay, so no?” I asked, and he shook his head. “So if your Mom doesn’t care to see you … ”

  He winced. “If Mom doesn’t care to see me and talk to me, then why’s my name on the list?”

  “Yeah,” I said, watching a frown darken his expression. “It seems to me she could save herself a lot of time and grief and take your name off. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with you at all.”

  “Ah, you’re too sweet,” he said flatly, and I sighed. “You know, it’s too bad she didn’t want to meet you. You could’ve gone in and pitched that idea, and she could’ve gotten rid of me once and for all.”

  “Now stop that,” I said, seriously hating how much she’d changed his mood. “I’m being frank.”

  “You have to understand, Mandy. She knows I’m going to keep coming around, whether I’m on the list or not,” he said. “Don’t think I haven’t wondered if keeping my name there is only part of this twisted game she’s playing. Does she enjoy letting me have a little, but refusing to give me more? Or is there this tiny part of her that still wants to see me?”

  “I think it’s the latter,” I said.

  “I hope it is,” he said quietly, focusing back on the road, and slowly but surely, I sensed his agitation wearing away.

  We arrived back on the DU campus minutes later, and Gabe walked me over to my car.

  “I’m sorry again.”

  “Stop apologizing,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”

  He gnawed on his lip as he watched me, leaning forward to brush a strand of hair from my face.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to see you much this week,” he said. “I’m hitting all four schools in the next few days as we wrap up the program, and my schedule’s going to keep me moving around quite a bit.”