by Rye Hart
Then, I heard it.
I heard Drake shouting from across the road.
“I found her! I’ve got Elsie!”
Tammy and I whipped our heads up as Drake came barreling up the driveway. I broke away from Tammy’s grasp as I started running for the ambulance. I yelled for the paramedics, waking them up and sending them running toward Drake. Elsie was limp in his arms, barely breathing, and as pale as freshly-churned butter.
“Where was she?” the paramedic asked.
“On the other side of the fence in the gully. The water washed her into the drain pipe,” Drake said.
“She’s barely breathing. Get her in the ambulance. We can clean her up on the way to the hospital.”
“Elsie!”
Tammy was shrieking as she ran toward the ambulance.
“Elsie! Wake up!”
“Tammy. Tammy. Look at me,” I said.
The panicked woman turned her gaze toward me as I grabbed her upper arms.
“Get in the ambulance and go with her. Drake, you too. They gotta get her out of here now. Now go. Come on. Get on with it.”
I helped her onto the ambulance as Drake’s arm wrapped around me. The paramedics were working on Elsie, hooking her up to I.V.’s and getting an oxygen mask on her. Tammy was a mess of tears and snot as she held the girl’s hand, her skin covered in mud and soaked to the bone. I turned around in Drake’s arms, taking stock of how muddy and cold he was himself as his eyes stayed hooked on his sister.
“Drake, look at me,” I said.
His worried stare dropped down to mine as I lifted my hand to cup his cheek.
“Go,” I said. “I’ll make sure everyone gets off your property before you guys are back.”
“Stay here,” Drake said. “Be here when I get back. Please.”
He dropped his lips to mine and he held me tightly against him.
I stepped back from Drake, breaking the kiss before I swatted at him.
“Get on the ambulance. Go. I’ve got all this back here,” I said.
CHAPTER 37
Drake
Elsie’s temperature had dropped drastically, and she’d swallowed a lot of muddy water. Antibiotics and fluids were being run through her body as the doctors tried to get her temperature to come up. I was scared. The needles she was being poked with threw her into a fit and the random people surrounding her were raising her heart rate to dangerous levels. Against my insistence, they had to sedate her just to run the tests they needed to run.
When Elsie came to, waking from the drugs they used to knock her out, I tried to make the room better for her. I turned the sound down on all the machines, turned them away from her, and shut the lights off in the room. I tucked her in with blankets to try and warm her and made sure there were no wrinkles in the fuzzy socks I’d bought to slip on her feet. Tammy was smoothing her hair back, trying to get her to focus as tears poured down her cheeks.
“Elsie, honey. Why in the world did you wander off?” Tammy asked.
“The birds outside wouldn’t stop chirping. I went onto the porch to shoo them off,” Elsie said.
“Then how did you end up getting all the way across the yard?” Tammy asked.
“There were people standing at the edge of the fence asking about Drake. I figured I could answer their questions,” Elsie said.
“There were what?” I asked.
“People. At the fence. They kept asking about you,” Elsie said.
“Elsie, how many times have I told you stay away from the people who gather at the damn fence?” I asked.
“Drake, now’s not the time,” Tammy said.
“Then when the hell’s it gonna be time? Elsie, we’ve had this conversation over and over again. The people at the fence aren’t our friends. They’re tourists wanting to take pictures of our house,” I said.
“They were asking if you were okay after rehab. I thought they were friends of yours,” Elsie said.
“That doesn’t explain how you ended up in the gully,” Tammy said.
“I tripped. They left before I could get to the fence and I tripped and fell into it. I don’t remember much else about it,” Elsie said.
“The creek’s runnin’ high,” I said. “Water probably washed her into the cement drain.”
The doctors wanted to keep Elsie overnight, so I stayed. Tammy wanted to stay in the room, so I camped out in the waiting area. I called Hank, bitching to him about placing whatever call he had to in order to get my fucking house off the tour guide’s list. I wasn’t doing this bullshit anymore.
Elsie was able to come home the next day, but she was not happy with me. I kept reprimanding her for what she did, I couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t smart, and it wasn’t my best form, but I didn’t know what else to do. Just because Elsie had autism didn’t mean she was an idiot. She knew she had no business walking to the edge of the fucking property alone.
From the porch to the road was a little over half a mile of land.
Elsie knew she was being scolded and she was just as angry with me as I was with her, but I knew both our anger was just covering up how scared we were. Elsie and I were similar in that regard and we’d gotten that trait from our momma. When she was frightened, she was one fucking pissed off woman.
“The two of you are staying here for a few days,” I said.
“I wanna go home,” Elsie said.
“You’re staying at my house, and that’s that,” I said.
“You can’t keep her prisoner. If she wants to go home, I’ll be there with her,” Tammy said.
“Like you were with her a few days ago?” I asked.
“Stop it!” Elsie said. “Just stop, Drake!”
“Elsie, you were barely breathing when I found you. Covered in mud, shivering from the cold. Your lips were blue, damn it,” I said.
I clenched my jaw as tears rose to my eyes.
“Just—let me watch over you for a few days. Give Tammy a break. She’s just as tired as you are, and both of you could use the rest,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Blackthorn,” Tammy said.
“It’s over. I just—we should all get inside and get some sleep, we’re all thrashed,” I said.
We finally pulled up to the house. I carried Elsie inside, her legs still aching from yesterday’s ordeal. I carried her up the stairs and bedded her down in the guestroom while Tammy tried to settle herself down. We all needed a break. Every one of us. I needed to get some rest and calm down my anger, Elsie needed to rest and find her strength, and Tammy needed to rest and relax.
“You can sleep in my bed,” I said. “It’s just across the hall.”
“Actually, I think I’m gonna sleep in here,” Tammy said.
“You need to rest now, not to be watching over her. You’ll never get quality sleep that way. I’ve got it for a little while. Tammy, you haven’t even taken any vacation since I hired you full-time to take care of my sister.”
“Your sister doesn’t get to take vacation from her autism.”
“Where the hell are you gonna sleep?” I asked.
“In the chair in the corner, just like I did last night. I’ll grab a blanket, prop my feet up, and I’ll be good to go.”
“I’ve got a blanket downstairs. Come on, I’ll get it for ya.”
The two of us headed downstairs and I found the pot of coffee still sitting on the kitchen table. The coffee was cold, but I could feel it calling to me. I reached for someone’s dirty mug and poured me a glass, chugging the liquid down as it filled my veins with life.
I guzzled a second one before my eyes dropped to the note on the table.
“What’s that?” Tammy asked.
I picked up the note as my eyes scanned the words.
Off work at five. See you at 5:30. Delia
“Shit,” I said.
She wasn’t here when I got home, but the truth was I hadn’t thought about her up until that point. I had been so immersed with what was going on with my sister that I hadn’t even
called her last night to tell her I was staying over at the hospital. I sighed as I set my mug down, then shuffled into the living room to get Tammy a pillow and a blanket from the couch.
“You’d be stupid not to marry that girl,” she said.
I whipped my head over and saw Tammy standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was playfully grinning in my direction. I straightened up and held out the pillow and blanket to her, watching her take them as she held them close to her body.
“She’s not here, but she’s coming back. She puts up with your shit. Supports you when you need it. Ain’t afraid to call you out on something. She’s marriage material. And if you can’t see it, someone else will.”
My gaze held Tammy’s hotly as she turned and walked back up the steps.
Marriage? Was she serious? I'd never considered getting married again, not after losing my first wife. It almost didn't seem right. Like I was betraying Shannon somehow. Besides, I’d only known her for three or so months, and we hadn’t even interacted for the whole of them. Yeah, she was pregnant. And yeah, we were trying to make that work. But that didn’t mean we were gonna get married. That required so much more than just a baby. That required commitment. Respect. Trust.
Love.
Did I love her?
I looked up through the window and saw my reflection as the sun streamed through the glass. I looked myself dead in the eye and gave myself time to really answer that question. Did I love Delia? Was I in love with her? Or was I simply protective of the woman carrying my child?
I thought back to all the times I’d had her in my arms. Against my body. In this house rattling on about fuck-knew-what. I smiled at her ferocity and the way she was so damn stubborn. How graceful she looked on the back of Pixie and how entranced she had been by the simplicity of the lake.
It warmed my chest simply to think about her. And that was when I understood.
Yes. I did love Delia.
But was that enough? Was it enough for a recovering alcoholic that reminded her of her father to love her and want the best for her? Maybe she was looking for something more. Something different. Fuck. I hadn’t considered the idea that we might only be co-parents. That this whole relationship thing might not work out between the two of us.
I was lost in my thoughts for so long that I didn’t come to until Delia was coming through the front door.
“Brought dinner,” she said, with a grin on her face. “Is Elsie back from the hospital?”
I looked over at her, taking her in as she walked into the living room. She bent over to kiss me, her plump lips warm against my skin. They lingered a little longer than usual, and when she pulled away she nuzzled her nose against my jawline. I could smell the burgers and fries she had brought in from that wonderful place downtown.
I looked up into her eyes, taking her in as I leaned into the couch.
She came back.
“Yes,” I said. “Elsie’s back. Tammy, too. They’re upstairs sleeping.”
“Good. Come on. I’ll divvy up the food and you can pour the sweet tea,” she said.
I watched her walk away, her hips swaying in the wind as her little paunch sat just beyond her dress. She had on these cute little boots that shone with the sunlight as she turned to look at me. Her flowing blond hair and her dazzling eyes beckoned to me as I rose from the couch, her hand outstretched for mine as I took it. Our fingers intertwined slowly. Naturally. Like two lovers who had known each other for years.
I didn’t know if this was enough for her. But I knew one thing for certain.
It was more than enough for me.
CHAPTER 38
Delia
Nights bled into days, and days bled into weeks. I found myself going to my apartment less and to Drake’s house more. I spent time with Elsie on the weekends, getting to know her and her idiosyncrasies more each week. Tammy taught me things about autism and how to handle it, thinking if I was better equipped to handle Elsie at her worst, I could better enjoy her at her best. Drake had officially dubbed Pixie as ‘my horse,’ and because of that I was out on the farm more. Mucking her stall out and feeding her on a schedule. Riding her regularly and taking her for walks around the ranch.
Gradually, I came to know the place very well as my pregnancy continued to progress.
I spent my nights curled up to Drake, and my mornings making love to him in the shower. We ate breakfast together, talked during lunch, and always made plans for dinner at his house. Every time I had to wash an outfit of mine I was wearing, it got conveniently placed in a drawer in his room that suddenly didn’t have any clothes in it.
Eventually, the apartment became almost a waste of money.
Because of me staying over more, Drake had stopped harping on me about work. He accepted the fact that I wasn’t willing to slow down my life until a doctor told me I needed to. He still fussed over me and made me drink way more water than I would ever need, but it was a compromise I was willing to make. Every time he wrapped his arms around me, one of his hands would drop to my budding stomach.
There were times when he wasn’t happy I was heading into work. Times when he wanted me to call out but I refused. Sometimes I looked ‘too tired’ or ‘like I was about to be sick’. Panic would wash over his face, a look of absolute fear. Every once in a while, he would try to exert his control, and I would find ways to calm his mind.
Because that was what it was all about—those days when he was craving and needed to latch onto something he knew to be familiar.
In the midst of all of it, at some point I had stopped fighting him. I stopped fighting my urges for him and started initiating sex. I stopped being embarrassed by my need for him and gave into more of his sexual demands. I enjoyed how he commanded me in bed. I enjoyed his knowledge of my body. I enjoyed the times he pinned me to the shower wall or bent me over the kitchen counter. I enjoyed the times when I woke up with his tongue between my legs.
I also enjoyed the times when he would slide in from behind at three in the morning when he simply couldn’t wait.
In stopping all of the fighting, I had also stopped trying to fight what I felt for him. I stopped trying to convince myself that this wouldn’t work. I stopped comparing us as a couple to my parents and started seeing the reality of the situation. I started seeing how hard he worked, how much he had grown, and how we both had changed for the better because of what we had been through.
I started imaging what we would be going through together once this child was born.
In the midst of it all, I stopped fighting against falling in love with him. I allowed my eyes to linger and my mind to wander during my workday. I acknowledged the flutter in my heart whenever he came in from the field and undressed me with his eyes. I stopped fighting the need to roll into him at night and toss my leg around his naked hip.
But most of all, I stopped comparing him to my father.
My love for him was there. Every morning when the sun rose and his morning breath woke me up. Every time he pinned me to a wall and pounded my imprint into the paint. Every time his hand migrated to my knee whenever we were eating dinner together—it was there. It was full and bright and shiny.
And scary as hell.
But I wasn’t backing down. Loving Drake was the most exciting thing I had ever done in my life. Being around him fulfilled a part of me I had long neglected. I had closed myself off to the notion that anyone could love me the way I needed to be loved. And it wasn’t until I met Drake that I understood how lonely I had become.
“Thinkin’ ‘bout him again?” Stacia asked.
“Sorry. Sorry. Um—what were you saying?” I asked.
“Nothin.’ Just saw you starin’ off into space. How’s that paperwork comin’ along?” she asked.
“It’s coming. Mr. Hart approved my four-month plan for my first patient, so I’m putting it in writing officially, so we can go over it in his session next week.”
“Ya know, if that patient goes well, he
might start givin’ ya more.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. It’s what I want to do. I want to help people through this time in their life. I want to help them plant their feet firmly on the ground and feel like they can do this. I don’t want sobriety to be such a chore. Not if it doesn’t have to be.”
“That Drake is one lucky man,” she said. “He’s got you helpin’ him with all that. And for free!”
I grinned at the sentiment as I went back to typing.
“Oh, that reminds me,” I said. “What are you doing Friday night?”
“Cookin’ dinner, then snugglin’ in for a movie with the man. Why? What’s up?”
“Think the man would let you off your routine for a night? Drake’s playing a small venue in town and I could easily get my co-worker in,” I said.
“Ooh, he’s gonna have to, honey. I ain’t missin’ none of that,” Stacia said. “You can consider me there. What time?”
“The concert’s at eight at the Mercy Lounge.”
“Oh, girl. Are we dressin’ up? Nope. Not a question. We’re dressin’ up. Girl’s night, our boots and our dresses, and I’ll even stick to non-alcoholic drinks just for you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Drake ain’t drinkin.’ You’re not drinkin.’ I’m not drinkin.’ But I am orderin’ food, and plenty of it, so make sure you’re hungry.”
“Food, virgin daiquiris, and Drake. Sounds like a good night to me,” I said.
“Now—if my man turns out to be a closeted Drake Blackthorn fan, how much are the tickets?” she asked.
“I can get him in, too,” I said, with a wink. “Just let me know before Friday.”
“I can do that.”
I finished typing up the sobriety plan for my patient and turned it in to Mr. Hart before I packed up my things. Then it was time for me to head home.
Home.
That was what I’d been calling Drake’s house for a little over two weeks now.
