by Lori Bell
“Her doctor will see her today, but she knows what’s what and can talk, slowly but clearly.” Tate was happy to share that good news with Edie. Other than a phone call to his sister in Florida, Edie was the only other person he had told.
“Wonderful. I’m truly happy for you, and her,” Edie smiled, and then she glanced away. It was just too hard to look at him and remember. He loved her. And then he had some terribly harsh words for her, and had hurt her. “And, Tate,” she added, “thank you for coming to share the good news with me. It means a lot to me.” Edie acted as if she was giving him her parting words, and Tate spoke up quickly.
“She’s asking for you,” he told her outright.
“Me? I don’t think that’s a very good idea…” Edie was equally as curious as he was to find out what his mother want-ed, but she didn’t want to upset anyone by showing up where she did not feel welcome.
“She wants you there, E.” Just to hear him call her that again had stirred her. She quickly reminded herself how Tate was there on behalf of his mother. That was all it was. Letting go of this man had been one of the hardest things she ever was forced to do. Every passing day and night, every baby step in the opposite direction from him had been progress for her. She could not and would not allow herself to go back. She knew she was strong, but she also knew what had come very close to breaking her.
“I’m sorry, Tate. I don’t know if I can go to her. I mean, we’ve been through this. I know you and Kathy believed I put your mother in that terrible medical state, but I know I did not. I know she was the dangerous one that day, a risk to me and to herself. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I already have all the answers I need. I do feel happy for you and your family, knowing you have your Ma back.”
“You can’t do this,” he told her, looking defeated. “She woke up late last night, and her first word was your name. She’s unable to relax her mind. She needs to speak with you, and she will not tell me why. Edie, please, if anything, she needs peace – and I know I need closure.”
The word closure came out of his mouth by surprise to him. He didn’t know if he meant it or not. And Edie suspected he did. Maybe that’s what this was about? Tying up a terribly loose end. Finding a way to make peace in order to heal and move on.
“Alright. I have a meeting in just minutes,” she began to explain, and Tate suddenly was reminded how career driven she was. Edie, the successful account executive always emerged and was put first and foremost. He felt a familiar pang of resentment. “I will call to reschedule it on my way to see your mother,” she told him, and caught him by surprise.
“You will?” he asked her.
“Tate, she’s been asleep for too long. If she feels as strongly as you say she does about wanting to see me, then I can’t put her off. I’ll call it an emergency with a family friend,” she explained, and Tate wanted to tell her she was more than a family friend, but he couldn’t. For one, his family never welcomed her, never treated her like they should have. Well, maybe his father had more than any one of them. And he also had lost his right to call her anything at all.
“I can drive you?” Tate offered.
“No, thank you. I’d like to have my car there.” Edie was being honest. She was an independent woman, and even Tate could never change that about her. He knew that all too well.
“I understand. It’s the nursing home, three blocks south of Bayhealth,” he instructed her.
“Okay, thank you.”
“No, Edie. Thank you.” Tate smiled sincerely, took one step toward her, and then stopped himself. He turned then, and walked back to his truck as she got into her own car. He would see her in a little while.
Chapter 21
Tate was waiting for her when she pulled up to the nursing home building. She noticed that he had just parked underneath a large overhang, so she drove up behind him there. Both of them ignored the pickup and drop-off, fifteen minute maximum sign that was posted.
Edie allowed Tate to hold the door for her and once she stepped inside the carpeted lobby, the scent overwhelmed her. It took her back to when she was fourteen years old and had spent time in both a hospital and a funeral home, following the accident and her parents’ deaths. The scent that hung in the air now was a cross between both of those awful places that only held the saddest, emptiest memories.
“You okay?” Tate asked her, and Edie was instantly reminded how he could sometimes read her so well. She missed that. Her life was quite lonely now.
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just the smell in here,” she kept her voice down.
“I guess I’m immune to it after all this time,” he stated, and shook his head. How nice it was going to be to get his mother out of this place. And soon.
They walked in silence through the lobby, and down a long corridor. Edie had never before in her life seen so many wheelchairs, slumped bodies, wild bedheads of thin white hair, and sad, lost faces. She walked in sync with Tate and he had read her mind. Just get her to where we are going. She can’t take a place like this. She never will have the gift of watching her parents grow old.
When they reached the door to Mrs. Ryman’s room, Tate stepped back for Edie to go in first. “No, you go first,” she told him. She was terrified of this moment, and had not allowed herself to really dwell on that fear until just now.
“It’s going to be okay,” he tried to reassure her.
“Easy for you to say,” she replied, halfheartedly, and he chuckled. What else could he do at this point? Their life together was gone, and if he dwelled on that, he easily would have gotten lost in regret.
When Tate walked into the room first, Edie stayed behind him. In her heels, she was almost the same height as him. She moved her body from his guard, and looked directly at the bed in the room. Mrs. Ryman was sitting up in it. Her white hair was fixed in its trademark bob, her pink nightgown looked fresh and crisp as if someone had ironed it. And the expression on her face was one that Edie could not quite read. She wore no smile, and her eyes looked sad – or quite possibly remorseful.
“Ma, look who I brought for you,” Tate spoke, carefully. There was no love lost between the two women in this room. One, however, wanted to see the other so badly that Tate had swallowed his pride and granted her wish.
“Come, please, sit.” Her words were slow, but Edie understood them. Tate stepped back for Edie, and that’s when his mother asked him to leave.
“You want me to go? No. I have a right to stay. Ma, I have questions, too.” Tate almost sounded as if he was ten years old again, and he held his breath as he awaited permission to stay in the room. To learn the truth. Finally.
“I wish to speak…to…her…alone.” His mother’s speech slowed, and Tate recognized how his defiance had affected her.
He muttered, for chrissakes. I’ll be close by. And then he left the room, closing the door not so quietly behind him.
Suddenly Edie, who was still standing far enough away to bolt out of the door if she had to, felt edgier without Tate present in the room with them.
“Sit, please…” Mrs. Ryman reminded her.
“I can’t help but remember the last time you told me to have a seat,” Edie spoke forwardly and then slowly made her way over to the chair. Mrs. Ryman’s response was silence. She placed both of her hands on her lap and momentarily closed her eyes. Little did Edie know that she was asking her husband to send her strength. Strength to admit she was terribly wrong.
“I lied to you…” Mrs. Ryman began, once she opened her eyes again and looked directly at Edie, sitting on the edge of the chair. She could not relax there. “And I was wrong. So wrong.” She was slow to string her words together, and Edie almost could not believe her ears. She, of course, knew her own innocence, but to hear a woman like the proper, do-no-wrong Mary Lou Ryman admit her guilt was almost unbelievable. This entire mess was astonishing. And this was what Edie’s life had come to. Her sister, who wanted her dead, was in a mental institution. And a woman, who could have become her mo
ther-in-law one day, had also premeditated murdering her.
“I had no right to judge you, and that’s all I ever did. I don’t know how I will face my son from this day forward. I can only hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me one day. His love for you will allow him to try to forgive me, I do know that. I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t even understand. I was consumed in my grief, but that is no excuse.” Edie sat silently, listening but not always looking at Mrs. Ryman. Her legs were crossed and her one red heel digging into the carpet was easier to focus on right now. She had heard every word that Mrs. Ryman was saying to her, but the part about Tate’s love for her echoed in her ears. A lot had happened in six months.
“I stole your medication. I crushed all those pills and put them into one coffee mug. My intent was for you to drink it,” Mrs. Ryman admitted, and Edie noticed her folded hands on her lap were shaking profusely. “I’m an old fool. I got what I deserved, maybe you think the repercussions should have been harsher.” Edie looked directly at her now. She saw the tears welling up in her eyes. As strange as it felt, Edie actually admired this woman in front of her right now. She had a high regard for a woman who was strong enough to allow herself to cry. Unshed tears had become Edie’s forte in life.
Mrs. Ryman paused to cry. She sat there silently sobbing. If Edie had not been looking at her, she would never have seen her pain, nor the tears flooding her cheeks, one after another.
Edie couldn’t bring herself to say anything, and she didn’t know what else to do. She only chose to act before she lost her courage. She had never touched this woman before. Never wanted to get close enough to. Edie stood from her chair, walked to the edge of the bed, and placed both of her hands on overtop of Mrs. Ryman’s. She could feel the wrinkles, the feebleness to the bones. Slowly, Mrs. Ryman’s hands had ceased to tremble. “Thank you,” she whispered to Edie, her face tear soaked. And Edie leaned in closer and enveloped this petite, aging woman into her arms. There was a peace in both of their hearts at this moment that neither one of them could explain or wanted to speak of. They just relished the feeling all around.
The door, which Tate had closed in somewhat of a huff when he was told to leave earlier, was now cracked just enough for him to see and hear. And he had witnessed, from the hallway, all that he needed to know. Edie may have been too strong to cry, but Tate wasn’t. He stood there, consumed with emotion as he peered through that slightly opened door, never loving either one of those two women more. What a crazy way to realize that he was one blessed man.
*
Tate was in the hallway, standing just a few feet from the door, when Edie stepped out. “Hi,” he said to her first. He was unsure at this point if he would tell her or even his mother that he had overheard them. And that he knew the truth now.
She softly smiled at him, but did not speak. Her tears that were fighting to freefall still remained unshed. It’s just what Edie did. It’s how she rolled now for most of her life. What happened in there with Tate’s mother, all of it, was just so difficult. Edie wanted to forgive her, to give her the peace she so obviously needed. In the midst of doing the noble thing, Edie also realized just how much she cared about Mrs. Ryman. It was unexplainable to feel anything for her, but she did. And now she wanted to run. It was time to get back to her life, and her life alone. There was just too much pain when she allowed anyone to get too close.
“How did it go in there?” Tate asked her, and she could see the genuine concern he had for her. That was another reason why she needed to run.
“It’s all going to be okay. Your mother can move on now, with peace in her heart, I hope.” Edie meant those words.
“I can’t pretend I didn’t listen in,” he admitted, walking over to her side of the hallway.
“A cracked door is so lame,” she teased him, to lighten the mood.
He laughed, and then stood close to her. “Walk outside with me. I don’t want to be overheard in here.” Edie nodded her head. She really just wanted to leave there and never look back.
When they reached the outdoors, the temperature difference instantly had gone from cool air conditioning to hot, humid air blowing in their faces, and almost instantly leaving their skin with a sticky feeling.
“I don’t want to sweat to death before I get to work,” she told him as they stood outside underneath the overhang. Both of their cars were sort-of illegally parked there as they had taken advantage of the close-to-the-building, time-limited parking spots.
Tate looked past the excuse Edie made to leave so soon. As she stood there in those red heels, she defined upper class, or just plain classy. Tate was more of a working man in his denim, t-shirt, and Timberlands. They were opposites for certain, but still there was something so obviously alike about them. They looked like a couple.
And they had been quite the pair, until their faults got in the way. Mistakes were made, judgment became too harsh. No one was perfect, and Tate had finally realized that now.
“I know you want to get the hell out of here, and maybe never look back.” It was almost painful to know how capable this man was of reading her thoughts. “You’ve been through hell, and I wasn’t there for you. I judged you and I had no right.” Edie looked away. She did not want to focus on his understanding and sincerely apologetic words. That was not where this was supposed to lead. She agreed to see his mother today. And it had to end there.
“Thank you for saying that,” was all she could manage to say to him. She started to turn on her heels. Tate knew she was pulling away. He realized that sometimes you just cannot go back. What’s severed, sadly, cannot be repaired. With every fiber of his being, he didn’t want the two of them to be an example of lost love.
“E,” he caught her attention before she took the first steps away from him. “Have a drink with me after work tonight? This doesn’t have to be over.”
She could feel those unshed tears pooling in the back of her eyes. Don’t let him see your pain, she told herself. You are Edie Klein. A pillar of strength when most would crumble. She detested how vulnerable she felt right now with him.
“I can’t,” she replied, holding herself together.
“Tomorrow night, maybe? I remember your crazy work schedule…” He made light of it now, but they both knew he had a serious problem with Edie choosing to put her career first all of the time.
“I meant I can’t, we can’t,” she tried to clarify. “It’s been six months, Tate.” As if either of them needed to be reminded.
“Too damn long, if you ask me,” he added, feeling as if he needed to hold his breath until she changed her mind, gave in, and said yes to grant them a second chance.
“Long enough for me to learn to let go,” she lied. She had to lie. It was easier that way. She could not risk losing him all over again when it would not work out for the two of them a second time. In so many ways, they had been wonderful together. But, there would always be something to get in their way. Edie’s worst fear was that she believed Tate would want her to forgive her sister, like she had forgiven his mother. It did not work that way. And there was no chance in hell that she would ever allow Sydney back into her world ever again. Not even Tate could influence her to try.
Tate’s heart sank. She had moved on.
“Goodbye, Tate.” This time, Edie managed to turn on her heels and walk away.
Chapter 22
Tate stood on the curb, watching her pull away. He was parked in front of her so she had backed up her car, shifted it into drive, and sped off. He knew her well. She was in pain. Covering up pain was how she had lived her life. And, now, because he had caused her pain too, she was going to stop at nothing to keep him from hurting her again. He swallowed the lump building in this throat as the unpleasant hot wind blew in his face, shuffling the curls in his hair. If this was the end of them, losing her would most definitely be his biggest regret for as long as he lived. There was just no possible way Tate Ryman could let go of her. That, he knew for certain.
&
nbsp; *
The mental institution allowed visitors every Saturday morning. Even though she was never expecting anyone, Sydney always walked down to the dining area and sat alone at a table in the corner. From there, she people watched. There were families that gathered, and it was refreshing for Sydney to see new faces. She had not perceived herself as crazy. She didn’t belong locked up in there. Her case was more like temporary insanity, and she hoped to prove that about herself after she spent the remainder of her sentencing repenting. She had six months down, and one year longer to go. Eighteen months of her life in there seemed like it would be an eternity.
She could have blamed herself for falling in love with Tate Ryman, but there was no way to change how she felt. She wanted to blame her sister, but she had already done enough of that. She didn’t long for the day when she would see Tate again, because she knew all too well that never seeing her again would be too soon for him. The last time she saw him, when he knew the truth about her, he could not even look at her. He must hate her that much. She knew how hate felt. And she understood how it could slowly eat away at a person’s soul.
So what kind of life could she have when the day came for her to be free? Sydney already knew the answer to that. She would seek a fresh start, far from Camden, Delaware and anyone who knew her miserable story.
From afar, Sydney could see more people filing into the dining area. Some of the tables were full, others were not. Sydney wasn’t the only one who never received visitors. Many of the patients there were too far gone, like Sydney believed her roommate was. The faces of the visitors were beginning to look familiar to Sydney, but there were always a few new ones, too. Today, from afar, Sydney could see a wheelchair being pushed. An elderly woman was in it, but Sydney’s focus was not on her when she saw the man behind the chair, rolling it closer and closer in Sydney’s direction. She was afraid to stare in fear of what she was seeing would disappear. Mrs. Ryman had aged since the incident in her kitchen. Sydney may never have recognized the smaller, frail woman if her son had not been walking behind her chair. Tate was there. And the sight of him caught Sydney’s breath.
