Reckless

by Lori Bell

  She never said a word as the two of them came to her table. It was Mrs. Ryman who spoke first. Her speech was unusually slow, but clear. “Sydney, dear, I need to speak with you.” Tate only stared at her, and when Sydney caught his eye, she blushed profusely and quickly looked away. She suspected that he did not want to talk to her, and had only been there to escort his mother to her. But, what Mrs. Ryman wanted to say to her was beyond Sydney’s comprehension.

  Tate pulled a chair away from the table, and then carefully guided his mother’s wheelchair in its place. “I will be back in one hour,” he bent forward and quietly spoke into his mother’s ear. Mrs. Ryman only nodded and waited for him to walk a good distance away before she spoke.

  Sydney’s hands were on the tabletop in front of her, folded and wringing went from sweat. She was a nervous wreck. She had not at all been prepared for this moment. It saddened her that Tate did not utter a single word to her, but she understood why.

  Sydney was aware that Mrs. Ryman had been in a coma for several months. There was an article in the Camden News Leader that she had read about the local business owner of Ry’s Market finally on the road to recovery following an accidental overdose. The reporter had been kind with his word choice, although it had been an accident in how Mrs. Ryman ended up drinking the loaded mug of drugs meant for Edie. Sydney knew she was going straight to hell for still wishing her sister had been the one to overdose. She was also sane enough to realize those thoughts were what put her in this place.

  “I am not here to judge,” Mrs. Ryman began. “I’ve gone over that edge, too.” What a funny way to phrase it, Sydney thought.

  “Why are you here?” Sydney asked her, and she caught herself purposely speaking slowly, wondering if Mrs. Ryman’s comprehension was affected, too.

  “To do some good,” Mrs. Ryman replied.

  “I think you are going to need more than an hour to turn this bad witch into a good one,” Sydney stated with excessive sarcasm in her tone.

  “I’ll be here every Saturday for the next year if that’s what it will take,” Mrs. Ryman appeared adamant.

  “I don’t understand,” Sydney admitted. “What’s done is done. I will serve my time, and be grateful it’s in here and not in a prison cell.”

  “I want to understand you in order to help you,” Mrs. Ryman spoke again, and Sydney felt like she was still talking in circles.

  “Help me what?” Sydney didn’t believe she could be helped. There wasn’t anything anyone else could do to reform her. She had lost everything that once mattered to her –her job, her only family, and Tate– all because she had made brainless, insane choices. Choices with dire consequences.

  “Find your way,” Mrs. Ryman stated.

  “And just what direction is my way? Where are you suggesting I go?” Sydney just decided to play along. If Mrs. Ryman was insistent enough to come here today, she deserved Sydney’s respect and cooperation.

  “Back to your sister.” Mrs. Ryman’s answer startled Sydney. Now she was talking crazy again.

  Chapter 23

  The hour passed like five minutes, and Sydney surprised herself how much she enjoyed talking to Mrs. Ryman. Maybe it was because, for six months now, there had really been no one to talk to inside of that place. There were three different psychiatrists who had tried to shrink her head, but none of them felt worth delving into her emotions with. It was different with Mrs. Ryman, because she cared.

  When Tate came back, on the hour, to get his mother, Sydney thought of how she had not washed her hair in days, and her gray sweatsuit was too snug around the middle. At least the food was worth looking forward to in that facility. She was never a vain woman, like Edie, but Sydney did feel self conscious right now with Tate there. What did it matter, he can’t even look at me anyway.

  “Ready, Ma?” Tate asked, only making eye contact with her.

  “Until next week, goodbye Sydney.” Sydney reached across the tabletop and patted her aging hand. Maybe Mrs. Ryman could help her after all.

  Sydney watched the two of them walk away. No, Tate had not looked at her or spoken to her, but he had brought his mother there to see her. That had to mean something. And it did to Sydney.

  As soon as the two of them were outside of the facility, Tate spoke for the first time. “Are you sure you want to keep coming back here?”

  “I am,” she replied. “There is good in that girl, and I know I can help her. I feel compelled to.” Mary Lou refrained from saying more. She had told no one that when she had first slipped into a comatose state, her late husband was there. He was the one who encouraged her to go back and help those girls. And to save Tate from a lifetime of unhappiness.

  “I couldn’t even look at her,” Tate admitted, but he really didn’t feel ashamed.

  “That will take time. She trampled all over your trust.” Mrs. Ryman did not fault Tate for how he had handled the entire situation. She did, however, wish he had not thrown Edie out of his life. There was a time when she would have rejoiced at the idea, but not anymore. Not when she recognized how miserable he was without the woman he loved.

  “I just don’t see how you can help her,” Tate stated as they reached the car. He locked her wheelchair with his foot as he prepared to open the passenger door of his truck and then help her up inside of it. It had only been a week since his mother had been home from the hospital. She was slowly resuming her regular lifestyle. The damage to her heart from the overdose was evident. Walking a long distance from the parking lot today would have been too much for her to handle. Still, Tate had high hopes for his mother to make a full recovery. She had been a completely healthy and active seventy-five-year-old woman.

  “I believe that she and Edie both have to face their past before they can have a future. Whether that future brings them together or not, I don’t know if that really matters. It’s just time for them to make peace and stop the destruction within them-selves.”

  Tate shook his head at his mother. “And you’re going to try to accomplish all of that on Saturday visits to this place?”

  “That, and I want to see Edie again.” Tate’s eyes widened at the thought, and he kept quiet. His mother would just have to find out for herself how Edie was finished with all of them. And once she made up her mind, she never changed it.

  *

  After Tate settled his mother into her house, he waited for the nighttime nurse to arrive before he left. Until his mother was well enough to stay by herself again, Tate had hired nurses to care for her around the clock. Mary Lou objected at first, but then she realized Tate was making it possible for her to go home and live in the house she dearly loved. Given that, she could tolerate a nurse in her home.

  Instead of going to his house, Tate drove further into town and stopped at Lantern Inn. He was frequenting that bar more than he had in a couple of years. It was just too quiet at home now. Even when Edie used to work entirely too much and many late nights, Tate never felt as alone as he had in the past six months. At least then she had come home to share their bed. He slept on the couch some nights now, where he fell asleep with the television on. Tate was not going to chase her, nor beg to come back to him. That day outside of the nursing home, he had made his feelings clear. And so had she.

  The barroom was only about half full when Tate walked in and took his usual seat on that red barstool with no backing and a generous tear on the side. Bartender Jack knew his story. The whole town did. There had been more than a few women who were interested in snagging Tate Ryman now, but not a one had turned his head.

  Tate was chatting with a man sitting beside him at the bar, whose name he didn’t know. He was drinking a third beer when the door opened up and he happened to turn his head. It’s just what he did sometimes after sitting at the bar for hours. He was never looking for anyone new to meet, to take home. Tate was not that kind of man. At thirty years old, he knew what he wanted. The night of Edie’s accident, he bought her a ring. They were supposed to begin the next phase of their li
ves together then. And then everything unraveled, leaving Tate feeling as if he was starting all over again. But, that’s not what he wanted to do. He wanted Edie. He could hardly stand how badly he missed her. Drinking never eased the pain long enough.

  *

  An hour earlier, Edie had still been at the office. She and her boss were in a meeting with a client from New York City. Edie had been trying for months to provide the right link between Stockmann Advertising and this man from the big city. Her recent advertising campaign, which she tediously prepared, tore down, and built up again, had finally caught Michael Reid‘s interest. Enough for him to fly into Dover and meet her, to see and hear more in person.

  A handshake between the two of them and Edie’s boss had just sealed a two point five million dollar deal. Edie was

  floating on air, and her boss was twice as high. Edie’s boss was a happily married fifty-five-year-old man who rarely missed dinner every night with his wife. When he had employees like Edie, who were willing to work late hours, he had the leisure to go home after an eight-hour day. Tonight, however, it was Edie’s boss who suggested they celebrate with their new client over a drink. Her boss lived in Camden, and hoped Michael Reid from New York City wouldn’t think he was too good to have a beer in a dive. He had laughed and said he would enjoy it, because he had grown up in a small town and missed the down home feel of it.

  It was Edie who immediately wanted to balk. She had to back out of joining them. Lantern Inn was the place where she and Tate met. She had only been there maybe a few times since with him. She couldn’t walk back through those doors and not feel the flood of emotion overtake her heart. She was struggling with his memory and their life together. The last thing she wanted to do was take three steps backwards.

  “You’re coming, right? You can drive Michael or I can, but let’s go celebrate before my wife calls to summon me home.” They all laughed, and Edie had not spoken up to decline having a drink with them at Lantern Inn. Of all places.

  Edie ended up driving their new client from Dover to Camden. Business was over for the day, and she could see him relax, sitting in the passenger seat beside her. He told her how he was divorced with two small children, both boys, ages four and six. His wife had wanted out of their marriage, and he admitted to feeling lost without his family. It had been two years since he became a single man again. Edie listened, and Michael talked some more. Ten minutes later, they were following her boss into the back parking lot of Lantern Inn.

  “So what’s your story?” Michael asked her at what Edie felt like was a bad time. They were preparing to get out of her car. Her boss was already out of his and walking toward them.

  “Unattached,” she answered quickly, feeling flustered. And it wasn’t because of his question. It was because she saw Tate’s full-size silver pickup in the parking lot.

  *

  When Tate turned his head, he saw two men in business suits. They looked out of place for Lantern Inn, which mostly housed men in denim and boots. But, everyone had a right to walk through that door and patronize Jack’s bar. It was the woman sandwiched in between those men that instantly caught Tate’s eye. Her sleeveless black dress clung to her every curve. Her black stilettos enhanced her already long legs. He didn’t need to stare at her body. He had already seen it, and touched every inch of her. It was the look on her face that he stared long at. She wore a smile, her eyes were bright. She had seen him and then looked away. As if he mattered so little to her now.

  What Tate didn’t know was what Edie had put herself through as she took steps in the parking lot with her colleagues. You’ve got this. You are Edie Klein. You know how to handle pain. Conceal it with a smile.

  Tate watched the three of them find a table in the middle of the barroom. He recognized Edie’s boss, as he had met him and shared a handshake at least twice at the annual Christmas parties for Stockmann Advertising. It was the other guy that Tate wondered who he was. He wondered if this was business or pleasure for that man. It made him sick to his stomach to think about it really.

  Edie’s boss had walked up to the bar. He stood next to Tate, seated on the end, but he never recognized him. Jack served him the requested two beers and glass of white wine. The wine was for Edie, as Jack knew all too well.

  Tate turned back to the table and saw that man rolling up the sleeves to his white dress shirt, loosening his red tie. He had already taken off his sport coat and hung it on the back of his chair. Edie was engaging in polite conversation with him, as far as Tate could tell. Tate stared long enough to see Edie throw her head back when she laughed at something he had said, then she ran one hand through her long blonde hair, which she was wearing down, covering her shoulders tonight. Even under the dim lights in that bar, Edie shined.

  “You’re staring,” Jack leaned in from overtop the bar and spoke right in Tate’s face.

  “Fuck you,” Tate said back to him. Jack chuckled at first, and then he saw the real pain in his friend’s eyes. So he backed off and let him stare.

  Edie’s boss wasn’t finished with his beer when his cell phone rang. He apologized to both Edie and their new client, but his wife needed him at home. Edie smiled. Most people only dream of finding love like that.

  “What about my ride to the airport?” Michael asked, knowing his flight was in two hours. Edie felt obligated. But she wished he would choose to take a cab.

  “I can either drive you, or call for a taxi,” she told him. “Depends on how many more glasses of wine I drink.” Both men laughed and Edie tried to pretend she was having a good time. After all, she knew whose eyes were still on her.

  One hour passed. Tate kept drinking beer, as Edie continued to drink wine. Every time she wanted another glass, Tate had watched the man, with the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled back to his elbows and that loosened power red tie, fetch it for her.

  “You’re drunk,” Jack leaned on the bar top and spoke directly in Tate’s face again, “and don’t say fuck you,” he added with a chuckle. It’s not that he enjoyed seeing Tate go through emotional hell. He just thought it was pretty damn cool to find a love like that in a lifetime. And, later, when the bar closed down, and Tate was the last man drinking in there, Jack would tell him so. And then push him to fight for her.

  Chapter 24

  I have to go. My flight leaves in an hour. Edie finally heard the words she had waited for the past two and half hours. “Okay,” she told him, tipping back the last swallow of wine in her glass. “Will you tell the bartender to put tonight on a tab and I’ll catch up with him later?” There was no way in hell that Edie was going to walk up to that bar. She hadn’t yet. And Tate was still sitting there, on the end.

  “It’s on me,” Michael said, as he stood up. And before Edie could thank him, he brushed her bare shoulder with his hand. It was an innocent touch, not at all inappropriate in Edie’s mind. But, Tate saw it, and he knew what that guy wanted from her. He also saw that they were preparing to leave, and he could not take the thought plastered all over his mind. They were going to bed.

  Tate watched him give Jack his credit card at the bar. He was close enough for Tate to touch, or punch in the face, which-ever he felt like and the latter was his preference right now. Tate then watched him walk toward the restroom. This was his chance, as Edie had not been left alone all night.

  Tate stood up and he felt the beer rush to his bladder. He could piss later. He wanted to talk to Edie before she left. She saw him stand up and begin to walk toward her. She wondered if he was drunk. Tate could handle his beer, and she had never seen him intoxicated. But she had seen him drink one after another tonight. And she also knew how badly he was hurting. Not so much because he wore his feelings on his sleeve, but more so because she felt his pain. Heartache at its best had done a number on both of them.

  He reached her table, and she looked up. There had been fleeting eye contact between them all night, but this was the first time Tate had held her eyes with his.

  “Hello E…
” he said, and she wanted to respond, don’t call me that, and tell him he lost his right to. But, once again, it had melted her.

  “Tate, how are you?” she asked, pressing her lips together to smile.

  “Pretty good,” he lied. “You?”

  “Doing well,” she returned a lie.

  “I recognized your boss here earlier,” Tate stated. “Who’s the other one?”

  “Michael, meet a friend of mine, Tate,” Edie spoke politely as Michael made his way back to the table and Tate tried to hide his disappointment. He should have known how fast a man can take a leak. He should not have wasted his time with Edie talking about nothing at all.

  Tate shook his hand, and watched Edie stand up and place her designer handbag on her shoulder. And then Tate heard her ask Michael if he was ready.

  Tate never moved from standing at the table, but the two of them did. Edie had said goodbye. The man she was with had spit out a meaningless nice to meet you. And then the door closed and they were gone.

  In the parking lot, Edie felt a little shaky in her stilettos. The rocks on the ground were partly to blame, as well as the wine in her system that had gone straight to her head. She was looking down at her feet when she heard Michael speak. “Yes, I need a taxi to take me to the airport in Dover. My location is Lantern Inn, downtown Camden.”

  Edie glanced from the ground up to him. When he ended the call, she spoke. “I could have driven you there.”

  “I’m actually thinking you should leave your car here and let the taxi driver take you home after he drops me off at the airport,” Michael suggested.