“Anyway, the prom was approaching and of course Jerry asked me to go with him. And I declined. Word was getting out by then, and girls were being catty. . .you know how they do. Who is this Helen Wright, thinking she’s too good for Jerry Andrews? What is he even asking her for anyway? It was jealousy, plain and simple, but it just fed my own insecurity. Because again, what did he want with me?”
“My neighbor, Rich Brown—bless his heart, he awkwardly asked me to go to prom with him. We’d been neighbors forever, and he didn’t have many friends. He was a nice enough fellow, easy on the eyes, but just more of a studious type and kept to himself. I immediately accepted, grateful that I could finally tell Jerry I already had a date. He took the news well, which should have been my first clue, but I was all about putting him in his place, making sure he knew that not all of us sat around waiting for Jerry Andrews to come knocking on our door. I was so sure that would be the end of it,” Helen laughed.
“The night of the prom, I got all dolled up, and was actually excited when I heard the doorbell ring. Imagine my complete shock when my father showed in not Rich Brown—safe, not interested in at all boy from next door, but instead Jerry Andrews—the boy I was becoming intrigued with in an all too dangerous way. Turns out he’d planned it all along, and paid Rich ten dollars to pretend. Rich cared nothing about the prom and saw it an easy way to make some cash. I was furious!”
I leaned forward. “So, what did you do? Did you go?”
She paused as we entered the visitor parking at the airport. She found a spot, pulled in, and turned to me. “I almost didn’t. But my parents had spent thirty-five dollars on my prom dress and I knew it had been a sacrifice for them. So I went, and of course our first stop was to get ice cream. Sat there in our fancy clothes, sharing a banana split. And the rest is history.”
“That’s it? After all that, he won you over in a single night?” I laughed.
Helen shrugged. “To be honest, he’d won me over long before that; I was just afraid and therefore refused to acknowledge it. He swept me off my feet that night.” She took off her sunglasses and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “From that day forward, until cancer took him from me at forty-five, that man infuriated me. He knew all the buttons to push, knew just how to get under my skin. And the arguments, Lord, how we argued! We were both stubborn and had to have the last word.” A single tear trickled from her eye. “But that man loved me. With every fiber of his being, and not a single day went by that he didn’t make sure I knew it. No matter how much we frustrated each other, giving up was never, ever an option. He had me the second he held his arm out and escorted me into Dottie’s ice cream parlor. I loved him completely, and without reservation.”
More tears fell. “We learned early on I wasn’t able to conceive, and we’d always planned to adopt. But it never seemed the right time, and then he became sick, and I don’t know. It just never happened. And after he died, people would tell me “you need to move on” or “don’t worry, you’ll find love again”. And I did. I found you.”
I wiped my own tears and shook my head. “No, you could’ve found some—“
“I found you,” she repeated. “I had already experienced the greatest love of my life and knew no one else could possibly fill his shoes. So a year after he passed, I finally decided to do what we’d never found the time for. And there you were, needing someone so badly. And I felt like Jerry was telling me, this is it, baby. She’s the one.”
She turned off the car. “Reagan, I’ve said all this to say that I can’t tell you what to do about Nathan. But I would have to be blind to not see that you obviously love him. And you didn’t see him those few days at the hospital. I did. He never left, not once. And yes, he hurt you, and no, it probably won’t be the last time. He’ll probably do things that infuriate you, make you want to kill him. Men are dumb, sometimes.” She blew her nose on a tissue she pulled from the middle console. “But if you are lucky enough to find a love as intense, and passionate as I did, don’t ever let it go! Loves like that don’t come around often. You have to ask yourself: life without him. What does that look like? Life together may not be perfect, and there will be times when you’ll drive each other nuts, but if you can’t possibly imagine the rest of your life without him, then he’s worth the risk, dontcha think?”
I wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you for telling me about Jerry. I know I don’t say it nearly enough, but I love you.”
She kissed my cheek and smiled. “Something tells me we’re gonna be packing up your stuff before too long.” She opened her door. “Now come on. You have a plane to catch.”
Chapter Thirty
Nathan
I paid for my coffee and headed back upstairs to my mother’s room. It was just past eight o’clock, and Mom had been taken for some additional x-rays so I had some time to kill. Jake had arrived in the early morning hours, and had offered to stay long enough for me to go home, shower and change. He’d left about an hour ago to do the same.
I pushed open the door to her room and was surprised to see my father standing at the window, staring out at the skyline. “What are you doing here?” I was exhausted, and my voice reflected it.
He turned to me and stared me down over the rims of his heavy black framed glasses. “If we’re going to do this, let’s get it done. None of us need a repeat of yesterday.”
He was going to support the recovery and get Mom in treatment. I was right, and he knew it. He would never admit it, and even now had to come across as if he were the one giving the demands, but he was at least with me on this, and that was all I cared about. “Okay, then. I’ve found a center—“
He raised his hand. “I don’t care where she goes, Nathanial. Wherever you think is best. Just let me know who to make the check out to.” He turned back to the window and an awkward silence fell between us. My father and I were always at odds, and if we spoke at all, it was usually in a game of verbal swordplay, each jab thrust with the intent to wound our opponent. This moment of mutual agreement, truce, or whatever it was, was completely foreign to me.
I sat in a chair by the bed and stared out at the same skyline. After several moments of silence, I decided to take advantage of the moment and ask the question that had bothered me for years. “Did you ever love her?”
He didn’t turn. “Who, your mother?” He laughed. “She and I reached an agreement long before you and Thomas were ever born.”
An agreement. Like their marriage was just another contract, not unlike the dozens that passed his desk any given day. This was the woman he had married and had fathered two sons with. Considering what I felt for Reagan, I didn’t understand an arrangement like theirs. The thought of marrying and sharing my life with anyone but her was appalling.
“That’s a no, then. And us? You had two sons to carry on the Preston name. Most men would have been proud. But not you. You’ve fought me every step of the way, and things were only slightly better when Thomas was still alive. Two sons, who would have given anything to gain your approval. Did none of that matter to you?” I knew I sounded desperate and weak. At this point in the game, why did I even care?
My father sighed, and turned to face me, his hands planted squarely on his hips. “There are things you don’t know, and will never understand. Marriage and children are not the life I’d planned. And the mother you are so quick to defend is no saint herself. Like I said, we had an agreement, and she knew full well what she was getting when she married me.”
I didn’t respond. What was there to say? What does one say to their father when he all but admits he’d never wanted you in the first place? I’d always held on to the belief—however foolishly—that he hadn’t always been this way. That perhaps something in the past had changed him, and he’d loved us all once. But Roger Preston was a cold-hearted bastard and it appeared he’d always been one.
“You and I?” He pointed at me. “You have always had an excellent head for business, and think
what you will of me, but I respected that. Thomas was always too charitable; had too much of his mother in him, but you. You displayed the cutthroat business savvy needed in this business, much like my own, and I knew you would be the one to one day take over. Why do you think I pushed you so hard?” He shook his head. “I had hoped. . .that is, until you were so foolish enough to resign. Really, Nathanial. You could have done so much.”
As if him being an ass my entire life could be explained away as ‘pushing me’. Pushing me to what? Better myself because he had my best interests as heart, and only wanted what was best for me, as any concerned parent would? Please.
He’d thought I was like him, and that is why he’d admired me . . .respected me. His contempt at what he considered weakness in my resigning was evident in the disapproving glare coming from behind his Armani frames.
Weakness would have been staying under my father’s thumb for the rest of my life and I had done that long enough. I had quit, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it, or entice me back. “I don’t need you to be successful. I never have,” I replied quietly.
The door opened and we silently watched as my mother was wheeled in. The bruises and cuts on her face looked worse than they had last night, and one would have to be blind to not see the tremors in her hands as I helped the nurse get her back into bed.
I quietly requested the nurse let me know when the police arrived and then she left. My parents and I sized each other up as we each waited to see who would be the first to speak. There was no one else here, no distractions, nothing to serve as a buffer between the three of us.
It was just us, and a lifetime of hurt, anger and regret.
In the end, it was my mother who spoke first. “Roger, I apologize if I have kept you from your work. This is all so silly, really.” She clumsily reached for my arm. “Nathan, I need to get home. When can I leave?”
I grabbed her hand, feeling it tremble in my own. “Mom, we need to talk. You remember the accident, right? This is serious. You were drunk and were in no condition to be driving. Why wasn’t Ronald with you?”
She blinked several times, appearing for a moment as if she didn’t understand where she was or how she got there. “Ronald? He wasn’t there. I gave him the day off.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Please, I just need to get home.”
Both the apartment in Manhattan and the house in the Hamptons were currently being divested of all alcoholic beverages by the staff, upon my order. She didn’t know that, however, and clearly thought bliss from a bottle would be awaiting her upon her return. “You haven’t been discharged yet, Mother. And when you are, you won’t be going home.” I looked over at my father, who remained expressionless. “I found a recovery center in California; one of the best in the nation. I’m making arrangements for you to spend some time there.”
Her laugh sounded shrill in the relative silence of her room as she snatched her hand away from me. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nathan.”
“You were drunk, Mom. You’ve been slowly drinking yourself to death for years! There is nothing ridiculous about that.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she became visibly restless on the bed, fidgeting beneath the blanket. Withdrawal was rapidly showing its vicious face and I realized this had probably been the longest she’d been without alcohol in her system in the last two years. “I wasn’t drunk. . .I just . . .whatever the problem is, Nathan, just take care of it. I’ll do better, I promise!” Hysteria rose in her voice, making it high pitched and whiney. “I won’t do it! I’m fine. I don’t need any rehab! Just get me home—“
“Katherine!” The loud burst startled us both, and we both turned to see my father step closer to the bed, his eyes snapping. “Enough!”
“Roger, please!” My mother continued to plead, as I growled in frustration and turned to my briefcase. Pulling a manila envelope from it, I turned to the bed and angrily dumped its contents on my mother’s lap. Strangled sobs escaped her throat as she recognized the mangled car in the photos, saw the stretcher carrying Thomas’s sheet-covered body. Accident photos that had been in my possession since they’d been taken, but had never been viewed by any of us.
I realized dumping a pile of horror on her, literally, was extreme, but I had brought them in anticipation of a fight with her over rehab. They were my last resort. But seeing the pictures now startled us all. I don’t even think I had really been prepared to see my brother’s body forever immortalized in death in the stark black and white pictures glaring up at us.
My mother recoiled immediately. My father cursed and walked back over to the window. Even he wasn’t exempt from the shock.
“Nathan,” my mother wailed. “Why would you do this to me? Get me out—“
“A drunk driver killed your son!” I yelled. “My only brother! Someone was ignorant and selfish enough to get behind a wheel and they stole Thomas from us!” I picked up the picture of him on the stretcher and held it in front of her face. “You made the same ignorant and selfish choice yesterday, Mom! You could have killed someone else’s son, someone’s brother, or YOURSELF!”
She flailed her arms at me, refusing to look at the picture in my hands. My father came over and pushed me out of the way. “This has gone on long enough!” he barked. Whether he meant the scene playing out here in the hospital, or the last two years of denial, I didn’t know. Perhaps both. “Katherine, you have proven that your problems have become much larger than you can handle, and you are a danger to both yourself and others around you. You will go to this treatment center, and you will do so quietly and with no further argument!”
Tears streamed from her eyes as all fight fled from her. She closed her eyes and simply nodded her agreement. My father looked at me, tilted his head once as if to say ‘there. . .it’s all taken care of’, and left the room, no doubt glad to be away from the annoyance that was his family.
I silently gathered up the pictures from where they lay scattered about the bed, and put them back in my briefcase, making a mental note to burn them as soon as I got home. I was never going to forget Thomas, but I wanted to remember the good times we had shared, not the horrible circumstances of his death. It was time I moved on. It was time we all moved on.
I sat on the end of her bed and wiped her tears. “Mom, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry it has come to this.”
She looked at me pleadingly. “Nathan, I don’t know if I can do this. . I can’t. . .”
“Shhhh,” I whispered. “You can. I know you can. We’ll help you.” I pulled the blanket up and stood. “I’m going to request the doctor gives you something to help you rest. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
I spoke briefly with the doctor and explained the need for detox treatment immediately, giving consent for my mom to be transferred to the nearest detox facility, where she would remain until the worst of the withdrawal symptoms had past. From there I would take her to the treatment center in California, where I hoped the change in scenery, and being far away from the life and memories here in the city, would help in the recovery process.
The police met me on the way out, and advised the deli owner was willing to allow us to take on full responsibility for all repairs and would not be filing any further charges. I obtained his contact information and that of his lawyer, and promised that I would arrange a meeting to finalize the agreement so he could be up and running again as soon as possible. The police would still need to speak with my mother to take her official statement for their records, but agreed it would have to wait until she was fully detoxed and capable of speaking with them.
I texted Jake to let him know I was heading home, so there was no need for him to rush back up to the hospital. He could meet me up there in a few hours.
I was so exhausted, both physically and mentally. I hadn’t slept in well over twenty-four hours, and I felt that lack, as my body screamed in protest with every step I took. I made it to my SUV in the parking garage before the emotions of the last two days overtook me, and the tear
s came.
Two weeks.
Two weeks ago, I thought I had everything. The job, social status, wealth, parents—no matter how fucked up they were, they were mine . . .two weeks ago I thought I’d had her.
Reagan. Finally I had someone I could truly envision spending the rest of my life with. We had been on our way to something real. . .something greater than I’d ever imagined possible for myself.
And now? I’d quit the job, my father was never going to approve of me, and my mother was on her way across the states to rehab. And Reagan was gone. And I missed her with an intensity that almost made it difficult to breathe.
The full weight of all I’d lost, the mistakes I’d made, and the things I’d ignored for the last two years crushed me as I sat in my car, unleashing a violent storm of aching sadness I hadn’t experienced since the night Thomas had died. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, as if to force the tears to cease.
Five minutes. It was all I would allow myself to wallow in this pit of despair I’d seemed to have dug for myself. And then you gotta pull yourself together and move on.
Thirty minutes later, I pulled up in front of my apartment, and wearily climbed the few steps to the door and let myself in.
And then I saw her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Reagan
My heart slammed against my chest, pounding so violently that I was sure it echoed loudly in the silence surrounding us.
He looked. . .different. His blonde hair was still as tousled as ever, and his face was still beautiful enough to make me want to weep. But his eyes. They looked haunted, sad. . .dead. Dark circles glared angrily from beneath them, and it was obvious he hadn’t been sleeping. They were also tellingly red and slightly swollen, as if he’d just moments ago been doing some crying of his own. Dear God, had Katherine taken a turn for the worse?
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