by Tess Oliver
"You need a drink of juice," Mom piped up suddenly. "You have low blood sugar. Orange juice will help."
"No, Mom, my stomach couldn't handle it. I'm fine. Pull up some chairs. With the three of you standing and hovering over me, I feel like you're all waiting for me to grow wings and fly away. Which, now that I think about it, would be just what I need right now."
Dad and Fynn grabbed two chairs from the kitchen and Mom turned the easy chair toward the couch. They sat down but were still staring at me, apparently waiting for those wings.
"Well, since you all seem stunned speechless, I'll get the conversation started." Now that the dizziness had subsided and I was more stable, I was feeling more than just a little angry at everyone. It seemed deception had not only followed me my whole life and by an entire town, no less, it had also followed me straight into love. Fynn had deceived me too, but in an entirely different way.
I looked at my dad, deciding he was the go to person for a more straightforward explanation. My mom would, no doubt, dot it with drama and hyperbole. I just needed the real story. "I blacked out when I was standing at the park, and I know why. It was shock. Everything came back to me. I don't know how I managed to keep it suppressed for so long, just like I don't know why you guys kept the truth from me all this time. Why did you? Dad?"
"It sort of just happened. We didn't set out to hide it from you, but the circumstances just led to it. We decided it was better to let you go on thinking that you weren't on the bus. Dr. Yates thought so too. She was convinced that once the trauma wore off, the memory of that day would return and then you'd be able to talk about it. But it never happened. So we—" He looked at Mom. "We just decided not to bring it up."
I shook my head in disbelief. I found it was harder than ever to look at Fynn, mostly because he looked so hurt. After all, this had changed everything. I knew I still loved him, but he'd had this bold deception going the entire time we were together. I wasn't sure I could accept that. Just like I wasn't sure how I would have reacted if he'd told me the truth. It's entirely possible I would have walked away from him and never looked back. But at least he wouldn't have been betraying my trust.
"I don't get it. How did I not know what happened? I remember waking up sick with a fever and everything was a chaotic blur after that."
"You woke with a sore throat that morning, remember?" Mom had gotten her bearings and chimed in. "And you stomped around so angry because I insisted you stay home."
"Yes, let's not rehash the humiliating stuff. But if you didn't let me go, how did I get on that bus?"
Mom's face whitened, and she put her hand to her mouth to regain that short-lived composure. "You put up such a fuss, I decided to let you go. I decided a little sore throat shouldn't keep you from your first trip to the ocean. And I knew you'd never forgive me if I kept you home."
I stared down at Boone's plush fur as I ran my fingers over it. More of that day was coming back to me. "I remember. I hugged you and danced around. Ethan was making fun of me for being such a spoiled brat. I also remember that it wasn't just a little sore throat. I didn't want to let on how bad it was, so I just pretended it was no big deal."
Dad leaned back on his chair, no longer as uptight. It seemed having the truth finally set free was going to lift a burden from both of them. "You had strep throat. That was why it was so easy for you to push the accident from your head. Your fever spiked, and you were so sick, you were delirious. Everything was such a nightmarish blur for us. Your mom and I and the whole town were upside down from the horror of it all. You—and the driver—" Dad added harshly. I didn't need to look at Fynn to know that he tensed at the words. "Somehow, you two had survived the crash with hardly a bruise. Mom pleaded with the responders at the crash site to let us take you home. She couldn't part with you or step into a hospital. Dr. Yates came to the house to check you out for broken bones and contusions. She diagnosed you with strep throat. She put you on antibiotics right away, but the fever was so high, you were totally out of it."
Mom sniffled and I knew it was only a matter of time before the first sob broke. "When you came out of the fevered fog, you couldn't remember any of it. Dr. Yates told us to let it come back to you on your own time. But that never happened. Until now." She turned a scowl Fynn's direction.
"Don't look at him like that, Mom. Fynn had no idea I'd been on the bus that day. I told him what I thought was the truth, that I'd been sick in bed all day." Boone released a dog sigh and stretched his paws out in front of him. I patted his head. "So the whole town kept this from me. Now that's what I call teamwork."
"You were still too sick to attend the memorial service in the park. We asked everyone not to tell you, certain that you would eventually remember everything on your own. Butterfield might be a small, dull little town, but its people are loyal to each other. And after awhile, it didn't seem to matter that you had suppressed the accident. It wasn't going to bring anyone back."
Fynn sat forward. "You're wrong." It wasn't anger as much as disbelief that edged his tone. "It did matter. Only Ella knew what happened that day. My dad couldn't remember how the bus went off the road, and you silenced the one person who might have had the answers. Instead, you all came up with baseless theories, theories that sent my dad to his grave."
"Now hold on." Dad lifted up in his chair and thrust out his chest, which was as cute as it was kind of pitiful, especially sitting next to Fynn.
"Dad, he's right. I do have the answers, and I think once you hear them, everyone in this town is going to owe Fynn an apology."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Fynn
Ella had a hard time looking at me, and it bothered me plenty. I'd done that to myself by not telling her who I was from the start. But then if I had, I doubted that I would be in her house, watching her sit with my dog in her lap, thinking how much I loved her. But did Ella still love me? My feelings for her hadn't wavered in the slightest, but I wouldn't blame her if she decided she never wanted to see me again. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably be kicking my ass out the door for good.
"Mom, before I start, I think I could use that glass of juice."
"Of course." Her mom popped up from the chair, and surprisingly, she stopped before slipping past me. "Can I get you something, Fynn?"
"No thank you, I'm fine."
Ella smiled down at the sleeping dog in her lap. "Does Boone need something? Water, maybe?" As her blue eyes clashed with mine, I couldn't answer at first. I badly wanted to go back to yesterday when things were still in the past and all the secrets hadn't come out. Then I could be sure that she still wanted me.
"He'll let us know if he needs anything," I finally answered. "He looks pretty content to just sit in your lap." And who could blame him, I wanted to add.
Ella's mom returned with a glass of orange juice. Ella took a few sips before placing the glass on the coffee table. She seemed to be going through a narrative in her head. We waited patiently as she sorted everything out. My heart was pounding hard enough that I was sure everyone in the room could hear it. I had no idea what she was going to say, and from the looks on her parents' faces, they didn't either. The police had never been able to figure out what happened. There were no dead animals or other obstacles in the road to even help them theorize. The bus had just sailed through the railing and over the side without so much as a brake mark on the road behind it. It had driven my dad nuts trying to remember those last few moments. But he always drew a blank.
"Fynn, remember when you mentioned that Boone was your wingman and I had a sort of profound reaction to the word?"
"Yeah, I do."
"I couldn't figure out why until now. Wingman. You said your dad used that word occasionally."
"Yes, he was in the Air Force. I think that's where he got it."
Ella's dad leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. With the exception of Boone, she had all of our undivided attention.
"Everything is coming back clearly now," she continued. "
I wasn't feeling well at all, and I'm pretty sure my morning tantrum about going on the trip had only made me feel worse. I was grumpy, so grumpy that even my friends were annoying me. I decided to sit alone in the front seat of the bus, sure that if I rested on the trip, I'd feel better by the time we reached the beach. Before we left the school parking lot, your dad smiled over at me and asked my name." Ella gazed at me for a moment. "You have his smile."
That small comment was insignificant in the scope of things, but it made my throat tighten.
"He told me I was sitting in the most important seat on the bus. He told me I was going to be his wingman. While all the other kids talked and laughed excitedly about the field trip, your dad showed me the emergency button that I needed to push if something happened to him. He told me it would stop the bus and release the hydraulics on the exits. I assured him I was up to the task, even though I could feel my body grow weak from fever. I also figured nothing would happen."
"That was a lot to put on a kid," Ella's mom noted.
Ella shook her head. "No, I think it's standard protocol. I've heard bus drivers talk about the emergency button before every field trip. The teacher had driven ahead to set up for the science lesson at the tide pools, and I was closest to the big red button."
Ella's dad shot me a quick glance, so I knew what was coming next. "Ella, I know you were only a kid, but did the bus driver seem drunk or was he acting unsteady?"
"No. I remember he was an extremely nice guy with a kind smile. He looked very much in control. He was even whistling to the radio as he drove us along the highway."
"Where was your brother?" her mom blurted and then quieted her voice. "Where was Ethan sitting?" And that's when it occurred to me. This would be the first time Ella's parents had heard details about the accident.
"Ethan was sitting in the back with his entourage of friends around him."
A small sob escaped her mom. She quickly pressed her fingers to her lips. Ella's dad reached over and patted her leg.
Ella stopped to take a long sip of orange juice. The story was getting closer to the fateful moment on the mountain highway, and it showed in her face. She put down the glass and rested back. Her eyes drifted my direction. For the first time since Brent confronted me in the park, I saw some of the affection I'd been seeing these past few weeks. Or maybe I just wanted to see it so badly, I imagined it.
I knew the critical part of the story was coming. I braced myself for whatever she had to say. In my eyes, my dad was always a hero. Whatever Ella said wouldn't change that.
"Your dad's name was Frank?" Ella asked.
I nodded. "Frank Axworthy. Chandler is my middle name."
"Frank wasn't drunk. Even though I was only twelve, I would have known if he was drunk just from seeing drunks in movies. By the time we reached the winding road, my fever was raging—"
Her words were cut off by another sniffle. Her mom quickly waved to let everyone know she was fine. "No more sniffles."
Ella took a deep breath. "The winding road and the rumbling motor of the bus lulled me into a state of drowsiness. My classmates were talking and laughing. The bus was vibrating with anticipation, but I could barely keep my eyes open. I remember trying to keep from being pitched out of the seat in my sleepy state. Then the bus lurched ahead, and it jarred me awake. My eyes popped open. I knew right away something wasn't right. The yellow line we'd been following disappeared under the bus. That's when I noticed that Frank was slumped over his steering wheel. I yelled at him to wake up, but he didn't stir. I was sure he was dead. Behind me, I heard everyone screaming. We were heading straight into the barrier.
I flew out of my seat and smacked the red button. I heard the brakes squeak and the door hissed like it always did when the bus driver opened it. But it was too late. I was too late." Ella pressed her arm against her stomach.
Her dad leaned forward and picked up her glass of juice, but she shook her head. "I'm feeling kind of sick." She closed her eyes for a second.
My dad had passed out. He wasn't drunk or suicidal. He'd fainted. And I knew why. "His new pills. He had new pills." My voice caused Ella to open her eyes. I had everyone's attention. "He had high blood pressure. That's why he had to leave the Air Force. The doctors were having a hard time controlling it, and they had given him a new pill. He said it made him lightheaded. It must have dropped his blood pressure too low and he passed out."
"They should have told him not to drive," Ella's mom said sharply.
"Now, Susan," Ella's dad said quietly.
"No, she's right." I sat up straighter. "They should have warned him. It would have saved all of us a lot of pain." I looked back at Ella. Some of the color had returned to her face. "How did you and my dad escape?"
Ella stared down at her hands in thought. "The door opened when I hit the button. It's not very clear after that, but I think we both fell out as the bus rolled down the hill. Everything after that is blank. I don't remember a thing except waking up in my bed and finding everything in my life had been turned inside out."
Ella's mom pushed out of her chair and sat down next to her and Boone. She pulled Ella into a hug and they cried.
Ella's dad turned to me. "I'm sorry, Fynn. I'm sorry that we pulled the torches and pitchforks attack on your dad. He was obviously not at fault. But you have to understand, we all needed something, someone to blame. It was all so overwhelming. We just couldn't make sense of it."
"I understand. I just wish my dad had heard this story. It might have kept him from suicide. And I say might only because he was so torn up about the accident, he was never himself again."
Ella's dad stood up. "Beer?"
"Yes. Please."
I followed him into the kitchen for the beer while Ella and her mom finished their moment on the couch. The tears made Boone nervous, and he followed us into the kitchen.
We opened our beers and stood against the kitchen counter.
"You did a great thing bringing that park back to life, Fynn. I hope it helped you as much as it helped us."
I nodded. "It did."
"Well, I think once Ella has rested, she needs to tell the town, so we can clear this up and clear your dad's name once and for all." His phone rang, and he pulled it out. "There's Fran now as if she heard me. Hey, Fran . . ."
I stayed in the kitchen to finish my beer while he walked out for his conversation. I thought about how often my dad insisted that his blood pressure would eventually kill him, and in a roundabout way, it had. I had no idea if knowing the truth would have kept him from suicide, but he would have at least gone to the grave with a little more peace.
Ella walked into the kitchen, looking a little lost. I knew she was rethinking everything, and I couldn't blame her. As badly as I wanted to pull her into my arms, I resisted. I'd grown so insanely used to her melting instantly against me, I wouldn't be able to handle it if she went rigid at my touch.
She leaned against the counter a few feet away. Normally, if we were anywhere within touching distance, we'd both make some excuse to touch each other, whether it was brushing a hair away or just a touch of hands. But I could feel a barrier between us. It was invisible, but it was there, standing cold and hard between us. I had lied and she had no reason to ever trust me again.
"My dad and Fran are hatching a plan for me to tell the story to the whole town."
"Look, Ella, if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't need to do it. I know the truth now, and that's all that matters. Most of them have considered my dad the villain for eleven years, and something tells me that even knowing the truth isn't going to change that opinion. It's been set in stone at this point."
Boone came right over to her and sat at her feet. He was crazy about Ella too. She patted his head. "No, I need to do this. And I think you're wrong. I think they'll let go some of the anger when they hear the details." She shook her head. "I feel like such a ninny. The whole town knew this major secret. They've been tiptoeing around me like I was some special case, some brea
kable doll. It's so weird. I'm almost not sure I can ever face any of them again without feeling like a pathetic little kid. It explains something Patty said to me in anger one day. Jeez, I can only imagine the secret, conspiratorial winks and nods I was getting behind my back. What must they all think of me?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
Ella peered up at me. Those blue eyes. How would I move on if I didn't have those blue eyes to wake up to every morning?
"They love you, Starshine. The entire town let you keep the horrid memories of that day hidden from your conscience because they love you."
She stepped into my arms, and I held her close until the tears stopped.
She wiped at her eyes and stepped back, not completely out of reach but far enough to be out of my embrace. "I guess I should get ready to go talk to the town. Are you coming?"
"No, I think this is just something for the people of Butterfield. I've got to go call my mom and let her know. She'll be relieved to hear." A moment of silence passed. I was the first to bring it up. "Ella, about us—my feelings haven't changed."
She nodded but couldn't bring herself to speak. Except her non-response spoke volumes. I'd given her plenty of reason not to trust me. How could I expect her to just pick up and leave Butterfield, the only home she'd ever known, and drive off with a man she couldn't trust?
"You don't have to say anything right now," I continued. "You've been through a lot. I'm going to give you some space. I'll see you later."
"Not too much space," she called.
I stopped in the doorway and smiled back at her. It was only a little flicker, but it gave me hope.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Fynn
The phone woke me from a deep sleep brought on by a six pack of beer. I glanced at the time on my phone as I picked it up off the nightstand. It was only five in the morning, which would explain why it was still pitch dark in the motel room, aside from the constant blink of the vacancy light. I hadn't been able to reach my mom, so I’d left her a message that I needed to talk to her. She'd apparently decided it was something that needed to be heard at five in the morning.
