The Patron

by Tess Thompson

  I reached out to touch her hand. “Mom, that must have hurt so much. To find out he’d been with someone else when you thought he was your future.”

  “Being betrayed by Jack Vargas was the last thing my young heart thought would happen. Afterward, I was never the same. Like you, I stayed away from men for years and years. All the time you were little.”

  “I thought you weren’t interested because of me.”

  “No, it just took twenty years for my heart to heal.”

  “Mom, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right now. As they say, a lot of water under the bridge.”

  And now here she was, returning home after all these years. When I’d spent summers here, my grandmother had often told me how anxious Mom had been to move away to a city. “She had big dreams, honey,” my grandmother had said. “Dreams too big for this town or our little farm.”

  Now she ran in circles with rich, artistic people. In fact, I’d gotten the job at the restaurant where I’d met Patrick because I’d been granted an interview as a favor to my mom. Her friends were sophisticated and rich, as Patrick's friends had been. Would she find Jack Vargas too provincial after all this time?

  I imagined her now, eighteen and on her own in Seattle. She’d probably gone out for the evening as a way to mend her broken heart and met some random man and ended up pregnant with me.

  “Did you ever regret having me?”

  “No, honey. You were an accident but not a mistake.” She reached and pressed her hand against my wrist. “You’ve been the very best thing in my life. God had a plan for me, and it was you.”

  “And your work too.”

  “Yes, my work has been a blessing too. It’s never how you think.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your life. It never ends up like you think it will.”

  That was the truth.

  8

  Crystal

  By the time I got home after visiting with my mother, my mind was reeling. I wanted one thing and that was to talk to Brandi. Trapper was in his office speaking on the phone and waved to me as I headed toward the stairs. The door to Brandi’s bedroom was open a few inches, so I peeked in to see if she was awake.

  She was sitting up in bed with the television on when I tapped on the door. “Hey there. I just wanted to let you know I’m back.”

  “Come in. Tell me everything.” She clicked the television off and looked at me expectantly. “I’ve been bored stiff. How’s your mom?”

  I sat beside her on the bed. With her hair pulled back in a braid and a face free of makeup, she looked almost like the girl I’d first met. Her pregnant tummy made an adorable bump under the blankets.

  “Well, it was an interesting night,” I said.

  “What did she do now?” Brandi asked, eyes gleaming. “Wait, don’t tell me. She met some foreign diplomat on the plane who’s invited her to Paris for the month of February.”

  I laughed. “Not that. But she had a bombshell just the same.”

  “What is it? I can tell it’s something good.” Over the years, we’d delighted in my mother’s antics, mostly because she was so different from us. As much as Brandi and I loved the simple life here in Emerson Pass, we enjoyed hearing my mother’s stories about the interesting people she met.

  “Okay, brace yourself. This is a doozy.”

  Brandi smoothed her hands over her bump. “Even better.”

  “Your father and my mother dated in high school.”

  Her eyes widened. “What? No way. How didn’t we know this?”

  “She said she never mentioned it because she didn’t want us to feel weird, especially when he was married to your mom.”

  “I can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “But they’re so different. How were they ever a couple?”

  “She was totally in love with him. In fact, it took her twenty years to get over him.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m completely serious. I don’t know how he felt about her, but she was head over heels for him. She admitted that’s why she didn’t like to visit here when I was a kid. She was afraid to run into them. He broke her heart when he got your mother pregnant.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “I know. She thought he might move to Seattle with her to go to college, and then he wrote to her about your mom and the baby. Can you imagine how blindsided she must have felt?”

  “I can’t believe my dad did that.”

  “He was a kid,” I said. “With a lot of hormones.”

  “Still. He cheated. That’s like the opposite of the type of person he is. He was loyal to my mom all those years when she was terrible to him.”

  “Honestly, I think that’s why she’s never found the right guy,” I said. “She compares them all to the memory of your dad.”

  “How sad.” Brandi brought her thick yellow braid over her shoulder. “That’s like me and Trapper. I never stopped loving him the entire ten years he was away.”

  “I don’t think this was like you and Trapper. This seemed more one-sided. I don’t think he loved her the way she loved him.”

  Brandi shook her head, obviously disagreeing with me. “No, I don’t think Dad ever loved my mother. He did the dutiful thing. Maybe he loved your mom but had to marry the girl he got pregnant. Think about this—I loved the boy I loved in high school for ten years and Trapper loved me back. Maybe it runs in the family. Can you imagine if they got back together like Trapper and I did?”

  “Don’t get too excited. Over thirty years has gone by. They have nothing in common now.”

  “But how fun would it be if they fell in love all over again? We’d be sisters. Jennifer could be my stepmom. We’d have the perfect family.”

  I patted her knee. “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Come on, it would be amazing.” She smiled, all dreamy and sparkly. “My dad deserves someone special after being married to the Mom-ster all those years.”

  “That we can agree on.” I got up from the bed to pull down the shades.

  “Garth’s getting released in the morning,” she said. “Trapper’s going to get him and bring him back here. His dad’s coming out in a few days.”

  “It’ll be good to have him back with us.” I traced the flower pattern sewn into the comforter with my finger. “The house feels empty without him.”

  “Interesting.” She smiled innocently, but I knew better.

  “I’m off to bed now. Don’t dream up any schemes to get our parents together. This is not The Parent Trap.”

  “Wouldn’t it be great if it was?” Brandi asked.

  We said our goodnights, and I wandered down the hall to my room. I stopped at Garth’s door, wishing two things. One, that he was in there, and two, that I could go in and have him wrap me in his arms.

  The next afternoon, when I heard Trapper’s truck pull into the driveway, I flew to the door and yanked it open, watching as Trapper helped Garth out of the truck. Garth’s left leg was in a cast that went over his knee. They’d given him crutches, which he now stuck under his arms. He winced as he made his way up the stone path toward the front porch. His ribs hurt, I assumed. At least there had been no serious injury to his head. He’d texted me earlier that the test results indicated no permanent damage.

  “Howdy,” Garth said to me as I ran out to greet them.

  I searched his face, reassured by the calm in his brown eyes. "Welcome home,” I said softly.

  “I’m glad to be here. The hospital food can’t touch yours.” He hadn’t shaved. The stubble gave him a harder look than normal.

  “Tell me you have dinner,” Trapper said. “It’s all we talked about during the drive here,”

  “I just took a pan of lasagna out of the oven,” I said.

  “Great, I could eat a pan by myself,” Trapper said. “But first I need to see my wife. Has she been good and stayed in bed?”

  “Very good. She’s anxious to see you, though.”

  They f
ollowed me into the kitchen; Garth’s crutches made a bumping sound against the floor. The air smelled of Italian spices and tomatoes from my homemade sauce.

  “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to see my wife. Start without me.” Trapper gave us a quick smile before exiting the kitchen, leaving me alone with Garth. It had never been awkward between us but now, overcome with emotion at the sight of him, I didn’t know what to say.

  He made his way over to the kitchen sink. “I’m starving, but I’m also dying for some water.”

  “Here, let me do it for you.” I scurried over to the cabinet and grabbed a glass, then filled it with water from the filter on the refrigerator. “Would you like to sit?”

  “Nah, I’ll be upright for a few minutes. Feels good after all that time in bed.” He took the glass from my outstretched hand and downed the entire thing. “Much obliged.” He set the empty glass on the counter.

  “Are you in pain?” I asked.

  “A little.” He grimaced. “My ribs more than my leg.”

  “I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He smiled as he seemed to take me in as someone would a long-lost loved one.

  “As are you. When I think how close you might have come to…” I stopped myself, unwilling to say what had haunted my thoughts since we got the call.

  “Don’t go there. I’m fine.” He hobbled over to the kitchen table but didn’t pull out a chair. “I hate to ask but could you help me into a chair?”

  I rushed over to him and lent him my arm as he lowered into the chair.

  “Darned if that doesn’t hurt like a you-know-what.” He grimaced and let out a small groan.

  “Did they give you any pain medication?”

  “He gave me something, but it makes me sleepy. So I best eat first or my head will end up in the lasagna.”

  Suddenly, I felt a need for a glass of wine. "I don't suppose the doctor will let you have wine?" I asked.

  "I won't tell if you don't."

  I cut him a healthy square of lasagna and brought it over to him. Then I opened a bottle of Chianti and poured us each a small glass. As I took it over to him, I fought the urge to touch him. I allowed myself one brush of my fingers over his stubbly cheek. “You scared me.”

  “I know.” He caught my hand and brought it to his mouth. “But do I look any worse for wear?"

  “If I were to say anything at all, I'd say you look as good as ever."

  "I missed you."

  “I missed you too,” I said quietly. “More than I should have."

  “Should or wanted?”

  “That’s the same thing.”

  “Not exactly.”

  I escaped and went back to the counter to cut a piece of lasagna for myself. When I returned to the table, he hadn’t touched his food yet. Instead, he stared down at the plate. “Are you in pain?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Then eat. I spent all afternoon on that thing. Even the sauce is homemade."

  He dug into his lasagna. After the first bite, he groaned. "Good Lord, girl. You're gonna make me fat."

  “That's what Brandi said," I said.

  "How’s she holding up?”

  “She’s been fantastic. Especially when you consider what happened with her first baby.”

  "I can tell Trapper’s scared. I've never really seen him that way. I can’t lie. It kind of freaks me out."

  “I’m the same way. But he’s strong too. They’ll get through this and as long as Brandi’s careful, the baby’s going to be fine.”

  We ate in silence for a few moments. When he’d finished, he pushed his plate away. “That was ridiculously good.

  “I was surprised to hear your mother’s in town,” he said. “Is everything all right with her?”

  “She’s had a bad breakup and called out of the blue and said she needed a change of scenery. I was shocked she wanted to come here. Usually she’d ask me to meet her somewhere.”

  “She knew you wouldn’t want to leave Brandi.”

  I ate a bite of lasagna before answering. “She told me something last night that explains why she never wanted to visit here. She and Brandi’s dad were high school sweethearts. He broke her heart when he came home married to the girl he’d gotten pregnant at his summer job. She flat out told me she couldn’t cope with seeing him with her or their baby. I had no idea about her and Jack, let alone that it kept her away from here.”

  “Does she know he’s divorced now?” Garth asked.

  “She does.”

  “Do you think there’s any chance the two of them could reconnect?”

  “You and Brandi—romantics. I don’t think there’s any chance of that.” I explained to him about what had happened.

  “Jack would have some explaining to do to get out of that one,” Garth said.

  “I think so.”

  Garth had this way of listening with complete attention. I never felt the need to rush through details. My husband had been the opposite, so often on one device or another while talking with me. His mind had gone faster than most. He’d been able to track our conversation as he answered emails or played with code. I’d always forgiven him for his multitasking. Only occasionally it had left me with the feeling that I hadn’t quite eaten enough to be full. Garth left me satiated, like the perfect slice of lasagna.

  I inwardly cringed. Why was I comparing them? I’d loved Patrick. No one could or should replace him.

  "What is it?” Garth asked. “I lost you. Where did you go?"

  I smiled. "I was just thinking about what a good listener you are."

  “I’d listen to you read the dictionary just to hear your voice.”

  I flushed, pleased and embarrassed by the compliment.

  “Something strange happened to me,” Garth said. “When I was knocked out, I had a dream about my brother. Only it was more than that. It was like I was in the space between life and death.”

  The space between life and death. The hair on my arms stood up as I took in a deep breath. “What happened in the dream?”

  “We were in my parents’ old kitchen. Christopher was the age he’d been when he got sick, only he wasn’t sick. He was perfectly healthy, just sitting at the table eating cereal. It felt so real but also different. A glimpse into the afterlife. The place where we go when we die."

  “Did you want to stay there?” I asked, anger rising.

  “I didn’t, no. He told me it wasn’t my time. That I had work still to do. He also told me I should get my parents back together. That they belong together.”

  “You're kidding.”

  “That’s what he said. What do I do with that? Especially considering my father is now married to his fourth wife."

  "It could've just been a dream, brought on by a head injury."

  "I called my mother yesterday. She acted like she wanted to come out here, which is super weird.”

  "How long has it been since you talked to her?”

  “I can’t remember.” He looked at the clock that hung on the wall over the sink. “We never have much to say. There’s so much space and time between us. So much distrust on my part.”

  “Which is understandable.” What was wrong with her? How could she have left her precious son? Yes, she lost a child. But she had another one. A child who obviously had needed her. Still needed her. The sins of our parents followed us around. One of the many things we had in common. My unknown father. Garth’s absent mom. “Everyone leaves, it seems.”

  He gazed at me, a mixture of sadness and confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  I drained my glass. “When I heard about your accident and how close you were to death, everything I feared came rushing back to me. I can’t trust someone not to die on me. And then you almost did.”

  “I didn’t, though.”

  “You just said that you might've been in the place between life and death.” I stopped, afraid I might cry. The anger in my voice surprised even me.

&nb
sp; "I know you're angry at me. But you don't get to be. Because I didn't die. I'm right here. I don't plan on dying anytime soon.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  "Don't be. Life's messy. People are messy. When two people are together, there’s a bigger mess."

  "When you say it that way, messy doesn't sound so bad."

  “I’m scared of losing you too,” Garth said. “Don’t think for a second you’re alone in that. I've never met anyone I’ve felt more suited to be with. I don't think I ever will. I don't want to, for that matter."

  "Is it my cooking?" I asked, joking to avoid going as deep as he’d just gone.

  "That has a lot to do with it." He smiled and reached for his glass. Before he could pick it up, I covered my hand with his. “I stood outside your door last night for like five minutes. I'm pathetic."

  "We've had some good times in that room." His voice turned husky. "Sadly, we're not going to revisit those times anytime soon. Not with this." He gestured toward his cast.

  I giggled, imagining how we could work around a cast. “We might be able to move past the broken leg, but your cracked ribs could be a problem.”

  "We'd have to be very creative."

  We were interrupted when Trapper came into the kitchen. I abruptly stood and knocked my hip on the corner of the table. "Trapper, let me make you a plate.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Trapper said.

  “Not at all. Is Brandi hungry too?” My cheeks flamed. Why had he walked in just at that moment? I couldn’t wait to be back in my own home. As much as I’d enjoyed being with people, I craved my own space.

  "She said she’d like a small piece,” Trapper said. “Emphasis on small. She said you’re overfeeding her.”

  I busied myself putting their plates together as Trapper poured himself a glass of wine. He then sat at the table with Garth. “How you holding up?”

  “Fine,” Garth said. “I’ll take some pain meds before bed.”

  "Brandi told me about your mom and her dad." Trapper said. "My wife has the wedding planned already."

  Garth and I both laughed. "I told her not to get carried away,” I said.

  “Jack’s such a good man,” Trapper said. “I’d love to see him happy. Brandi would too.”