Be My Reason

by Brooklyn Taylor

  “That’s not true.” He was desperately pathetic.

  “When I was standing right in front of you, you didn't want me. Now, you can’t have me so you do. I’ve got an early day tomorrow and I am going home.”

  I opened my truck door and acted as if he wasn't standing there. His grace period was over as far as I was concerned.

  “I love you, Breigh, and I miss you.” His brown eyes were watering and his lip quivered as if he was sincere.

  Oh, he was good. He thought he knew what to say to make me feel for him, give him another chance, feel sorry for him. Breigh from a year ago maybe would have fallen for it, but not any longer.

  “I loved you, Alan, but that time has passed. See, that is the thing about love… once you have been cheated on, lied to, and betrayed, it fades… You were a season in my life, a season that is over. I’ve moved on and you need to move on too.”

  “I thought I could, but I can’t. When I saw you tonight…”

  “I’m sorry. We’re over,” I said firmly as I stood my ground.

  I started my engine and then pulled out of my parking spot, proud of what I had said. But I couldn't help to wonder if Alan was going to leave it all here in the parking lot and not start any trouble. He had been up to no good watching me, and I didn't believe for a hot minute he was here the same night just “because.” He hated going dancing, especially here.

  “Is it sad to say that I actually enjoyed him being so pathetic?”

  “Not at all.”

  Emma was silent and let me have some time to process everything. She laid her hand on my mine and kept it there.

  I was mad, but I was also sad. Alan always knew how to pull at my heartstrings. Not because of feelings I had for him at this point, but because he was a part of my life.

  But then Wyatt crossed my mind, and the possibility that he was my future. That had to be something, right? It felt good to see hope, a sight I hadn't seen for a long time.

  9

  WYATT

  In general I loved my job, but on some days, I just didn't want to deal with other people’s problems. We all had them, and you had to deal with them. With people who are victims, I got that. Every victim I spoke with gave me the drive to find the sucker who made them a victim. I remember, when I was in the academy, being told that working in this field was one of the hardest. You were the ones who were called for anything bad, over and over; you rarely saw the good. No one ever called 911 because they wanted to tell you how great their life was. Or that they got a raise or had a beautiful baby they had planned for. It messed with your psyche and made you well aware of the evil that was taking over all the good. The longer I had been at the station, the longer my aunt said I needed more church to balance out the bad.

  “It will eat at you, Wyatt, and turn you to seeing only the negative in people. Don’t let that happen.”

  And I wasn't going to.

  Many nights spent burning the midnight oil, trying to solve case after case. Some I had the luck of solving, and putting someone away to pay for the crime. Not all though, and those were the ones I worked harder for.

  As soon as I got to the bottom of the stack though, I was met with a new stack.

  Today though, was a case I couldn’t get off my mind. I had a few that were like that… that just stuck in my heart, and bothered me, giving me an unsettling feeling.

  The mother had supposedly died after childbirth, but things just didn't add up. She had been found dead at their house after a home delivery, unable to get to the hospital in time. The baby had been transported to the hospital by the father, which I guessed was a good thing, but something about his eyes spoke volumes to me. He spoke of his girlfriend and the way he couldn't believe this had happened. But it was dishonest. Things weren't matching up. The more I listened to him try to finagle himself and put himself in good light, the creepier I felt about him. I had always had good intuition and my warning light was blinking rapidly, and brightly.

  I had gone by the hospital to see if the nurse or doctor had suspected any foul play, and instead, ended up holding the baby in his little blue blanket swaying back and forth soothing him. The nurse had handed him to me; Ashton was his name. The father had left him and was supposed to be back this evening but hadn't arrived yet.

  “Do you think he is going to show back up?”

  “It is hard to tell. I don't understand how anybody could leave these sweet babies. They haven't done anything except enter the world, just not fair.”

  “If he doesn't show back up, can you call me on my cell? I will give you my card when I put this little guy down.”

  “If you can hold him for five more minutes…”

  “Sure…”

  I watched as the nurse handled the other babies gently but firmly, steady and strong, completely a routine she had completed day after day.

  I looked down and whispered to the baby as his glossy eyes stared up at me, “I hope your daddy comes back, little guy.”

  He closed his eyes and I rocked back and forth, from my right foot to the left, until he was sound to sleep. I had absolutely no connection to the baby, but could already tell he could easily wrap me around his little finger.

  Walking out of our small hospital, I said a quick prayer with hope that his innocence wouldn't be stolen from him at an early age, looking for his father, and feeling the void of his mother. I wished there was something I could do to make sure that didn't happen.

  Sunday, at 8:55, I met Aunt Rhonda at James Baptist Church. It wasn't a place I had frequented by myself but always came when my aunt asked me to. She had been a part of the church for as long as I could remember.

  I certainly was a believer and actually felt quite good after a church service, but I worked a lot, and most Sundays I was on the clock. The church was the largest one in town, vast ceilings with stained glass and a cross that decorated the front. It was welcoming, even for someone who wasn't as committed as I should be.

  I listened to the sermon and sang the hymns with my aunt. An hour later, we said goodbye to her friends and tried to make our way to the parking lot. I had gone enough with her to know it wasn't going to be an easy feat. She had people she had to talk to, or who wanted to talk to her. She had been a longtime member and also attended any and every church activity.

  “Wyatt?”

  I turn to see Breigh’s friend. She was pretty in her own right but seemed to wear a lot of makeup. She looked high maintenance in comparison to Breigh.

  Her dress wasn’t something I would say was “church attire,” but who was I to say. She was a different woman than I had entertained, definitely more in Cash’s category.

  “Emma…”

  She must have read the expression on my face, not expecting to see her here.

  “I met you and Cash at Kellye Joe’s. He said he was going to call me after he had gone back to Houston, but I haven't heard from him."

  “That’s the norm for Cash, unfortunately. I wouldn't keep your hopes up that you’re going to hear from him either.” I hated to be cruel at church to add to it, but better she know now.

  “I’m so sick of Breigh always being right. She has radar for this sh…” she said with a shake of her head, stopping herself from using profanity at the church.

  “How is Breigh?” I asked, truly curious. She has been on my mind more than I cared to admit. I normally had zero want to call or text a woman after seeing her, but Breigh was a different ball game. I missed her. I had only seen her a little over a week ago, eight days ago to be exact.

  “She’s a workaholic, but other than that seems good. She kind of lives in her own little world. But she made it that way on purpose.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s her way to protect herself. She hasn't had the easiest life…” She stopped as if she was having an internal debate on whether to speak any further about her friend.

  “Honestly, I wouldn't have guessed that. She seems like she really has it together.”

  �
�She has worked for everything in her life and always struggled. I don't know where she would be without her grammy and all her hard work. Everything she has is because of her, EVERYTHING.”

  “Interesting.” I really didn't know what else to say to that. So far there wasn't anything I didn't like about her. That was saying a lot, since every woman I had ever dated or had an interest in, there was always something that stuck out and not in a good way. Something I couldn't get past. I hated to say I was looking for something; warning signs, caution tape, anything that would make me realize she wasn't what I thought she was.

  “Well, when you do talk to Cash, thank him for calling me back. Good to see you again, Wyatt.”

  My aunt walked up just as I finished my conversation with Emma. “I see you were talking to Emma Gray.”

  “Yeah, poor girl had hopes that Cash would actually call her after he left town. Funny, huh?”

  “Cash strikes again. I guess he’ll never change,” she confirmed. She wasn't a fan of him anymore than I was. Really there wasn't anyone in my family she agreed with.

  “She’s friends with Breigh. The one I was telling you about from Kellye Joe’s and then at the rodeo.”

  “I know who Breigh is. Her grandmother, Helen, has gone to this church just as long as I have, in fact longer. I was just talking to her. ” She turned to see if she still saw the woman and then turned back to me. “Breigh comes some Sundays but not as often as Helen would like. Did y’all go out again this last week?” Rhonda said with a raise of her eyebrow.

  “We did. And the oddest thing…I can’t seem to get her off my mind.”

  “So don’t keep her off your mind,” she said matter-of-factly. “From what I know of her, she seems really sweet, pretty, and has her head on straight. Appreciates what she…”

  “Rhonda…”

  “I know, I know. Yeah, she’s actually coming out to the house in a couple days to do some legal stuff for me.”

  I switch from casual talk to serious. “Anything you need my help with? I have someone I can get for you.”

  “Wyatt, when I need help, I’ll ask for it. That has always been how I am and that’s not going to change. Please stop worrying.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes at her but didn’t. One thing Rhonda didn't like was disrespect, and if I rolled my eyes, she wouldn't take that lightly. One time I did it and she smacked me upside the head. I learned to not do that again. I wished she wasn’t always so stubborn. Far be it from me to want to help the one person who made me into the man I was in today.

  “What does she do legally?” I didn't know what I pictured her doing, but I didn't picture her working in a legal office.

  “She is a legal assistant. She basically takes care of all the underwriting, etc. that people need with their wills. I think she does all the backbreaking work, if you ask me. And probably doesn't get paid for that either”.

  Breigh was constantly surprising me.

  Maybe Rhonda was right. Why did I need to get her off my mind?

  I knew why. I just wished my brain could process it and the relay it to protect my heart.

  BREIGH

  Sunday lunch/dinner was always something that was huge since I lived under my grammy’s roof. I had come to live with her fairly young, three, because my dad couldn't manage. Of course, I had already been spending most of my time with her at that point anyway. After the death of my mother, I was told my father found the bottle and never came out. Not even for his daughter.

  Every Sunday at 12:30, Grammy had Sunday lunch/dinner. Linner if you will. We sat in the dining room after church on Sundays and talked about anything and everything. Nothing was off-limits. Sometimes my father would show up, but eventually he stopped even trying. Grammy was not fond of him in the least. I can’t say I blamed her. I had heard her one night asking God during a prayer while she was doing dishes, “Why? Why would he take her daughter but leave someone so hell-bent on not living?”

  I never asked her about what she meant, because even at my young age at that time, probably sevenish, I already grasped what my father was.

  At linner we had some of our most memorable talks. My heart had been broken when I thought I was in love with a boy, and he decided he liked my best friend. He was a snake even from the get-go, but I had a thing for looking past the bad in people. I wonder why?

  Grammy had spoken words that night, which I still think about. I can put myself in that exact spot and time and hear her speaking. “You will find out, sweetie, that everybody who enters your life will be in your life for a season, a reason, or a lifetime. I am much older than you, and trust me, it holds true. A reason, a season, or a lifetime. Sometimes we don't really know which until some time passes, but God will always show you. I promise. Likewise, we may not like what He tells or shows us but He has a plan. But do not ever question it. Always remember that.”

  “Reason, season, or lifetime?”

  “Yes, baby girl. Yes. Sometimes a reason becomes a lifetime, but a season will never become a lifetime.”

  “What if you never find those lifetimes but only reasons or seasons? Like how did you know that Grandpa was a lifetime? Or your friend, Marge, who you have been friends with for years?”

  “I told you, God tells you. You will get that feeling and you will know, without a doubt. It will be clear as glass.”

  “I feel like all I ever see is mud…dirty, icky mud.”

  “It won’t always be that way. I promise. Head up. And remember if things don't work out, there is reason and eventually down the road, when the anger or pain or hurt subsides, you will be able to see who the person was to you.”

  “Okay, I trust you more than anyone, and love you more than all the stars in the sky, so I know if you tell me something, it is true.”

  She leaned over and kissed my forehead.

  “And sometimes, sweet girl, a reason becomes a lifetime and that isn't enough, like with your grandpa.”

  “I know.” There wasn't a day that passed when she didn't talk about my grandpa. I wanted that love. Even at a young age, I knew what they had was special. I had dreamed that perhaps my parents had a love like that, of course, I couldn't ask either of them, but I strived for that kind of love. I wondered if it would ever be possible to feel that kind of love, and if I didn't, would any other love be worth having as a substitute?

  I doubted it. But I knew it was worth trying for, and even dying for.

  My grammy had polio as a child and one leg was shorter than the other. She had to wear a shoe with a special heel on her left side to make her level. When she was home, she always had on her apron, the very same one she donned my entire life. The cotton had worn thin, but she still used it, every single day. I envisioned her wiping her hands on it after washing the dishes sometimes as she welcomed someone in her home, always with a hug.

  She had always been a hard worker, having to drop out of school when she was in seventh grade to help support her family and take care of her siblings. Never had she had it easy, and instead of telling me that time and time again, she instead told me I could overcome anything, no matter what circumstance. “Life isn’t easy and it isn’t supposed to be. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.” That she had said numerous times when talking about love, my gramps included. She would have given up anything for him, and he was the same with her.

  It was a once in a lifetime love, that I only wished I could get half of one day. Half would be more than most people had.

  10

  BREIGH

  There were a lot of things I loved about my job, but one thing I hated was getting dressed in a lady’s business suit jacket. It wasn't my style, and frankly I could have looked just as professional by just dressing like I wanted. But I also realized I needed to look like I knew what I was doing. Frank had requested I always wear one when going on house calls to look ever the professional. Who was I to argue against his requested dress code?

  I was the only woman I knew who did what I did in my field. In
fact, I was the only person in Hilltop. The idea came to me one day in college when the professor was discussing estates. He was debating in regards to the legality and rights the deceased had and the survivors and beneficiaries. It was one of those moments people talk about having, and I knew that was the part of law I wanted to assist in. I wanted to help people prepare their final wishes. I was giving back, and that was what I wanted to do so badly. Luckily, Frank was looking for what I was hoping for at Anderson Law Office.

  Arriving at my appointment for today, I was excited to see Rhonda Bryant. She was a real card on the phone, and Frank had warned me beforehand that she was stubborn. Grammy also knew her from James Baptist and didn’t have a bad thing to say.

  The long dirt road was familiar to me, having driven past it a million times in my life, yet never venturing down it. It had to be at least a mile back. I always admired the beauty of the house and the land in the distance.

  After pulling up, I grabbed my briefcase, something I cherished and never went without for my house calls. Now, I said briefcase…it wasn’t like what you were thinking. I’m twenty-eight, not an old balding man wearing a wrinkled suit.

  Not that there was anything wrong with that.

  My pride and joy was real leather of medium color that was nicely broken in. It was hard from the wear but still soft. It was a gift my grandmother gave me when I finished college.

  With the slam of my truck door closing, I was met with Mrs. Bryant standing on her porch with a smile, welcoming me.

  “Well hello, Miss Breigh. So glad to see you today.”

  I met her with a soft handshake. We had seen each other in passing at church but never talked on a personal level. And never regarding what we were discussing today.

  “Come on in and we can go over this pain in the rear mess quickly, so I can get on with my day.”