by Dawn Atkins
He nodded once. “You get what you pay for. Cheap vendors make cheap products. I had to prove TGR was a bad company. I had to monkey with the tests. I had no choice. It would have happened anyway, later on. All Ryland had to do was admit it was TGR’s fault, then find a better supplier. Nobody would get hurt. Easy.”
He ran his hands through his hair, then jammed them on his hips, looking down. He swallowed, glanced at Dylan, then Tara. “When Mr. Wharton drove out here a couple weeks ago, it was after hours. I’d come back after the doctor’s appointment to catch up on reports. He said he had a wager going with Sean Ryland about the Ryland assembly. He asked me to put one on.”
It had been her father who requested the installation, after all, Tara realized. She’d been wrong to attack Dylan’s father.
“I got this great idea. If I put in a bad unit, he’d give Sean Ryland hell and that would be the end of the debate.” His voice took on a desperate, panicked quality. “I’d saved a few bad ones so I could match the calibrations on the tests I messed with. So I put one in. All that should have happened was a stall. That’s all. Not a wreck. It couldn’t cause a wreck. Like the Ryland guy said, it couldn’t get dangerous without a torque or collision. When he was killed, I couldn’t believe it. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
He blinked hard, looking away, his face crumpled as he fought tears.
Tara looked at Dylan, whose mouth was a grim line, his eyes full of sorrow. She felt the same way, burning with outrage, swamped with sadness. Such a waste. Such a tragedy. So many people hurt. And all over a rumor. Her father would never have closed down Wharton.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Matt asked, looking like a prisoner about to be hanged. “I swear I didn’t know this could happen.”
“We need you to repeat your story for the police,” Dylan said. “And we want a statement certifying that the drive assembly units Ryland provided Wharton Electronics were functional, that you rigged the test results. Agreed?”
“Whatever you say,” he said miserably. “I’m done for no matter what. Jeb will fire me. With the baby coming, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“One step at a time, Matt,” Tara said, realizing she’d echoed her mother’s advice about having a child. “First, tell the truth, then deal with the consequences.” Her heart went out to him, but he’d done a terrible thing. “My father would never have closed the factory. The company and the people who worked for him meant too much to him. He sacrificed all his earnings and investments to keep it going until the profits from the new battery came in. You should have asked about the rumor, not taken it as truth.”
Matt hung his head. He’d been scared. People did stupid things when they were scared. She’d seen it over and over in her work. “Can I call my wife, tell her where I am? She’ll have to go to the doctor alone.”
Dylan and Tara stepped away to give him privacy while he broke the bad news to his poor wife. “I’ll drive him in, Tara. You can get going.”
“This shouldn’t have happened,” she said. “It wouldn’t have if Wharton management had kept its employees informed. That’s what I would have told Faye if I’d really listened and tried to help. I might have prevented the accident after all.” Guilt washed through her and she bit her lip.
“One piece of advice can’t turn a company around, Tara.”
“I know that. I still regret not doing my part.”
“Now we have to go forward, make things right where we can.”
She nodded, grateful for Dylan’s steady presence, his reasonable words. “Matt’s confession will bring an investigator out here for sure. We can email the tape we just got. If we’re lucky, the investigators will figure out who hit the car. They do in-person interviews. Someone needs to pin Fallon down.”
“We may never know what happened, Tara. You have to be prepared for that.”
“Maybe when Faye wakes up, she’ll tell us.” The possibility seemed far away and Tara’s chest felt hollow and hopeless for a moment. She forced herself to stick with what she could do, not what she hoped for.
“I hate to say this, but my father was right,” Dylan said. “We were being sabotaged by Wharton testers.”
“And I owe him an apology for what I accused him of.” Dylan had been right. She had been too eager to blame his father. “Wharton wronged your company. We need to set up a meeting to discuss how to correct that.”
“That will be good. I think we just saved Ryland Engineering. If you hadn’t pushed for the truth, we would likely have lost the Wharton contract. I owe you for that, Tara. I’ll always be grateful.”
“We made a good team,” she said, trying to smile. “Mostly. Except when I was naming suspects right and left.”
“That’s true.” He smiled, then got serious. “But you made me see one thing. I have worked long enough with my father. I need to get on with what I want. Since it looks like the company will survive, I can leave when I planned.”
“I said some harsh things. I exaggerated. I know that.”
“There was enough truth in what you to get me thinking and a conversation I had with Victor made it even clearer. I told my father I’ll be leaving the business as soon as it’s feasible.”
“I’m glad then,” she said, emotion rising in a wave inside her. “If that’s what you want for yourself.”
“It is.”
Hearing him declare his independence from his father made her proud of him. He’d listened to her rant and calmly sorted the wheat from the chaff. She loved him more than ever. She’d said unfair things to him, and she hated herself for that.
“When I came here, I thought I was a better person,” she said. “I thought I’d gotten past the bad feelings, the bad attitude, but I guess not. I guess I couldn’t get past the imprint.”
“That’s not the whole story, Tara. You’ve done a lot. You put up with some pretty terrible things here, but you’ve kept your head most of the time. You’ve reached out to your mother, accepted her on her own terms. Your parents left you guessing growing up. It takes a big person to see past that.”
“Thank you, Dylan.” She tensed against the urge to cry. “That means a lot coming from you.”
“You do know how to love,” he said in a rough voice, his eyes burning at her. “Once you believe that, there will be no stopping you.”
“Goodbye, Dylan.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, embarrassed to see she’d left a tear on Dylan’s cheek. She wiped it away with her palm, turned and nearly ran for her car, blinking back the rest of her tears. She had no time to cry.
Tara had meetings to schedule, key people to inform and plans to make, including how to start a meaningful dialogue between Wharton management and its employees. She had a big job ahead of her. She would do her best. For Faye. For her father. For the company. Hell, she just might make a worthy contribution to Wharton Electronics, after all.
She was pretty sure her father would be proud.
* * *
AFTER AN EXHAUSTING afternoon at Wharton, Tara went to the hospital to tell Faye about the breakthrough. She sat in the chair and took Faye’s pale hand, noticing the nail polish was still bright. Her sister hadn’t been able to twitch a finger, let alone chip a nail.
Faye had been unconscious for seventeen days. How long could she last? Every day that passed without change made it more likely that Faye would die. The thought nearly killed Tara. She fought down the choked feeling, the ache in her throat, and gave Faye the news.
“We know what happened to you. A bad part was put in Dad’s car to prove a point that didn’t need to be proved. All that’s left is to learn who bumped your car. The insurance company will be sending out an investigator anyday.” The adjuster had put in an expedited request.
“We’ll fix what’s wrong at Wharton, too. I’m here, and I’ll stay until things are right again. Please wake up and help me.” Her sister’s eyes seemed shadowed to Tara. She continued to waste away beneath the sheets. Unable to stand the sight, T
ara glanced away. Her gaze snagged on the photo of the two sisters and their mother, Faye in love and happy.
“We couldn’t make it work, Faye. Dylan and I. We’ve hurt each other too much. Dylan’s here forever and I can’t wait to leave.” She swallowed hard, the pain of the breakup burning through her more powerfully than ever.
“What would you tell me, Faye? Am I right or wrong?”
When you love someone, you forgive them. Faye had told her that about her father and the ruined model ship. Love was supposed to open your heart, make new things possible.
But wasn’t Tara too crippled? You know how to love, Dylan had said so fervently that she knew he believed it.
Could it possibly be true? When Dylan had broken her heart the first time, Tara had built walls against anyone who might hurt her. She told herself she was being smart, staying focused on her career, on the things she could control, but the truth was she’d been afraid. Afraid to risk her heart.
Tears slid down her cheeks. Not again. She’d lost it with Dylan already today. But sitting with Faye, knowing her sister accepted her for who she was, she decided to let go. She cried for Faye, for her father and her mother, for all the mistakes and misjudgments she’d made, and for losing Dylan all over again.
A tear dripped onto Faye’s hand. When she reached to wipe it off, her sister’s hand twitched. Tara froze. “Faye? Did you do that? Are you awake? Move your hand again.” She’d made that request so often, getting nothing back, she was totally blown away when Faye’s finger lifted again.
“Oh, my God! You did it. You moved. On purpose!” Tara grabbed her hand, holding it loosely. “Can you squeeze?”
There was the tiniest bit of pressure, but it was there.
Faye was waking up. Tara didn’t need Rita and her flashlight to know that. She pushed the call button. When a voice asked what she needed, she yelled the news. Nurses came running. Rita checked the responses, then grinned at Tara. “She had to come back, girl, to turn off that bad music.”
“Whatever it took,” she said. “I can’t believe she’s waking up.”
Faye groaned and turned her head.
“Faye? Can you hear me?” Tara said.
Nothing.
“Will she be able to talk?” she asked Rita.
“It happens different ways,” Rita said. “Be patient.”
“I can do that. I can be patient. You bet.” She grabbed her phone and called Joseph. He was so silent at first she thought he’d hung up on her. Then she heard a gasp and knew he was crying.
“She loves you, Joseph. Come see her. You’ll start fresh. You’ll try harder. You’ll ask more questions and listen more closely.”
Why can’t you do that with Dylan?
Next, she called her mother. “Faye’s awake, Mom. She’s coming back to us.” Her mother made a choked sound. She almost sounded more upset than relieved. So odd. Tara told her that Joseph would be picking her up, then clicked off.
Finally she called Dylan and told him.
He got choked up, too, but in a happy way. “Thank God, Tara. I’m so glad. Dad’s here, too. We’re both glad. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She was relieved he’d assumed she’d want him here. He’d supported her from the beginning. He should be here for the happy ending.
She clicked off the phone.
The neurologist arrived and told Tara some sobering things about Faye’s recovery—the difficulties she might have with speech, memory and mobility. It wouldn’t be easy, but Faye had fought her way back to life. She would fight her way back to full function.
“I knew you would make it. You’re the strongest person I know.” Faye was coming back to her. This time, she would listen, be there for Faye the way Faye had always been there for her.
When Joseph arrived, he lunged for his wife. “Faye,” he choked out, pushing back her hair, kissing her forehead, looking at her with pure adoration. Tara had underestimated Joseph by miles.
Had she underestimated Dylan? Herself?
Tara noticed her mother hadn’t come in. “You picked up Mom, right?”
“Still in the hall.” He kept staring at Faye, as if he feared that he might miss a word or a look if he turned his head for even a second.
Tara went to find her mother. She stood a foot from the door, frozen, a terrified look on her face.
“It’s okay, Mom. Come talk to her.”
“I don’t know what to say...how to make it right.”
“Make what right? Your quarrel? Faye won’t care.”
Her mother didn’t move.
“The neurologist said she likely won’t remember the accident or the hours before it for a while, maybe never,” she said to jolt her from her trance.
“She...might not...remember?” her mother said haltingly, hopefully.
Tara pulled her arm. “Come and see her.”
Slowly her mother came into the room. Joseph stood and motioned for Rachel to take the bedside chair.
She sat stiffly. “Faye...” she said so softly Tara could hardly hear her. “I’m so sorry. More sorry than I can say.” Her mother did not sound happy at all.
Tara had the terrible feeling that rather than praying for Faye to wake up, her mother had been dreading the possibility. Tara’s instincts flared.
“What’s going on, Mom?” Tara asked. When she shifted her body to better see her mother, the movement knocked the Sunset Crater photo down. Picking it up, she noticed Faye’s foot near the heart-shaped dent in the fender of the powder-blue Mercedes. Powder-blue.
She pictured her mother’s car in the garage, where she saw it each time she pulled in and out. There was no dent, heart-shaped or otherwise. When Tara had arrived, her mother’s car had been in the shop. She’d assumed it was an auto shop. “The Mercedes was at the body shop, wasn’t it?” she asked abruptly.
Her mother blinked at her, her muscles so tight that her hair shivered.
“You were the one,” Tara said, her mouth so dry her tongue stuck to her lips. “You hit the car, didn’t you?” Her mother had acted strangely, but Tara had never considered this possibility. Holding her breath, she waited for her mother’s answer, knowing already that she was right.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“IT WAS JUST A TAP,” Tara’s mother replied breathlessly. “I wanted to pass...get them to stop, you know? Anyone would have.” Her cool dignity was gone. Her words ran together. “I brushed the bumper...had to swerve so I wouldn’t crash...I was dizzy...I had taken one of my pills. I’d had a gimlet, too. I was so upset from Faye...you have no idea....” She stopped and gave Tara a pleading look, then swallowed. “I pulled over. When they didn’t drive by, I knew something was wrong, like maybe they’d stopped for me, so I ran back and saw the barrier had been bent.”
“You caused the crash,” Tara said softly. “It was you.” She still couldn’t believe it or understand that this shaky, scared confession was coming from the the same dignified, emotionally restrained woman she’d grown up with.
“I called Bill. He told me not to go down there, that I couldn’t help, that he would take care of it, that paramedics would be on their way in seconds. I wasn’t thinking. My head was not clear. Everything was fuzzy. You have to understand.”
Tara’s body rocked back, as if her mother’s words had physically pushed her. “So you drove away? Left them there?” Her mother had abandoned her dead husband and dying daughter. Tara felt dizzy with shock and disappointment. Her mother had hit them and run away.
“Bill was the officer in charge of the scene. That’s how he explained it. What he said was the law. I might cause more injury. He told me that.”
Excuses? That’s all her mother had? She was fuzzy and obeyed Bill Fallon like a child? “How could you?” Tara took quick breaths, fought down the desire to rail at her mother, to shake her, make her see what she’d done.
Get the truth. That was what mattered now. She had to let her mother talk. There would be time for outrage later. “Why were you tr
ying to stop them?” she said finally in a calmer voice. “Why were you so upset that you took drugs and had a drink?”
Her mother stared at her, her face white, gulping for air, as if she might vomit. Joseph stood behind her, his jaw hanging, as horrified as Tara was.
“You need to tell me,” Tara said. “Too much goes unsaid in our house.”
Her mother gulped, but didn’t speak.
“Why were you chasing Dad and Faye? Where were they going?”
“They were coming to see me, weren’t they, Rachel?” The voice from the doorway made them all turn. It was Sean Ryland. His tone had been personal, almost intimate. Dylan stood beside him, eyebrows raised in surprise, too.
Her mother stood and turned to face Sean, not saying a word.
“That’s why you wanted to meet me,” he continued. “They’d learned a secret you wanted kept. You had to beat them to the punch.”
Tara had never heard Sean Ryland speak so gently. “Tell me now, Rachel. What were you afraid I might learn?”
Her mother’s body softened, her gaze, too, looking at Sean. It was as if they were the only two people in the room. They clearly had a relationship that Tara knew nothing about.
“It’s about Faye, isn’t it?” Sean said. “She’s mine.”
Her mother dropped her head and her shoulders sagged before she spoke, her voice low and rough. “There was no use in telling you.”
Tara’s brain stalled. What? Sean was Faye’s father? Her mother had been with Sean? She saw that Dylan was stunned, too.
“How did Faye find out?” Sean asked. “Did you tell her?”
Her mother raised her head, pulled herself together, taking a shuddering breath. “She had tests. Because of Joseph’s genes. She sneaked out hair from Abbott’s brush, replaced his toothbrush with a new one. The results showed that Abbott was not her biological father. She came to me and demanded I tell her who it was.”
“And did you?” Sean asked. “Did you tell her?” Tara could tell he was holding back anger, making a supreme effort for her mother’s sake.
Her mother shook her head, her eyes downcast. “Not at first. I told her those companies are scams, they mix up the tests all the time, but she kept at me and kept at me.” She lifted her anguished gaze to Sean. “I gave in.”