Life on the Porcelain Edge

by C. E. Hilbert

  “So you’ll be free Tuesday for dinner?” he whispered in her ear.

  Her cheeks warmed. She nodded.

  “You’re staying with your dad, right?”

  Another nod.

  “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. Wear something a little dressy, OK?”

  “OK,” she croaked.

  Zipping her coat closed, he tugged her scarf tighter around her neck and kissed her forehead. “You’re quite the pleasant surprise, T.T. Tarrington. See you Tuesday.”

  11

  “Do you mind explaining to me why we just left that fine young man, and all of the adulation that was about to be heaped on you like sugar on my little brother’s cereal?” Lily asked as she fiddled with the radio in Tessa’s ten-year-old coupe. “And how old is this car, cher? Do you need a hanger to get reception between the Columbus and the Gibson’s Run?”

  “Half the antenna broke off in the car wash two weeks ago.”

  Lily twisted in the passenger seat. “The elephant is still riding shotgun in this car and crushing me with his weight. Why did we skedaddle like your shoes were catching fire when that boy was clearly all about the Tessa.”

  “Could you please stop with the excessive use of articles?”

  “I’ll stop the overuse of ‘the’ if you quit evading the question.”

  “I just didn’t want to be at the coffee shop any more. My dad finally feels up to going to church for the first time in weeks. I don’t want to be the one who causes us to be late.”

  “Nine-thirty, Tarrington. It is nine…three…zero. Not buying that story. Not even picking it up for free off the wire.”

  “What do you want me to say, Lil?”

  “I want to understand how the weeper I held this afternoon is the same person who bolted at the chance to have a big, strong man wipe away her tears. You’re hiding. Did I waste my thousand mile pep talk on you?”

  “No. I just…” Why couldn’t she say she was overwhelmed? That she couldn’t put words to everything she’d experienced tonight. In less than one hour—sixty minutes—nearly every high school fantasy she had was realized.

  Joey Taylor asked her on a date. She sang in front of a crowd that wasn’t a congregation. Ryland Jessup apologized, and was nearly a human being. She belonged. At twenty-six she finally felt like she belonged. In high school. Of course, the fact all of her high school dreams could fit in a sixty minute segment should give her pause concerning her creativity. Transition from ghost-written memoirs to fiction was likely not an option.

  “Yes? You just…what?”

  “I don’t know. Tonight was wonderful. And it was confusing. And I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  “OK. That’s a start. Let’s just waddle our way backwards and see what we trip over.”

  Tessa’s stomach burned with the thought of a Lily Mae psychoanalysis of the evening’s activities. She suspected Lil would be dissecting the minutia of the night long after Tessa needed her mind shut down for sleep.

  “What did Joey say to you when he pretended to help you with your jacket?”

  “He didn’t pretend and he asked me to dinner on Tuesday.”

  “Joey Taylor—the man version of your teen crush, asked you on a real, honest-to-goodness sit down date?”

  “Why can’t you ever just say a simple sentence? Why must you use seven words when one will do?”

  “How’s that a good use of my birth family and fabulous education?”

  “How can I argue with that logic?”

  “Back to my question. Date? Man crush? Short enough?”

  “Yes. And I don’t think it’s a big deal. Just dinner. We did graduate high school together.”

  “Are you sure he knew that before today?”

  Tessa flipped her head, and stuck out her tongue.

  “OK, so that would be yes. I’ll need a full report postdate on Tuesday evening. Maybe we can conference call and yank in Ella. I’m sure she could add some adorable tidbits of advice.”

  “She starts a new ghost writing assignment Monday. She’s been armpits deep in research for the last two weeks. I highly doubt she’ll be up for air for some time.” A wave of sadness washed over Tessa at the thought of all the new projects she would never start. Tessa was happy for her friend’s increasing career, but she couldn’t stop the envy creeping through her at the loss of her own writing.

  She loved ghost writing; telling the stories that needed to be told. Loved sharing the intimacy of a person’s life experiences. Translating them to words on a page and books on a shelf. She appreciated the sensitivity each project needed and quickly built trust with her clients. Trust was paramount to telling a well-crafted story. After the exposure the terrible, awful day caused, she couldn’t risk trying to ask for trust to be given freely again. The burglar stole more than her files and her laptop; he robbed her of her spirit and drive.

  “Well, you’ll call me and we’ll dissect your little sit down.”

  The idea of a real date with Joey Taylor—not one of the dozens she’d created in her imagination during the lonely hours of her teen years—banished the sorrow over her lost career and filled her with anticipation. Her teenage heart hoped for so much more than her woman brain expected.

  Regardless of Lily’s overactive romantic sensibility, Tessa anticipated decent conversation followed by a ‘see-you-next-time-I’m-in-town’ hug good-bye. The date was a relatively known property.

  Her evolving response to Ryland Jessup was not. Tessa couldn’t quite understand the effect Ryland was having on her. She prayed Lily hadn’t seen the curious exchange between her and Ryland. She wasn’t ready to dissect her feelings for him now that her feelings did not revolve around disgust, distrust, or detesting. She needed time to process.

  Beginning with her strange urge to confront him at the gym, and their near kiss, to the gentle concern she felt from him tonight before he left. She’d nearly told him she wanted him to stay and hear her sing. Hadn’t he encouraged her? Why had he suddenly left without hearing Maggie or Joe? Why did she care? And why was she allowing herself to be consumed by what Ryland Jessup did?

  Lily was right. Her father was recovering exceptionally well. Mrs. Monahan would be ready to return to her class soon. Her time in Gibson’s Run was coming to an end. What was next?

  Since she’d been in Ohio not one person—including her agent—had solicited her for a pitch.

  One month.

  One month without even the slightest hint of regaining her former career. Conversely, she thankfully hadn’t seen any additional tabloid coverage using information from her files. Maybe the thief hadn’t been able to crack all of the protection on her laptop. Maybe she’d be able to walk back to the life she’d once loved. Tessa needed to discover if she could resuscitate her writing career or if that, too, had been flushed with her breach of security and tabloid cover-girl status.

  Rolling her car to a stop at the traffic light beside the “Welcome to Gibson’s Run” sign, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel.

  “Everything OK over there, cher?” The long, quiet Lily asked.

  “Just wallowing…” And listening to the swirl of her life.

  12

  As the bell tolled its final bong, Ryland slid into the last pew of the church he’d attended nearly every Sunday—with the exception of his years in college and the NFL—since his baptism. The historic building held a kaleidoscope of memories. Each time he walked in for worship or Bible study or a turkey supper a new splash of colors would paint his heart.

  He usually chose a seat near the front, but his in-laws consistently misjudged the driving time from Clintonville. They’d likely slide in near the pre-prayer music with some mild mannered complaint about how far he lived from them.

  When Ryland had dropped Emma at their house Friday evening, his father-in-law, Gus, mentioned that one of the Division III colleges ten minutes outside of Columbus was looking for a head football coach. Friends with the chairman of the search commit
tee, Gus offered to throw Ryland’s name in the pool. Ryland quickly closed down the idea. He loved his in-laws, but the natural forty-five minute drive seemed a healthy distance—at least for his sanity.

  The opening music started, a hum rolling through the sanctuary with the new music director motioning for the congregation to stand together to sing. Although he loved to sing, his was a voice only God could truly love, so he kept his lips sealed and allowed his heart to ride the melody. He lumbered to stand and allowed the worship to pour over him, but the usual peace he found was lost this morning. Instead of zeroing in on his Heavenly Father, his mind tortured him with a highlight reel of the previous evening.

  Leaving the restaurant was a coward’s path, but he couldn’t watch his best friend ooze his baseball player charm over Tessa. He’d felt like a twelve year-old when she’d stopped him at the exit. For a brief moment he thought she would ask him to stay. And he’d clung to a thread of hope; but it slipped through his fingers when JT called to her. He’d stayed, just inside the café and listened to the sweet harmonies the trio made. The music wasn’t perfect, but Ryland didn’t know when he’d heard any band, group, or solo act quite as beautiful. As the applause erupted, he’d slipped through the door and sucked back the tears cresting in his eyes.

  On the long drive back to Gibson’s Run he listened to a book on tape his mother recommended and tried to lose himself in the story. But he could see only Tessa with her eyes shut, her face washed in the glow of pure delight, and his heart had ached with the loss of one who was never his to hold. Dropping his head forward, he gripped the pew to in front of him and sought comfort from the Great Comforter. Father, please help me.

  A solid hand gripped his shoulder, and Ryland opened his eyes to find his mentor and friend, Pastor Tom, lending unspoken support as he sang with a voice that echoed his daughter’s rich tones. The comforting, fatherly touch strengthened Ryland, settling a sense of peace around the ache. He straightened to his full height as Tom’s hand slipped from his shoulder and he lost himself to the worship, blissfully unconcerned only his pastor separated him from the source of his longing.

  The worship guide instructed the congregation to sit, and a collective moan seemed to release from the unseen mouths of the forty pews with the added weight. The substitute pastor began reading through the prayer concerns and Ryland felt a tiny tug at his hand.

  Emma’s cherub-cheeked face rested against his knee and her grin turned her wide eyes to tiny slits.

  He lifted her to his lap and her fierce embrace around his neck filled him with all the goodness in the world. No matter what happened in his life, he loved his daughter and his daughter loved him. “How’s E-train this morning?” he whispered.

  She grabbed his face between her chubby four-year old fingers and landed a sloppy kiss on his lips. “I missed you, Daddy.”

  “I missed you, too.” He kissed her forehead and held her tight against his chest. He twisted his head to the right and nodded to Macy’s parents, who were discreetly pulling off their coats in the pew across the aisle.

  “Please join me in prayer,” the interim pastor offered.

  Emma twisted in Ryland’s lap to face the front of the sanctuary. Clasping her hands together she scrunched her eyelids tight and furrowed her brow. He couldn’t suppress the chuckle deep in his belly. “Shush, Daddy!” Emma corrected. “We gots to pray to Jesus. G-ma will be reals mad if we aren’t serious.”

  “I guess you’ve been told.” Tom chuckled as he lowered his head to pray.

  Ryland smiled at his friend and his breath caught in his chest.

  Tessa’s eyes twinkled with mirth as she winked at him before bowing her head.

  ~*~

  As the final strands of the closing hymn lifted, Emma sang with the full strength of her tiny lungs. In addition to her love of the pigskin she had inherited her father’s singing ability. She stood on the pew with her hand gripping Ryland’s forefinger, all while suctioning herself to Pastor Tom’s side. Like her father, Emma Jessup was sweet on a Tarrington.

  Tom’s pulpit filler, retired Pastor Conrad, stood to give the benediction, and nodded toward the back row. “Many of you’ve already spotted our special congregant this morning, but in case you’re unaware, our own Pastor Tom Tarrington has been worshipping with us this morning.”

  Sudden applause erupted, spreading a hint of pink to Tom’s pale cheeks and delighting Emma, who seemed to think the clapping aligned with a football game as she jumped up and down on the pew, cheering with all of her four years of exuberance.

  Tom nodded and raised his hand signaling for Conrad to continue. He leaned to his left and whispered in Tessa’s ear before turning to Ryland. “I imagine it’ll be a little long winded. Would you mind driving Tessa and Lily Mae back to my house?”

  “Not at all.” A thrill of anticipation bubbled in his chest. “I’ll tell Macy’s parents to meet me at my house.”

  “Thanks,” Tom said with breathless relief as he moved to greet the hundreds of parishioners closing in on their pew.

  “Come on, E-train.” Ryland lowered her from the pew to the refinished wood floor. “Let’s go find Grammy and Poppy. They can take you back to our house while I take Miss Tessa and Miss Lily Mae home.”

  “But I just gots you back and I haven’ts seen G-ma yet. She’ll be awful heart-broken if I don’t give her a smooshy kiss.” Before he could answer, Emma scooted through the throng of adults and jumped headlong into his mother’s surprised embrace.

  An unseen drum began to play a deep bass rhythm against his skull and he rubbed the corner of his temple.

  “She’s quite something,” Tessa said.

  He glanced down at both women.

  Lily didn’t seem quite as aggressive after an hour of holy worship.

  “I’m convinced my dad added something extra spicy in her mix before God sent her down from heaven. She is the most exaggerated version of me and all five of my sisters mixed into one tiny, combustible package.”

  “You love her very much.” Tessa offered.

  “Yes, I do.” He caught sight of his in-laws walking toward his mother. He tilted his head toward Tessa. “Let me make certain Gus and Jackie can watch Emma for a few minutes while I run you home.”

  “We can walk.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Or we could wait on Dad. He shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Uh, cher, I don’t know what rodeo you’re watching, but Papa T will be stuck here until the next carry-in dinner. The least we can do is get on home and pull together a little lunch. He’s gonna be as tired as an old coon hound after a two day hunt when he finally finishes all of this well-wishing.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t leave him. He’s not as strong as he thinks.”

  “You need to let your father be Pastor Tom for a little while.” Ryland locked his gaze with hers, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “Lily Mae’s right. He’ll be exhausted, but it’ll be the good kind—like after a five mile run.”

  “What’s good about running for five miles?” Tessa questioned with an air of disbelief, but she raised a quick hand. “But I get your meaning.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He weaved through the milling crowd and found his daughter rapidly recounting her twenty-four hours away from Gibson’s Run. “And then Grammy’s new ‘keet Skeeters squawked at me and I jumped’d seven feet off the ground.”

  “She means parakeet.” Macy’s mother corrected.

  Without a single reference to Emma’s horrific grammar, his mother kissed her only granddaughter’s forehead. She glanced up at Ryland. “Emma, your father seems quite breathless. Do you know the cause?”

  “Wells, G-ma,” Emma offered with a tilt of her head. Her pigtail brushed her shoulder as she scrunched her forehead. “I’m guessing its cause he was jogging. But it coulds be he was looking at Miss Tessa agains. She seems to make him not so smarts.”

  Ryland drove his hand through his hair. “Emma Grace Jessup, gossip is a horrible habit
to acquire from your grandmother. I’d hope she would use this quality time to give you boundaries around your abysmal grammar.”

  “Grandmothers are supposed to spoil and indulge, Ryland. Parents are intended to correct.” His mother stood, setting Emma on her feet. “And apparently, your grammar lessons are not translating to your daughter.”

  “I’m glad to see you still feel free to correct your child.” He kissed her cheek.

  “Yes, well, your sisters are meeting us at McGregor’s for lunch. I invited Gus and Jackie to join us, but they need to head back to Clintonville for a party.” His mother’s face reflected the genteel sweetness of years of practiced hospitality, but he knew she was relieved to have Macy’s parents zipping back north of the county border.

  “Are you sure you can’t join us?” he asked, and saw the quick flicker of revulsion in his mother’s eyes before Jackie shook her head.

  “Thank you, Ryland. We’ve enjoyed having our little princess with us this weekend.” She stepped forward and tugged him to her eyelevel for a hug. “Please think about the coaching position. You’d be so close. Emma could start kindergarten at CSG next fall, just like Macy. We’d love to be able to see her more often. And you, of course.”

  “Thank you, but I’m happy here.”

  “Please, just think about it.” Her tears brimmed and he couldn’t deny her the small request.

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, thank you.” With the quick wrap of her arms around his chest, she knocked the wind from his lungs.”Well, Gus, we need to get back.” She bent and wrapped Emma in a tight hug. “I love you to the moon and back, princess.”

  “I love you too, Grammy.” Emma smacked a kiss on her grandmother’s lips and twisted to repeat the hug and kiss with her grandfather.

  “We’ll see you in a few weeks for your birthday, Em. You be a good girl for your daddy.” He ruffled her hair. Nodding to Ryland, he slipped his fingers through his wife’s and led her to the side door.