“How?” Joey’s voice was a whisper.
“One step at a time. The honest, generous, kind-hearted, caring brother I know and love is still in you. You just need to let him be in control—rather than the guy who’s been pulling your strings the last few years.”
Tessa chewed on her bottom lip, lifting up silent offerings to the only One able to transform Joey. Please help him.
“When do I go to Mac’s place?” Joey asked.
“He’s sending the corporate plane tomorrow. I’ll fly with you to South Carolina. Help you get settled. There’s one other thing. The facility offers a program we both think you need to pursue,” Sean said, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m not a drug addict or an alcoholic, Sean.”
“I didn’t say you were, but I think, we think, you have some stuff to work through. Why you were so willing to take a shortcut to try and help your shoulder or why getting in a car with a complete stranger you knew was intoxicated was a good idea. You need to deal with the underlying reasons for why you’re making these bad choices.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to sit around a circle and discuss my feelings. I’m a professional athlete, Sean. I need to do. Hit a ball. Run some miles. I don’t need to feel.”
“Maybe that’s part of the problem.” The words tumbled from Tessa’s mouth before she could seal her lips.
“You, too?” Joey asked. A deep crease dented his marred forehead.
She gently laid a hand over his. “Joey. You’ve so much joy hidden deep in you. Joy you let out for fits and spurts. But it mostly remains buried under mountains of pain you aren’t willing to sort through. I understand, because I hate feeling the hard stuff, too.” She sucked in a deep breath. “But lately, I’ve realized, avoiding the hard stuff only allows for more garbage and junk to build. The faster you run away from your feelings the more dangerous they become. The junk in our lives wants to be thrown away. That’s why every time we try and ignore it, the junk rears its ugly face in weird and sometimes awful ways. You don’t know why you keep messing up? You keep messing up because you aren’t willing to clean out your junk drawer. Instead, you keep piling more junk in it until one day it’ll explode. Then, we won’t have the privilege of having this conversation.”
Ryland’s thick fingers squeezed her shoulder. When had he moved behind her?
Sean began describing the facility to Joey. The details buzzed around her head, but Joey appeared to be absorbing each one. Pleasantly in a fog, she leaned her head softly against Ryland’s chest, his heat warming the places chilled with emotion.
“How long will I be locked away?” Joey asked.
“The doctors think it will take about ten to twelve weeks for your leg to recover. You may need additional surgery on your shoulder. Could set you back another half dozen weeks. Then the real physical therapy begins.”
“I’m not staying in a hospital for six months, Sean.”
“We’ll figure something out. First things first. You need to get that leg on the mend. All that down time will be the perfect opportunity to work through… what’d you call it, Tessa, his junk drawer?”
She smiled. “He may have like a chest of drawers, but yeah, they all have some junk that needs cleaned out.” The Lord was working a miracle right before her eyes. Joey would be OK. His recovery wouldn’t be easy, but he would be OK.
As the two brothers began to negotiate through the details of Joey’s next adventure, Ryland whispered in Tessa’s ear. “We need to talk.”
30
Nearly dragging Tessa through the hospital lobby, Ryland barely noticed the warm sun on his cheeks as they hustled outside. “Where’d you park?” Ryland asked.
“Umm…Gibson’s Run?”
No car? Huh, hadn’t really thought that through. Cab. He made a sharp pivot toward the cab stand. Stumbling forward, his arm yanked as he tried to pull an immovable Tessa with him. “Hey.”
Tugging her fingers from his grip, she scowled. “Hey, yourself, Coach Jessup. What’s your damage? Where’s the fire?”
“Come on, Tessa,” Ryland sighed. “We need a cab. We need to go.”
“No. You said we needed to talk. So talk, bubba.”
Scanning the sidewalk, he shoved his hand through his short hair. No cabs. Not a trolley or a bus insight. “I’d rather do this in private.”
“Jessup, there’s no one out here but you and me. Sunday. Remember? This is the South. We take it very seriously.” Glancing at her watch, she shrugged. “It’s one. People are either sitting down to Sunday supper or they’re still catching the Holy Ghost. They won’t be rounding out the day with visitations for another few hours.” Shaking her head, she closed the few steps to a slightly rusted wrought iron bench and sat. With the demure grace that drove him crazy at sixteen, she crossed her ankles, tucking her skirt around her knees.
“Why don’t you take a little sit down? Draw a breath. Or two. Maybe that talk you said we needed will rediscover its words.” She patted the bench.
Sitting beside her, every lecture from his mother rushed through him. Always keep room for the Holy Spirit, Ryland. God gave man woman to respect, love, and honor her. Not for any other reason. Remember she’s a child of God. Like a sister.
The electricity vibrating through him simply by sitting beside Tessa did not remind him of any moment he ever had with any of his five sisters. Not even close. Sucking in a deep breath, all he could see was her. All he could think was Tessa. Her delicate scent wafted through his senses clouding his foggy mind. The love bursting through him trounced every rational thought.
“Ryland?” Tessa’s voice whispered—asking the unasked question.
Reaching for her hand, he laced his fingers through hers. “Tessa, what you did for JT…how did you take something we’ve been struggling with for years to show him and make it so simple? You were magic.”
A soft curl of her lips tempted him to kill the talk.
“I didn’t do anything. Definitely wasn’t magic. At first…at first I was so angry with you and then Sean. I thought you were so unfair. He had one bad night. He was trying to mend fences with you. He seemed so unselfish. And you were so harsh.”
“I know. But I’ve tried compassion before. Compassion fails with Joe. He’s a charmer. Has been his whole life. But he’s also an athlete. After I talked to him earlier this week, I knew he wouldn’t be able to make the tough choices he needed to make without a little coach pressure.”
“I just don’t see the Joey you see.”
“You see the man-child you had a crush on all through high school.”
Thick lines marred her forehead. “I think that’s what I saw a month ago, but over the last few weeks, I’ve seen a desperately sad child of God in need of help. I know what I see because at times I feel as if I’m looking at myself when I see the light fade from Joey’s eyes.
“Ryland, I’ve been so lost for the past few months. Probably more like the last few years. The terrible, awful day when my whole career was stolen from my apartment was the flush, but my life was already swirling the toilet bowl. I just didn’t know it. After Momma died, I felt this overwhelming need to control everything in my life. No mistakes. No judgment. I needed to be perfect.
“My job gave me the ability to control a story. But no one knew I was the writer. Never risk anyone but my editor and the seven people who knew I was ghost writing judging my work. But with the terrible, awful day, the gift of anonymity was stolen from me.” Her lips twisted. A single tear raced down her cheek. “So, you see, I can empathize with Joey more than you know. What I said to him wasn’t magic or some unique wisdom from years of writing others’ stories. I was talking to myself.”
His heart twisted. The robbery evoked fear and failure in her. Returning home was merely an escape from the life she deemed a catastrophe.
She shifted across the bench, her leg leaned into the length of his. Her cheek rested against his bicep. “In the past few weeks, I’ve discovered more junk in my drawer. It
’s at capacity. I desperately want to throw it all away. I’m just not certain where to toss it.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his side. “Someone recently told me recognizing the situation was the first step.”
“Very wise advice.” Lifting her chin to rest against his chest, she smiled. “Well, hello, Coach Jessup.”
“Hello, Miss Tarrington.” Brushing his lips tenderly across hers, a flash zoomed through his system, setting off his caution light. “You’re amazing. You know?” He said, resting his chin atop her silky hair.
“I know, but why do you think I’m amazing?”
“Too many whys to count.”
“Let’s just try a few.” He could feel her smile against his chest.
“Fishing for compliments?”
“Well, if they were freely given I’d have no need to go fishing.”
He lowered his lips to the crown of her head. “You’re wise. You shower a four year-old girl with affection. You care for your dad. You care for your clients. You love me.”
Twisting, she rested her palms against his chest. “I’m awesome because I love you?”
“Didn’t I mention how wise you are?”
“Hmph.”
The subtle sounds of Sunday afternoon at the visitor’s entrance of the hospital enveloped them. Ryland trailed his hand down Tessa’s spine, her silky hair gliding under his fingers. Drawing a deep breath, her scent flowed through him. Closing his eyes, he tightened his arm around her.
“What time is your flight home?” she asked.
“Same as yours.”
“So, 9-ish?”
“Yep.”
“We need to be at the airport in five hours.”
“Yep.”
“So…are we going to sit here for the next five hours while random folks pass by and stare at the odd Yankee couple cuddled on a bench outside the trauma wing? You know everyone probably thinks something tragic happened.”
“Tragic?”
“Of course. They probably think I lost the love of my life to some horrible disease, or an awful accident, and you’re his dear friend trying to console me before you move in on his territory.” She shrugs. “Quite tragic.”
“Indeed. And you’re worried about writing fiction?”
“Just saying…two people…nearly conjoined outside a hospital. Either we’re really weird twins no one would medically be able to explain or tragedy. Only two options.”
“How about a young couple in love stealing a moment?” Ugh! He sounded like a greeting card wrapped in a two pound box of Valentine’s candy.
“Seriously? When did you become the romantic?”
“Guess you bring it out in me. I’m so gallant and romantically spontaneous I stopped by your apartment this morning, hoping to take you to breakfast, but you were already at church.”
She propped her chin on her folded hands resting on his chest. “How’d you know I went to church?”
“Sunday. Deductive reasoning. And Bobbi Ann was leaving your building just as I was crossing the street. She told me you were at church.”
Her brow furrowed. “How’d Bobbi Ann know I was at church?”
“Don’t you go every Sunday? Haven’t you been attending the same church the entire time you’ve lived in New Orleans? She probably figured you would want to get back in a routine.”
“Huh? Makes sense. It’s just disturbing…”
“What’s disturbing?”
“The thought of Bobbi Ann Risdy knowing anything about my life. One can’t give ammunition to a woman like Bobbi Ann. And why was she in my building? She lives across town.”
“Doesn’t her dad own your apartment? Maybe she was running an errand for him.”
“Yeah,” she said, cuddling against his side, all thoughts of big-haired Bobbi Ann Risdy-Jones slipping from her mind.
31
Tessa’s life tumbled into a new normal. By the following week, every moment of normalcy revolved around the universe of Ryland Jessup. She continued to stop at Maggie’s shop for coffee, but each morning she discovered her beverage paid for and waiting her arrival. On Monday, she asked about her mystery donor, but Maggie simply winked, handed her the to-go cup and helped the mayor with his order.
Tessa found small notes in her desk drawer and scribbled in her journal. She and Ryland had lunch together every day. Sitting in a corner of the teacher’s lounge, she discovered the subtle likes and quirks of Coach Jessup. Turkey, no bread for lunch. Liked grape juice. Hated apple juice. Bad sixth grade boys’ camp-out experience. Twelve carrots he treated as dessert—Bizarre. But with each new revelation, she plunged deeper into a warm pool of love for the man. The misery clouding her childhood evaporated into a thin smoke.
Friday morning’s note lay in a neat one-by-one square at the center of her desk. Unfolding the striped notebook paper, her heart trembled. Across the top was scrawled, “Will you go to dinner with me? Check your answer below.” A quarter of the way down the page were three squares:
Yes, tonight.
Yes, tomorrow.
Yes, for the rest of our lives.
Clutching the note to her chest, she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes shut against the glare of the florescent light and her mind added thread to a story she’d been weaving since Saturday on the balcony. Long walks in the snow. Hands locked with Ryland as they trailed behind Emma. Quiet swings on the front porch. Laughs. Celebrations. Tears. Peace. And love. All linked solely to the addition of Ryland to her life. She swiveled in her chair, her feet trailing along the floor. A sigh slipping through her lips.
“Uh, Miss T?” Jackson Murray’s croaked words sliced through her bubble.
Her eyes slammed open, tumbling back to the reality of first period.
Scanning the room, every eye was on her.
“You OK, Miss T?” Gabrielle Harrington, a withdrawn freshman who tested into advanced English but rarely offered insights aside from her exquisitely written papers, asked from the middle of the left row.
“She got another love letter from coach.” Riley Messing, star athlete, guffawed. The room rumbled with laughter.
Heat scorched Tessa’s neck, burning her cheeks and flickering at the edges of her eyes. Quickly folding the note back to a square, she slid the paper in her top drawer and stood. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s take this opportunity to share our essays on one of the five William Blake poems I assigned. Mr. Messing.” Her gaze fell on the lanky six foot shortstop. “I believe you have Love’s Secret. Would you be the first to share your wisdom on the lovely works of Mr. Blake?”
“Aww, man,” he mumbled. Tugging a folded piece of notebook paper from his binder, he swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed like the fishing lures Tessa was forced to use on summer camp-outs.
Riley stood to the left of his chair and began to read his five hundred words on the poem.
Forty-five minutes later, the shrill of the class bell cut through the presentations. “OK students. For those of you who didn’t read today, I’ve taken note, and you’ll be up Monday. Remember half your grade for this assignment is reading the essay in front of the class.” A groan floated through the students. “Please leave your essays on my desk for evaluation.”
Papers slid across the corner of her desk. The din of student chatter filled the room as friends collapsed together for the ten minutes of freedom between periods.
Gabrielle, the last to lay her paper on the stack, hesitated. “Miss Tarrington?”
“Yes, Gabrielle. What can I do for you?”
“Do we really have to read the essay in front of the whole class?”
Reaching for the jumbled stack of papers, Tessa smiled. “Gabrielle, part of this class is presenting your composition.”
“But can’t I just write another essay. Would that make up for not reading in front of the class?”
Her mind flashed to a similar conversation she’d had with Mrs. Monahan ten years earlier. “I’m sorry, Gabrielle. Part of your grade
is your ability to share your words. Speaking in front of people is a needed life skill. And at least in class, you’re among the safety of your classmates.” Tessa regretted the message before it slipped through her lips.
“But Miss Tarrington, reading in front of the class will be the worst. The boys already tease me, and the girls act like I smell of rotten eggs doused with drugstore perfume. I don’t have any friends in class. Even when I thought I might have a friend…well, I just don’t think I can do it.”
Tessa slid to the front of her desk, resting against the edge. “You can. Even if it’s a horrible experience, reading in front of the class will make the next time you need to talk in front of a room of harsh critics much easier.”
“But I’ll never have to talk in front of a class again.”
Tessa chuckled and squeezed Gabrielle’s shoulders. “Trust me. Talking in front of people is kind of like algebra. It’s something you never think you’ll need, and then you find you use it every day of your life.”
Tears threatened to spill down Gabrielle’s cheeks.
“I hear what you are saying. And trust me…I understand wanting the anonymity of the back row more than most. Let me see what I can do. OK?”
Gabrielle’s face lightened. A smile stretched to pop the tiniest dimples on either side of her chin. “Thank you, Miss T. Thank you so much.” She spun on her heel and raced down the hall.
Tessa closed her eyes, thankful for the free second period. She prayed for guidance on how best to protect and promote Gabrielle.
“It’s only second period,” Ryland’s voice wafted through her classroom. “Nothing can be so bad that you are already in prayer.”
Her gaze grazed the length of his broad form. “Hello, Coach Jessup. Don’t you have a baseball tournament to schedule?”
He shut the door to the hall, sauntered across the room and tugged her to him. “I realized I hadn’t said hello to you yet this morning.”
“Oh,” she whispered. His lips lowered to hers and branded her with their heat. His mouth curled to a subtle grin. “Hello.” His eyelids bowed over the smoky depths.
Life on the Porcelain Edge Page 22