Love In Darkness

by E. M. Tippetts

  “There’s a lot of pretty advanced legalese in there,” says Aunt Ellie.

  “Yeah, but your letter saying it’s all a waste of time doesn’t have much technical jargon in it.”

  “Be serious.”

  I practiced for this moment. I look her straight in the eye and lift an eyebrow, just like my father did. I’m still not sure if his visitation was real, what with the fact that I’ve got a psychotic disorder and all, but if he was a figment of my imagination, my imagination was pretty darn accurate in this respect.

  All the color drains from Aunt Ellie’s face.

  “I’m a Wilkstone,” I say. “I’m a direct descendant, and I know this town. This is my home. I’ve served these people. I know their needs.”

  “You know their cop and their jail,” she shoots back.

  “Justin’s a good guy. We’re friends. And yeah, all the dumb stuff I did in high school, not that different from his adolescence.”

  “This new business in town,” says Dylan. “The disabled care company-”

  “Kirsten and Kailie. Yeah, I’ve helped them a little with that. They’ve offered me a job as a care provider.”

  “And the Madison Lukas factor?” says Aunt Ellie.

  “Ye-ah… about her…” I chew my lip, enjoying this. “See, the thing about Madison Lukas is that she’s kind of my girlfriend.” I shrug. “She has been since high school, so I think I’ve got a pretty good understanding of that whole situation, her business and all that.”

  “Wait, what?” says Aunt Ellie.

  “She drove me home from the hospital. She’s been my support person in my family therapy sessions. It’s not like it’s a big secret.” Now, I know, is not the time to bring up my plan to give her my grandmother’s diamond ring. To the LDS community, Madison and I are two returned missionaries who’ve been in a long term, stable relationship. Lot’s of people in our situation get married. Dr. Maliki’s worked with the two of us together and agrees that we’re ready for commitment. To the rest of the world, though, we’re a couple of crazy, clueless kids.

  So I change the subject and pat the binder. “I’ve been reading up on real estate development, how to solicit bids, stuff like that. We’re going to have to increase the number of low income housing units given how things are going here in town.”

  Dylan and Lisa exchange a look.

  “Alex,” says Lisa, “you are on your medication, right?”

  “I have friends, okay? People let me know if I’m delusional or starting drift off course. Fine if you don’t believe that Madison Lukas would date a guy like me, but she does and has for years and… that’s reality. And I may be young and inexperienced for a job like this, but I’ll have help, whether or not it comes from you.”

  “Okay, you know what?” says Dylan. “You look good, Alex. Real good.”

  And the truth is, I feel good. Better than I have since the ordeal with my illness began. Being with Madison and having that part of my life settled has done wonders for my stress levels and wonder, of wonders, I’ve stabilized. Soon I’ll be down to just monthly check-ins with Dr. Maliki. My temporary visa to reality has been upgraded to a Green Card. As long as I toe the line, I’m here indefinitely.“Listen,” I say, “I’m happy to answer any questions you guys have, but I don’t want to stay past four. I planned to visit my mother this afternoon.”

  “How’s she?” Lisa asks.

  “Psychotic. Probably won’t ever be able to come home.” I stare each of my relatives down until they flinch. This’ll be the first time I get to see my mother. Dr. Maliki gave the all clear just yesterday.

  “Okaaaay… Alex, I’ll back you,” says Dylan. “You want to direct this Foundation, fine.”

  Lisa looks sidelong at him, shakes her head, but says nothing.

  Aunt Ellie rubs her forehead like she’s got a splitting headache. “I’m too old to keep doing this. Okay, good luck, Alex.” She waves at me like she’s banishing these problems from her life. She’s done, so whatever will happen, will happen.

  Not exactly resounding support, but it’s enough for me.

  That afternoon, Madison and I head to Pacific Psychiatric. The happy smiles and the light in Madison’s eyes that I saw when I told her I loved her weren’t just temporary. She’s the old Madison again with the spring in her step and the dazzling smile.

  Today the voices are also back, chattering away in the background. I expected that. This is stressful, what I’m about to do. Usually, I don’t hear them much, although sometimes they still disrupt things with Madison. Now I can just tell her and she understands and will hold me through it. She also manages my prescriptions, puts my medication in a daily dose pill sorter, has her name down as the primary contact if anything happens to me, and does everything else I used to do for my mother. Which was what I tried to avoid, but Madison’s right. It’s her choice and I respect it. It’s a new concept, though, accepting a gift instead of a trial.

  When we arrive at the hospital, my usual sense of dread returns, but keeping it under control is as easy as reaching for Madison’s hand. She knows how hard this is for me. We get ushered upstairs by a nurse and once again, I look through the little window in the door at my mother. She has her back to us, her hair longer than before, but not as greasy. They’ve managed to bathe her.

  I can’t do this. I can’t endure having her scream at me in terror again. I look at Madison and shake my head.

  “I’ll go,” she says. “Let me try.”

  The nurse looks at me for permission and I nod, not that I want to put Madison through this, but I know she can handle it, and she wouldn’t have offered if she wasn’t willing.

  The nurse opens the door and Madison says, “Grace?”

  My mother’s head jerks around and she stares, wide eyed. No scream, though.

  “It’s me. Madison. You remember me?”

  My heart is in my mouth as Madison steps into the room. My mother looks her over, but doesn’t panic.

  “Alex is here. You know Alex?”

  “Alex is here?” My mother looks past Madison and at me. Her face blossoms into a smile. “Alex?”

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and step into the room. My mother greets me with the first hug I’ve had from her since I left for Japan. She smells like antiseptic and lotion, rather than the sandalwood I’m used to, and her frame is even thinner and more frail, but it’s still her. “How are you, Mom?” I ask, switching to Japanese.

  “Not good. It’s awful here. When can I go home?”

  I don’t know how to tell her, “Never,” so I just say, “I’ll look into it. Is there anything you need right now?”

  She responds by pulling the pocketwatch toy out of her pocket and handing it to me.

  Not the answer I wanted. Countless childhood traumas are associated with this watch as the only time she’ll ever try to give it to me is when she’s contemplating suicide.

  “I don’t know what that is,” she tells me. “I need you to throw it away.”

  “Right.”

  “So who is this girl?”

  Madison stands just inside the doorway still.

  “That’s Madison,” I say. “You remember Madison?”

  “No, no. There is no Madison. Where is that other girl, the one with the broken face?”

  That makes absolutely no sense. I can’t think of any real world person she might be talking about.

  “There’s only Madison,” I say. “She’s the one I love. You don’t remember her?”

  At that she looks Madison over. “Is she your wife?”

  “Not yet. I was going to ask her to be later today. Don’t tell her. It’s a secret.”

  “I won’t tell,” Madison promises, her eyes dancing with amusement.

  “No, who are you?” my mother asks. “Get away from me.”

  I back away and Madison and I exit the room before my mother can get too agitated. Madison slips her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry.”

  “
That’s five more minutes than I would have had if we hadn’t come down here.”

  “There’s that. And the setup here looks good. Kailie swears it’s all good.”

  I nod.

  We leave with our arms around each other. I’d hoped things between Madison and I would be as good as they were before my mission, but they’re better. Every letter we wrote, every difficult conversation we had, they all laid the foundation for what we’ve got now. Madison’s a part of me. The only downside is that I really don’t know what I’d do without her. It gives me new insight into what happened to my mother when my dad passed away.

  Once back in the car, I direct Madison to drive us towards the coast, to a little town in sight of the ocean where there’s a rocky beach with a view of the gorgeous sunset. Madison’s smile is knowing as she parks the car. I suspect she knew what I planned even before I told my mother. She’s intuitive like that.

  Her eyes shine and her smile is radiant as I lead her out onto a broad, flat rock on the beach, and get down on one knee. I dig my grandmother’s ring in its box out of my pocket – and realize that would have been a lot easier if I did it before kneeling down – and open it to show Madison the diamond inside. “Madison,” I say.

  She bites her lip, waiting. The breeze of the ocean is gentle and tinged with the scent of brine. The sun glows deep orange as it drops towards the horizon. Gulls scream overhead and the ocean sloshes over the rocks with a soft whisper.

  “Will you become my attorney-in-fact if I lose capacity, and the trustee of my special needs trust?”

  There is no irony in her smile as she says, “Yes,” as if I’ve just asked her to accept a lucrative lottery win. Sharing what was good in my life made her my girlfriend, but sharing what’s bad in my life, that’s what makes her family.

  I get to my feet and kiss her until my vision swims for lack of air. She laughs and smiles as I slide the ring onto her left hand, and with that, her decision is final. She’s mine for eternity.

  The last time I woke up pinned down by a girl, I panicked and threw her across the room. It’s different with Madison. I catch her scent and feel her nuzzle my cheek and have my arms around her before I’ve even woken up all the way. The feel of her in my arms still makes my head spin, despite all the months we’ve been back together.

  Her hair’s still wet from the shower and she smells like hotel soap rather than the usual brand. I must’ve dozed off. It’s been an eventful day.

  We’re in Oakland, in a hotel, and earlier today we visited the Temple wearing all white, knelt across an altar from each other, and committed to eternity together. My cousins and some family friends met us when we exited and that’s when my aunt pulled out a new power of attorney, advance healthcare directive, and trust agreement with a contingent special needs trust provision, all of which I signed on the spot. One of the temple workers was a notary who put his seal on the signatures. Madison’s brothers were there. Her parents were not. That’s not a situation that’s likely to work out anytime soon, but it’s a stress we’ve determinedly shelved for later.

  After we finished posing for pictures, we all went out for sushi in lieu of a reception. We’ll have that in Pelican Bluffs after the honeymoon.

  I think my cousins expected Madison and I to be giddy and giggly, but were surprised to see that we’re not. We’re calm. We’re aware. We’re ready for this. Come what may, we’ll face life’s ups and downs together.

  Madison wore a stunning white kimono made by Siraj’s sisters, but that’s hung neatly over the bathroom door right now. She’s wearing just a bathrobe and unbuttons my shirt with kisses trailing in the wake of her fingers.

  I sit up and take her mouth with mine, drawing the kiss out long. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” I whisper.

  “That’s why I’m putting you on a practice regimen. A rigorous one.”

  “Careful what you wish for.”

  “Mmm, who’s wishing? I’m telling you how it is.” There is no apology in her smile.

  Never in a million years did I think I’d make love to Madison Lukas – or Madison Katsumoto, actually. The guy who had her for eternity was supposed to be some super-handsome, hyper-competent individual who put me to shame, but Madison chose differently, and now it feels natural to have her this close, to have her kiss me like there aren’t any boundaries between us anymore.

  Heaven is being with the people who love me. It’s somewhere I thought I’d lost for the rest of my lifetime, but now I’m here, with her. There may or may not be dark days ahead, but I won’t face them alone.

  She tugs loose the belt of her bathrobe and smiles, daring the rebellious loser with a reputation for being a psycho to do his worst to the sweetest, kindest, most popular girl in school. It’s a scandal that I doubt will ever get old.

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  Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or other bookselling and book review sites. Nothing has helped my career more than the fans who’ve taken the time to do this.

  Other books by me include:

  The Fairytale Series:

  Someone Else’s Fairytale

  Nobody’s Damsel

  The Shattered Castles Series:

  Castles on the Sand

  Love in Darkness (pretty sure you have that one)

  Standalones:

  Paint Me True

  Time and Eternity (out of print)

  Writers who beta read/critiqued this novel while it was being written:

  Caisey Quinn

  Rebecca Berto

  And a special thank you to A. Meredith Walters for vetting some of the mental illness scenes

  I am also the science fiction and fantasy short story author, Emily Mah.

  Short stories I’ve written include:

  Polar Shift

  Root

  Avatar (cowritten with Ty Franck)

  Across the Sea

  And I helped edit and compile the anthology, Under the Needle’s Eye which includes my short story, Coyote Discovers Mars

  The first thank you always goes to my friend, Char Peery, the former housemate who confided in me that one of her dreams in life was to befriend an author and read all of their books first. I have tried many times to warn her off of making me that author, and she has paid dearly in the number of abysmal rough drafts she’s read. So she will always have my undying gratitude.

  I could not have gotten this book into its final form without the help of two spectacularly talented authors who beta read it: Caisey Quinn and Rebecca Berto.

  Caisey, I am so privileged to have found you before you got discovered. I can’t wait for the release of your first novel, and every novel after. Thanks for always being honest in your beta reads and telling me what I need to hear, even if it isn’t what I want to hear. It’s made all the difference to my writing. It helps that we appear to share a brain.

  And Rebecca, you already had been discovered when I met you, or should I say you’d made yourself known. Not content to wait on anyone else for your career success, you’ve honed your craft and built an amazing platform for yourself. The sky’s the limit for you at an age when I hadn’t even started my writing career. I plan on telling you “I told you so” a lot over the upcoming years. Thanks for tearing the first draft of this novel to pieces and helping me make it 110% better. And thanks for patiently showing me the ropes of marketing on social media. It helps to learn from the best.

  I’d also like to thank Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations for the gorgeous cover that captures the feel of this book perfectly, and Julie at A Tale of Many Reviews who had the misfortune of working with me right as my schedule got blown to smithereens. Thanks so much for your patience and for going above and beyond to organize the cover reveal and launch event for this title.

  Technical aspects of this book took quite a bit of research,
and author A. Meredith Walters was kind enough to share her expertise as a former mental health counselor. Much of what I got right about schizophrenia is thanks to her. Everything I got wrong is my own fault entirely.

  Last, but never least, are my own family. Mom, who’s still the best copyeditor I’ve ever known. Both Mom and Dad, thank you for looking after my boys while I rewrote this novel in a week flat. My sons, thank you for entertaining each other during long afternoons while Mommy stared off into space and stressed about people who don’t exist. And Trevor, thank you for enduring all the crazy ups and downs that come with an indie writing career, for feeding our children dinner and putting them to bed, and for reading my work, even though I know you don’t come home from work thinking, “I really want to read a romance novel!” If I had the skills, I’d write you a math textbook, but alas, I don’t.