by Naomi Niles
I sat there looking at my pretty ring and felt sorry for myself. When Dylan came home, he found me sitting in the dark in tears. I told him how I felt about our families as he held me and let me cry. When I’d calmed down some he said,
“If you could get married anywhere you want, where would it be?”
“I’ve always wanted to get married on the ranch like Marlene and Steve did by the lake.” When I was a kid, my dad had a lake put in on our property. Over the years, he’s had trees planted and grass and flowers. It’s like a secret garden. My sister had her wedding there and it was the most beautiful wedding I’d ever been to. I always imagined getting married there, too. He pulled me in tighter to his chest and kissed the top of my head,
“Then, that’s where we’ll get married. I’ll go talk to your dad in the morning.” That made me cry harder. First of all that he would do that for me, and second of all because I knew Daddy would say no.
Chapter Twenty-One
KYLE
Callie and I sat in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. I had finished my last radiation treatment two weeks ago and today I’d had my scan. The radiologist was here, so he and Dr. Grant were behind closed doors looking at it while we waited. Callie gripped onto my hand like she was expecting the worst. It was really sweet of her to be here. We’ve only been dating for less than a month, so it wasn’t like I expected her to come, but she insisted. The only problem was that she was so nervous it was actually worse than being here listening to Sarah complain about how long they’re taking or how badly the office needs to be repainted.
“Kyle?” The nurse came out of the back. “Dr. Grant is ready to see you now.” I stood up and brought Callie to her feet with me.
“You want me to go back with you?”
“Of course. You sat here with me all day. You get to hear the good news with me.”
She smiled. “Thank you,” she said, like I was inviting her to lunch instead of the inner sanctum of my oncologist’s office.
Dr. Grant and Dr. Bromfield, the radiologist, were both waiting for us. I introduced Callie as we sat down. Dr. Grant had the MRI in front of him, and he handed it to me. I stared at it for a minute and then said, “I really don’t know what I’m looking at.”
“Well, son, you are looking at a clean bill of health right there. The radiation didn’t just shrink it. Can you see the difference in this one?” He lay the picture of my last MRI down next to this one. The only difference I could see was a spot that looked lit up, like a little nightlight in my head.
“The light is gone,” I said as I pointed to it.
He smiled. “The light, as you call it, was the tumor. The contrast picks it up on the MRI as light. When the tissue is dead or gone, there’s no light. After your surgery, the part we left because of the blood vessels still lit up on the scans. Once it began growing, the light got bigger. No light now means all dead tissue.”
I smiled as I processed what he was saying. There wasn’t any left like last time. It was all gone. “Really?” I finally asked. I felt Callie clamp down on my hand.
He chuckled. “Really. I wouldn’t lie.”
I remembered all of the times he told me bad news and knew he didn’t have a big problem with that, so he had to be telling it to me straight. “That’s awesome. Thank you both.”
“You did the hard work,” Dr. Grant said after they both shook my hand. “I still want to follow up with you every three months for the next year, though, okay? Don’t go MIA on me with your newfound tumor-less brain.”
I laughed. “You give me the appointment Doc, and I’ll be here.” I thanked them again and as we were leaving the office he said,
“Kyle?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you still going to therapy?”
“Um, no, I finished that right before my radiation.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You look great, don’t get me wrong, but you’re still dragging that foot a little.”
I looked down at it to keep from looking him in the eyes and said, “I get lazy sometimes when I’m tired, but most of the time, it’s okay. Thanks, Doc.” I pulled Callie out behind me before he could say anything else. When we got into the lobby she hugged me.
“I’m so happy for you!” she said. “But what he said about therapy…”
“The therapist signed off on it,” I said, letting it go at that. “I’m happy for me, too. How about we go out somewhere really nice tonight and celebrate?”
“I’m always up for somewhere really nice,” she said with a grin. “What did you have in mind?”
“What about The French Room?”
Her pretty eyes went wide. “Really?” she looked at the time on her phone. “Could you get a reservation this late?”
The French Room was a high end restaurant that’s actually been on almost every show about food on television and every magazine, as well. It’s not a place I go often, but I actually helped with designs on some of the renovations a few years back. The place was built in 1912 and they wanted the renovations to fit with the old style architecture. I love old buildings and it’s kind of my specialty. The manager and I are tight and I happen to know he sets aside a couple of tables on Friday and Saturday nights for what he calls his “special” guests.
“I think I can swing it,” I told her as we got into her car. Driving was going to be my next step. I still worried a little about how heavy my foot got sometimes.
“I’ve never been there! I’m so excited,” she squealed. Before she started up the car, she leaned over and covered my mouth with hers. I let my tongue slide up against hers and brought my hand up and cupped one of her breasts. I ran my thumb back and forth across the hard nipple as we kissed. When she pulled back, she was panting. “If you don’t stop that, I’ll never make it home in time to get ready for tonight.”
I grinned. “We could always do The French Room tomorrow…”
“No way, mister! We’ll do THAT afterwards.” I rolled my eyes, but smiled. She very enthusiastically participated in sex and although I’d never felt as overwhelmingly attracted to her in bed as I did Amber, it was still good…and Callie didn’t have an ex-boyfriend she wanted instead of me.
*******
Callie picked me back up at eight that evening. I’d gotten us a reservation for eight-thirty. I opened the door and nearly choked, she looked so damned fine. “Wow!”
“You like?” She twirled around. She was wearing a dress that came to just above her ankles. It was made out of sheer black lace and slit all the way up the front to her waist. Underneath it was some kind of black body suit that covered all of the important things, but shit, it had my imagination working overtime. She had on a pair of black cowboy boots with it and her long hair was twisted into a braid on the side of her head. It was lying against her right breast and I couldn’t help but think how lucky it was to be there.
“Like doesn’t quite cover it. I’m not really hungry…”
She giggled. “Get your coat handsome. Later, remember.”
I sighed and slipped on my jacket. “Speaking of coats, it’s the middle of November and you’re walking around in a…very nice handkerchief…”
She laughed. “I have a coat in the car. I wanted to show off.”
“That you did,” I said as I switched off the light. My mouth was dry and I was probably going to have to ask her to leave the coat on all night or I wouldn’t be able to walk for the wood in the way.
She let me rest my hand on the upper part of her silky thigh on the way. I tried moving it up a few times, but got smacked for my troubles. I couldn’t wait for this dinner to be over. She pulled up in front of the hotel, and I saw the valet checking her out as she slipped into her coat. I grinned at him and slipped him a twenty as I slid my arm around her and walked her away. Poor guy.
The manager Jean Paul greeted us warmly, and I introduced Callie to him. “So, what are we celebrating?” he asked.
Jean Paul didn’t know about my illness, I worked wi
th him before it happened. I just said, “A clean bill of health after a really big scare.”
He looked from me to Callie trying to decide which one of us it was and then as he decided it didn’t matter, he showed us to our table and brought over a bottle of wine. “This is one of my personal favorites,” he said. “Please make a toast to the continued good health of two beautiful young people…for me.”
“Thank you.”
After he left, the waiter opened and poured our wine, and when he was gone Callie said, “This place is so beautiful!”
“Yeah, it is.” The tables were pretty close together, but something about the way they are arranged and the soft music playing overhead made it seem like we were the only ones there. I couldn’t imagine wanting to look at anyone else anyway, with Callie sitting across from me and looking as hot as she did tonight.
The waiter came back and Callie ordered the Salmon and I got the roasted duck. My dad used to hunt a lot when I was a kid and I loved duck season. Sarah was always a good cook, although I’m sure it’ll taste a little different made by an award-winning chef.
“So what did you help them design?” Callie asked me.
“They had some problems with the structure of the roof. I helped them re-design it so they could keep the authenticity of the look and make it sound at the same time.”
She smiled. “You’re so smart.”
“Right and you’re the one in law school.”
“Not quite, but soon. I can’t wait to be a lawyer. I was looking at some literature for the Innocence Project the other day. I’m thinking about volunteering some of my time.”
“That’s the organization that helps people who were convicted wrongly, right?”
“Yep. My dad worked with them Pro-Bono for a while. He said it was really satisfying.”
“Isn’t everyone in prison innocent, though?” I asked her with a smile.
“Some of them really are smarty pants.”
“So, how do they decide which cases to take?”
“They get letters or calls from thousands of people. They screen them and find out if there’s any new evidence, like DNA or something. They go talk to the inmate and each one of the attorneys brings the ones they want to take on to the table. They decide from there depending on manpower and urgency of the case, which ones to take.”
“So when school is all said and done, I’m guessing you want to be a defense attorney?”
“Yeah, for sure. Prosecutors are politicians, in my opinion. They work for the government and with the police and their goal is to incarcerate. I think we incarcerate too much in this country.” I didn’t exactly agree with her, but it was too soon in our relationship to get political, so I just nodded.
The waiter came then with our soup and as he sat it down in front of me I leaned back – and nearly fell out of my fucking seat. Amber had just walked in on the arm of a cowboy I could only guess was Dylan. My chest suddenly felt tight and I was having a hard time catching my breath. I thought Callie looked hot tonight, but there was that thing again – that electricity that reached out and grabbed me by the throat each time Amber and I were in the same room.
“Do you know them?” I looked at Callie and she’d turned to look in their direction.
“Um…yeah, kind of. She used to be my therapist.”
“Oh, she’s really pretty. Is that her husband?” The hostess led them to a table kind of across and diagonal from us. Amber didn’t seem to notice me and she was sitting facing away from us. That was a good thing, except that I had to see the moony-eyed look that Dylan was giving her.
“Her boyfriend, I think. How’s your soup?” Callie gave me a funny look and I wondered what my face looked like. Sarah used to tell me when we were kids I shouldn’t ever try to lie because the truth always showed on my face. I wondered if the truth that even after all of these months I’d cut off my right arm to touch her again showed on my face.
“Kyle?”
“Mm hmm?” I took a sip of my soup. It was hot, and I didn’t even taste it going down.
“Why did you stop going to therapy? I mean, I heard the doctor ask you about it today and I was just wondering…”
“Just like I told him, I was doing so much better I didn’t think I needed it anymore. Like I said, she signed off on it anyways.”
“Oh…did you want to go say hello to her?”
I want to go do more than say hello. I smiled at Callie. “No, I want to stay right here and enjoy my evening with you.” Her face brightened. I took a deep breath and a drink of my wine. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
AMBER
Dylan asked the waiter for a bottle of champagne and a glass of water. I hadn’t drunk in front of him since he got out of rehab, but he insisted he wanted me to have a glass of champagne. The waiter asked, “What are we celebrating tonight?”
Dylan smiled. “Our engagement,” he said. “It took me three weeks to get in here, though.” The waiter smiled. Three weeks was fast for this place from what I’d heard.
“And, our families,” I added. Dylan had done what he said he would for me. He’d driven out to the ranch and had spoken to my father. My mother told me later on that when she saw them go into the barn, she didn’t think they would both come out standing. She said they were in there for over an hour, but when they came out, they were shaking hands. All Dylan would tell me was that he assured my father he loved me and would never hurt me again. Daddy told me later that all he wanted was for me to be happy, so if Dylan was it, he’d accept that. I’ve been walking around on cloud nine thinking about getting married by the lake. We’d decided on March so far, but not an exact date.
The waiter went to get the champagne, and Dylan reached across the table and took my hand. “I have one more surprise,” he told me.
“What’s that?”
“I got a call from Tuck Henry, do you remember him?”
I made a face. “The old pervert? How could I forget?” Tuck Henry is a retired rodeo clown that worked with Dylan’s father for years. One night at an after party when I used to travel to some of the rodeos with Dylan, the old man cornered me and put his nasty hands in places they never should have gone. Dylan was, of course, too drunk to defend me. I’d kneed the old guy in the crotch and caused a big scene. Dylan and I had a big fight afterwards that culminated in him telling me I was dressed like a slut and me calling him a worthless pussy. It’s one of those memories I’d gladly forgotten until now.
He grinned at me. “He is an old pervert, but he also has a lot of friends in the PRCA. He offered me a job, baby.”
“Doing what?”
“Judging. I’d have to attend a few seminars first before the next season starts, but the pay is good and it’ll be a legitimate job.”
I wanted to be happy for him, I really did, but my mind was swirling with a thousand different scenarios. “You’ll have to travel?”
He waited for the waiter. He brought the champagne and popped it open. He poured us each a glass and then he sat a glass of water in front of us both as well. Dylan thanked him and he left. Then he picked up his flute and said, “To us.”
“You’re going to drink that?”
He rolled his eyes. “One glass, Amber. It won’t kill me. There’s hardly any alcohol in it, anyways.”
I didn’t want to argue with him. I picked up my glass and said, “To us.” We clicked them together and drank. As Dylan guzzled his, I felt a little trickle of worry crawl up my spine. “Now, back to the job. You would have to travel?”
“Well, yeah, of course. But you could come with me.”
“Dylan, I have a job. I have a clinic to run. I don’t want to live on the road-”
“Okay, don’t get upset on me, okay? We’re just talking.” He poured both of us another glass of champagne. Again, I let it go as I watched him drink his. “The season is nine months long. I wouldn’t have to be at every event, so I could be home more than I am on the road. I want to d
o something to make you proud of me, Amber. You were right when you said I needed a job. This is something I know.”
I nodded. I could see how excited he was about it and I didn’t want to take that away. “I know, and if you really want to do this, we can figure it out.”
He grinned. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The waiter came back to take our orders. I was happy to see that Dylan hadn’t poured any more champagne as we sat and talked.
“Dad’s talking about building another house on his property,” he said.
“Really? For the ranch hands?”
“Nope, for us.”
Dylan and I had lived in that piece of shit house of his dad’s for five years now. He had only been over to our house once in that entire time. He’d sat there for an hour making digs about how bad the house looked, only he directed it all at me. It did look like shit because the paint was peeling, the carpet was old, and the roof leaked…but none of that had anything to do with me keeping house, although he acted like it did.
The bottom line was that his father was kind of an asshole. He was an old cowboy who was never around when Dylan was growing up and when he finally retired and came home, he wanted to be buddies with him instead of a father. He holds the night I had Dylan arrested against me and he thinks I “nagged” Dylan into going into rehab. He drinks like a fish and sees no harm in his son doing the same. As far as I knew, he was not happy about us getting married. I wondered why he suddenly wanted to build us a house. Dylan must have seen the skepticism on my face because he said, “He knows how much I want this to work. He only wants to help.” I forced another smile and took another drink of my champagne.
“It’s nice, really.” I was determined not to let myself slip back into the pattern of finding fault with everything Dylan said or did. He really was trying. “I’m going to use the ladies room before our food comes.”
“Okay, baby.” He stood up when I did and kissed me before I left. I tasted the champagne on his lips and felt that tickle of anxiety again. It had moved to my belly. I made my way to the front of the restaurant where the bathrooms were. There was a young woman washing her hands when I walked in. She had on this gorgeous black dress. I’d seen one like it not long ago and thought about buying it for myself. Now that I saw it on her, I wished that I had.