The Last Goodbye

by Sarah Mayberry

  “I guess.”

  She’d notified Wendy about the funeral, and her friend had flown home to pay her last respects to her elderly neighbor. It had been a short service, and Ally had stood between Tyler and his brother at their father’s graveside and grieved for both of them, as well as herself.

  Bob had not been a perfect human being. In fact, he’d been a very flawed, angry, narrow-minded human being a lot of the time. But he’d produced two good men, and he’d not been without his small moments of humanity.

  “You want a hand carrying your table out to the car?” Wendy was standing beside the table, admiring Tyler’s craftsmanship again, the gleam of avarice in her eye.

  Ally gave her a mock-steely look. “Hands off. I’ve already told you you can’t have it.”

  “But it looks so good in my house.”

  “Then you’ll have to commission one of your own.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same as this.”

  Ally lay her hand on the table, thinking about all the work that had gone into it, the history behind it. “No, it wouldn’t.”

  She let Wendy help her carry it outside, worried about bumping it against the door frame. They were about to descend the steps when a voice called out.

  “I’ll do that.” Jon bounded up the path, ready to intervene.

  “We can manage.”

  “All the same,” Jon said. “I told Tyler I’d help you pack when he left yesterday.”

  Ally threw up her hands and stepped back. She’d already learned it was useless to argue with him. Tyler’s brother had some very old-fashioned ideas where women were concerned.

  She and Wendy watched as he picked up the table easily and strode down the path with it.

  “Who would have thought there could be two in one family?” Wendy murmured out of the side of her mouth, her eyes glued to Jon’s backside.

  It was true—Jon was as good-looking as Tyler. They shared the same big build and dark hair, and they had the same square jaw. Jon’s eyes were more gray than silver, however, darker and stormier, and his face more angular. He looked as though he’d lived a harder life than Tyler, too, the lines around his mouth etched deeply, his hair touched with gray at the temples.

  “How long did he say he was hanging around for, clearing out the house?” Wendy asked.

  Ally nudged her with an elbow. “It’s open-ended. And you have a perfectly lovely boyfriend, remember?”

  “I do, it’s true. Which is probably just as well. Jon might be lovely to look at, but I have a feeling he’d be hell to house-train.”

  Ally studied Jon as he bent to the task of fitting the table into her already crowded car. Knowing what she did about Tyler and Jon’s upbringing, she suspected he had more than his fair share of monkeys on his back.

  “Yes. Some lucky woman’s got her work cut out for her, that’s for sure.”

  She returned inside to collect her handbag, then rejoined Wendy.

  “Thanks for everything, Ally. It was a load off, knowing you were keeping the home fires burning,” Wendy said. “Keep me posted, okay? I’m waiting for the next big announcement with baited breath.”

  Ally gave her a confused look and Wendy started humming the wedding march.

  “No. We’re not getting married,” Ally said adamantly.

  It was enough that she was moving in with Tyler. More than enough.

  “Then maybe this, then.” Wendy mimed a big baby belly and held her back in the classic pose of pregnant women everywhere.

  “No.” Ally shook her head. She hoped her friend couldn’t hear the thread of panic in her voice. “We’re taking this one step at a time.”

  “Maybe you are, but Tyler’s practically building nursery furniture and planning your retirement home. That man is crazy about you.”

  “I should get going,” Ally said abruptly. “I want to make it to Tyler’s place before it gets dark.”

  She kissed Wendy goodbye, then did the same with Jon, thanking him for his help. Then she slid behind the wheel, started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  I can do this. I can move in with Tyler and love him and not make a mess of it. I can.

  She gripped the wheel tightly and told herself the same thing over and over as she turned onto the freeway to Melbourne.

  She knew she was making a mountain out of a molehill. Knew that the moment she saw Tyler again, all the doubts would fade. What they had together was right. The best thing that had ever happened to her. This time it was going to be different.

  That’s what Mom said with Tony, remember? Then she left him after nine months.

  “It’s not the same,” she said out loud.

  She heard her voice echo around the car and reached to punch on the stereo. She needed to stop thinking and simply let things happen. That’s what she’d been doing all along with Tyler, and things had worked out fine. Just fine.

  She got lost twice trying to find Tyler’s house and finally had to pull over and call him for directions. He guided her the last few streets. When she turned the final corner, she saw him standing on the sidewalk, phone to his ear.

  He was wearing his most raggedy, faded jeans and an old, worn T-shirt with a surfer logo on it, and he looked utterly precious and dear and familiar to her as she parked at the curb and cut the engine. Her heart gave a painful little squeeze and she practically fell out of the car, craving the reassurance and certainty she always felt when she was in his arms.

  He met her halfway, scooping her into an embrace, and she kissed him with everything she had in her, holding him tightly, fiercely, her arms trembling with the force of her emotion.

  He broke the kiss after a moment and laughed. “Miss me, babe?”

  “Yes.” She pressed her head against his chest, waiting for his steady presence to still the tumult inside her.

  “How was the drive down?”

  “Fine. No problems.”

  His hand caressed her back, but she could feel his distraction. He wanted to unpack the car and show her his home. Her home.

  She let him pull away, even though every instinct told her not to let him go.

  “You ready for this?” he asked, his eyes dancing with silver light.

  “Of course.”

  He took her hand and she turned to face his house. It was exactly as she’d imagined—and also a million times better. A double-fronted Victorian, it had a central door with windows on either side. A bull-nose veranda shaded the front of the house. The smooth stucco finish on the facade had been painted a soft vintage white while the trim on the windows and veranda was glossy black. A neat box hedge lined the redbrick path, and the veranda was covered with earth-hued heritage tiles in a traditional tessellated pattern. A graceful bench sat to one side of the veranda, and matching cumquat trees were placed either side of the door in big stone pots. The lights were on in both the front rooms, giving the house an internal golden glow in the deepening dusk.

  “It’s lovely.”

  “Come inside.”

  She could see his pride, his excitement as he led her up the path and through the door. He wanted her to love his place as much as he did.

  “Our bedroom is on the right, the guest on the left,” he said as their footsteps echoed on the wide, worn planks of the floor in the generous hallway.

  She stopped in the doorway of his bedroom—their bedroom—and looked at his big king-size bed and his beautiful wooden bed frame and nightstands. White plantation shutters were folded on either side of the front window and a dark chocolate-colored carpet covered the floor.

  “I like your colors.”

  “We can change them if you like. None of it’s set in stone.”

  “No, it’s all lovely.”

  He gestured for her to explore further and she crossed the plush carpet and ducked her head into the doorway to the en suite. A gleaming antique washstand with a white marble counter and shiny chrome taps dominated the space. A freestanding claw-foot bath was situated in an alcove, a double shower
next to it.

  “Wow.”

  In a daze, she followed Tyler into the hall and beneath a decorative archway.

  “This used to be the third bedroom,” he said, throwing the door open.

  She stared at the desk he’d set up in the corner and the cushioned window seat beneath the bow window. The walls were a buttery soft yellow, the trim a crisp white. The floor was covered with a faded antique rug in shades of umber, gold and brown. A carved bookshelf sat empty on one wall, waiting to be filled with books.

  “I thought you could use this as your office.”

  He was watching her closely but for the life of her she couldn’t think of anything to say.

  The room was…perfect. From the color of the walls to the window seat with its fat, colorful cushions to the gleaming desk with its leather inlay. Just like a page in one of the magazines she spent hours poring over.

  “I’ve always loved window seats.”

  She felt as though she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. She’d expected Tyler’s house to be nice—the man was a meticulous craftsman, after all, and she’d already deduced that he was a bit of a neat freak—but this house was more than nice. It was mellow and worn in all the right places, it had charming quirks and modern finishes, and, most of all, it was filled with Tyler’s warmth.

  It wasn’t simply a house, it was a home. A home with heart and warmth, a place to settle and be comfortable and put down roots.

  She crossed to the desk, imagining herself working there, gazing out the window as she pondered an answer to one of her letters. She’d keep a big vase of fresh flowers in the corner at all times, and a fluffy throw blanket on the window seat in case she wanted to curl up with a book. And when Tyler was working from home, she could give him the desk to lay out his designs and she could write from the window seat…

  “Come and see the kitchen.”

  It was as charming as the rest of the house—white country-style doors with wood countertops and an old-fashioned porcelain farmhouse sink. The living room boasted a huge fireplace and opened to a paved entertaining area and a stretch of grass bordered by trees.

  “It’s a bit bare out here,” Tyler said, flicking on a light so she could see. “I’m not much of a gardener.”

  Ally shook her head, blown away. Utterly overwhelmed. “It’s amazing. All of it. I feel as though I should ask you to pinch me.”

  Tyler smiled. “No pinching. Not yet, anyway.”

  He dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “I’m going to start unpacking your car before it gets too dark.”

  “Okay.”

  She followed him as he walked toward the front of the house, stopping in the doorway of the study again.

  She was still standing there when Tyler returned with her table.

  “You okay?”

  “This is surreal,” she said without thinking. “I feel as though I’m in a dream.”

  He frowned. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  She forced a smile. “It’s a good thing, of course.”

  He gestured toward the table. “In here or in the bedroom?”

  “Um. Here, I guess.”

  He carried the table into the study and placed it near the window seat.

  They made multiple trips to her car. She frowned as she realized how much she’d accumulated over the past few months. Normally it would take her only two trips to unpack her car, but somehow she’d collected a bunch of stuff while she was at Wendy’s. For starters, she’d brought all her magazines with her, something she never did. Usually she donated them to a nearby women’s shelter or left them for the owner of the house to enjoy. But not this time. She’d bought a few cookbooks, also another no-no, since books were hard to carry around. And somehow she’d bought more clothes than her suitcase could accommodate.

  “I don’t know how that happened,” she murmured as Tyler lay the excess clothes on the bed.

  “What?”

  “I don’t remember buying so many clothes.”

  “There’s lots of storage, don’t worry.”

  He crossed to the built-ins and opened the first set of doors.

  “I’ve cleared out a space for you.”

  He left to collect the final items. She stared at the empty rails in front of her. She could see Tyler’s clothes at the far end, pushed aside to make room for hers. She heard footsteps in the hall and Tyler appeared in the bedroom doorway.

  “That’s it, all done. I bought chicken for dinner. I’ll put it on while you unpack.”

  “Sure. Great.”

  He disappeared. Ally turned to her suitcase, reaching for the zip to open it. The hand she stretched out was trembling violently. She stared at it for a moment—then she gave in to the panic battering at her from all sides and sank to her knees.

  She pressed her forehead against the rough canvas of her suitcase, trying to get a grip on herself, trying to hold it together. She clenched her hands, pressed them tightly against her belly. Tried to breath through her nose, slowly and deeply.

  Nothing helped. Everything in her still wanted to run screaming for the exit. Which was crazy. This place—this home—was beautiful and warm and welcoming. She could imagine herself cooking dinner in the kitchen, then lounging up on the couch with Tyler afterward, watching TV. She could imagine herself sleeping in on Sunday mornings, then getting muddy in the garden. God help her, she could even imagine little feet running up the corridor and the skitter of claws as the family pet followed their child.

  And it was too much. Too big, too all encompassing. Too real. Too possible.

  “Ally. What’s wrong?”

  Tyler’s hand landed on her shoulder, warm and steady.

  She shook her head, unable to articulate the realization crystallizing inside her.

  “Ally. Talk to me. What’s going on?” He tried to draw her into his arms but she stiffened and pushed him away.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “It’ll pass. It’s just a panic attack,” she said.

  He crouched beside her, his eyes dark with worry. “I didn’t know you had panic attacks.”

  “I don’t. Not full-scale ones like this. Not since I was a kid.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  Ally stared at the carpet in front of her for a long moment. Then she slowly raised her head until she was looking him in the eyes. “You can let me go,” she said.

  There was a beat of silence before he responded. “You want to leave?” He sounded very calm. Almost as though he’d been expecting something like this.

  “I can’t stay.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  She held out her hand so he could see how much she was shaking. “A part of me wants this. But the other part of me knows it’s not right. I told you from the start, I can’t settle. Your house…your house is beautiful, Tyler. I want to believe I can live here with you and make it work, because I love you so much. But I can’t even unpack my case.”

  “Right. The gypsy gene.”

  She started to cry. “I told you. I’m a screw-up. I’ve screwed up every relationship I’ve ever had. And now I’m going to mess things up with you and hurt you and I don’t want to. I love you so much and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She started to sob, her body jerking with the power of her grief and misery. Tyler tried to pull her into his arms again but she resisted him.

  “No. I don’t deserve your comfort. I’ve led you on and made promises I can’t keep. I tried so hard not to be like her, to keep my distance and not hurt anyone else, but I have. I have—” She broke off, unable to continue, curling in on herself.

  Tyler pulled her into his arms despite her wordless protests, pressing her close and holding the back of her head in his hand as though she was incredibly precious to him. It only made her cry more.

  “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you,” she said over and over.

  “Jesus, Ally.” There was a ragged break in his voice. “Stop saying that. It’s not tr
ue, and it’s killing me.”

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t believe me? You don’t believe you have a right to be happy?”

  “This isn’t about happiness. This is about knowing yourself. I should never have let this happen between us. Not when I knew this would happen.”

  “What is this, Ally? Explain it to me.”

  “You know what it is. I told you. I have to go. I can’t stay here. If I try to settle, it’ll only be worse in the long run. Harder. Messier.”

  “Why can’t you settle?”

  She pushed away from his chest. “Because that’s what I do. I leave. I’m my mother’s daughter. A faith less, feckless gypsy who can’t stick.”

  “You’re the least faithless person I know. As for being a gypsy, I’ve never met a person who wanted a home more in my life.”

  Ally stared at him. He lifted a hand and started counting off points.

  “Your favorite pastime is reading decorator magazines, looking at other people’s homes.”

  “I like the pictures.”

  “No, Ally. You like the homes. You’re a Peeping Tom, a voyeur, looking through the window at what you want.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Then there’s Dear Gertrude. You think it’s an accident that you get so much out of helping other people? That you feel ‘connected’ to them and like the fact that you help them? You need them every bit as much as they need you, Ally. They’re the family you’ve never allowed yourself to have.”

  It was like a slap. She flinched.

  “Allowed myself to have? As though I had a choice, when my mother didn’t want me and my grandmother died on me and my aunt resented me. As though I chose any of those things.”

  Tyler didn’t say a word. It took a second for her own words to sink in. She pushed herself farther away from him.

  “No. This has nothing to do with my family.”

  “This has everything to do with your family, Ally. This has everything to do with a little kid who learned early on never to get comfortable and never to trust anyone. A lesson you learned so well you’ve spent your entire adult life rejecting people before they could reject you.”