“No, Taylor. We’re not playing that game tonight. After fourteen years, you and I are going to finally have it out. We’re laying all of the cards on the table.”
Tears began to sting my eyes. “Please take me to the ER.”
“Not a chance.”
Not another word was said until he pulled into his office parking lot. I didn’t recognize it.
“I moved about five years ago.” He recognized the obvious question on my mind.
I looked out at the much nicer building. The sign read, Merryton Family Medicine, with his name as well as a Deborah Singer, which I assumed meant he had taken on a partner. And judging by the building they were doing very well. As he came around, I opened my door with my left hand.
He met me at the door and shook his head at me. He jaw was clenched and he had tension written all over his body. He helped me down and took up applying pressure to my hand. He kept a hold of my hand for the short distance it was to his entrance. He let go of me and I took up applying pressure while he dealt with alarms and doors. We walked in and I was pleasantly surprised to see he had done away with the eighties motif his last office had. When we moved here forever ago he had taken over Dr. Garrison’s practice. Dr. Garrison was retiring and his office was decked out in mauves and hunter green. The furniture looked like a floral shop threw up on it. It was terrible. I remember us laughing at the ridiculousness of it, but we couldn’t afford to change it out, so it had to stay. Now his office was professional looking, with wainscoted walls and taupe paint. The waiting area had black high back chairs. It was nice.
For someone that wanted to have it out with me, he sure was quiet as he led me to patient room one. He helped me onto the table. “Lay back and relax.” Anger laced his words.
I did as he said since he seemed to be in no mood for my arguments. I kept my eyes closed and thought of all the things I wanted to say to him, along with all of the ways I could get out of talking to him. I knew he was right—we needed to have it out—but I was afraid of what would happen if I finally let the dam break. I was worried I would break.
I listened to him wash up then open and close drawers. It didn’t take too long before I heard him wheel his chair next to me. He pulled out a tray from the table and carefully laid my arm on it. As he undid the towel, I opened my eyes and looked over at the damage. My cut was a doozy, it was deep and ran almost the whole length of my palm.
After he examined the damage, he sighed and softened his voice, switching into doctor mode. “I’m going to numb it before I clean it out and stitch it up.”
I nodded my head in acknowledgement.
“You’re going to feel a tiny prick,” he warned me like I was six.
I gave him a small smile and he gave me one in return, then went in for the kill.
“I like your new office,” I said searching for something to distract me from the fact he was sticking a needle in me.
“Thanks. My partner Debbie can be credited for the design.”
“She has good taste. How long have you been partners?”
“About ten years now.”
“That’s a long time.”
“We get along well. She’s an excellent doctor and friend.” He paused. “I think you would like her.”
“Really, why?”
“She’s not afraid to tell me when I’m being an idiot.”
I laughed softly. “Is that a common occurrence?”
He smirked and went on cleaning my hand. “You certainly did a number on your hand.”
“Any permanent damage?”
“No, but you’re going to have a nice scar.”
“Great.” Because that’s all I needed.
He meticulously placed several stitches across my hand. I could feel the tug, but not the pain. I knew that would come later. This wasn’t the first time he had stitched me up. When we had moved here several years ago, I had scraped my leg against one of our old chairs that, unbeknownst to me, had a nail sticking out of it. It had left a nice scar, too. This town had a penchant for leaving scars, both physical and emotional.
Easton was done in no time at all. He cleaned me up and loosely wrapped my hand in gauze. “Lie still while I clean up,” he instructed me.
I behaved like a good patient. Besides, I wanted him to take his time. I wasn’t looking forward to what was coming after he was done playing doctor. I watched him, and even from my vantage point I could tell he was agitated. It took a lot to rile him and I had done a good job tonight. He was shutting drawers harder than necessary and muttering under his breath.
He left briefly and came back in with a plastic cup of water and some Tylenol. I began to push myself up as best as I could when he entered. He set down what he was holding and rushed over to help me. In doing so, his hand skimmed the bare skin on my back, where my shirt had come up in the process of sitting up. His soft, warm touch made me shiver, but his intense brown eyes warmed me right back up as we locked eyes. I swore if I had reached between the narrow space that separated us, I would have been shocked by the electricity we seemed to generate.
I was grateful when he broke the connection by stepping back. “Do you feel lightheaded at all?”
“No.” Yes, but not from the stitches.
He turned, retrieved the medicine, and handed it to me. I took it in hopes of warding off the pain for a bit longer. I wondered if he had anything for a broken heart.
“Thank you.” I downed the medicine and water.
“You’re welcome,” he said stiffly.
“You probably still have time to make your game,” I said, hoping to avoid the storm in his eyes.
He shook his head slowly. “Not unless you can explain to me in the next five minutes why you left me fourteen years ago.”
“Only if you can tell my why you never asked me to come back.” I did my best to hold back the tired and angry tears.
“I think it’s going to be a long night.”
I had a sinking feeling he was right.
Chapter Eight
Easton called Ashley as we left his office. “Your mom and I will be gone for a while. Yes, your mom is fine. Make sure Raphe leaves by eleven,” he warned.
I looked at the time, it was only seven-thirty; I guess he had a lot to say. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. My stomach was tied in knots and my throat felt constricted. I didn’t think we would be having this conversation so soon, or ever. I had really banked on the uninvolved ex brochure.
Before we left his office, he loaded me up with ice packs, extra bandaging, and some spray to keep infection at bay.
We stopped at City Market, the town grocery store. He threw his truck in park and looked at me sternly. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I did so with my head against the window, trying to decide whether I should stay and let this happen or get out of his truck and walk home. I had a feeling the latter wouldn’t go over too well with him. I had never seen him so determined.
He came back out carrying a Styrofoam cooler and a couple of grocery bags. I was perplexed, to say the least. I watched him walk to the back of his truck and let down his tailgate. From the rearview mirror I could see him fill the cooler with ice, water, and some other items I couldn’t make out. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. He secured the cooler and joined me in the cab.
“So where are we going?” I asked as soon as he started his truck.
“Somewhere we can be alone and talk.”
“Could you be more vague?”
He looked over to me. “Trust me.”
I took a deep breath and nodded.
It was a silent ride, other than the radio playing classic rock. We made our way out of town and up into the mountains. He took a turn-off I was familiar with. It ironically led to a dam. I wondered why he was taking us up Dam Road, but I didn’t say a word. Once in a while, we would glance at each other, but that was our only communication until we made it to the visitor parking lot. I wasn’t even sure if this old dam still did tours.<
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I looked over to him and raised my eyebrow.
“Trust me,” he repeated.
He came around and opened my door. He helped me out, but stopped me before I could move away from him. “Let me see your hand first.”
I gave him my injured hand.
He pulled back the dressing and looked it over. “Are you in any pain?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you feel up to taking a little walk?”
I nodded my head yes.
He held out his hand for me to take. I thought for a moment.
His eyes narrowed in frustration. “Come on, Taylor. I want to make sure you keep steady on the rocky path.”
I gave him my left hand and our fingers intertwined naturally.
“I’ll take you over the river, start a fire, and come back for the cooler.”
I nodded my head in agreement to the plan. I didn’t even know you could cross the river here.
We walked across the empty parking lot and took a little trail that led down to the river. The path was rocky and steep. I was grateful for his hand as the evening sun was overshadowed by the trees. And admittedly, I missed holding his hand. I missed him. As we approached the river, I could make out a narrow bridge. We would have to walk across it single file. He led and I followed while he held my hand tightly. He even rubbed his thumb across it like he used to do. I always loved that small act.
The river below was rushing more than usual due to the abundant snowpack and run off they had had during winter and spring. It was definitely much cooler up here than down in the valley. I wished I had known where we were going; I would have dressed more appropriately. The shorts and t-shirt I had on weren’t sufficient, especially as I hadn’t acclimated. I was used to hot and humid weather in June.
We continued in silence, except when Easton was pointing out where not to step. I had always loved the sounds of the evening up in the mountains, so I appreciated the quiet. I focused on the sound of the water and the rustling of the aspen trees. I also breathed in the deep, clean smell of the pine trees and water. The path after the bridge ran parallel with the water, but it edged up higher. We didn’t have to walk very far, maybe a quarter of a mile before we landed at our destination. There was a little clearing off the trail. It looked like a place that had been used before. There was already a stone fire pit and logs that circled it for sitting.
Easton led me to a log and helped me sit down. I immediately started using my good hand to rub my body, trying to generate some heat.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get a fire going, sit tight.”
What else could I do? I probably looked ridiculous blowing warm air on my hand and reaching down and rubbing my legs, but it was chilly. I had the goose bumps to prove it. Easton gathered kindling, wood, and went to work building a fire. Watching him reminded me how much he loved the outdoors. The mountains had hooked him from day one. I remembered our first visit to Colorado together. We slept out under the stars. He was amazed at what you missed in the sky living in the city. The altitude and clear atmosphere up here illuminated the night sky. It was simply breathtaking. He was definitely Rocky Mountain high. And I must have been high letting him convince me to move back here.
It didn’t take him long to get the fire going. That first wave of warmth from the golden flames felt glorious. I sighed in relief.
He chuckled. “Will you be all right here by yourself for a few minutes?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
He handed me a small flashlight. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched him disappear into the darkness. I stood carefully once he was out of sight. I took turns warming up my front and back. I decided I needed a fire for both sides. What I really needed was a jacket.
As promised, he wasn’t gone that long. He brought with him a cooler and a jacket. He sat the cooler down and wrapped his large fleece jacket around me. I curled up as much as I could on the log and pulled the jacket around my legs too.
Easton grinned. “I’m sorry. I forgot how much you hate the cold.”
“I’m warming up now. Thanks for the jacket.”
He scooted closer to me, dragged the cooler with him, and opened the lid. It was filled with all my favorites: nectarines, cherries, and dark chocolate. There was water, too.
I looked at him and took a moment to appreciate his handsome face in the glow of the firelight. He had subtle lines around his beautiful eyes, but it added character. I could also see a little gray hair interspersed. In my opinion, it only made him more attractive. I found myself wanting to reach out and touch him, but I refrained. I reminded myself how we got here in the first place. “Thank you,” was all I ended up saying.
He reached up and tucked an errant piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re welcome,” he whispered.
I shivered, but not because I was cold. In fact, I was feeling toasty. Too toasty. I had to look away from him. I grabbed a nectarine and held it in my hands.
He looked out over the fire that was now blazing. I loved how it made the tree line ahead light up. It gave everything a magical feel, but this was no fairytale. I heard him take a large breath and blow it out. “So, ladies first.”
I stared at my nectarine. Where did I even begin? “What do you want to know? I thought it was obvious.”
He turned to me and I think his eyes reflected more heat than the fire. I guess he was angry too. “What I want to know is how my wife could just leave and take everything I loved most with her without any indication that she was planning on leaving me and without any thought of what that would do to me.”
I felt an immediate rush of anger. “You’re asking me if I considered what it would do to you? Did you ever stop and think about what you were doing to me when you were sleeping with your nurse?”
“I wasn’t sleeping with Kathryn! Why couldn’t you believe that? Where did the trust go?”
“It went out the window when you started acting like a husband that was cheating. Coming home later and later, sleeping on the couch instead of with me, smelling like another woman. I can give you a laundry list, but I did try to give you the benefit of the doubt. I got a babysitter for Ashley the night before I left. I decided to surprise you late at your office, but instead I got confirmation. I saw you there with Kathryn.”
He took the nectarine out of my hand and threw it has hard as he could. I was taken aback by his behavior. I thought he was long over this. I heard a thud in the distance where the nectarine had landed.
“So you jumped to a conclusion and the next step was to leave me instead of asking me about it?”
“Because I knew what you would say! I didn’t want to be like my mother. I only ever saw my father deny, lie, and promise to change and it never lasted. Besides, when was I supposed to ask you about it? I never saw you. You were constantly gone and when you were home, you were sleeping.”
“Taylor, you knew what you were getting marrying a doctor.”
“Yes, I did. And I supported you and supported you. I did everything I could to make sure you could do your job. My life revolved around you and then Ashley. Unfortunately, you revolved around you, too.”
He had this look of incredulity on his face. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s see, for starters, I worked two jobs to help you finish medical school, basically putting in as many hours as you a week, but it was still me that took care of all the cooking and cleaning too. Every time I had a break, I would sneak over to visit you at the hospital. Never once did you take your time off to come and visit me. And I told you I didn’t want to move back to this place, but I did, even though it was painful for me, because I wanted you to be happy. We could have made more money in Birmingham, but I supported your dreams and made do with what we had. I pushed off the things I had been looking forward to. And then we got here and it was like Ashley and I barely fit into your schedule at all. I tried so hard to stay perfect and hold it all together, but I was tired. I was taking care of a baby all night, with
no help from you, but you didn’t care. Not once did you try to give me a break because you saw what you did as being more important. Then, worst of all, my mom died and the day of her funeral—the day I needed you most—you dropped me and Ashley off at home after the service and left to check on your patients. Honestly, I’m surprised you even noticed we left.” I took a deep breath and looked into his slack face. “I always wondered how long it took you to notice we were gone.”
Wow! I exhaled slowly. I had to say, it felt good to get that out after all of those years. I was proud of myself.
By the look on Easton’s face, he felt anything but good. Maybe sorrow and regret. But wow, I felt the knot I had been carrying in my chest for years loosen. It was still there, but I didn’t feel like it was strangling me anymore. I picked up another nectarine and took a bite. I figured I better eat it quickly, because Easton looked angry enough to throw something. As I ate, he watched me. I could see trouble brewing in his eyes. He attempted to speak several times, but each time he failed, and I could tell that was frustrating him.
He got up and started walking around, kicking rocks as he went. I didn’t say a word, but I wondered what was making him behave this way. And maybe part of me felt glad that this had bothered him, too.
After almost ten minutes, he threw himself back on the log next to me. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were so unhappy being married to me?”
I found myself in tears remembering back all those years ago. “Because, Easton, for a lot of our marriage, I was happy.”
Easton reached out and took my uninjured hand.
“I loved being married to you. And, honestly, I thought if you loved me enough you would have noticed. I thought I didn’t need to say anything; it seemed so clear. But you never did. You even quit saying you loved me, unless I said it first, and sometimes even then you didn’t reciprocate. And when I left, you acted as if you couldn’t have cared less, so saying anything seemed like a moot point.”
He took a deep breath and squeezed my hand. “Taylor, I did care and I noticed the second I got home that you were gone. The house felt empty. I didn’t even need to read the note you left. I knew you weren’t there.”
Taylor Lynne: The Women of Merryton - Book Two Page 8