Matthew tipped his chin and kissed the top of her head and another part of her died; the strength and heat of his body behind her was nearly unbearable now with the knowledge she had finally surrendered to. She would literally rather die than part from him, and yet die she must, because he deserved better than her. No matter what he thought. He had a family who loved him, and who would do anything on Earth for him…and he deserved a woman who could love him in the open, who could bear his babies and who his family would love, too. For the right reasons.
Oh, God. For a moment she was dizzy with the crippling pain and closed her eyes tightly against the vertigo in her head. Matthew felt her shift and curled his arms more tightly around her torso. He whispered, “You all right, sweetheart?”
She couldn’t speak, but managed to nod. She thought, I have to leave tonight. I can’t take it another moment. If I don’t do this now, I won’t have the strength.
But Matthew spoke just as her lips parted, and the words froze on her tongue. He whispered, “I have something for you.”
She whispered back, inanely, “But it’s your birthday.”
She felt his smile in the air above her head. “I know, but your present leads to the only birthday present I really want.”
He shifted behind her and she turned to face him, struggling to keep the pain from her eyes, finding his almost glowing with happiness behind her. She thought that her heart might shred itself to pieces just looking at that expression in his eyes. It would shred, and then remain here with him, forever. She would never have it back, she knew that with conviction.
And then, to her utter horror, she realized that he was reaching into his sweatshirt pocket for something. Her heart stuttered, seemed to stop. She felt tears of joy springing into her eyes before she could think, the pure sweetness of the moment leaping out and into her soul for a wonderful, crystalline moment before reality inflicted its death-blow. Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the gasp; Matthew was shifting to one knee on the dock in front of her, reaching with his free hand to catch one of hers and bring it to his lips. He had been grinning, but his wide, mobile, lovely mouth was suddenly serious, his dark eyes intent on her own.
“Elizabeth Bryce Mitchell, I love you with all of my heart,” he said, low and intense. “I wish that I could scoop the stars out of the sky and offer them to you and give you even a tiny of bit of what you’ve given me. I have never been happier in my life, or more fulfilled.” Here he stopped for a moment and drew a deep breath, while her insides leaked out and all around them on the ground. “I refuse to live one more day of my life without you in it, and so I ask you,” and his voice was a soft, husky, passionate whisper, “Will you be my wife?”
Bryce felt later as though she’d watched the entire moment, the most heartbreaking of her existence, from a few feet above, spiraling like cottonseed on a light wind. He felt her trembling, knew suddenly what was going to happen, and his heart splintered, a pick-axe driven into it. She couldn’t take her eyes from his, the dark depths of them crushing her hard. Finally she had to look away, and so she reached and took the ring box into her hands, cupped it like a baby bird while his heart sent panicked blood all through his body.
“It’s beautiful,” she managed to whisper past the jagged lump that was swiftly cutting off all air passage between her mouth and lungs. And it was, a small, solitary, glimmering round diamond, winking at her like a cruel joke under the stars she had no doubt Matthew would scoop from the sky and lay at her feet. He was the kindest, dearest, most beautiful man alive; no one could equal him, and that’s why she must say it.
“But I can’t,” she whispered, and gently placed the ring back into his hand. With that gesture her knees crumpled and she sank to the dock, unable to bear his stricken white face.
“Bryce,” he whispered, and he sounded like he was choking. He cupped her shoulders with both hands, trying unsuccessfully to quell the panic that was building in his chest. “Bryce, tell me what’s wrong.”
She was sobbing almost soundlessly, face buried in her hands, and he was terrified. He shook her a little, his heart thundering, his chest tight. “Bryce!”
And she lashed out, anger swelling as it had the very first night they’d been near the lake, and she let it come once again, because it was the only lifeline she had at this point. She could see before her now the grim path she would now inevitably take; in time she would perhaps be able to live day to day with the memory of annihilating both of them with her words.
“Goddamn it, Matthew, you live in a dream world!” she hissed at him, hating herself. “We are related! We can never get married, because it’s illegal!” Her words flew out in gasps, punctuated by near-hysterical sobs. “Your family loves you, goddamn it! You don’t even know how much they love you, how lucky you are. I would give anything to have that!” He opened his mouth but she cut him off, wriggling out of his grasp and leaping to her feet. She was scarcely taller than him while he was kneeling. “You have everything here, and I won’t ruin that for you. Do you even know what people would say if they knew about us? What kind of horrible, ugly things they would say? I won’t do that to you, Matthew. I won’t. I fucking love you too much!” Tears were streaking over her face. And she was suddenly deflated, silent, hollow-hearted.
Matthew’s eyes flared darkly into her own. It was all he could do to keep his voice from shaking. “If you think for a second that I am letting you go like that, you’re wrong. So what if people talk. Fuck ‘em. Do you honestly think I would let a thing like that keep me from you? Are you actually going to stand there and tell me you think I won’t fight for you, do whatever I have to do?”
Bryce closed her eyes, pain ripping her apart. Oh, God, don’t make this any harder. Matthew, my Matthew…I would do anything for you, anything but ruin your family. You’re far too good for me, can’t you see that? Instead she whispered, broken, “I won’t let you. Matthew, I won’t let you do that.”
“I will march down to the house this moment and tell Wilder and Erica the truth. Hell, I planned to do that tonight anyway.”
Her eyes flew open in stunned surprise. He was still kneeling on the dock before her, his earnest gaze burning into her soul. He caught her hands and kissed her knuckles, and for a moment she wavered. He made it seem possible. He went on, softer now, “Baby, it’s all right. We will make this work. I swear to you, Bryce. You are my heart and soul, my entire life.”
And you are mine. For a fleeting moment she let herself imagine it would be as he said…until the memory of her conversation with Wilder only days earlier blazed into her mind, and she knew she was right to do this. Matthew would be the world’s best father, and she would not deny him that, no matter what. Agony crackled in her veins, poisonous. She gathered all of her courage and spoke the lie aloud. She heard her voice say, “I won’t marry you, Matthew. Not now, not ever.” She wanted to die, now. His eyes. She choked, “I’m so sorry.”
And then she ran, the dock trembling beneath her feet, stumbling through the woods and up the porch, into the dark, silent, sleeping house. In her bathroom she knelt and vomitted as quietly as she could manage, until she was weak and raw. She tipped her skull against the cool edge of the tub, incapacitated, hardly able to draw a breath. She listened for Matthew to re-enter the house, but the night passed eventually into a dim gray dawn, and still he didn’t come home.
***
Morning. Bryce awoke to the sound of breakfast activity below, Erica and the girls making what smelled like pancakes to the tune of the local country station. Her head was thrumming like truck tires on the interstate; she was crumpled beside the tub, the grout lines from the tiny floor tiles criss-crossing her right cheek in livid red lines.
I have to go down there and be normal, she thought, easing to a sitting position, cradling her torso, which contained all of her most injured parts. Oh, God, is he in the house? The thought of seeing Matthew today made her entire body seize with terror. I can’t be near him after last night. I will fold
, I will give in. I will fucking die. Her longing was a tangible thing in the air all around her. In time maybe it would subside slightly, enough so that she could make it through an hour without aching for him. Her breath was coming in gasps and she bent her head between her knees, crazy with need for him. If he hurts even a fraction of how much I do, I can’t bear to see him. And she knew he did.
She delayed making her entrance as long as she dared, standing in the hot shower until her skin was nearly flayed off. It’s just a few more hours, she promised herself. Just until I can buy a bus ticket.
“Bryce! Are you excited for tonight?” Evelyn’s voice reached her as she came slipping down the staircase, straining to hear any sounds of Matthew in the rooms below. Her heart tripped over itself as her young cousin appeared at the bottom of the stairs, face shining. The scent of bacon and warm maple syrup drifted from the kitchen and Bryce felt the need to puke all over again, but forcibly restrained herself, made her feet continue their forward course. To Evelyn she replied, her voice gravelly, “What’s tonight?”
“Daddy and Mom’s anniversary party, remember?”
“That’s right,” she said weakly. Shit, how do I get out of this?
To her intense relief, Matthew was nowhere to be seen. Erica, seated at the table with the twins, caught sight of Bryce and called, “Hungry, honey?”
It’s all the acting skills you have right now, Bryce, she told herself. But she said, “I’m not really hungry. I think I might be sick.” You fucking coward. But another part of her didn’t care what she had to do to get this over with.
“Oh, honey,” Erica sympathized, as Bryce sank into her usual chair and forced herself to meet her aunt’s kind eyes. “You do look a little peaked. Maybe you should stay here and sleep awhile longer. Rest up for tonight.”
“Bryce, you look like you’re gonna barf,” Emma added helpfully, and Erica’s eyes became slightly alarmed. She sprang from her chair and moved around the table, reaching to place her right palm on Bryce’s forehead.
“You don’t feel feverish,” she mused, and then patted Bryce’s head as though she was a little girl. “But better get back to bed all the same. I’ll head back at lunch to check on you.”
***
Hours passed. Bryce fell into a dreamless, boneless sleep, her body drenched with agonized exhaustion. When she finally woke, the afternoon light was warm on her bed, a rich and beautiful honey spill across the white bedspread. She hadn’t called for a bus ticket today. She had scarcely moved from the same position while sleeping, and her fingers and toes tingled with pins and needles; her mouth was dust-dry.
Matthew. Where are you?
Her heart thumped in painful acknowledgement of last night and what she had said to him.
Please don’t believe me. I would marry you tomorrow if I thought I could.
She curled around herself, her heart a gaping open wound in her chest. Seconds later a soft tap sounded at her door and she stiffened as though electrocuted. Erica’s voice then, gentle, “You awake in there, honey?”
Bryce cleared her throat, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. She said, “Yes.”
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
Erica peeked around the door. “You feeling up to coming tonight? It won’t be the same without you there.”
Oh, Erica. I wanted you for my family so bad. She heard herself reply, “Yes, but I think I better head home tomorrow. I need to get back to my job.” Forcing a chuckle, she concluded, “Connie is ready to kill me for missing so much time.”
Erica’s eyebrows lifted, making archs. “Already? You’ve only been here less than two weeks!”
Oh my God. Has it been such a short time? Bryce said, her voice trembling only a little, “I will really miss you guys, though.”
Erica smiled at her, warmly. “We’ll miss you, too, sweetie. You’ll be back soon. You and your mom. I know it. We won’t let so much time pass now.”
She didn’t know if it was self-torture, or selfishness, insanity, or the simple irresistable desire to be near them all one last time, but after she called downtown for a ticket to Oklahoma City on the 11:55 bus–leaving tonight–she dressed in her jean skirt and a clean white blouse Erica lent her, brushed her hair and teeth, though she couldn’t manage a drop of make-up with her wooden fingers, and climbed into the passenger seat of Erica’s car. Her bag was packed upstairs. She looked hard at everything one last time, because this was it, the last time she would see any of it wreathed in daylight.
The kids were in the backseat, dressed up and giggling and talking excitedly; Bryce said, “Erica, you look so pretty.”
She did, her gorgeous red hair falling over her shoulders, in a soft dress the color of a ripe peach, pearls at her throat.
Evelyn followed up. “Daddy will love that you’re wearing his pearls.”
Erica smiled at her daughter in the rearview mirror as she turned onto the road towards the Lodge. “Thanks, you two.” To Bryce she added, “Wilder gave me these as a wedding present, 15 years ago today.”
“They were Grandma’s,” Evelyn explained.
“Mom, will we get to stay and dance all night?” Emma asked then, and Bryce almost smiled at the tone of voice she had grown to anticipate.
“Honey, you guys are going home with Jenny, remember?”
“Okay,” she agreed, somewhat mollified. Then, “Bryce, why do your eyes look all funny?”
“Emma!” Evelyn and Erica spoke together.
“Well, they’re all squishy-looking,” Emma said, sticking to her guns.
“Emma, you are such a dope,” Cody told his twin. Even though he agreed with Emma, to Bryce he added, “You look really nice.”
“Thanks, Code. I just have a headache. But please don’t mind me. We’re going to have such a good time tonight.” The speech cost nearly all of her bravado. But Erica even bought it, because she reached over and squeezed Bryce’s left knee, saying, “Yes, we will.”
Emma’s next inquiry made Bryce’s heart bolt up out of her chest, and she had to look hard out the window to compose herself. Emma said, “Where’s Uncle Matty been all day? Uncle Riley said he didn’t show up at the beach.”
Evelyn said, “He drove over to Fairfield to grab a couple of things for tonight. Remember, Daddy ordered special champagne?”
“Oh. Can I try some?”
“No way, fish-lips!”
“Cody Patrick!”
“Fish-breath!”
The Lodge parking lot was festooned with pink and peach balloons, Erica and Wilder’s two wedding colors. Across the grand front entrance stretched a banner reading CONGRATS TO THE WORLD’S BEST COUPLE. Bryce wildly scanned the vehicles, but saw no sign of Matthew’s big truck. Much as time had passed for her at Daniel Sternhagen’s funeral, things seemed to be hovering behind a thin, nauseating haze. Only now the ache in her body was a thousand times worse; this time, she knew exactly what she was walking away from. How much it was like leaving large, vital chunks of herself behind. People all around her were having a wonderful time under the glimmering lights, swirling on the dance floor to Bailey Ryan’s band, drinking, laughing, joking, congratulating Erica and Wilder, who had remained virtually hip to hip throughout the evening, arms around each other, smiling, kissing occasionally…until the pain in Bryce’s chest intensified to an unbearable degree. Her eyes teared up over and over; to her relief, no one was inclined to notice.
Matthew was nowhere to be seen. Bryce sat at a long table topped with peach-colored linen, bowls of pink roses and abandoned drink glasses, watching the crowd intently, her stomach too keyed up to sip anything other than water. She longed for something about 100 proof, though, and a full bottle. Throughout the evening she vaguely recalled chatting with Debbie, Riley and Kelly Iverson, her cousins, saw Angie Strickland arrive on the arm of a tall, good-looking guy she didn’t recognize, and around 9:30, Jenny Ryan’s folks carted Cody, Emma, and several others kids home; shortly after, Evelyn left with a group of
teenagers. Bryce hugged her hard, her heart hammering. Around 10:00 she was making her way back from the bathroom, thinking she should just head to the bus station now, when Wilder caught up with her and said, “Hey there, stranger, how about a dance?”
She nodded, let him lead her into the couples; her internal radar was slashing the crowd, but Matthew had not yet appeared. Her entire chest felt as though a metal band had it cinched mercillessly tight. The music was slow, swanky, something from a much different era. Wilder spun her neatly around, said, “Erica told me you were leaving tomorrow. We are sure going to miss you, kiddo.”
He looked so handsome, his blue eyes kind and gentle, his lips smiling at her, his blond hair so like her mother’s hanging loose tonight. She thought, If you knew the truth, you would take back those words. And for a moment, she felt a small measure of comfort, no matter how much it killed her.
“I’ll miss you guys, too,” she replied, looking hard into his eyes for a moment, wanting to tell him everything and yet so glad he would never have to know; when Nate Ryan, tall and dark and grinning at her, moved to cut in, she moved effortlessly into his arms, as empty as a trunk that had once held gold.
***
A half-mile up the darkened road, at the front counter of the gas station, Wade Thompson was asking Cliff Berg, “How do I get to the Sternhagen place?”
Cliff counted out Wade’s change, was about to ask the newcomer if he meant the Pull Inn or their house when Randy Strickland, on duty and milling around the coffee pot, called, “They’re out at the Lodge tonight, Cliff, remember? It’s Wilder and Erica’s anniversary.”
“Shit, that’s right,” Cliff said, and pointed down the road to the right. “It’s no more than two minutes up that-a-way, young fellow.”
“Thanks,” Wade said, drawing his thumb across his upper lip. He pocketed his change and made for the door quickly; Cliff went back to his Car and Driver, but Randy’s gaze followed curiously. Shit, he thought, suspiscious for a moment as he poured himself a 24 ounce slugger of coffee. But then he sipped and shrugged it off.
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