Purple Orchids

by Samantha Christy

  I take a long sip of my wine. “Callie, do you ever think that there’s just too much drama here?”

  She throws her head back and bellows out a throaty laugh. “Of course there’s too much drama here. I think people thrive on it. Why do you think they make so many movies in L.A.?”

  She sees I’m not amused. Her hand slides across the table to take mine. “What’s wrong, Baylor?” she asks. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

  “That’s the problem,” I say. “I feel like being here is chipping away at who I am. I mean, Gavin has been wonderful. You’ve been wonderful. But Maddox and I don’t fit in here. We don’t belong here, Cal.” I look around again at the women in the room. “Do you remember the slumber parties with Jenna and Skylar? Just us girls with a few bottles of wine and a deck of cards. Who does that here?”

  “We could,” she says, pointing between the two of us. “It’s only been a month, you know. Maybe you just need to give it a little more time.”

  I shake my head and tears threaten to spill over. “I think I made a mistake by coming here. Maddox and I have so much back east. Friends, family, a sense of belonging. We have so many reasons to be there and only one to be here. I know Maddox would fit in eventually. I know I would make new friends. But here’s the thing—I don’t want new friends. The ones I already have are perfect. My life in Maple Creek was perfect. Plus, Karen is here. She’ll always be around, lurking, and I’ll never be able to relax. Not completely.”

  When I come up for a breath, Callie says, “What are you saying? You’re considering moving back home?”

  “See, that’s what I mean. Even you still call Maple Creek home and you’re not even from there.” I trace the circular top of my wine glass with my fingers. “It could work,” I tell her. “Gavin could visit there like he did before, and Maddox and I could come here. He wouldn’t have to do so much traveling this time. We could even come back here for long vacations. You know, summers and holidays.”

  Callie cocks her head to the side, studying me. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.” She takes a drink of wine, never breaking eye contact. “Well, have you?”

  I close my eyes and nod my head. “I hate it here, Callie. Maddox hates it here. He won’t come right out and say it, but he does. He’s changed. He doesn’t have long talks with me like he used to.”

  “I can see it, too,” she says. “I think he’s a little depressed. I guess I just thought it would pass.”

  “This will probably kill Gavin. He’s done so much for us. He’s tried so hard to make everything perfect. But I have to do what I feel is right for Maddox and me.”

  “Okay then,” she says. “I guess we’re moving back home.”

  “What?” I snap my eyes up to her. “You’d come back with us? But your family is here.”

  “You’re my family, too. You and Maddox,” she says. “Plus, either L.A. has changed in the past three years, or I have. It’s nothing like I remembered. So, yeah . . . I’ll go back to Maple Creek with you if you want me to.”

  I almost topple over the table getting up to give her a hug.

  “Anyway,” she says into my shoulder, “Collin has been texting me. Quite a lot, as a matter of fact. He said now that he isn’t working for you, he could ask me out. He said I should look him up whenever I go for a visit.” She pushes me away and holds me at arm’s length. “Oh, shit—if you go back, he’ll have to protect you again.”

  “No,” I say. “We’ll hire someone else. I want you to get your man.”

  I sit back down, feeling that a weight has been lifted. Feeling like I can breathe for the first time in a month. I pull out my phone to text Gavin. I have to tell him today. Now.

  Me: We have to talk.

  Gavin: Are you pregnant? ;-)

  Me: What?

  Gavin: The last time you sent me a text with those four words, you were pregnant and then everything went to shit.

  Me: No, not pregnant.

  Gavin: But something else big.

  Me: Can I drop Callie off and swing by your office?

  Gavin: Of course, darlin’. I’ll be here. Just promise me that whatever it is, you won’t talk to Karen along the way.

  I smile at his ever-loving wit as I motion for the waiter to bring the check. Then my heart stops when I see a woman staring at me from a table in the back of the restaurant. A heavy-set woman with black hair who averts her eyes and shifts uncomfortably in her chair when I see her.

  I get a bad feeling in my gut. “Let’s get out of here,” I tell Callie, digging in my purse and throwing a fifty on the table.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna be sick,” she says.

  I pull her quickly out the door only to see the black-haired woman get up from her table and head toward us at the front of the restaurant. “I’m not sure, but I think my stalker could be here.”

  We walk fast over to my car. “No way, Baylor. Do you really think she came all the way across the country to follow you around L.A.? How would she even know you’re here? You haven’t done any appearances and you didn’t tell anyone you were moving.”

  “You’re probably right,” I say. “I just got spooked, I guess.” I look at our surroundings and don’t see the woman. I take a few calming breaths before we get in my car.

  A few miles down the road, I could swear I see a car following me as I weave through traffic. “Callie, turn around and look at the driver of that blue car. Tell me if she has black hair.”

  Callie gives me a look like she thinks I’m being entirely too paranoid. Then she turns to watch the cars behind us. I turn down a side street and the car follows. Then I make three more left turns, bringing us back onto the same street we started on. The car hangs back, but it still follows us.

  “Believe me now?” I ask.

  “Shit, Baylor,” she says. “Don’t freak out or anything, but the woman driving that blue car does have black hair. Do you want me to call the police?” She gets out her cell phone.

  “I’m getting on the interstate to see if we can lose her in traffic. If she’s still following us in a minute, make the call.”

  “Be careful, Baylor. Don’t go too fast,” she says.

  We share a quick look of concern as I accelerate onto the highway. I speed up and merge into the heavy lunch-hour traffic, the little blue car falling farther and farther behind. I breathe a sigh of relief when I can no longer see it in my rearview mirror.

  I smile over at Callie.

  Then I hear a tremendous boom and all of a sudden my world is spinning out of control. Nothing makes sense as I hear the sickening thud and crush of metal. I hear glass crunch and buckle, horns blaring and someone—quite possibly me—screaming.

  Something hits my head. Hard. Pain radiates through my chest. My hair is flying around and whipping in my face. Then, just as quickly as it started, everything goes still.

  “Baylor, Baylor . . .” someone cries out. I try to open my eyes and when I do, I see Callie—upside down and reaching for me.

  Terror sharpens my senses. I smell asphalt and the rancid odor of gasoline. A violent metallic taste floods my mouth as my ears beg for relief from the piercing rings ripping through them. God, my head hurts. Something is terribly wrong. I attempt to look around, but every movement is like a knife slicing through my temple. Why is the world upside down? What’s happening? I see feet crunching broken glass by my head. People are yelling. Sirens become louder. My eyes try to focus on Callie, but blurry pools of red cloud my vision so I shut them.

  “Baylor! Stay with me,” Callie’s throaty voice implores.

  But all I can see is red.

  And then . . .

  Blackness.

  part three

  gavin

  chapter forty-four

  “Where do you think Mommy would want the flowers today?” Maddox asks.

  “I’m sure she would be happy with wherever you want to put them, partner.”

  He nods and proceeds to cle
ar a spot on the headstone for today’s bouquet of purple orchids. Almost every other bouquet at the gravesite is still fresh—all nine of them. The caretakers are obviously doing a good job here. I look around at the other headstones, and while none are adorned with the magnitude of flowers such as hers is, they are all beautifully kept. I glance at a few people strolling along a path who smile sadly when they see Maddox arranging the flowers. I gaze up at the crystal-clear morning sky that is dotted with airplane trails making it appear, in one place, as if there is a distant meteor shower.

  I keep my eyes averted so that I don’t come apart as Maddox places the flowers down and then sits cross-legged on the fresh mound of sod like he’s done every day for the past ten days. He follows the same routine every single time. He tells her what he’s been doing each day in explicit detail. He talks about everything from what he had for breakfast, to what he watched on television, to what book was read to him at bedtime.

  I’m trying to be strong for him, but it wrecks me to see him so sad. However, I can tell that being here and talking to her is therapeutic, so we’ll keep coming as long as he needs to. Each day he cries a little less. Each day, he opens up to me a little more. Each day, we bond over the tragedy that now directs our lives.

  When Maddox runs out of things to say to her, I try to comfort him. “She loved you so much, Maddox. And she still does, only now she’s your guardian angel in heaven. She’ll always watch over you. Every minute of every day. You can’t see her, but she’s here.” I offer my hand to him and he takes it, pulling himself up and saying goodbye to her before we walk away.

  Leaving the cemetery, we run into Baylor’s parents and Skylar. They, too, have visited every day. We share hugs with them as we pass. “See you later at the hospital?” Skylar asks.

  I give her a weak smile. “There’s nowhere else I’d be.”

  “We visited Callie’s grave again,” I tell Baylor, as I hold her limp hand in mine. “Maddox still insists on taking purple orchids every day. He said it’s like having you there with us. He’s with my mom now, getting lunch down in the cafeteria. She’s sad about the circumstances, but she’s so happy that she’s finally getting to know her only grandchild. That kid sure does have a lot of people who care about him.” I run my fingers along the edge of her face, being careful not to touch the healing wound on her chin. “He’s really torn up over losing Callie. I am too, but I also feel incredibly fucking guilty because I’m so relieved it wasn’t you.”

  I pull out the keychain and rub my finger over the inscription. “This stupid little keychain changed my life. You changed my life. And now that I have you back, I’m not about to let you go. You are the missing piece of me, my other half. And we’re not finished. You’re not finished, do you hear me?”

  “You know, if my sister could talk to you right now, she’d tell you what a pussy you are,” Skylar says behind me, having quietly come into the room.

  My lips curve up ever so slightly at Baylor’s optimistic sister. Skylar hasn’t for one second accepted the fact that Baylor might not wake up. She comes in every day and reads to her from a tabloid or trashy magazine. She puts un-needed makeup on Baylor’s face. She plays games with Maddox. She kicks my ass when she sees me getting disheartened about Baylor’s progress. Or lack-there-of. She’s even helped me make decisions and plans about a future that I’m not even sure exists anymore.

  “She’s gonna wake up, you know,” she says, walking around to the other side of the bed. “Probably even today. You know that the doctors said it was a good possibility, now that they’ve weaned her off the drugs they used to keep her asleep.”

  “I know what they said, Skylar,” I bite at her. “Every goddamn word they say plays over and over in my head.”

  She holds up her hands in surrender. “Geez, big brother. It sounds like someone needs a good night’s sleep.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Sorry,” I say, watching her fawn over her unresponsive sister.

  It occurs to me that I love the way she calls me ‘big brother.’ Skylar and her family have taken me under their wings. They flew out here the day of the accident and have been here the entire two weeks since. All except Bay’s sister, Piper, who was only contacted yesterday, having been unreachable in the vast wilderness of the Australian Outback.

  The accident. I shudder remembering the pictures the police showed me of the mangled-up SUV. I’m amazed Baylor survived at all. We buried Callie three days after. The doctors said she had too much internal bleeding and despite their every effort, they couldn’t stop it. She died shortly after being brought to the hospital. However, they said she was awake at the scene and it brings me solace to think that she and Baylor might have been there for each other in the terrifying moments after it happened.

  It was horrible, that day. I waited and waited for her to come to my office after that cryptic text she sent. I knew something was wrong. Flashbacks to college riddled my thoughts and I was sure Karen was behind Baylor’s tardiness. But when the school called me to say no one had picked up Maddox, I knew it was far worse than I feared.

  “Hey, Maxi-pad!” Skylar says when Maddox and my mom walk in the room.

  “Hi, Aunt Skylar,” he says, getting pulled into a bear hug.

  “Hey, baby, how are you doing?” my mom asks, coming over to put a hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  It’s a lie. My life—my whole fucking life—is lying here in this hospital bed. I’ll never be fine if Baylor leaves us. I’ll go through all the motions. I’ll wake up every day and go to work and give Maddox the best childhood I can. But I’ll never be fine.

  “Why don’t you take a break and let me stay with her for a while,” Mom says.

  I look over at Maddox to make sure it’s alright with him. “It’s okay,” he says. “Grandma and I can play poker and Aunt Skylar can read to Mommy.”

  “Poker?” I ask my mother with an accusing stare.

  “I may have taught him yesterday,” she says with a shrug. “It’s boring here.” She turns to touch Baylor’s hand, adding, “No offense, dear.” Then she tells me, “If you’re gonna be from Texas, you right well need to know how to—”

  “—ride a horse, play poker and treat a lady right,” I finish. It’s practically her mantra. She always tried to get me to live by it, some parts proving more difficult than others where Karen has been concerned.

  Maddox frowns. “But I’m not from Texas.”

  Mom laughs and ruffles his hair. “Sure you are,” she says. “Generations of McBrides have grown up in Texas, so you have Texas blood flowin’ through your veins.”

  He smiles at her, then asks me, “Do you think you and Mommy could take me there someday?”

  “Sure, partner. As soon as Mommy feels up to it,” I say, sending out a silent prayer that it will happen.

  Maddox walks over next to Baylor’s bed. “Did you hear that? We get to go to Texas when you get better! Maybe I can ride a real Texas horse and everything.”

  “Okay, I have to take care of some business, but I’ll do it from the lounge. I’m not leaving the hospital. Call me if anything happens,” I say. “Anything.” I stare down my mother, who waves me off with a flick of her wrist.

  I spend the next few hours on a teleconference call with Scott and Angie to go over some legalities and iron out some details on our latest venture. By the time I grab a bite to eat and return to Baylor’s room, Maddox is fast asleep on the couch and Bay’s parents have come and gone.

  Skylar wakes him up enough so he can walk. She says, “Come on little cowboy, let’s get you home.”

  She and my mom have been living at the condo, taking care of Maddox while I sleep here.

  I never really cared about having money before. I always thought it was something I could do without if I ever had to. But now—being able to stay in this private hospital suite and get Baylor seen by the best doctors at the best hospital—I’m grateful to have so much of it at my disposal.<
br />
  Her suite has a small kitchenette, a luxurious en suite bath, a seating area that will accommodate plenty of people, and a couch that pulls out into a bed. I wouldn’t dream of leaving her here alone. I wouldn’t leave the hospital at all if it weren’t for our daily trips to the cemetery.

  She’s my life. As long as she’s here, I’m here.

  chapter forty-five

  I’m startled awake, knowing that it isn’t anywhere near morning, but hearing a lot of activity in the room. I quickly get my bearings and see that several nurses are working over Baylor. My heart stops. Did she code while I was asleep?

  I throw the sheet off me and run over to her bed, not caring that I’m clad only in my boxer briefs. “What is it? Is she okay? What’s happening?”

  The nurses turn to acknowledge me and I’m more than a little surprised by the smiles and laughter that ensue. It takes me a few seconds to realize that their smiles mean nobody’s dying. I look at Baylor, who stares up at me through those uniquely amazing eyes. She clears her throat while looking at me appraisingly. She says in a raspy, sarcastic voice, “Really?”

  Relief flows through me as one of the nurses tries to explain through her adolescent giggles, “Her feed at the nurses’ station showed elevated vitals a little while ago, indicating she may have been waking up. We rushed in and here she is, all bright-eyed and looking back to normal. Well, except for some bumps and bruises. The doctor will be in . . .”

  She keeps talking but her voice, along with all the other activity in the room, fades away as I walk to the head of the bed. I nudge one of the nurses aside and lean over to gather Baylor in my arms. I try not to squeeze too hard for fear of hurting her bruised ribs. But, damn, Baylor alive and talking is a miracle and I plan on holding her until they kick my ass plain out.