by Lori Bell
“She’s dangerous,” were the words coming from a petite old man, sitting on a red milk crate on the floor in front of a few partially stocked shelves, and he was wearing one of those god-awful burgundy smocks.
Edie came to a halt, and looked back at him. “Who is?”
“Our new store manager…” he told her, and Edie took a few steps closer to him. “I’m Tommy Kampwerth, I was a good friend of Rex’s, and his wife. I should have done more to protect her.”
“What are you saying?” Edie glanced far down their aisle, hoping Sydney had not followed her.
“My grandson –he’s our bank president in this town– wanted to go to the police, but Lou said she would handle it. Well look where handling it got her. She’s in a hospital bed, unconscious.” Tommy shook his head solemnly, as he remained seated on that crate on the floor.
“So you think your new store manager is the one responsible for Mrs. Ryman’s condition?” Edie asked, wondering if this elderly man, so loyal to the Rymans, knew who she was. Her connection to Tate, and especially to Sydney.
“I don’t trust her,” he replied.
*
Trust. Tate trusted that the scaffolding would hold him at every construction site where he worked off the ground, multiple floors and many stories high. He never saw the need to wear a harness. He trusted he would not fall. With Edie, he had trusted and loved her, but he now believed she had failed him.
Six months after his mother’s overdose, which Tate was certain Edie played a role in somehow, Mary Lou remained comatose. Her daughter, Kathy traveled to Camden every weekend to sit by her bedside at the nursing home where Mary Lou was transferred after a one-month hospital stay. Tate spent every evening sitting alongside his mother’s bedside for hours on end. During the day, he was working in construction again. It was the only thing that fulfilled him in his life now.
Edie had been a suspect in the Camden Police Depart-ment’s investigation into Mrs. Ryman’s overdose. Tate’s sister, Kathy had made sure of that. The case, however, was left open-ended as there was no proof for how Mrs. Ryman actually got a hold of the prescription drugs. Were the drugs dissolved in the coffee she drank because she had crushed the entire bottle of opioids herself when grief consumed her and she opted to end her own life? Or had someone else premeditated her murder? Edie was a free woman in more ways than one.
It had also been six months since Edie moved out of Tate’s house and into a high-rise apartment in Dover, not too many blocks away from Stockmann Advertising. Sitting in her office now, Edie rose from her chair to stretch her long legs. She had been focused on her computer for hours. Work was her constant, more than ever in her life now. She smoothed the wrinkles from the short skirt of her peach business suit with her hands. Her bone-colored booties had three-inch heels on them and she pointed the toes of them in front of her, one and then the other, until she reached the window that spanned more than half of the wall in her ninth floor office. There was construction carrying on across the way, and her mind went to him. It always did. She had heard Tate resumed his career in construction, and
that made her happy for him. She knew how much he needed to be in that element, working with his hands. She admired how if he could dream it in his creative mind, he could put his hands to work and watch that visual come to life. There was so much she had not appreciated about him then, but she did now. Now that it was too late.
A sunbeam through another window went unnoticed on this summer day. This was a mental institution in Dover where every window was barred, spoiling much of the peace and the beauty of peering out of it. Those feelings had been lost to Sydney anyway. Sydney shared her room with a woman who was said to have gone out of her mind more than twenty years ago after her husband died a heroic death as a fireman at the site of the World Trade Center on 9-11. Someone had mentioned Sydney’s roommate being the mother of Jack the Bartender at Lantern Inn in Camden. Sydney never asked her roomie any questions. In fact, she had never even heard her speak. Just in her sleep, once in awhile, when she would cry, too. That was what her life had come to. Lying in parallel twin beds with a crazy woman. Locked in an institution because prison time for her crimes had not deemed fitting. Sydney had done more than steal thousands of dollars to hire a hitman. She had obsessed over a man and intended to hurt the one who got in her way. Her own sister.
When Edie gave her statement to the police, and then later to the psychiatrist assigned to evaluate Sydney, she spoke of her sister as crazy. She embellished more than a few stories pertaining to their childhood after their parents had been killed. Sydney, the introvert, had obsessive and strange behaviors, she used to scare me, and repeatedly threatened my life, Edie had stated because she wanted Sydney out of her life, locked up for the rest of hers. And Edie ensured that it happened. Sydney was sentenced for eighteen months. Reevaluation would occur after her time was served.
That was the final straw for Tate. He could not fathom anyone turning on their next of kin. He also could not handle being deceived by both sisters. He had loved them both in completely different ways. And then he wanted both of them out of his life. He blamed Sydney for taking advantage of him, his family’s business, and his mother. And he blamed Edie for her downfall. Pushing a person away, time and again, eventually does them in. Sydney may have gone over the edge, but Tate believed it was Edie who coerced her. Most of all, the pain that would not subside for Tate, was seeing his mother in an unresponsive state, day after day, week after week, and for months on end. Tate blamed Edie for his mother’s lifelessness, and believed he always would.
Chapter 19
Tate passed Ry’s Market on his way home from the construction site. It was ninety-two degrees and he was driving with his truck windows down. He stopped at the market at least three times a week, just to check on things. The only thing he had not handed over control of yet to the new store manager were the books. Tate handled payroll and oversaw all of the ins and outs. The new store manager was a fifty-two-year-old man who came with previous management experience after having spent more than twenty years in the grocer business in various cities across Delaware. Tate knew his mother would have labeled the man as a big wig in their little town’s market, but he was confident with his decision. As long as the market was in their mother’s name, Tate and Kathy could not sell the business. Both were relieved that their hands were indeed tied, especially Tate, because selling the business would mean the end of their parents’ legacy. The two of them continued to have high hopes for their mother to wake up and regain her life. If she did not, the market was willed to Rex and Lou’s children.
He walked in through the automatic door and began to make his way down aisle three, en route to the office. As soon as he stepped foot on the large green and white tiled floor, in that direction, Tate knew he had made a mistake if he thought he was in hurry. There, seated on that red milk crate, still stocking shelves for the day, was Tommy Kampwerth. He stopped Tate to talk at least once a week.
“Hiya Tommy,” Tate spoke first, because it was the polite thing to do instead of just walking by when Tommy wasn’t looking.
“Tate, my boy, how are you?” Tommy’s word choice always made Tate miss his father. His mother, too, for that matter.
“Doing good, how are you?” Tate stopped walking when he reached the crate, where Tommy remained seated and looked up at him.
“I’ve been okay,” he answered. “Just living every day.” After a pause, Tommy asked what he always did. “How’s your Ma? I need to stop by the home to see her again soon.”
“No change,” Tate replied, and sadly he had gotten used to saying those words.
“She’ll open those baby blues when she’s ready,” Tommy told Tate.
“I know,” he replied, nodding his head.
“In the meantime, you know your Ma would want you to go on. Live happily. Don’t hold grudges. They’re no good. Only good for eating away at your soul.” Tate knew what Tommy meant. It wasn’t the first time in the la
st six months that he had brought up Edie. Lots of people still spoke her name. No one could seem to think of one without the other. Still, Tate wished they all would just let him forget. If that were possible.
“I hear ya, man. Don’t you worry…I’ve got his life thing figured out. And, believe me, some things just aren’t worth the pain.” Tate patted Tommy on the shoulder and he started to walk away.
“And sometimes,” Tommy called after him, “pain won’t go away until you face it.” Tate left him with a wave of his hand in the air behind him.
*
“Okay, Ma…don’t you think six months, and counting, is a long enough damn time?” Tate asked, as he sat down alongside of his mother’s bed and took her hand in his. “I mean, really, you need to make yourself useful. Cook me a meal, bake me some of those turtle brownies, or have a cup of coffee with me…” Tate caught himself after he said those words. A cup of coffee. He sighed, and then spoke again.
“What the hell happened that day, Ma? You need to wake up and fill me in. My life’s been quite the mess because of it. I did what I had to do, what I felt like I needed to do, but I can’t stop thinking…and hurting. Will you please help me? I’m giving you a purpose here. I need my Ma.”
It was dark and Mary Lou was tired. Tired of trying to squeeze the hand that held hers at her bedside. Worn down from failed efforts to lift her eyelids at the sound of her name from the lips of one of her two children, or her two granddaughters who had come to see her a few times. If she wanted to go back, why had she not been able to wake up and return to her life? Maybe, she was afraid to admit it to herself. She was waiting for the one person who had not yet come to visit her.
Tate caught himself nodding off. It was after ten o’clock, and he had already spent four hours with his mother again. He touched his mother’s hand one last time. “See you tomorrow night, Ma. I’m not going to stop pushing you, and nagging you to wake up. I need you.” In the dark room, Tate took two steps away from the bed when he felt compelled to look back. He thought he heard something, but it could have been like all of the other times when he had willed her to wake up. It was wishful thinking to believe he saw her mouth twitch, or her eyes flutter. This time, however, it was not a movement that he saw. It was something he had heard.
Tate stared in the dark at his mother’s still body. Her white hair made her look so angelic. Her body was covered up to her waist, her arms outside of the blanket. It was dark in there, and other than her hair, he could only see her form in the bed. He turned back toward the door. It was late. He was tired. And how many times hadn’t he thought this was it. She was going to wake up.
“E…”
Tate stopped. And he immediately turned around. His eyes were wide, and from what he could see, his mother’s eyes were still closed. But her mouth…her lips…were attempting to move. “Ma!” Tate raced over to her and placed his own face just inches from hers. Her eyelids fluttered and more sound came from her mouth. “E…D”
“Edie? Ma, it’s me Tate. Edie is not here.”
“Her…See h..e..r.” Tate knew what he heard.
“It’s okay, it’s all good. You’re back. I need to get a nurse, get you checked out by a doctor. Oh, thank God, you’re back. You’re talking. You know who I am.” Tate spoke one thing after another as he watched his mother completely open her eyes.
“Get… E…D.” Tate’s mother was persistent.
“Yes, I will. I will.” Tate wanted to know why. He also fretted about the six months that had passed. They were no longer a couple, no longer in each other’s lives. They weren’t even speaking. Their lives had gone on without each other. Tate assumed Edie was dating. A woman like her was never alone for long. She was beautiful. She was all he still thought about, but he knew, for him, she just wasn’t meant to be. And now his mother wanted him to bring her back. He had to. They all had unanswered questions. Tate just hoped he could handle seeing Edie Klein again.
Tate never left his mother’s side all night long. The nurses kept coming into her room to check on her, talk to her, and everyone was in complete awe that after six months this woman was awake, coherent, and even adamant about seeing a woman named Edie.
It was five o’clock in the morning when Mary Lou sat up in her bed, and called out Tate’s name. He had dozed off for awhile in the chair beside her. “It’s morning,” she said to him as he peeled his eyes open and tried to smile at her.
“Barely, Ma,” he said, still smiling.
“Go get her… for me.” Her speech had already improved from slow and choppy syllables to just slurred words. The doctor would be there to examine her today. Tate already knew her brain was fine. She knew him. She remembered her life. She could speak, comprehend. He now hoped her heart would be unaffected from the overdose as well.
“I know how important seeing Edie is to you,” Tate began. “It’s all you’ve been talking about, and asking for. But, Ma, we all have questions. Can’t you just talk to me? Tell me what happened, first. And then, if you still need to talk to Edie, maybe I’ll understand why.”
“So ash-am-ed,” Mary Lou responded. “I can’t. Not until…I…see…E…D.” Tate saw the tears well up in her eyes, and he stopped pushing.
“I’ll get her. I’ll bring her to you.” Tate stood up, kissed his mother on the forehead. He looked back at her one more time before he left the room at the nursing home. It had been six long months. It was unreal how this had finally happened.
Chapter 20
Tate went home. He took a shower, shaved his face, and dressed again in faded denim and a navy blue t-shirt. It was fitted and formed over his biceps and on his abs. The curls in his hair were still wet when he made his way to the mudroom and sat down on the second step to put on his boots. Should he call first? Text, so he would not have to actually talk to her? He knew where her new apartment building was located in Dover. Maybe he would just drive there? But what would he say when he saw her? What if she wasn’t alone?
He nearly drove himself crazy with his own thoughts. He stood up abruptly from the step. His boots were laced and it was time to go. He got into his truck and drove to Dover.
He left the engine running and the air conditioning on high. It was barely seven o’clock in the morning and already almost ninety degrees outside. Tate was in the parking lot of the apartment complex where Edie now lived. He remembered how she had spoken about living in a house with him. She had previously lived in apartments and complained about the space, the neighbors on the other side of the walls. This was a ritzy complex, Tate had to admit, but he knew how Edie liked her space. There was a time when he wanted nothing more than to share his space with her.
Her car was still in the parking lot, so Tate decided to wait until she came out of the apartment building to leave for work. He was relieved she had not left already, but knowing her, he knew it would be soon.
Ten minutes passed and then he saw the doorman open the main door for a woman. She wore a black skirt, above the knees and with a kick pleat on the side, and a sleeveless sheer white button-down blouse with a tall collar. Her red heels were high. Her briefcase, gripped tightly, swung back and forth from her hand. Her hair was in a high bun. She wore her dark-rimmed glasses today. Her contacts must have been giving her trouble again as Tate knew she rarely left the house wearing her glasses. He vividly remembered her wearing those glasses at night, sitting up in bed, with her laptop on the duvet in front of her. He remembered it all. Everything about this woman.
He killed the engine of his truck and got out. His boots hit the pavement and picked up pace. She was already opening her car door to get inside. The doorman remained outside of the building and had his eyes on the man in the parking lot, approaching Edie.
Edie was looking down, readying to put her briefcase onto the seat first, when Tate spoke as he reached the back bumper of her car. “Edie…”
She had heard him say her name thousands of times before. His voice, she always loved the way it sounded, especially whe
n her name rolled off of his tongue. Deep and masculine, yet always gentle. She used to think about how his voice would be perfect to sing a baby to sleep. But she wasn’t allowed to have those thoughts anymore. It wasn’t good for anyone, especially not for her to dwell on what might have been. She had messed that up for them. There was no way to conceal the surprise on her face. She looked up, she stared, and then she forced herself to speak. “Tate…What are you doing here?” Edie immediately thought of his mother. She had been praying consistently for her recovery, and Edie had not prayed to a God since she was fourteen years old.
Tate stepped closer to her. She could smell how he was fresh out of the shower, his wet hair gave way to that as well.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to startle you, or catch you off guard.” Tate didn’t know what else to say to her. He knew he just needed to say why he came. Get to the point. Stop staring. Stop feeling.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m just going to work.” She wanted to say she had a meeting in fifteen minutes, but she was afraid she would rush him away. It just felt really nice to see him again. To be in this moment.
“Right, and I won’t keep you. I, um, have some news,” Tate looked down at his feet for a moment. His mother. She was the reason they had fallen apart. The reason he had told her it was over, and he wanted her out of his house, out of his life. Those were words of anger, spoken at a time when he was scared. Scared for his mother’s life. Fearful of what had happened to her. He still had no answers, but so much time had gone by and he no longer felt those awful feelings for her. He recognized what this was. No matter what had happened, he was a man who knew how to forgive. And, somehow, he believed it was his mother who would need the forgiveness now. It was how she had looked at him when she asked for Edie. And she had spoken the word, ashamed. “It’s Ma,” he finally said. “She’s awake.”
“Oh thank God!” Edie immediately reacted with those words, and Tate thought to himself how he had not remembered her ever saying that before. “Is she okay? Does there seem to be any health issues as the doctor originally thought?”