Saving Tess

by J. Lynn Bailey

  I’ve traced Austin’s face with my finger. His little hand when he shakes Casey’s. It makes love all the harder to navigate.

  Questions dance through my head—not just about Austin, but also where I stand and how I feel about being adopted, trying to do what’s best by Austin and not my heart.

  Mary Jo’s call goes to voice mail. I listen to it.

  “Hey, Tess. We have an offer on the house that’s far beyond asking price. It’s a company out of Seattle. They’re offering—are you ready for this?—1.2 million dollars. Call me as soon as you can.”

  “Oh my God.” Relief shudders through my body.

  If we sell, money won’t be a problem. But the memories and the reason Ike gave us this house, my memories as a child that are slowly starting to come back, I will never be able to relive them again.

  What about the history of the Isner house? The house has been a staple in the community for a long time. If we sell to some sort of corporation, surely, they’ll demolish it and build what they want. Really, they’re probably buying the house for the property.

  But if we keep the house, maybe we can create new memories and erase those that make my stomach turn, ones I can’t quite put my finger on but assume it’s my biological mother’s doing. It’s been researched that children, even in the womb, take on their mother’s feelings. Maybe these feelings aren’t my own, but my mother’s.

  I don’t want to call Casey for two reasons: one, he’s got a big weekend ahead of him, and two, I don’t want the uncertainty of us in the forefront of his mind when he takes to the bulls this weekend.

  So, instead of calling Casey, I call Mary Jo.

  “Can you believe it?” she asks when she picks up. “They offered 1.2 million dollars.”

  “I can’t, Mary Jo. That’s a lot of money. But I can’t make a decision without Casey. He’s in the finals this weekend, and I’d rather discuss this with him on Monday.”

  “That will work. They also had a question about staging. Who staged the house?”

  “Staged? Oh, I did.”

  “They really liked your style and wondered if you freelanced your work.”

  “Freelanced my work? Like, do I decorate other houses?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Could you?”

  Um …

  “Maybe?”

  “Let me give you their number and you can follow up.”

  Mary Jo gives me the number, and I write it down.

  “Call me Monday?” she asks.

  “I will.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Bye, Mary Jo, and thank you.”

  “That’s my job.”

  It’s Saturday, and my mom and I are sitting at Russ Park, having lunch. Something we’ve never done before.

  Since we talked about everything the other night, she’s cried more in the past few days than I’ve ever seen her cry in my entire life.

  Mavis Morgan isn’t Mavis Morgan anymore.

  “The reason I used to try to fix everything in your life, Tess, I suppose, is that you suffered a lot of heartbreak before the age of five. I guess I just never wanted your heart to hurt again, so I meddled.” She holds her face to the wintery sun. A rare occurrence in Dillon Creek—and in November at that.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t been able to remember much more.”

  Her eyes meet mine. “From what Ike told us, it was a lot of Elizabeth leaving you at all hours of the night to get her next fix. I slept in your bed with you until you were ten.”

  “I thought that was you being you.” I laugh. “Overprotective mama bear.” I give her shoulder a nudge and a smile.

  “Yes, on both fronts.” She smiles back and takes a bite of her sandwich.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Tess. That is my job as your mother. That’s what Elizabeth should have done for you.”

  My mom takes my hand. “I also realized that through the grief, I was drinking way too much. I guess it was a side effect of the grief that I still feel over your brother. So, I put the plug in the jug, as they—whoever they are—say.” She smiles and pats my hand. Then, “Have you talked to Casey?”

  Really, I told her we were taking a break. I didn’t tell her that he’d met Austin. In fact, I didn’t tell her that the little boy in the video that had gone viral was Austin. She’ll realize it someday.

  “No.”

  She shrugs and then sighs. “I’ve been, um, seeing a counselor, a therapist, a shrink—whatever you call them.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. A recommendation of Dr. Cain.” She toys with a twisted paper towel in her hand. “I’ve been harboring a lot of resentment for a long time, which has made me a bitter, stiff, old woman.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I wish I had spent more of my life in forgiveness instead of being so self-righteous, Tess. I wish I had let go of things that didn’t make a difference either way. Life has a way of coming full circle when we least expect it to. I wish I had never made you wear frilly pink dresses or made you do ballet. I wish I had let you play in the mud and get your hands dirty and eat more sugar.” She laughs. “I wish I had done a lot of things differently.” My mom stares down at her paper towel.

  I take her cheek in my hand. “You are one hell of a mom, and I wish I had been more grateful for that.”

  “Can we start over?”

  I smile. “Yes.”

  “Hello, Tess. I’m your adopted mom, and I’m going to let you make decisions for yourself from now on. I’m not going to meddle in your life, and I’m going to remember each moment as best I can.”

  I pull her in for a hug. “Have I told you that you’re the greatest mom there ever was? I know why you did what you did now. And I want to hang on to each of those memories—because you made each of them out of love,” I whisper.

  My mom’s hug tightens around me.

  She doesn’t ask about Austin because it’s her way of not meddling. She knows I’ll make the right decision when the time is right and let her know when I do so.

  And I suppose she asked about Casey because she also knows my heart. She knows I’ve been in love with that boy since we met as kids. My mother has always been the interior decorator. And maybe I’ve picked up on some of that along the way.

  “This corporation out of Seattle wants to meet with me about staging business offices for them.”

  “Meet with you?”

  “Apparently, they liked how I staged the Ketchikan house, and they’re looking for a freelancer.”

  My mother smiles. “It’s no surprise to me, Tess. You’ve been good at everything most of your life.”

  This response from my mom surprises me. She’s never said anything like that to me before.

  “I guess I never told you that because I always pushed you to be the best—something I have regrets about now, obviously. I just knew you were destined for greatness, but now, you don’t need your mom to tell you that.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to give them a call.”

  “No. No, it wouldn’t.” She sips her iced tea.

  “The rain is coming,” I say.

  We stand and begin to pick up our lunch, our mess, our past, and we tuck it away and set forth for new adventures of new promise, new relationships, and a hopeful future.

  “Onward,” my mother says.

  And we leave our past relationship at Russ Park and go toward new beginnings.

  I’m over at Anna’s with Colt and Calder as the finals play on their gigantic television that hangs from the wall.

  The television goes dark, and fireworks explode from the ground—the opening of the finals. AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” plays.

  My stomach grows into a fit of nerves, and I’m not sure I can watch this. I also say this every time I watch Casey ride.

  The commentator yells, “And now, your top world contenders in the PBR World Finals!”

  The crowd erupts over the music.

>   He says two names and then gets to Casey’s.

  With a black cowboy hat on, he lifts his head when the spotlight reaches him, and he waves to the crowd. I trace his long, lean legs up to his chest, protected by a vest, up to his jawline, and to his perfectly built smile.

  My heart begins to throb at an unusual pace, and my hands begin to sweat.

  Anna reaches over and rubs my back, knowing the nerves always get to me. Even when we watched Casey ride as kids, my body would do the same thing, where my eye would twitch and my mouth would go bone dry and my heart would flip and flop as I tried to hold it together on the outside. I wondered, too, when I took that steer when I was young, if Casey was just as nervous.

  As the announcer drawls on, Anna whispers, “Have you talked to Casey at all?”

  I told her about everything the night Casey left.

  I told her about Austin.

  That I’m adopted.

  That Casey met Austin without my knowledge.

  Anna said something to me that’s been rolling around in my head the past few days. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he did it out of love for you? That maybe he was trying to protect you from the future?”

  After the bull riders are announced, the commentator says, “And what is better than one Atwood brother? Two Atwood brothers!”

  The camera flashes to Cash, who’s sitting on the back fence next to the chutes.

  I know Cash well enough that if he wasn’t on national television right now, he’d be rolling his eyes, but instead, he waves and flashes his smile. He lives the sport that he gets to do for a living, but he’s never cared for the media or the attention.

  The television shows the riders on their bulls.

  I find Casey’s name in the lineup next to Top Ten, and I try to breathe.

  Come on, Casey. Let’s just get this ride over with.

  But what about the next ride?

  The next year?

  Can you live like this? The constant worry of if he’ll make it through another round?

  If we figure this thing out, is this something I can live with?

  Living and dying from weekend to weekend, is this the price I’d be willing to pay for loving a cowboy? One that’s extremely good at what he does? I could never ask him to give it up, not something he’s worked so hard for.

  Maybe Casey and I are meant for moments, pockets in life where we get time to rest in each other. Maybe we’re not meant for the long-term.

  I tuck that thought away in my heart when I stand and walk to the bathroom because I’m going to be sick.

  “Tess, you all right?” Anna asks.

  I nod and continue to the bathroom. I calmly shut the door behind me and expel every last thing from my stomach in the toilet, not sure if it was the thought about Casey and me not being together or the fact that he’s up for the ride of his life.

  But I know I’m absolutely in love with him.

  The truth is, I’m not okay.

  The truth is, I want to be with Casey for the rest of our lives.

  The truth is, I can’t stand the thought of us not walking together in this thing called life.

  The truth is, I can’t ask him to walk away from what he loves, and yet I can’t put myself through this every time he rides.

  And the devastating part of all of this is that I need to make a choice that just might break both of us.

  My eyes start to fill with tears. Swallow that shit, Tess, and go watch him ride one last time.

  “Tess?” I hear Anna say on the other side of the door. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No.” My voice is hoarse with love and sadness. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I lean over the sink and splash cold water on my face. Look at the woman staring back at me with uncertainty of the future, full of fear, courage, strength.

  The little girl who overcame her biological mother’s sadness and addiction and lived.

  The little girl who fell for a boy whose heart she was destined to love.

  The woman who lost her job.

  The woman who left for the great wide open to live in unfamiliar territory.

  The woman who sat through years of grief from the loss of her own son, only to find out they are two in the same—they are both loved so much by so many. That she understands him more than most because she’s walked in the same shoes.

  And the woman who, no matter what, is a good person with a heart full of love to give.

  “Tess? Casey is next.”

  “No matter what,” I whisper back to the woman in the mirror, “you will be okay.”

  I walk back into the living room and take my seat next to Anna as Casey slides on Top Ten.

  Breathe, I tell myself, just breathe.

  And quietly, I say a prayer for Casey, for the bull, and for us.

  The commentator starts, “Now, the last time Casey Atwood took to this bull, he rode him to a near perfect finish, Tuff. That’s what we’re hoping Casey will do tonight, folks.”

  I want to throw up again, but there’s nothing left to give.

  When the camera flashes to his hands, I see on his left wrist is a bracelet.

  A bracelet with small, colorful rubber bands that I made him when we were maybe eight.

  My heart doubles over itself.

  I remember when I gave it to him. I told him it was for good luck when he rode sheep—mutton busting is what it’s called.

  The bracelet has lasted all these years? It’s hard to believe. Could it be the same bracelet? Why didn’t he tell me he wore it when he rode?

  Casey gives the nod.

  The chute flies open.

  Top Ten fights like hell, but Casey flows, like he’s dancing with him. His body like a rubber band, it follows the lead of the bull and yet anticipates the bull’s movements with ease and responds instead of reacts.

  Twist.

  Jump.

  Buck.

  Flashback: the first time I saw Casey with a ten-gallon cowboy hat. The hat much too big for his head.

  Buck.

  Jump.

  Twist.

  Flashback: the first time his hand touched mine in the middle of the mustard field off of Grizzly Bluff Road.

  Twist.

  Jump.

  Buck.

  Flashback: the first time his lips touched mine out at the ranch in the middle of summer when the stars in the night sky urged us together.

  Buck.

  Jump.

  Twist.

  Flashback: the first time we made love and I felt every inch of him in my heart.

  The horn sounds, bringing me back to their dance.

  Casey tries to pull the rope, but it’s stuck.

  I put my hands to my lips.

  He gets his hand free and hits the arena dirt hard.

  Top Ten flips around and scrapes his hoof against the dirt.

  Stares Casey down.

  The bullfighters are trying to distract the bull, but it’s no use.

  Cash jumps off the fence and sprints toward Casey.

  But it’s all too late.

  Top Ten charges for Casey, and Cash charges for Top Ten.

  The bull’s horn flips Casey’s body into the air, and he lands hard on the arena dirt once again.

  Cash falls before his brother, so if the bull comes back, he’ll get Cash first.

  The arena falls silent, and I hear my heartbeat in my ears.

  “Casey?” I think I say.

  Top Ten starts to charge once more, picking up Cash this time and tossing him into the air like a rag doll, leaving Casey’s lifeless body untouched, as if he knew what he’d done.

  And I fall to pieces on the floor.

  43

  Casey

  Conroy is standing above me. “Cowboy, that was one hell of a ride.” He helps me to my feet.

  I embrace my brother for all the moments we didn’t get together, feeling a lump in my throat.

  “Where is everyone?” I look around the empty arena
and back to my dead brother. “Am I … am I dead?”

  Conroy sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “He tried to warn you—Top Ten. The next time, he’d come after you.”

  I look down at my body, which is all in one piece, except for my blood-soaked shirt.

  Conroy hands me my rope. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  “Conroy, wait.” I follow. “I’m not ready to die. Please.” And all I can think about is Tess.

  “Unfortunately, Case, I don’t get to dictate who dies and who lives or what miracles are performed. Come on, cowboy. Hurry up.” All of a sudden, we’re back in Dillon Creek, at Anna and Colt’s house. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time.”

  We’re in the living room, and Tess is on the floor while my brothers are on their phones.

  It’s chaos.

  I start to run for Tess, but Conroy stops me.

  “You can’t do that, Case. Off-limits. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Now, we’re at the ranch. My mom is on the phone, pacing, tears falling, and my dad has his head hanging in his lap, unable to move.

  I look to Conroy, and he shrugs.

  “Sometimes, we got to give up what we love for who we love. Let’s go.”

  Next, we’re in an ambulance, but it’s not my ambulance; it’s Cash’s.

  “What … what the hell happened?” I look down at our brother, who’s got blood everywhere, while the EMTs work on him.

  “Cash jumped in. He took the last and final blow for you.”

  I can’t think.

  I can’t move.

  “One, two, three, clear!” The pads on his chest bolt his body upward.

  Conroy looks back at me. “Cash might be a shithead sometimes, but those are his demons he’s fighting, not yours. I suggest you accept him for what he is. You’ll miss a lot of great moments together if you don’t. Settle the score. Come on. Next stop.”

  It’s to another ambulance.

  Except the man who’s lying there is me.

  The EMTs hang their heads.

  My shirt, once clean and starched, is now covered with my own blood and maybe Cash’s blood.

  Despair fills me. “I should have quit sooner.”

  Conroy says, “Sometimes, people don’t know the devastating impacts their decisions have on others,” he sighs. “Just like the night I got into the Jeep. One decision can not only change our lives, but also the lives of the people we love most.”