He peered back over at me. Our eyes met, and when I saw the pain in his, my resolve to stay angry evaporated.
“Look Ty, I feel badly for you, really. I’m trying to understand where you’re coming from, but drowning in booze and numbing yourself with drugs won’t make it better. It just delays the inevitable. And, at least for the time being, I really need you alive.” I smiled weakly.
He nodded, completely missing my subtle attempt at levity. “I’ll try, Hannah, but… Withdrawal is hard, even under the best circumstances.” He turned away again. “I know I’m weak. I’m embarrassed to say so. I’m in my own private hell, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to find my way out.” He sighed again and his eyes fluttered closed.
I drove for over a hundred miles out in the middle of Nowhere, Oregon, with Tyler asleep next to me. The lines that usually creased his brow were erased. I hoped that he could rest dream-free. In the quiet moments alone, I thought about the last twenty-four hours. I had not spoken to Conner since I’d dropped him off at his father’s. I wondered if he had missed me last night, if he had tried to call to say goodnight. I couldn’t remember a night in which I had not been there to tuck him in or kiss the bridge of his nose. I reached for Tyler’s jacket draped over the center console and rummaged through the pockets until I found my cell phone. I turned it on and waited for the icons to appear.
There were six missed calls: five from Conner and one from Beck. They both left messages asking me to call them back. Conner sounded worried while Beck seemed rather irritated, which told me they had remained at his Seattle apartment. No way he’d be that calm if they’d seen the house the way I’d left it. I was relieved that Conner had been spared the anxiety of knowing his mother was missing, but frustrated that I hadn’t yet been missed. It was probably best though that nobody else was involved or in any danger. I turned the phone back off and slipped it into my purse, vowing to call Conner at my first opportunity. I didn’t think Ty would mind, but I also didn’t want him around when I talked to my son.
I glanced over at Tyler and wondered about him, especially what he was like before the nightmare of his wife’s death had robbed him of his happiness. That kind of pain can change a person, both physically and emotionally. Had he once been a carefree soul? Did he smile easily and often? Was he warm and affectionate with his wife?
I was curious about Jillian, too. I knew his wallet was in his jacket, so I rooted around hoping I might find a photograph of her. Keeping an eye on the road, and Tyler in case he woke up, I pulled out his small photo holder and held it up to the early morning light. The first picture was an old family portrait with Tyler and Nick, and with who I assumed were his parents and their sister. Ty looked about seventeen or so, while Nick was perhaps seven or eight. Kim was a tiny infant in her mother’s arms. They all looked happy and at ease.
Flipping the plastic page over, I found a photo of a much younger Ty—just barely a man—and his adolescent brother. It was a candid shot of the two of them with their arms locked around each other’s shoulders. They were both smiling or perhaps laughing in playfulness as they hammed it up for the camera. I sighed, imagining the moment.
The next picture was of a stunningly beautiful young woman with long dark hair and enormous eyes fringed with impossibly long lashes. She had a radiant smile with lips shaped liked Cupid’s bow and perfectly straight, white teeth set between two dimpled cheeks. She was at once both a sultry beauty and the wholesome girl-next-door. Every man’s dream come true.
I was dazzled by the spark in her lively eyes, a mischievous glint. This had to be Jillian. What man wouldn’t be in love with a woman like this? I sighed and turned to the last photograph. It was a portrait of both Tyler and Jillian. They looked happy and in love. I stroked my thumb across Ty’s face, noting how striking his eyes were, azure blue flashing in the camera’s light. His every emotion was written in those eyes. They were both beautiful and made a remarkable couple. I could only imagine the children they would have borne had she lived. It was a tragedy. Erin had ruined so many lives.
As I returned the holder to Ty’s wallet, I found two more photographs slipped in behind his cash, both worn and frayed, as if they’d been handled often. The first was a grainy black and white image, nearly unrecognizable until I rotated it around. Jillian’s name was typed at the bottom, along with the date it was taken. It was an ultrasound snapshot. I gasped softly, the photo shaking in my hand as I realized I was looking at an image of Jill and Tyler’s baby, likely the only one ever taken. I wiped at the tears blurring my vision and carefully slipped the photo back where it belonged.
The last picture was actually a series of black and white photos running vertically down the narrow cardstock. It was the kind taken in one of those booths often found at cheesy tourist attractions. Jill and Ty were fashioned around each other in various animated poses. They looked playful, at ease, and committed all at once. It was as if I could see into their connected soul. They could have been entwined in their bed and it would not have been any more intimate. Just looking at it made me uncomfortable, like I was intruding on their private moment. I blushed and quickly returned the photo to its proper place.
I sighed deeply thinking of Ty’s loss, of the woman he loved, his soul mate, his very life. I missed loving and being loved that way. I wondered how much more both he and I stood to lose in the coming hours and days. I understood him a little better after seeing his pictures, and I appreciated a measure of his pain and loss. And I felt awful that he should have to live every day so overwhelmed by it. There was no way I could ease any of it, but the urge was there, nonetheless. I was still angry at what he had done to me, as I was still fearful of his unstable nature, but I understood what drove him, and I trusted that he truly wanted to make things right again.
Whether he would be able to do so was another matter entirely.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tyler
The sun had risen considerably when I woke up to Hannah parking her car at a roadside café. I jumped in my seat and reached for the gun in drowsy confusion.
“Sorry. I need a bathroom break,” she explained as she pulled up on the brake.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes. “Right. Good idea,” I agreed then yawned.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Is your arm bothering you?”
I rotated it around, testing it. “No, it feels okay.” I gave her an appreciative smile. “You’d make a good nurse.”
She rolled her eyes. “First a shrink and now a nurse.”
She did return the smile though before she eased out of the car. She walked into the café and back to the ladies’ room while I held back to scour our surroundings. Satisfied we were safe for the moment, I walked toward the men’s room and reached into my pocket for my mobile.
I’d put both of our phones in my pocket, so I was surprised when I only found mine. Since I was sure I hadn’t dropped it, I could only surmise that Hannah had removed hers while I slept. I retreated a few steps and stood just outside the ladies’ room door. As a patron walked out, pulling the door wide, I spied Hannah inside with her cell in her hand and her fingers working the display. I pushed through the open door and entered as another woman was coming out of a stall. She threw me an annoyed look.
“Excuse me,” the woman grumbled. “I think you have the wrong room.”
Hannah, who had her back to the door, spun around. “Ty!” she exclaimed.
“Hannah,” I said dryly, my eyes locked onto hers.
The woman’s attention was drawn back and forth between the two of us. I could only imagine what she was thinking as she examined the bruising on Hannah’s face. I continued to hold Hannah’s gaze, my brow raised with an unasked question.
The woman looked concerned for Hannah and seemed reluctant to leave us alone together. “Is everything okay here?” she asked.
Hannah stood there staring back at me with a devilish spark in her eye. “I don’t know. What do you think, Ty? Is e
verything all right here?”
I wasn’t sure whether she was being humorous or warning me not to interfere with her phone call. I kept my eyes trained on her and returned her exact grin.
“Yep,” I said, my lips popping at the end, “it’s all good.”
The woman kept peering back and forth between us as she walked out of the restroom, finally leaving us alone.
“What do you think you’re doing, Hannah?” I asked.
“Calling my son. You have a problem with that?”
“No, though I question why you felt the need to hide the fact.” I took a step closer and held out my hand. “It’s safer to use the pay phone out in the hall. If they’ve identified you through your license plates, I don’t want them to have another way to track you down.”
She huffed at me and turned her phone off then placed it in my hand. I slipped it into my pocket, turned, and walked back out into the hall. A few minutes later, Hannah followed, stopping to use the pay phone. I stood on the other side of the wall and listened in on her conversation, just to make sure she didn’t volunteer any important information or call the cops. Sure enough, Hannah dialed her son and explained why she hadn’t called him earlier, that she was out of town and her phone had died and she’d forgotten her charger.
It was a plausible excuse, and I was glad I didn’t have to intervene. She told him how much she loved him and to behave, all the things a good mother tells her child. She whispered a bittersweet goodbye before she replaced the handset. Wiping away her tears, she walked around the end of the wall and spied me leaning against it with my arms crossed over my chest. I gave her an embarrassed smile though I was unconcerned she’d caught me.
“Hungry?” I asked.
She sighed, her own smile a forgiving one. “Starving.”
We sat down and shared a pleasant breakfast together. The food was hot and decent, and made up for all the junk we’d been snacking on. We both worked to keep the mood light. Neither of us brought up our current situation. She was curious, and I was happy to answer her many questions, if for no other reason than to prove I wasn’t always the miserable bastard I now appeared to be.
“So where exactly are you from?” she asked. “You have a weird accent I can’t quite place. Is it English or Australian?”
“Well, aren’t you perceptive,” I replied. “Actually I’m British, born in London. But my family immigrated to Australia when I was twelve. Then I moved to the States about ten years ago, so my accent is a bit…muddled, or so I’m told.” I sat back in my seat and dropped my gaze to my hands on the table. “Or was told, anyway. By my wife.” I glanced back up at Hannah.
With her lips pressed into a sad smile, she looked me in the eye for a long moment then moved judiciously on to another subject, grilling me about my childhood and young adult years.
“If you missed London so much, why did you move to the States instead of returning to England?” she asked.
“Well, I’d planned to, but I fell in love with San Francisco while traveling and couldn’t tear myself away. Later, Nick followed me, and though I was a bit resentful, I didn’t want to leave. I had a thriving business building and remodeling homes. I’d made some good friends. And then I met Jillian.”
I found it difficult to continue as I remembered that time. My throat grew tight as the memories sifted through me.
“Not too long after that, Nick had his accident, and life changed considerably for us all.” I finished with a bitter grin. “So, tell me more about your son.”
Hannah’s face lit up when she talked about Conner, and she laughed, which was a sound I’d not heard from her. It was captivating, just as she was, and it made me smile and laugh, as well. Enjoying the moment with her took me back to a happier time, when Jill and I used to dream of our family together.
“You know, you remind me of my wife in some ways,” I remarked.
Hannah looked surprised with her lips parted and eyes wide. “Oh? How so?” she asked.
“I don’t know, your spirit, perhaps. Your independence and sense of compassion. Those were some of the things that made her beautiful to me. You share that same kind of beauty.” As Hannah stared back open-mouthed, I felt the need to clarify. “Not that you look like her, but...” I reached for my wallet and pulled out the photographs we’d taken last year at Pier 39. I handed it to Hannah. “You do share the same fearless nature. She had a fire in her. I’ve seen the same in you.”
She stared at the photo with a melancholy smile. “You both look so happy.” she said then handed the photo back. “It’s easy to see how much you adored her.”
I held it in my hand and ran my finger over Jill’s image. I imagined all the times I’d run my finger along the side of her face, tipping her chin up so I could kiss her, and I smiled at the memory.
“I still do,” I whispered as if speaking to Jill. “That will never change.” I shook my head and returned to Hannah. I replaced the photo and took out some cash before putting my wallet away. “We’d better finish up and get back on the road.” I dropped the money on the table in front of her. “Would you mind paying the bill? I still need to use the men’s room.”
“Oh…sure. No problem.”
“Thanks. I’ll meet you back at the car then. Just keep the doors locked.”
I excused myself and used the facilities. I poked my head out the rest room door and spied Hannah as she was leaving the café, and, because I knew she was out of earshot, I decided to try Nick’s phone again. I was surprised, but greatly relieved, when I heard my brother’s voice on the other end.
“Nick! Oh, thank God. Are you all right? Alexi hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
“Tyler?”
Goosebumps sprang up along my arms at the rough sound of his voice. “Yeah, Nick, it’s me. I was worried about you. Alexi answered your phone when I called last night. He wouldn’t let me talk to you.” I waited for his response, but there was nothing. “Nick? You still there? Are you okay?”
“Ty...I’m...I’m so sorry, brother.”
I grew concerned. Something wasn’t right.
“Nick, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“Ty, this is all my fault. I tried to take care of it, but I’ve just made things worse.” He sounded like he might be crying, a rare thing for my little brother.
“Nick, it’s all right. Just tell me what happened. Are you hurt? Where are you?”
“Ty, don’t come after me, okay? This is my responsibility now. I don’t want you to come looking for me. I’m so sorry. You don’t know half the shit I’ve done, Ty, so please, don’t—”
“Nick, what are you talking about? What’s going on?”
I was frightened for him. Alexi must have done something to him, hurt him somehow. Nick sobbed into his phone. I’d never heard him so desolate. Even after his accident, he never fell apart like this.
“Nick, stop crying. Calm down and tell me where you are,” I commanded.
“No. You can’t come here, you hear me? It’s not safe for you here. Don’t come back down here looking for me, Tyler.” His voice broke when he used my name.
“For God’s sake, Nick. Why not? Just tell me what happened,” I asked gently this time.
“I can’t, brother. I want to. I need to, but…I can’t.”
“How am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong? Please, Nick. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”
“No, Ty, it’s worse. I fucked up. I fucked up bad. You have no idea.”
“I would if you’d tell me what’s going on. Please. You’ll feel better. You know you will. You always feel better after you talk to me, right? Come on, Nick. Let me help you. Please. Just tell me.”
“Oh God, Ty. You never knew it, but…I was getting even with you. I was pissed when you came down so hard on me after the accident, even though I knew you were right, that it was my fault. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to get back at you for putting me in that position in the first place. Do you see? Can you u
nderstand now?” He cried even harder.
“No, Nick. I don’t understand at all. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I was such a fucking disappointment, wasn’t I, Tyler? I could always see that in your eyes.”
“That is not true.”
“And you, you were always so perfect, weren’t you? The perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect husband. You never did anything wrong. Not like I did, huh, Ty?”
“Nick, what are you talking about?”
“I was just as devastated as you were when Jill died. I loved her, too, Tyler. Just like you did. But you didn’t know that, did you?”
“What?”
“You couldn’t see what was right in front of you.”
“Fuck you!”
“I could have helped her, Ty.”
“Stop, Nick. Please.”
“I could have saved her—”
“Why are you doing this?”
“—and she wouldn’t have died.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“But you didn’t trust me. You never do. You didn’t think I could help. Because I’m just Nick, the fucking screw up, right? Right?”
“No, Nick, come on. Please. Don’t do this.”
“Well, Ty, I proved you were just as fucked up as I was. You got hooked on booze, too, didn’t you, brother? It helped you through. Made it all a little more bearable, didn’t it? Well, you can thank me for that. I manipulated you, for once, and you went along for the ride, like I knew you would. I brought you down, made you no better than me, so you could see I wasn’t such a loser after all, that I wasn’t a bad guy. I knew you could be weak, too, Tyler, just like me. I dragged you down on purpose, brother. God help me, I did it on purpose.” His confession complete, he finally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
The Mistaken Page 22