by Sable Hunter
“Thanks.” She gave the kind woman a smile, broke away from her and ran as hard as she could to the van, tears streaming down her face every step of the way.
Punching the unlock button a dozen times, Tricia threw open the door and jumped inside. The storm might one day pass, but right now the clouds were as dark as midnight and the winds of despair were ripping her apart. Starting the van, she jammed it into gear and gunned out of the parking lot. She wanted to get away, far away from the memory of Lance turning his back on her like she was a stranger, as if her very presence disgusted him.
A keening cry tore from her throat as she tried to see the road through the veil of tears.
Swamped by sorrow, Tricia found it hard to concentrate. The distance she had to drive wasn’t far, but it seemed to take forever.
A funny feeling of déjà vu overwhelmed her – she’d been here, she’d done this, all of it, in exactly the same order. Tricia knew this wasn’t true, but the eerie feeling of repeating this horror again and again struck her. She began to wonder if she was traveling in circles. Wiping the blinding dampness from her eyes, she sniffed the air. Odd. She could smell garlic and there was an odd metallic taste in her mouth. Tricia also became aware of a ringing sound and a buzzing. She looked around the van. Nothing. Was it in her head?
Seeing the city square in front of her, Tricia breathed a sigh of relief. She was almost home. Turning down the side street, she drove into the alleyway behind her shop and shut off her engine – and that was when it hit her. Her thoughts were racing, her vision was blurring. She felt trapped in a cycle of repetition, everything seemed like an echo. Memories of her childhood came barreling back. “God, no.” The sounds. The tastes. The smells. The disorientation.
She was having a seizure.
Grabbing onto the door handle, Tricia wrenched it open and stumbled from the van. She didn’t get but a couple of steps before it happened. Dizziness. Nausea. Headache. Her heart raced. Her vision dimmed. She fell to the ground and curled up into a ball, trembling from head to foot. “God, no. God, no. God, no.”
Tricia was helpless.
* * *
“Miss Tricia! Miss Tricia! Are you all right?”
With great difficulty, Tricia opened her eyes to find Kristen standing over her. “Just help me up.”
Kristen held her hand while Tricia pushed to her feet. She felt like she’d been run over by a Mack truck. A dagger of disappointment snatched the breath from her lungs. Her epilepsy was back, most likely triggered by the wreck and the stress she’d been under. Oh, yes, she understood the disease. She knew the triggers. She’d lived with it for decades. This time, she’d tried in vain to rewrite reality. This was not what she wanted. But who was privileged to determine their fate? No one. “Thanks, Kristen, I’ll be all right in a few minutes.”
“Did you faint?”
Their employee’s concern touched her. “Yea, I guess, something like that.”
“I came by to check to see if you had any deliveries. Finding the store closed at this hour of the morning threw me.” All the time she was walking toward the back door, Kristen kept a protective hand on Tricia’s back.
“What time is it?” God, how long was she out?
“Nine-thirty.”
Christ. Almost three hours? That was some kind of record. “Sorry, I’m so late.”
“Don’t apologize to me. What were you doing out back? Did you fall and hit your head?”
“I’m not sure, I guess so.” Tricia knew she wasn’t making any sense, but she wasn’t ready to start telling people she’d had a fit, either.
“I knew something was wrong. You’re usually knee deep in alligators by now.”
Tricia laughed, the humor was such a relief. “If not alligators, then definitely amaryllis.”
“Or azaleas,” Kristen patted her arm. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?”
“No, there’s no need, I’m going soon.” Although now, she knew exactly what her diagnosis would be. Taking her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the back door. When she stepped into the darkness and felt water seep into her shoe, she knew another tragedy had struck. Great. I think the water heater sprung a leak.”
To give Kristen credit, she pitched right in and soon they were busy with mops and buckets. Twice, a customer came to the door and Kristen headed them off and took their order on the sidewalk. Tricia was never more thankful for the helpful teenager. She was so responsible for her age. Only sixteen, she worked hard to help support her family. She even had a hardship license in order to help chauffeur her younger brothers and sisters around after the death of their mother. This was one of the reasons Tricia wanted to give Kristen as many hours as she wanted and could handle without interfering with schoolwork or her other responsibilities.
The whole time they were cleaning up the water, Tricia was on pins and needles expecting another seizure to hit at any moment. Shaking her head, she wrung out the mop and chastised herself. She needed to calm down. When she was a child and a young teen, seizures only occurred sporadically.
Ting!
“Kristen!” she yelled without looking up. “Can you handle the door, I’m almost through!”
“Is this a bad time?”
Tricia jerked her head up to see Marcelle Lambert standing there, looking more like Aunt Bee Taylor from Andy Griffith than anyone but Frances Bavier had a right to. “Grandmother!” Tricia threw down the mop and ran to her. If ever there was a time when she needed a hug more, she couldn’t remember it. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
Marcelle seemed a little shocked, but she embraced her. Their relationship had rarely lent itself to displays of affection. “Good. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
Seeing the mess, Tricia sighed. “Well, no. The shop is a bit of a mess, though. I’ve got to get a new water heater.” She scuffed the toe of her tennis shoes on the tile. “At least the floors are clean.”
“Well, let me look around.”
Hastily, Tricia put away the buckets and mops and introduced Kristen to her grandmother. “If you’ll mind the store, I’ll give her the grand tour.”
“Sure thing. I’ll finish making those wedding corsages, if that’s all right.”
“Yes, please.” Tricia was glad Kristen was on the ball. “Come on, Grandmother. Let’s start at the front.”
With mixed feelings, she showed her grandmother everything her money had made possible. “I have several collections of gift items, everything from crystal, china, holiday items, and candles.” These items were displayed in antique hutches and bookcases. “In between, I have tables laden with premade silk flower arrangements and items to fill balloon bouquet baskets.” She gestured to the back. “To the rear, I have my coolers where I keep cut flowers. We get a shipment from San Antonio once a week. I also have dozens of potted plants and can special order anything we need.” Every word she spoke felt like swallowing a razor blade. “I…think…I’ve…”
“Tricia? What’s wrong?”
Tricia wiped her eyes. “Kristen, I’m going to take Grandmother upstairs. Call me if you need me!”
“Yes ma’am.”
“This way, please.” She needed to get out of the public view. Anyone could walk in at any time and she wasn’t ready for this to become common knowledge. “I have something I need to tell you.” Tricia let her grandmother take the stairs first. She wasn’t very fast, so by the time they got to the top, the tears were already flowing.
“Now, what’s wrong, my dear?” Marcelle settled down in a purple Queen Ann’s chair in front of the small fireplace.
“I don’t know what to do.” Tricia sobbed. “Everything is falling apart.”
“I don’t understand. Do you need more money?”
“No, I might have to sell the shop.”
“Why? I thought you had a partner?”
“I do. She just had a baby. I don’t know if she’ll want to buy my share or not.”
“What’s wrong, Tricia?”
“Oh, my dear, no.” Marcelle was obviously distressed. “Have you seen a physician?”
“No, not yet.” Tricia let out a long sigh. “I know the routine. I’ll get back on my meds, but this will put me right back where I was. They don’t eradicate the seizures, or they never did for me.” She stared at the floor. “I won’t be able to drive. It will be hard to take care of the store by myself.”
“Have you told your young man?”
Tricia shuddered. “No, I can’t.” Lance had turned his back on her before the epilepsy returned, she could just imagine what he’d think if he knew. “There’s no need now. I can’t be with anyone. This is pretty much a deal breaker. The stigma that comes with epilepsy is pretty strong.”
“Nonsense!” Her grandmother was adamant. “I don’t want to downplay your condition, but this is something that can be managed.”
“I don’t know.” She rose and wiped her eyes, soothing her hair. “Let me make us some tea. I’m going to have to give this some thought before I do anything drastic.”
Marcelle followed her to the kitchen. “What changed with…Lance? Lance Rogers, is that his name?”
Tricia placed sugar, creamer, and lemon on a tray. She was using a Belleek tea service, her favorite. She loved the shamrock pattern on the cream china base. Her hands shook and lingering tingles reminded her of the fate that had settled on her shoulders. “Yes, Lance Rogers, that’s right.” The whistle of the tea kettle sounded before Tricia spoke again. “We went out last Sunday, but I don’t think we would’ve seen each other again, even if my epilepsy hadn’t reoccurred.”
“Do you love him?”
“Grandmother!” Tricia exclaimed, surprised at the direct question. Instead of answering, she gathered the tea bags, the teapot, and some cookies to add to the tray. “Let’s sit down.” She felt too shaky to stand up for long.
“Here, let me help you.” She’d only taken a couple of steps before Marcelle took the tea service from her. “I’m still strong enough to serve tea. Sit.”
Tricia sank down in a chair gratefully. “I think I’ll be fine. This is mostly a nervous reaction. I’m just going to have to take precautions and get my mind wrapped around being an epileptic again.” Explaining to someone unfamiliar with the disease was difficult. “I can deal with the epilepsy easier than I can people’s preconceived prejudices about the disease and those who suffer with it.” Marcelle served their tea and Tricia added lemon and sugar to hers.
“What do you mean, dear?”
“Most people are unfamiliar with this disability. There is still a certain amount of disgrace associated with the disease. In decade’s past, women were sterilized if it was known they were epileptic, people were burned at the stake, and many were placed in institutions for the criminally insane. People were even accused of being demonically possessed. Today, there is more understanding, more education available, but not nearly enough. People still view those of us who have it as being strange, mentally diminished, and contagious. I, personally, have been shunned and excluded. I just have no wish to go through any of this again.”
“I can understand your feelings.” She sipped her tea. “It seems to me that you have a choice. May I give you some advice?”
Tricia wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it or not. “Please, go ahead.”
“I’m dying.”
“What?” She spilled her tea all over the floor, then jumped up to get a rag to clean it up. “What do you mean, grandmother?” She’d suspected as much, but hearing the news put so bluntly just broke her heart.
“I have cancer.”
“God, no!” Tricia hugged her grandmother, not wanting to hear this at all.
Marcelle patted her shoulder. “I’m not dying today or tomorrow, there’s time for us to be close.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Tricia protested. She wasn’t close to her mother, Trudy Yeager would never admit it, but Tricia always believed her mother was ashamed of her. After she’d moved away, Trudy had thrived with her new husband. “I need you.”
“I have a brother I’d like for you to meet at some point and he has children. You have cousins, most of them are far nicer than I am.” She gave Tricia a wan smile. “Nevertheless, facing my mortality has given me a new perspective. Let me give you a gift.” At her granddaughter’s grimace, she clarified. “Not money. Advice. I’m spending my last days righting wrongs. My husband was a harsh man. We made many mistakes. My son took after his father and mistreated you and your mother. I allowed them to do things…” She shook her head. “I did things that were wrong. Once I even punished a man because he was faithful to his wife and wouldn’t succumb to my charms.”
“Oh, no,” Tricia murmured, a little shocked. “We’ve all made mistakes.”
Tricia watched her grandmother remember, the emotions passing across her face was painful to see. “I’m going to try and make things right. I don’t want to die with regrets.” She pushed a curl from Tricia’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to have regrets either. We share a common trait, Tricia. We are strong. Instead of hiding your condition, I think you should consider speaking out, being an advocate, a voice for those too weak to speak for themselves.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” The very idea struck terror in Tricia’s heart.
“Think about it. Now, answer my other question. Do you love this man, this Lance Rogers?”
Hanging her head, Tricia was honest. “Yes, I do. So much. I love him with all my heart, but there’s no hope for us. We spent one night together and he walked away. I don’t know what happened. I’m not sure what I did wrong.”
“I’m sure you did nothing wrong.” Her grandmother mused. Lance Rogers. From the moment her granddaughter mentioned this man’s name, the memories had flown back as if on the wings of a dove. This recollection was what prompted the confession she made today. The man whose ranch was lost in the card game, the man she’d been in love with, the man she’d punished had been Deke Rogers.
Lance Rogers could be his son.
…After her grandmother left, Tricia tidied up things in the shop, giving Kristen twenty dollars extra for being so helpful. She almost had to drag herself upstairs, the sleep she’d experienced while unconscious with the seizure had not been very restful. She was also hungry.
Her small apartment wasn’t the sanctuary it usually was, Lance’s ghost lingered. She tried to muster up hatred in her heart for him. After all, he’d used her.
She couldn’t.
The best she could do was anger.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“What has gotten into you?” Skye demanded in a quiet voice. She held Blue Dawn against her shoulder, gently burping her.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Lance was coiling up a rope, moving methodically, trying not to meet the gaze of his irate sibling.
“How could you treat Tricia so shabbily? I thought you liked her?”
“You don’t know anything about this, so don’t go making any judgments.”
“I know that you’ve hurt her and she doesn’t know why.”
Lance scoffed. “Oh, she knows exactly why.” Finishing with his task, he hung the rope on a nail in the tack room. “Look, I’m not going to discuss this with you, Sis. It’s none of your business.”
“Oh! You make me so mad!” Skye stomped her foot and Blue let out a squall. “I don’t understand men, I just don’t. Sometimes you can be so dense!”
Lance gave her a half smile. “Don’t be mad. Some things just aren’t meant to be.” He refused to discuss his problems with his sister. They were separated for so many years, she probably didn’t even remember what he’d told her about Sh
enandoah. She certainly didn’t know all the details of his father’s death. Lance wanted Skye to think of him as invincible, not a man at the mercy of his fate.
“I just don’t understand,” she continued, “you were perfect for each other.”
Lance bit his tongue. He could’ve told Skye about Tricia’s deception. Oh, I probably know more about you than you realize, Lance. He still didn’t understand what kind of cheap thrill she got from coming on to him, not with the history they shared. “She’s Avery’s friend and business partner. I work for Avery’s husband. I’m not going to go into her faults, but believe me she has some.”
“Everyone has faults, Brother.” Skye leveled her gaze at him as she shifted her baby on her shoulder. “Even you.”
“Yea, yea, yea, I’m full of faults,” he agreed with her.
“Your full of something,” she mouthed off at him as she left.
Once Lance was alone, he sat down on a bale of hay. Last night, he’d dreamed about Tricia. He’d relived what it felt like to be with her, how sweetly she’d responded to him. How could she be so loving and so devious at the same time? What he couldn’t understand was why she’d done it. She had to have realized he would have hard feelings toward the family who stole his legacy. No, there was something he wasn’t getting…something he didn’t understand. “Hell!” He stood to his feet and headed toward his cabin. “What do I care? I’ve washed my hands of the whole situation.”
…Later that night, Lance was sitting at the kitchen table, shuffling a deck of cards. He’d played a few hands of poker with himself, but he kept losing. A sad grin came to his lips. He couldn’t even win at a game when he held all the cards.
Buzz! Buzz!
Picking up his phone, he checked the screen. Tricia hadn’t tried to call him anymore. So, he had no idea who this might be. The number was a Llano exchange. “What the hell?” He hit the Accept button. “Hello?”
“Lance Rogers?”
“Yes.”