Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)

by Andrea Randall

  I pull into the parking lot at Tarryn’s at 7:00 on the dot. I don’t need my nerves talking me out of this if I have too much time to think. A quick scan of the room shows no sign of Bo, Regan, or Rae, though I suppose Regan and Rae never told me they would be here—they just asked that I be here. I slide my guitar case to my feet as I sit at the bar and order a drink. I’m excited to share this. I’m ready to share it. All I really need is for Bo to be here. The rest of the crowd is just a bonus.

  When the MC checks the mic and announces the first act, I pull out my cell phone and check the time. It’s 7:10. At 7:15, I text Rae a question mark but receive no response. I try not to check over my shoulder every few minutes, but that’s a task that’s proving to be impossible.

  7:20 ...

  7:25...

  7:30 ...

  7:35 ...

  Ainsley.

  “Interesting seeing you here.” Ainsley places a hand on her hip as she squares off next to me.

  “Is it?” I mumble, turning in her direction.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was invited.”

  “By who?”

  “Bo.” I grin as her cheeks redden.

  “Hmm,” she stammers as she tries to recover, “I guess you’ve been stood up, Sweetheart. He’s supposed to be playing right now and he’s not here.” Now it’s my turn for red cheeks.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think she could be telling the truth. And the fact that Rae didn’t answer my text means that she either doesn’t know I’m sitting here alone, or she’s fighting with Bo about it. Still, I have Ainsley to deal with.

  “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? For Bo to stand me up. I just have one question for you,” I say as I stand and reach for my guitar. “Can you tell me where he was last Saturday night? I can, and it wasn’t with you.” I chuckle at Ainsley’s effort to keep her face composed, while her eyes nearly bug out of her head.

  I make it out of the bar and slide my guitar in the car before trying Rae again. There’s no answer, so I have no choice but to call Bo and find out why I’m here alone at, now, forty minutes after we were supposed to meet. I dial his number and wait through three rings. My nervous energy has transferred to annoyance.

  “Hello?” A man answers. It’s not Bo. I check my phone and it says that I did, in fact, call Bo.

  “Uh, hello? Bo? It’s November ...” I know it’s not him, but I need to clarify that somehow.

  “November, it’s David Bryson. I have Bo’s phone right now.” His voice is shaky and leads my pulse into a race pace.

  “David, I’m here at Tarryn’s. I was supposed to meet Bo at seven—is everything OK?”

  “November ...” The change in his tone throws my heart to its knees in prayerful supplication.

  No, no, no...Please let him be OK. Please.

  Fumbling with my keys, I drop them twice before I get my door unlocked and push my guitar to the back seat.

  “David, what is it? Is Bo OK?” Something awful has happened. My body knows it; I’m already crying.

  “Listen, we’re at the hospital,” he takes a deep breath and clears his throat, “Bo’s fine. Rachel had an accident on the horse today, she’s in surgery right now ...” He keeps talking but I can’t make out the words. I speed out of Tarryn’s lot in search of the hospital.

  * * *

  When I arrive at the hospital, I spot David standing out front. I park as close as I can and sprint toward him. I stop dead in my tracks when I see the tears in his eyes.

  “David, what happened? Where are Regan and Bo?” I’m breathless, still fighting tears.

  “Rae and Regan were riding on the trail, and Regan said a swarm of bees shot up out of the ground.” He pales during his pause. “Rae was in front, leading the way...her horse got spooked, and the next thing he knew, she was flying through the air.” David grabs my hand and walks us toward the hospital entrance. His hand is freezing.

  “She was wearing a helmet, though. Right?” I’m trying to organize the situation through my spinning thoughts.

  “She was, but she hit the rocks hard when she fell. Regan said she was unconscious right away. They’re concerned about internal injuries, and she’s been in surgery for over an hour ...”

  I think he continues the story as we enter the elevator, my hand still in his, but a million thoughts and visions are going through my head. I need to find both Bo and Regan.

  She has to be OK.

  When the elevator dings, I jump away from my thoughts and follow David’s lead. It doesn’t take more than a second for me to find Regan, sunken into the floor with his back against the wall and his forehead pressed into his knees.

  “Regan!” I shout as I run toward him. The look on his face when he lifts his head sends me to my knees in front of him. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he sobs into my chest.

  “There was nothing I could do ...” he wails into my shirt.

  “I know, I know ...” I try to soothe him through my shock and lack of information. I look around and see no sign of Bo.

  “He’s in the chapel,” Regan says without looking up. “We’ve been taking turns going in there. I told him I’d come get him if they come out with any news.”

  I look up at David, who nods to me as I stand, and take my seat next to Regan on the floor. A pleasant nurse points me in the direction of the chapel and I feel like I float there, outside of time.

  I’ve only been in a church once before, for my grandmother’s funeral when I was ten. I stand outside the chapel door a few moments, unsure of proper etiquette. Do I knock? I decide against knocking and slowly open the door. I’m startled by Bo’s voice in the small, dark space.

  “Please, please, please...You can’t do this to me ...” Bo’s hunched in prayer position in one of the rows. I can see from here that his knuckles are white. “You can’t take her, Lord, you can’t. She’s all I have left.”

  I’m struck motionless. We never talked about religion; even if we had, I don’t honestly know what I could contribute to the conversation, seeing as how I wasn’t raised with any sort of religious framework. However, this man before me is one with a solid faith, and he’s speaking to someone he believes will help him. The creak of the door behind me whips Bo’s head around.

  “November?” He sniffs and drags the heel of his hand under his eyes.

  I nod, and before I know it, I’m racing toward him with tears streaming down my face. Kneeling next to him, I pull his head to my shoulder while we both cry for a few minutes.

  “Pray with me.” He resumes his position with his forehead pressed into his clenched fists.

  “I, uh,” I clear my throat, “have only been to a church once ...” I make a note to ask my parents what the hell that is all about.

  “Just beg for Rae to be OK, Ember. I just need you to beg with me. She hit the ground hard, it’s really bad ...” A growl tries to hide his sob but fails. His shoulders shake the entire pew full of fear.

  Silently, I start begging.

  A few minutes of prayer feels like an eternity in the sorrowful silence of a hospital chapel. My mind wanders to all those who have come through these doors and left with prayers answered...and to those unanswered.

  “We should go back down the hall.” Bo stands and grabs my hand, leading me out of the chapel. I look over my shoulder and stare at the large wooden cross one more time before the door closes.

  Please.

  Rounding the corner, we find David and Regan have moved to some chairs that have opened up in the hallway. Sweat has formed between my palm and Bo’s, but he just grips tighter each time my hand slides.

  As we’re about to sit, a surgeon comes through two large doors at the end of the hall. He must be on Rae’s case, because Regan and Bo nearly run down the hall to meet him, while David and I sit back and observe anxiously. I can only see the doctor’s face, but that’s all I need.

  In one blink, everything moves in slow motion like it does in the movies, and my
ears shut down. Regan’s hands tear through his hair as his presses his forehead into the wall. A breath later I see David race from his chair toward Bo, who falls to his knees at the doctor’s feet. I feel a hand around my arm, leading me to the nearest chair as it all comes crashing down around me.

  She’s gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I shake free from the nurse trying to be helpful in my state of shock and run toward Bo and Regan. David is trying to pull Bo off the floor.

  “No! Let me see her!” Hoarse wailing rips through Bo’s throat.

  I stop behind Regan and place my hand cautiously on his back. He slaps it away and sinks to the floor with his forehead still against the wall, tears trailing his descent.

  “Oh shit, they’ve got to be out of their mind,” David mumbles, standing to address something behind me.

  I turn to see a small cluster of reporters gathered where I was just sitting. David leaves Bo on the floor in a heap and yells obscenities into the crowd behind me, rubbing the tears from his anguished face. A nurse leads Bo to a private room off the end of the hallway, and a second nurse helps Regan. I’m left face-to-face with the surgeon. I wonder, briefly, how many times he’s had a front-row seat to this scene, how many people have been brought to their knees by his words.

  “Ma’am, are you family?” His gentle voice seems out of place. I look around and realize he’s addressing me. I shake my head, unable to speak. “I’m Doctor Mashburn. I won’t be able to speak to Mr. Cavanaugh until the initial shock wears off...I need to speak to a family member to discuss the next steps.”

  “There’s no one left.” With those words, a cascade of reality streams down my face, and I’m knocked off-balance by dizziness. Dr. Mashburn steadies me; suddenly I’m weeping onto his scrubs.

  There’s no one left.

  Looking back, I see David talking with security guards. He catches my eye, nods to the security guard, and walks toward us.

  “Dr. Mashburn...he, um...needs to talk to family.” That’s all I can manage before sobs take over.

  * * *

  An hour later, I’m sitting next to Regan in the tiny grief room off the hallway—that’s my name for it. If it has another title, it’s wrong. David and Bo went behind the double doors to say goodbye to Rachel before facing the world. And, the world is waiting.

  News of Rachel Cavanaugh’s death has spread like wildfire through the streets of Concord. Reporters are snaking around, and the phones have been ringing off the hook at the nurses’ desk. No one is allowed on the floor we’re on, thanks to David’s stern words with the security guards. Monica and Josh are on their way. David asked the security guards to meet them at the doctors’ entrance and escort them to the grief room when they arrive.

  “Regan,” I whisper. He rubs his face with his hands and looks at the wall.

  “There was nothing I could do. The bees came out of nowhere ...” His eyes clench tight, as though he’s trying to wring the memory from his brain.

  “I know,” my voice breaks as fresh tears spill, “I’m so sorry.” My shoulders shake as I bow into my hands.

  “Ember!” Monica runs into the room and kneels in front of me. I cry harder, meeting her on the floor. Her arms anchor around my neck. Josh squats next to us and hugs us both before walking to Regan.

  Regan tells us that despite wearing a helmet, Rae suffered extensive internal injuries when she hit the ground. She lacerated her liver and succumbed to internal bleeding. She never regained consciousness after her fall.

  “I’m going to go back to Bo’s house with him today if he’ll let me. I can’t let him go home alone—will you guys come?” I tie my hair back and rub the remainder of smudged mascara from under my eyes.

  “Of course.” Monica eyes Josh, who nods in response.

  “Regan, come with us,” I encourage, “you can’t be alone either.”

  “I’ll come.” He leans back and rests his head against the wall.

  “Ms. Harris?” A nurse quietly enters the room.

  “Yes?” I sniff as I stand, wiping my eyes.

  “Mr. Cavanaugh wants to see you, will you come with me?” I stare into the hallway, not wanting to go into whatever room Bo was just in with Rae. With her body. “It’s OK, honey.” Her face tells me they’ve already moved her body to the morgue.

  I walk out of the grief room, and hear Josh confidently lead Regan and Monica in a prayer. Suddenly, his religious upbringing isn’t so funny anymore. The nurse takes my hand as we head through the large double doors.

  “Is David Bryson down here as well?” We walk slowly down an impossibly long hallway.

  “No, he went down to address the media.”

  “Oh.” I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that my surrogate sister, and Bo’s only living family, is now gone. Forever.

  Bo is sitting in an empty room that holds an end table and a couple of chairs. It’s like the grief room, only smaller. His bloodshot eyes look up as the door closes behind me; the nurse has left. His skin is ashen, lifeless. I stand in front of him and take his hands. For some reason I don’t want him to see me cry, so I look down, trying to blink away tears. They drop on his jeans one by one, and I collapse into his lap, failing to silence my whimpering.

  “Oh my God, Bo ...” I pull his forehead to my shoulder and stroke my fingers through the back of his hair.

  “What am I going to do?” he wails into my collarbone.

  I slide my hands to his face and pull it away from me, staring into his eyes.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Tugging him toward me, I kiss him with what little energy I have left. He kisses me back and we sit for a long time with our lips locked and noses touching. I learn in an instant that sorrow isn’t the absence of passion. Sorrow is the darkest, most intense form of passion hidden in the recesses of the human spirit.

  * * *

  It took about an hour for me to urge Bo to leave the hospital. It wasn’t until the funeral home arrived and took Rae’s body that he walked in a daze to my car. Josh and Monica are just behind us with Regan in theirs. We pull up to the gated driveway, and Bo reaches for the door handle.

  “No, I got it.” I squeeze his hand, get out, and enter the code. Bo’s phone has been ringing since before we left the hospital. It’s ringing again as I get back in.

  “Ainsley keeps calling.” His voice is nearly gone.

  “Do you want me to answer?”

  He shrugs, so I answer.

  “Hi Ainsley, it’s November.” The large white house comes into view; it looks haunted now.

  “Where’s Bo?” she’s sobbing.

  “He’s home. I just brought him back to the house.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Bo hears her through the phone and shakes his head.

  “Ainsley, he’s asking that people wait until tomorrow before they contact him,” I lie. “He’s exhausted and I’m sure it’s going to be hell to try to sleep, but he’s got to try.” Bo squeezes my knee in thanks as Ainsley hangs up without a word.

  “Thank you,” he whispers.

  I clear my throat. “Stay in the car for a minute, OK? Is your house unlocked?”

  He nods and doesn’t question me. I close the door and hold up a finger to Josh; he nods back. Turning the knob slowly, I take a deep breath before stepping into Bo’s house. I glance around the entryway and adrenaline splashes over me. In a whirlwind of tears, I gather Rae’s coats, shoes, bags, etc. and race them up to her room. I don’t look around her room when I get there—I just hold my breath and toss the items on her bed, shutting the door behind me when I leave. Rushing through the dining room and kitchen, I rapidly collect any liquor bottles I find and place them in a box in the mudroom off the kitchen to be dealt with when Bo’s asleep.

  After a quick run through the house, I open the front door and find Regan standing outside Josh’s car smoking a cigarette. I don’t think he usually smokes, but I’d kind of like a cigarette too, to be honest. Bo�
��s empty eyes lead him out of the car and plod him up the front steps.

  “I don’t know if I can go in there, Em.” He stares at the front door.

  “It’s OK,” I take his hand, “we can go in when you’re ready. If you want to go in by yourself—”

  “No, please don’t leave me.” Bo squeezes my hand almost painfully.

  “I promised I wouldn’t.”

  Chapter Thirty

  A pink and orange sun rises over the Eastern sky, telling us a new day has started. This is the first day since her birth that the world will be without Rachel Cavanaugh. This and every day forward. For eternity.

  I splash water on my face in the downstairs bathroom and find Bo and Regan asleep on adjacent couches in the living room. Monica’s brewing coffee and hands me a cup as I tiptoe into the kitchen.

  “Thanks for staying all night, Mon.” I feel like crying, but the well’s run dry.

  “Of course. I’d never leave you like this. I’ll call Carrie today.”

  “Where’s Josh?”

  “He’s outside talking with David about how to handle people. They’ll be coming today. Thank God for a gated driveway, huh?”

  I vaguely remember David coming to the house somewhere around three AM and discussing funeral arrangements with Bo. Everyone seems to be in robot-mode right now. I suppose that’s the body’s way of protecting us from feeling all the pain at once. I slide out of the kitchen chair and sneak to the front porch.

  “Hey guys.” I sit on the top step and breathe in coffee steam.

  “Have you slept, Sweetheart?” David sits next to me and pats my knee.

  I shake my head as his simple question beckons my tears. David draws me into his body, and I feel Josh take the mug from my hands as I give in to muscle-quaking sobs. Apart from a few errant tears, I haven’t cried in front of Bo, and I’ve been next to him nearly non-stop since we left the hospital. It just hasn’t felt right, letting my puddle of pain drip into the canyon of loss swallowing him whole. David stands in the middle of my distress, and Josh replaces him. Resting his chin on my head, I hear Josh whispering words of prayer. I lift my head and turn to find David speaking with Ainsley in the driveway. I ignore her and look to Josh.