“Exactly.” My dad steps forward, holding the umbrella over both of our heads. “There’s a lot you didn’t know. At first, I had my doubts, too. I thought he might’ve developed a thing for Ivy, and that’s the last thing I wanted to see happen.”
“What changed your mind?” I inquire, peering directly into his eyes.
“He covered for you when you went out hunting. He didn’t have to, but he did. He pitched in around the garden center, working all kinds of crazy hours, knowing we were short-staffed.”
I look at my dad—I mean really look at him. Up close, I can see the weathered lines on his face and the grey tinge to his complexion. His shoulders are stooped and his suit seems to be hanging off his body. I’m usually too busy to notice these things, but I can’t ignore them now.
But he keeps talking, “Then Ivy asked if we could come up to the cabin and help her decorate as a surprise for you. I thought Tim would balk, but he was game. I watched how they interacted with each other. He was friendly, obliging. I think he liked making her laugh. But I wasn’t sure if he had feelings for her or not.”
“What convinced you?” I ask, concentrating on the crookedness of his tie clip.
“Ivy had him go up into the crawlspace and bring down some stuff, and when he didn’t come back, she asked me to check on him.” My dad exhales, his breath hanging like a fine mist in the air. “And when I did, I found him curled up in a ball in the corner of your room, rocking back and forth.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“He had found some old Polaroids of the three of you from when you were kids.” My dad grips my arm, forcing me to look at him. “There was one of just him and Cassidy that you must’ve taken. She’s not even looking at the camera. She’s just looking at him. And the smile on his face could’ve lit up the room.”
I drop my head, feeling Tim’s pain anew.
“I knelt on the floor beside him, and you know what he said to me?” my dad asks with a quiver in his voice.
I raise my eyes to his, seeing the sorrow reflected in them.
“'Maybe she’ll look at me that way again when I see her in heaven,'” he responds, choking up, and I take a step back, putting some distance between us. “He knew everything she did, yet he was still in love with her. That’s when I knew why he kept away. Because being around you was too painful… You reminded him of her.”
I dig my toe into the corner of a nearby tombstone, so mad at the way things turned out. Tim never opened himself up to life again. It was like, in the years after Cassidy died, he was already living among the dead. He couldn’t let go of her. He never would.
“So I’m sorry, son, for putting all of the blame on your shoulders,” he admits, coming up behind me and patting me on the back. “I was wrong to do that. I always thought that being around each other would only help the two of you get past your differences. I didn’t see how far gone he was. Hanging on to her became a habit for him. He could only handle the version of her he had in his mind. The minute reality interfered, he was lost.”
I rake a hand through my damp hair, gazing off in the direction of Cassidy’s grave. “Do you think they’re together now?”
“If there’s any mercy in this life or the next, I surely hope so,” he replies softly.
“Even with Conrad’s baby?” I turn on my heel, unable to put a rosy spin on things.
“It didn’t matter to him,” he responds, placing his hand on my lapel. “You know that.”
“Does that mean I loved her any less?” I ask, furrowing my brow at him.
“No,” my dad says with conviction. “It just means you love Ivy more.”
I nod, feeling the emotion build up inside of me. He’s right. I got my happily ever after, just not with the girl I expected. I can only hope the same is true for Tim wherever he is now. His heart was capable of so much love, love that was never fully returned.
“Thank you, Dad.” I give him a quick hug, understanding the precious gift of wisdom he’s given me.
At least at the end, Tim and I were on the same side, fighting for what truly matters. Nothing can take that away from me. Coupled with the insight that my father just shared, I think I can finally stop beating myself up over what happened, then and now.
But I’ll never be able to forgive Conrad for setting this in motion and Lauren for carrying it out. The damage they inflicted lives on. The guilt they shared can’t be washed away so easily.
I look down the hill and see Will standing beneath a tree while Ben and his parents stoically shake hands with the mourners who remain. Ben is still in a stupor. Half the town views him with suspicion, wondering how such a nice young man could have shot the editor of the Gazette, while the other half thinks he’s a hero for gunning down a madwoman after watching her murder his brother. Public opinion is definitely mixed as evidenced by the light turnout. No one wants to cross the Prices, even in death.
Lauren’s funeral, on the other hand, bore all the pomp and circumstance of a royal wedding. Conrad had a horse-drawn carriage strewn with roses carry her to the family plot. She was laid to rest yesterday as dignitaries and politicians descended to pay their respects. I only heard what Will told me bitterly over breakfast in the hospital cafeteria as he skimmed through a copy of the Gazette somebody had left behind. The front page contained a full-color photo of Lauren, and inside there was a complete pictorial spread of the procession. It’s sickening that someone so evil should warrant that much attention.
Some people are starting to whisper and point at Will, no doubt wondering why he’s hanging around. Yeah, it’s common knowledge that he works with Ben at the garden center, but now is a time for family and close friends. His presence is getting conspicuous. He’s drawing attention to himself for all the wrong reasons. Everyone knows he was in league with Lauren this summer to put together the gala for the film festival. He shouldn’t be here right now.
I jog down the slippery grass, leaving my father behind, and make a beeline straight for Will. He’s dressed to kill in an Armani suit he refused to pawn. He definitely doesn’t fit in among people like my dad, who pulls out the one suit he owns for occasions like this. I know he wants to be here for Ben, but now even his parents are starting to notice him. They’re going to wonder why, thinking he’s one of the Prices’ spies.
“C’mon, man. Time to get back to the hospital,” I greet him, tossing an arm around his shoulders getting him to walk with me.
“Look at him,” Will cries, digging in his heels. “I can’t leave him. Not like this.”
“You’ll see him later,” I insist, pushing him along. “You don’t want to blow your cover now, do you?”
“No,” he moans pitifully. “But I’m only doing this for his sake. I could care less what these people think. Besides, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to have with him.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, pulling up short.
“I got a call from Warren after he heard about Lauren,” Will says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I guess he’s back together with Dave and they’re still interested in the screenplay. They want me to come out to L.A. at the beginning of the year and work on it with them.”
“And you’re going to leave Ben?” I ask, shooting a quick glance behind us. “You’re going to break him if you go now.”
“Eric, what choice do I have?” Will groans in frustration. “Do you really want me in your parents’ guest room once the baby comes?”
I haven’t even thought that far ahead, what with everything going on, but he’s right. There’s hardly room enough in my parents’ house now, and spring is a long way off. I can’t expect Will to wait around for Ben to graduate.
“When are you going to tell him?” I inquire once we reach my truck.
“Soon, just not today,” he responds glumly. “He hasn’t been himself since all this happened. He’s lost inside of himself, retreating to a place where I can’t follow. I just don’t know how to reach him.”
“Keep trying,”
I encourage, not wanting to face the bleakness of Ben’s new reality. “Don’t give up on him.”
“I could never give up on him,” Will proclaims adamantly, hoisting himself into the truck. “I just might not have a choice. I can’t very well crawl through his bedroom window tonight when his parents are asleep, and he’s not answering any of my calls.”
“He’s just in a state of shock,” I reply, hoping I’m right, as I turn the key in the ignition. “He’ll come around. He just needs some time.”
“Well I guess you’re the expert when it comes to love in extreme circumstances,” he responds, giving me a weak smile.
“Ain’t that the truth,” I agree wholeheartedly, getting him to laugh for the first time in a week. “Besides, Ivy will never forgive you if you leave before the baby’s born. She expects our baby’s godfather to be here for the christening, you know.”
“Do you really think she’s going to be able to hold out much longer?” Will asks as we sit and watch the wiper blades travel back and forth across the windshield.
“Honestly?” I shrug my shoulders. “It’s anyone’s guess. Right now, we’re sitting on the cusp of twenty-two weeks. She just has to hold on a little bit more. Dr. P. bought us some time, but if the baby comes shortly thereafter, it’s going to be extremely premature, and there’ll be a lot of complications that come along with that.”
“Like what?” Will questions, turning to look at me.
“It’ll probably have to be placed in an incubator,” I explain, gripping the wheel. “It might have to be hooked up to a ventilator if its lungs aren’t fully developed.”
“Man, I can’t run off to L.A. Not with everything that’s going on here,” Will cuts in, pressing his forehead against the glass.
“Bro, you gotta do what you gotta do,” I acknowledge. “We’ll definitely miss you, but we’ll get by. Don’t go taking all this upon yourself. My parents are here. Dr. P. and his staff are the best. Trust me. We’re in good hands.”
“And what about Ben?” he asks warily.
“You’ll figure it out as you go along,” I respond, not wanting to sugarcoat anything.
He sighs, covering his eyes with his hand and lightly ramming his fist into the side of my arm.
“Whoever thought I’d be taking love advice from the Landscaping Lothario,” he groans, causing me to snicker.
“It could be worse,” I deadpan. “At least I didn’t find you spilling your guts to Shep.”
“I never thought you’d be the one cheering me up with all that you have going on,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I think you’ve finally grown up.”
“Well, one of us had to,” I say, trying to downplay the complement.
“No, I’m serious,” he continues. “Remember when you were going to kick my ass that day on the street when I was putting up the marquee? Whoever thought we’d end up friends? I sure didn’t see it coming.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not the only one who’s changed,” I admit, sneaking a look at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, Ivy does have the effect on people, doesn’t she?” he replies, stiffening up next to me, probably thinking of all that can still go wrong with her and the baby.
“That’s why I fell in love with her,” I say softly, hoping against hope that everything will turn out all right—for everybody.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ivy
Today is Christmas Eve, and I’ve officially been in the hospital for two and a half weeks. And to say that I’m restless would be the understatement of the year. I’ve never watched so much TV in my entire life. Not even when my mom would plop me down in front of the set with some fast food after school and proceed to drink the night away.
I haven’t heard from her, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. If she’s really in rehab, maybe they don’t allow patients to make phone calls. I thought after her grand gesture that she’d want to keep tabs on the baby and me, but so far, nothing. I’m not going to let myself get bent out of shape about it. If she reaches out, fine. If not, she ended up doing me at least one favor by getting Conrad to leave us alone.
I’ve been following the news religiously, and it seems like Ben is free and clear. Things might heat up for a while when he starts college next fall, but for now, he’s out of the media’s crosshairs. Conrad seems to be letting Lauren’s death go, but after all that Joanie did to help us, he’s not going easy on Ryan. Conrad refused to post his bail, leaving him to fend for himself among the general prison population until his trial date, which could be months away. I fear the kind of man Ryan’s going to be when he does get out. He was a psychopath going in. There’s no telling what he’ll be like after this, especially if he’s convicted and given a lengthy sentence. I know it’s terrible to say, but I hope he never gets out. Maybe he’ll have to do more time for bad behavior. The world is definitely a safer place with him behind bars.
After her daughter’s funeral, Lauren’s mother opened up divorce proceedings against Conrad, and he didn’t contest. No doubt, he’s after a new, young bride to provide him with a worthy heir. Too bad he didn’t leave her for Cassidy to begin with. It’s funny how things work out and how some people throw away what they end up searching for.
I know all I want for Christmas is the sterilization of Conrad Price, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.
I’m just sick of living in fear. I can’t wait to resume a normal life again. Eric already said that he doesn’t want to return to the cabin, and deep down, I really don’t either. It always seemed to be Cassidy’s house, and now it’s just too haunted for us to even think about going back there. Eric already has it up on the market, hoping for a buyer. In the meantime, he took Will and Shep and they all moved in with his parents. And I have to admit that, although it’s not the ideal situation, I will be needing a lot of help once I leave the hospital, and I’m glad that I’ll have Eric’s mom to depend on. She’s been wonderful so far.
And bunking in Eric’s childhood room will be a trip. In order to help ease the transition, he brought the crib he’d made to the hospital to show me before setting it up over there, and I absolutely loved it. He did such a good job hand-carving every inch of it. I always knew he was good with his hands, but what he made is truly a work of art. I’ll cherish it forever. It makes me tear up just thinking about it.
But Eric’s been running himself ragged, carting all of our stuff from the cabin to his parents’ house, and putting the rest in storage until we can find a new place. On top of that, he’s been working crazy hours at the garden center and spending every spare moment he can with me. He’s wearing himself down, but there’s no arguing with him. I think if he stopped, his worries would consume him, so he just keeps going.
I only wish I could do the same instead of being stuck in this darn room connected to all of these wires. I know the longer the baby stays inside of me, the better, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I thought being on bed rest at home was bad, but being confined to a hospital bed totally sucks.
I think of the Christmas tree I set up that we didn’t even get to enjoy and of the little red baby stocking I hid under our bed that I was going to hang from the fireplace. I dreamed of spending our first Christmas together in the cabin, but now it’s not going to happen because I’m spending it in the hospital.
I gaze sorrowfully out the window. It’s starting to get dark already and it’s not even five o’clock. I heard some of the nurses humming along to the piped-in Christmas carols playing in the hallway of the neonatal intensive care unit. There’s not as many on duty tonight, no doubt because most of them want to spend the holiday with their families. I don’t blame them. I would, too. I’m just glad Wanda’s working the three-to-eleven shift. She promised to bring me some of her homemade Christmas cookies when my dinner tray arrives from the cafeteria. At least I’ll have something appetizing to eat until Eric brings over some of his mom’s leftovers later on. He deserves to sit down t
o at least one decent meal after closing up late and dealing with all of the last-minute shoppers. He plans on spending all day tomorrow with me, and the meatloaf that’s on the menu doesn’t sound too appetizing.
I’m trying not to feel sorry for myself when I hear a sudden pop and feel the flow of something wet between my legs.
No, no, no…
My fingers immediately scramble for the call button as I try to control my breathing. I’m afraid to lower the blanket. If I’m bleeding out, it means the placenta finally severed, and truthfully, I’d rather not know because it means my baby’s oxygen supply has been cut off. All I can envision is it drowning, struggling to breathe through the amniotic fluid when there’s absolutely nothing I can do except hit a damn call button.
This is it. One way or another, something big is about to happen. I can feel it.
Wanda comes in, looking concerned when she sees the pained expression on my face. “Honey child, what is it?”
“I feel…all…wet,” I stutter incoherently.
Wanda launches into action, not wasting a moment. She starts untucking the bedding to get a better look.
“Your water broke!” she exclaims, taken aback.
“Is that bad?” I croak, bending my knees so she can examine me.
“It’s better than the alternative,” she declares, whipping her cell phone out of the pocket of her Rudolph scrubs. She presses a button, speed-dialing someone, as she takes a deep breath. “Dr. P., Ivy is going into labor. How fast can you get back here?” she asks, glancing over my head as she consults with him, relaying my vitals.
Seeing how worried she is, I hear the beep on my heart rate monitor starting to increase. Her eyes find mine, and she smiles, silently pleading with me to remain calm. But Dr. P. isn’t even in the hospital. He told me he wasn’t going away for the holidays, but what if he changed his mind? What if he can’t get here in time? I don’t want anyone else delivering my baby. It has to be him. So much can go wrong. It’s only at twenty-four weeks. It’s going to be born severely premature.
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