The Touch of Magic Series, page 73
“Can you come home?” Her mother’s voice was weary and Megan’s heart turned over.
It wasn’t until she’d heard them that she realized how much she needed the words. That she’d needed her mother to at least want her back. Her anger had carried her to another ocean, but that hadn’t been as far away as she’d once thought. “Yes. When?”
“As soon as you can.” Now Megan recognized another tone in her mother’s voice: fear. But what was she afraid of?
“I can probably wrangle some vacation time next week.” She was mentally pulling her calendar, thinking about what she could shift. It was the schedule, not the time off. She hadn’t taken a vacation in several years. Where would she go? With whom? Her eyes were drifting to Tristan, considering possibilities she hadn’t before, when her mother’s voice cut back through her thoughts.
“Can you come earlier? We need you now.”
“Mom, what happened?” Her heart stopped beating. This was her mother’s way of dropping bad news. Was it one of her sisters? Was it—
“Your father’s had a stroke.”
CHAPTER 29
“Megan?” Tristan had tried not to interrupt her phone call with her mother, but it had been hard.
He waited, his heart hammering as she turned an odd shade of gray. Still she didn’t say anything that revealed what was happening. She’d asked her mother what was wrong. Megan clearly had an answer, but the only thing she replied was that she would find a flight out tonight.
“Megan?” he asked her again. “What’s going on?”
Finally, having hung up on the call, she turned to him. “I have to go home.”
“Why?” His heart still stuttered, his patience the only thing holding him together. Clearly, something was very wrong.
“My father had a stroke.” She spoke the words evenly, in a tone that belied the gray of her pallor and the glazed look in her eyes. She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. Best he could tell, she wouldn’t focus on anything, so it wasn’t him.
“I’m so sorry.” The words tumbled out and for the first time he was grateful that she couldn’t hear him anymore. He wasn’t sorry. That bastard had been nothing but bad news for his oldest daughter. Tristan closed his eyes and hugged her close. She leaned into him, as stiff as a tree. It took a few moments before she breathed again.
When she did, all the life entered her in a rush and she pushed out of his grip. Nearly frantic, she began a verbal litany of chores. “I have to pack, but first I have to find a flight. I have to find a way to get to LAX and I need the dog taken care of—wait, he’s your dog.”
“And I’ll take you to LAX.” He answered, grabbing for her, thinking to still her thoughts, but she slipped through his fingers like quicksand.
“I’ll call for a ride.” She wasn’t looking at him. Obviously busy making extensive mental lists, she turned away. Tristan wouldn’t have it.
He gently grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Look, you have a boyfriend. Driving you to the airport in the middle of the night for any reason is what we do. I’m on it.”
When she at last looked up at him, she really saw him there. “Thank you.” A breath gushed out of her with the words. “I’m going to check flights right now.”
“Will you wait a second?” He didn’t let her go. Didn’t think she was going to like it, but thought it needed to get said.
“What? I need to—”
“You need to stop and breathe and think for a minute.” He looked her in the face. “Why do you have to fly out tonight? Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“No. He had a stroke. I have to go now.”
“When did he have it?” Tristan asked. It was probably like getting information from a rock, she was frantic, but he had to try.
“Yesterday.”
“Megan, she only called today. You can sleep in your own bed tonight and go tomorrow. Then no one will have to pick you up from the airport in the middle of the night.”
She shook her head. “I’ll fly into Atlanta, rent a car, and drive the rest of the way.” She went on, explaining the logistics she’d somehow already worked out.
“Then it won’t matter if you go tomorrow. I’m worried about you flying overnight, then driving on no sleep.” His heart hurt. He hated this, and he hadn’t said the worst part yet.
“I’ll be fine.”
He took a deep breath and tried to let go of his tension. “I will drive you to the airport, any time you want, because I support you. But I don’t want you to go.”
“You don’t want me to be with my family when they need me?”
“The only thing they have ever done is need you! The man you are going to take care of has done nothing but make your life a living hell. Your mother didn’t stop him. Shit, Megan, she hasn’t called once since you moved out here, has she?”
Large eyes stared up at him, tears welling in the corners.
Shit. He’d fucked up. But he wasn’t wrong.
She didn’t say anything.
Tristan tried again. “Did she even call to see that you were okay? Did she call to find out where you lived now?”
“I called her. I told her when I got here. I left a message.” As if that was enough.
“She called back to tell you she was glad you settled in?”
This time, the only answer was the hard set of her lips. Anger. At him, for pointing out what was real? Or maybe at her mother for not being a very good one?
“She hasn’t taken care of you, Megan. You don’t have to jump when she calls.” He tried pulling her close. “Just sleep the night in your own bed and make your decisions in the morning.”
She didn’t let him pull her close. She tugged away sharply. “You don’t understand!”
“You’re right! I don’t.” He was nearly yelling. How could she want to go back to that? How could she go to take care of that man?
Even Yasmin and Delilah had accepted Megan and been better to her than her own family had. So why wouldn’t she listen to him? Why wouldn’t she just wait a handful of hours, and decide then?
“They’re my family.” The words were ground out between her teeth. “What would you do if it were your family?”
He didn’t know. Tristan just sucked in a breath and tried to think. His family had never done anything like this to him. Even with all the shit that went down between Juliet and Delilah, neither had ever asked him to take sides. At her worst, Juliet had never been as bad to Delilah as Megan’s father had been to her. And he’d done it since she was a child. Since she was too young to know he wasn’t right. There was no answer for Megan. He shrugged.
She nodded back, understanding that he had no reference for it. “They’re my family.” She said it again, and he wondered if she thought saying it made it so.
“I should be your family.” He said, not knowing where the words came from. Still, he’d been better to her in the past several months than her family had ever been.
Even in his thoughts, it sounded arrogant. But it wasn’t. It was factual. Her family was so shitty to her that he—official boyfriend of all of one week—was better than them.
“But you’re not.” Her words were final. “I’ll catch a ride to the airport.”
Reaching out, he caught her arm. “Please don’t. I want to drive you. I love you.”
“You don’t agree with me. You don’t understand.”
“I don’t have to do either of those things to love you and to want to be there for you,” he protested. “Let me drive you. Save the money. Don’t forget to tell your work if you’re missing days over this. And you should. Don’t make yourself sick on top of the rest of it.”
She nodded. No longer the warm, caring girlfriend of even just an hour ago. So he waited while she packed. He spent his time gathering Redford, taking him down to the small park across the street for a bit so the dog could make the ride to LAX then up to Hollywood.
Tristan did his best to be useful. He tried to think of what he would want if he had to make the trip and she didn’t agree with him. While Megan accepted his help when he specifically offered it, she didn’t ask for anything, and he began to feel as though he was forcing his help onto her. Still, he and Redford made the trip down to LAX for her 4a.m. flight.
Getting out of the car, he forced more help on her by carrying her suitcase as far as he could. When she reached for it, he didn’t hand it over.
“Megan.”
She looked up.
“I love you. If you need to do this, then go do it. If you need me, call.”
“Thank you.” She sighed again and leaned into him.
“Tell me when you get in safe? And I’ll call you every day.” It was the best he could do. So he hugged her. Kissed her lightly, then sent her back to the family that had done nothing for her and everything against her.
Rushing back to the car he’d left at the curb, he moved Redford to the front seat before navigating his way out of the behemoth airport. He missed her already. Had he told her he loved her? Yes.
It was so hard remembering to say it. He hadn’t even said it the first time. Still wasn’t sure he was ready to say it, not until tonight when she’d chosen them over him and it almost killed him. He’d made a logical argument about why she shouldn’t go, but he’d done it while his heart bled at the thought. He hadn’t told her he felt that way. Maybe he’d forgotten she couldn’t feel it herself, or maybe he’d just decided that if she couldn’t feel it he didn’t have the guts to say it. He didn’t know. All he did know was that he was going home alone. Her apartment was empty.
Tristan rolled down the windows, letting the wind come through the car. Redford thought it was the best thing ever and perked up. It was true, having a dog was definitely a plus. He shouldn’t have waited so long after Peaches. And that thing about witches and cats? Absolutely not true.
He and Redford rolled through an all-night fast food place for a real milkshake. Tristan didn’t lie to himself at all, it was pure consolation. While he waited for the drink, he calculated when Megan should be landing and when he should text and ask if she’d arrived alright. He wouldn’t wait for her. She was dealing with too much and he made the decision then not to read into anything.
Later, in his own bed as he was tossing and turning, he wondered if he shouldn’t have had skipped the milkshake. Then he admitted that wasn’t it at all. He would have lain awake no matter what he’d eaten or not eaten.
“Come on.” He patted the end of the bed before he realized that Redford couldn’t jump that high. Not wanting to put the dog up onto a bed he couldn’t get off of, and also not wanting to invite a dog into a bed he regularly invited Megan into, Tristan pulled a blanket out of the closet and curled up on the couch with his dog.
When the light came in, he wasn’t sure if he’d slept or not. Redford had—at a reasonably high decibel—but Tristan couldn’t count any time he was sure he was asleep for. But he had made a decision.
He called into the shop, leaving a message on the general machine that he wouldn’t be in that day. It took a bit to get his instructions across—what deliveries were expected, who should check them in, that kind of thing—but he hung up the phone satisfied things would be taken care of.
Then he rummaged through the herb closet. He hadn’t done a full makeover of the place since his parents lived here. He’d worked at it piecemeal, changing up the living room and completely re-doing the master bedroom and bathroom, but he still had his mother’s linen closet and his father’s herb closet with herbs his grandmother had dried and the guest room was still the same and . . .
If he wanted to keep living here, he needed to really claim the place, he thought. Then he decided maybe he should wait and see what Megan thought they should do with it. It took a moment before that thought registered and how he was starting to think of her. Having her pluck from his brain a sentiment he wasn’t sure he would have shared wasn’t the same as thinking she should be included in decorating his home. He would have to be sure that he wasn’t thinking it just because she was gone, just because he was aware that things weren’t entirely copacetic between them.
He needed to understand her.
His grandmother’s herbs were dwindling. His parents had used them sparingly and so did he. Still, this was a good reason. This was a strong spell he needed. It took three solid hours of work before he was relatively certain he’d achieved it.
Though he hadn’t slept, Tristan was wired and he headed out for the day. By two p.m. he was horrified.
CHAPTER 30
“Mama?” Megan walked into the hospital waiting room. She was dead on her feet but she would do her best.
“Oh, baby.” Her mother jumped up and enveloped her in a huge hug.
This was what she’d come for. She’d needed her mother all this time. Megan melted into being held for just a minute, then straightened up. “I came, Mama. What do we need to do?”
She also needed to get on a schedule here, figure out how to take care of her father and mother and sisters and how much she could work during that time. She could take personal or medical leave. She had enough clothes for a week . . . Her brain churned trying to keep track of all the possibilities.
Her mother shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll take care of it. Where are Lizzie and Ari?” Even her mother was relegated to the waiting room for the ICU. She was only allowed in a few hours a day and kicked out when the nurses came by for procedures.
“The girls can’t come. They’re with the Banners today.”
Megan nodded. The Banners lived in the house next door to the church. The church lot was huge, but the house for the minister was tiny. They paid the taxes on the property, and a handful of the bills in exchange for the house. It suddenly occurred to her that if her father could no longer serve his function as minister to the congregation, the church might install someone else, and her mother and father and sisters might have to move out of the little house. She wouldn’t consider that yet, though.
The Banners had a son who went through school a year ahead of Megan despite being just over two years older than she was. They believed Megan had at one time tried to seduce their son. It was a ridiculous thought, because at the time she would have had zero clue how to even go about such a thing. But he’d said it was her when he was pressed about the girl climbing out the window and she’d been punished, by her own father as well as the reputation. So visiting the Banners was never high on her list.
“I’ll get them.” She volunteered despite the resentment she felt. “Do they need dinner? Can they come see Daddy tomorrow?”
“They can’t come for another few days, the doctor thinks.” Her mother worried the fabric handkerchief she was holding. It had taken Megan years to figure out that her mother carried it with her because it was a Southern genteel thing, not as a tissue. The woman kept a mini-pack of Kleenex in her purse all the time. Had she just sat here, worrying all this time?
“Thank you, Honey. They do need dinner. There’s chicken in the fridge . . .” She paused, gathered her thoughts, then went on explaining how to cook, not that Megan actually needed it.
“I’ll get them.” Megan repeated, thinking how quiet the hospital was when she couldn’t hear anything. She hated hospitals; there was always someone grieving deeply and Megan always felt it. But not today. Still, she found herself looking at her mother for signs of her feelings. It was odd not to hear her mother fully.
They sat that way, in real silence for the first time in Megan’s life. After a few minutes, when her mother didn’t volunteer it, Megan asked, “Can I go in and see Daddy?”
Her mother’s worrying stopped as she got very still. “Baby, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“So he hates me that much?” Maybe it was better to speak it out loud.
“It’s not that . . .” Her mother trailed off.
“Yes, it is.” Megan considered getting up and leaving right then, but she hadn’t come for her father. She’d come to help her mother and her sisters. “I’ll get the girls then and get their food. Should I swing by the school and pick up assignments?”
“Oh, yes, that would be great.” Her mother nodded completely ignoring the problem of her father. “Did you get dropped off here? Do you need a car?”
“No, Mama, I rented one at the airport.” An expensive one because of the open ended return date. “I’m covered.”
She didn’t need anything from them except a family. After squeezing her mother’s hand, she stood up to go. She wound her way out of the hospital in relative silence. Hansen wasn’t big enough for the kind of high-end medical center her father needed after a stroke, so she was still a good forty minutes from home.
The school’s phone numbers were still in her contacts from when she lived here. It had only been a fistful of months she’d been gone, but it felt like she was a wholly different person. Megan wondered if her mother saw that, or if she even could.
The town of Hansen was small enough that the elementary, the middle school and the high school were merely different wings of the same building. One call and one stop and she could get both her sisters’ school work for the day.
The secretary was the same woman who’d been there since the year Megan graduated. It would have made sense for her not to have any real opinion about a girl she hardly knew. By that time, Megan was keeping to herself and doing a pretty good job of it. But, no, the woman behind the desk was curt, cutting Megan off several times with explanations of how wonderful her sisters were and how she—the secretary—had everything taken care of for them. Everything they needed from both days they had missed would be ready for pickup.
As if Megan should have calculated that they had missed yesterday, too. As if she was bad for being gone during this tragedy. Not that she’d known until last night.
It wasn’t any better when she arrived at the Banners’ home.
“Hello.” Mrs. Banner opened the door with a flat expression and no welcome.
