“She’d be thrilled to know you’re still alive.” Puppa wiped tears from his face.
“I only wish I’d been here for her in August. What happened? She was so healthy.”
From the kitchen, the teapot announced its boiling point.
I followed Puppa through the swinging door.
“Heart, lungs, kidneys. Everything gave way at once.” Puppa poured hot water into two mugs.
“I wish I could have been here. I feel terrible.”
“She was ninety-three years old. She was ready.”
I nodded, dipping a tea bag. “Still, I had so much I wanted to ask her. Things about her life, her childhood.”
We took our hot drinks into the living room and settled into the comfy, mismatched furniture.
“Be content with the time you had with her. There’s no going back now. And you don’t want to beat yourself up over something you can’t change.”
Hot tea soothed my throat. “I missed a lot while I was gone. But I learned a few things too. Not trying to change the past is one of them.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re learning to let go. That’s a hard task. Some people never master it, and their days are filled with regrets.” Puppa leaned back in his recliner.
“Exactly. And that’s something I’m determined not to suffer from anymore.” I raised my tea in emphasis.
“Go easy on yourself. Nobody’s perfect. Expect an occasional relapse.”
“Pshaw. Who me?” I smiled. “At least I’m aware of my thought patterns now.” I reached out and touched his arm playfully. “I’m not perfect yet, but I’m making progress.”
He held on to my hand. “You’re perfect to me.”
“Thanks. I like hearing it.”
We sipped in silence, enjoying our close proximity.
I twirled my tea, watching a stray flake twist in the tiny whirlpool in the center. I couldn’t put off the question forever. I had to ask at some point. It might as well be now. My arms crossed my chest, as if to protect me from the answer.
“How’s Brad?” The words, husky and raw, sounded as if they came from some other throat.
Puppa stared at the braided rug like it could help him weave the right answer. His head moved slowly from side to side. “He didn’t make out good that day. I’d say it pretty much killed him.”
I gasped, sucking tea down the wrong pipe. Brad- dead?
In a flash I was back in the lodge, cowering as Candice LeJeune hauled Frank Majestic out of the room. But before she left, she had a final message for me: “Remember, Tish. I’ll always love you.”
Then her gun swung from her captive’s head toward… not me, but Brad standing across the room. The sound of the explosion…
“No!…” Breath sputtered out of me. My lungs froze in an exhale. An electric jolt blazed across my brain. After a moment, the synapses connected and I watched in horror as the scene replayed in my mind. Candice aims her gun at Brad. Then those horrible words. A blast cuts through the air. Screams and chaos, but all I can do is stare as Brad sways and then drops to the floor. I go to him, close enough to hear him whisper my name. There’s a salty smell. Hot, sticky blood everywhere on his chest.
Then paramedics, endless CPR, a stretcher… and the back of the ambulance driving away from the lodge.
Air raked down my throat. “She shot him, didn’t she?” Grandfather raised a brow. “I assumed you knew. You were there.”
I let out a moan. “I was there, but… I didn’t know… I couldn’t remember.” I pounded knuckles against my temples, wishing I could put the knowledge back into that dark space in my brain, or rip it out of my head altogether.
Denton had known Brad was dead, hadn’t he? He’d avoided talking about Brad. I’d assumed that was because he hoped I’d forget about Brad, me being an unsuitable match for his favorite protégé.
Perhaps deep down I’d known the truth and couldn’t face it. Look at me now, I was a blubbering mess, runoff dripping down my face and onto Puppa’s sweater. Yeah. I couldn’t handle it. I wanted to go back to Del Gloria, back in time, when, if only in my mind, Brad was still alive and well and watching out for me, waiting until the coast was clear to call me home.
I wiped my face and took a breath. Portia was right. There would never have been a phone call. I’d been dead to these people. And Brad, the only person who knew where to find me, was dead too. Only Denton had known what was really happening. He knew the phone call would never come.
Squeaks and hiccups lingered. Everything I’d wanted, everything I’d hoped for, everything that was good and happy and right was dead. It all died with Brad. The man who loved me, the one I loved. No wonder I’d driven off and never looked back. My life, my future, was over. And I’d known it, I just couldn’t face it.
The facts kept seeping through some protective barrier in my brain, forcing me to ask questions to which I didn’t want to know the answers.
Anger shot through my chest, but I pushed it back. Denton’s job was to keep me safe. What better way than convince the people after me that I was dead? The unfortunate side effect was that the people who loved me also believed I was dead.
No wonder Denton was so angry with me for being careless with my identity. I’d been utterly safe until someone had figured out I wasn’t Alisha Braddock. I smoothed the wig on my head. It wouldn’t be long before others saw through my Tasha Stewart disguise. And I’d be back in the crosshairs.
But I was home now. I didn’t want to keep running.
Grandfather touched my cheek, but the tears kept flowing. If I couldn’t have Brad back, and I couldn’t have the future children and the love and the laughter that disappeared with him, then I at least wanted my bed and my bedroom and my house back. I wanted what was left of Patricia Amble back.
I sighed with exhaustion. My brain ceased to function. Puppa must have noticed. “Come on. Let’s get you in a hot bath. There’s nothing a pair of warm pajamas, a hot meal, and a good night’s rest can’t cure.”
He seemed oblivious to the sound of my heart breaking.
23
“Feeling better this morning?” Puppa asked, slathering cream cheese on a bagel.
I gave a shrug and sifted through the fridge, not really sure what I was looking for. I squinted to see through my dark sunglasses. It would take more than ice to bring down the swelling around my eyes. Especially since I hadn’t really even stopped crying yet. I’d even cried in my sleep. At this rate, I’d have to wear sunglasses the rest of my life.
“I talked to Sam this morning and we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to see him yet,” Puppa said between bites.
I shut the fridge door. “See who?”
“Brad.”
I crossed my arms and pursed my lips. Tears squeezed out from behind my glasses. I didn’t feel like tromping through six inches of snow to see a headstone. That would make it too real. “I agree.”
“We’ll have to bring the idea up slowly. Let him get used to the possibility that his Tish is still alive. Otherwise it could be too much of a shock.”
I’d been going for the coffeepot, but my arm hung in mid-reach as his words sunk in. I swung around. “What are you saying? Brad’s not dead?”
He got a startled look on his face. “No. Brad’s… alive. Did you think he was…” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I thought you realized. But, of course. You must have left before they revived him.”
“Brad’s alive.” I repeated the words. “Brad’s alive.” My heart launched into wild thumping. Black prickles danced before my eyes.
“Sit down.” Puppa led me to the dining room and into a chair. “Take it easy. Just breathe.”
I cast the sunglasses away and cradled my head in my arms. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Could I take any more of this emotional turmoil? First he was dead, then he’s alive. Brad was alive!