Fallen (39 page)

“He’s going to be closer here to his youngest in Spartanburg. She has two grandbabies. And I’m going to have a bigger place.”

“And a
roommate
,” Lydia reminded, shaking her head in wonderment. “If there’s a wedding, we’re going to want to know.”

Tess chortled good-naturedly. “Oh, I doubt that’ll happen. For now, we’re just going to enjoy ourselves shacking up. It makes Carl feel naughty. Us old folks have to get our thrills where we can.” She touched Lydia’s arm, growing serious. “I’m sure going to miss you both, honey.”

Thinking of the impending move, Lydia felt butterflies in her stomach. But it hadn’t been an impulse decision. It was something she and Ryan had discussed at length. When the opportunity had opened for Lydia at a smaller regional hospital in Asheville, North Carolina, they’d taken it as a sign. The hospital had been accommodating, working to help speed along Lydia’s license to practice from the North Carolina Medical Board. Ryan had in turn put in for a transfer to the Asheville Police Department. Compared to Atlanta, the force was a fraction of the size, but the city was growing, and the department had an urgent need for someone with Ryan’s level of experience in homicides.

The city’s slower pace was something they both desired.

Lydia’s orientation for her new job would begin three days from now, on Monday, and Ryan would join her after his tenure with the APD was completed in another week.

She had mixed emotions about the move, but those emotions included hope. They were leaving Atlanta, but leaving together. It would be a fresh start.

“The same could be said of you,” Tess pointed out, breaking into her thoughts. “You should let
us
know of any wedding plans.”

Absently, Lydia touched the simple, platinum band on her left hand. Ryan had begun wearing his ring again, too, although they hadn’t exchanged vows or made anything official on paper. Perhaps in time they would. For now, their focus was on simply being together. On building a new life. The rings were more a statement of what was in their hearts.

So much had changed over these last months, Lydia thought once Tess had gone outside to give Carl a hand.

Lydia had begun talk therapy again. Dr. Sarah Rosen had been a godsend, someone to help her more fully come to terms with Tyler’s death as well as her dependency issues that had spiraled from it. They had also spent time working through the trauma of Molly Babin’s attack. With the pending move, Dr. Rosen had referred her to a new counselor in Asheville, urging her to continue with therapy at least until she was settled into her new job and home. Lydia had also taken up meditation and yoga.

She still struggled, but she felt stronger than she had in a long time.

With Ryan’s support, she had stopped drinking completely, believing it the best course for her.

They had spread their off-work time between the bungalow and her condo, until she had found someone to sub-lease. Since then, they’d been here in this house that held so much of their lives.

Arms crossed over her sweater, Lydia looked around the sunroom with its high walls and beamed ceiling—the good bones of the old house—before wandering down the wainscoted hallway. She stopped at the door to Tyler’s bedroom, which stood open.

Ryan had taken the afternoon off. He knelt on the floor in front of the blue-painted chest of drawers, unaware of her presence. His back was to her as he slowly removed clothing from inside it—little-boy shirts and pants, underwear and pajamas. They’d been going through Tyler’s things together, deciding which ones to donate to charity, to a child in need, and what to keep. She watched, a dull ache inside her as he held one of the items to his face, his shoulders lifting under his shirt as his lungs expanded. Lydia knew he was searching for some left-behind trace of their child.

Tyler would always live in their hearts.

She came inside. Ryan rose and turned to her, placing several pieces of clothing onto the pile they had created.

“I … thought we’d want to keep that,” he said quietly, nodding to a stuffed animal that lay on the bed. The rabbit’s synthetic fur had been worn smooth by fondling and repeated machine washings. Tyler hadn’t gone to sleep without it at night. The bittersweet memory pricked her heart.

“He always loved it,” Ryan rasped, a wash of pain in his blue eyes.

With a small nod of agreement, Lydia picked it up and carefully placed it in one of the packing boxes with the other keepsakes—myriad photos, Tyler’s christening gown, a sweater Melanie had knitted for him, some of his favorite toys.

“Did you really give Max away?” she asked a few moments later.

As Ryan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and moved closer, she sighed. “It’s the right decision, probably,” she said. “Tess adores him, and he’ll be spared the stress of getting used to a new place. It could also be awhile before we have a permanent address.”

“He
did
come with the house,” Ryan reminded. “We found him in the backyard after we moved in.”

For now, they’d rented a loft apartment in downtown Asheville, near the hospital in a renovated factory building in the heart of the city’s arts district. Located on the fifth floor, it was within walking distance of shops and restaurants, and the balcony had a stunning view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Once they were both settled in their new lives, they would begin looking for a house, possibly in the nearby, quaint town of Woodfin.

They’d also talked casually about living higher up in the mountains, in some cabin with a running stream on the property and an outdoor fireplace on the deck.

Removing his hands from his pockets, Ryan tangled his fingers with hers. “So we’re really doing this?”

Lydia released a nervous breath. “I hope so. It’s a little late to back out now.”

His expression grew serious. “This is going to be
good
for us, Lyd.”

This starting over
was
both exciting and terrifying. But they wanted a new place where they weren’t constantly reminded of their loss. A new town, with new people, could hopefully offer that.

But there had been so many good, precious memories here, too.

“I’ve been looking around,” Lydia said, wistful. “We did so much work here, Ryan. You, especially. You really put your heart into this place—”

“My home is wherever you are.” He touched her face, seemingly aware of the emotions barely contained under her surface. She leaned into him and kissed him softly, her arms around his neck.

Once her lips left his, she took a step toward the boxes. They still had a lot of work to do before she left for Asheville. Part of their furniture had already been sent to the new apartment, while the rest would be temporarily put into storage once Ryan officially turned the house over to Carl late next week.

“Have you talked to Adam?” she asked.

“Yeah. We’re still a go for tomorrow night.”

Although Ryan would be in town for a while longer, Adam and Rachel were planning a going-away party for them both, to be held the night before Lydia’s departure. They’d reserved a large room at Ocho’s, the Mexican restaurant in Decatur. All the usual suspects would be there—Mateo and Evie, Darnell, Antoine Clark and his wife, as well as Roe, Abe Solomon and a half-dozen others from Lydia’s workplace. Rick Varek had also been invited, and although he’d declined, he had wished them well. He was now dating a nurse in Oncology.

“Have you figured out how Adam’s taking all this?” Lydia asked. He and Ryan had always been close, and Adam’s injury had only strengthened that bond.

“He’s his usual stoic self. He says Asheville’s only a few hours away, so expect him to visit often.”

Lydia smiled. “I’ll consider myself forewarned.”

“I’ll miss him. No one to use up my laundry detergent and raid my refrigerator.” Although his tone was sarcastic, Lydia knew being separated from Adam was the one hesitancy he had.

“He’s going to be fine, Ryan.” Lydia touched his arm.

After an eight-week medical leave, Adam had spent the last two months working the front desk at his precinct house. But he had regained his strength and appeared to be recuperated. He and Rachel had also grown more serious, becoming nearly inseparable when neither was working. The injury, his brush with death, seemed to have matured him.

He was scheduled to take the detective’s examination next month.

They went back to their task of sorting clothing, talking about Tyler and sharing precious memories as they sat on the floor together. After a while, however, Ryan stood once more and offered his hand to Lydia, helping her up.

“You okay?” Concern was visible in his eyes.

She released a breath, but nodded. This was hard for them both—going through Tyler’s things. The move necessitated it, but it was also necessary for them to let go. Looking at Ryan, she thought of the old proverb:
A shared joy is a double joy; a shared sorrow is half a sorrow
. Their eyes held until she went into his embrace, laying her head against his chest as he wordlessly held her. But with her sadness, she also felt an abiding love.

She felt fortunate for their second chance.
For him.

A short time later, he cleared his throat and released her, his hands gently clasping her upper arms. “Let’s take a break from this, all right? I think we both could use one.”

Lydia took a last look around the increasingly sparse room. Then they walked from it together.

“Brandt’s trial has a start date,” he confided in the hallway. “December fourth.”

Lydia felt her stomach flip-flop. “When did you hear this?”

“Noah Chase called while you were out with Tess.”

The two women had gone to the home improvement store on Ponce for more packing items—boxes, tape, labels. Lydia’s mind went to Elise. She was living somewhere else now, most likely in another state and under a new name. But she would have to resume her former identity when she appeared to testify. Lydia doubted she would ever see or talk to her again, but she hoped the best for her.

“Let’s get you into a jacket. It’s cold out,” Ryan said as they entered the living room. He reached for her coat that hung on the hall tree. “At least as cold as it gets in Hotlanta in early November.”

They’d heard earlier that week that Asheville had already gotten its first snow. It had been only a few inches, but the thought excited Lydia. Growing up in New Orleans, she’d never even seen a snowfall until a college ski trip.

“Where’re we going?” she asked as he held her coat out for her and she slipped her arms inside it.

“Piedmont Park.”

“We’ll have to take the car,” she pointed out as Ryan slid on his leather jacket. “We could just walk to Goldsboro Park right here in the neighborhood—”

“Piedmont’s beautiful in the fall.” Looking at her, he appeared handsome in the fading sunlight filtering in through the large windows, his features even and his eyes a smoky blue. Ryan gave a small shrug. “It … could be our last time.”

A slow realization spread through her.

He had asked her to marry him there—in the gazebo overlooking Lake Clara Meer—all those years ago. Lydia remembered it like some hazy dream. It had been approaching twilight, and the downtown cityscape had just begun to glow, reflecting in the water’s mirrored surface. The park had been busy that night, but their surroundings, the people, had faded away until it was only them.

Looking up at him, Lydia’s fingers laced with his.

“Piedmont it is,” she said softly.

Acknowledgments

 

 

 

 

Thank you for
taking the time to read FALLEN. My readers are the reason I write and I’m so appreciative of your ongoing support.

 

A very special thank you is owed to Angelita Ritz, R.N., who has more than thirty years of nursing experience, including twenty-five years spent inside the ER. Angelita, you were invaluable to me in the depiction of medical scenes and use of terminology, and I cannot thank you enough. You were a fantastic beta reader, as well. I am also deeply grateful for the work of Joyce Lamb, who edited this book, and for critique partners Michelle Muto and Kelly Stone. Michelle, thank you for helping guide me through this next step of my writing journey. I’d also like to thank my agent, Stephany Evans of FinePrint Literary Management, who has always believed in me.

 

Finally, thank you to my husband, Robert, for your love and for encouraging me to always keep writing.