Fearsome (29 page)

“You can’t avoid this. It’s your love life that’s sitting in that hospital.”

“I knew it. Everyone thinks I’m responsible for Dylan crashing the truck. Well, that’s just great because I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m to blame,” I practically shout at Lois, who parks the car in the hospital lot and kills the engine before putting her hand over mine.

“What are you talking about, Jess? No one blames you.”

“If I hadn’t gotten involved with Dylan, he wouldn’t have been so depressed that he’d drive his truck off a bridge. Yes, I think he did it on purpose.” I’m hysterical, yet also relieved to get that out.

“Oh, sweet mother of hash, you are very pretty. You’re a real beauty, but don’t think you’re so special that men will drive off bridges because of you. No one thinks you’re to blame. Dylan may have been surprised to see you coming from Carson’s place, but it was an accident. Even if he was upset, it caused him to have poor judgment when he tried to turn that monster truck onto that little bridge. He rolled down the ravine by accident. He didn’t want to kill himself.”

I want to believe her. Her version sounds more reasonable and it doesn’t incriminate me or make Dylan out to be suicidal. She sounds so grandmotherly. Of course, she’s the kind of grandmother that smokes pot and swears like a drunken sailor.

“I’m still not sure what to believe,” I say.

“I had my doubts about you being with Dylan. See, I knew how Carson felt about you even if he didn’t admit it to the rest of us. I have always been worried about Dylan; however, he seemed to go after you with gusto and I was surprised that Carson sat back and let it happen. But who was I to get involved? Then I saw Dylan getting worse and Carson was suffering right along with him. He wanted to help Dylan, but he was also miserable watching you two, knowing he couldn’t go near you. I could see those tortured looks on his face. It was awful when you and Dylan left my party together.”

“Well, why the hell didn’t Carson stop me? If he’s in love with me, why did he let me go off with his brother?” I whine in the most awful, shrill tone. “Never mind. I know it was all about Carson protecting Dylan. I’ve heard it before.”

“If it had been any other man, Carson would have stepped in. He would have been jealous, but it was Dylan. You have to understand how hard Carson has worked at protecting that boy. I don’t think he felt right about yanking you away from Dylan.”

“I had no idea Carson cared about me in that way until yesterday. At least Dylan was very upfront. Carson has been hiding this whole time.”

“I know. It’s been a confusing mess. Love can be like that, but Carson is the right man for you and it can be fixed now. That is, if you want to fix it.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say, getting out of the car.

“Well, it’s show time, so put on a good face, at least during visiting hours.”

Lois goes in first and I wait in the hallway because only two people are allowed at a time. I hear Carson’s deep voice and then Lois’s loud barks of laughter. She makes no attempt to be quiet for the sake of all the sleeping patients.

After ten minutes she comes out into the hall with a big grin on her face. “They’re all yours, doll.”

Dylan’s head is shaved, buzzed to the scalp, and he has two ghastly curves around the base of his head and over one ear where the black stitches are prominent. He has one black eye and half his face is swollen and covered in ugly bruises. The purple and black hues run down the sides of his arms and his torso. He’s propped up in the hospital bed with the top of his gown turned down where he’s hooked up to monitors and extra tubes that travel down his arm to an I.V. bandage. Carson is leaning on the ledge of the window talking to him when Dylan sees me and turns his head slowly towards the door to take me in with a big smile.

It’s that big, baby-face Dylan, cute and adorable, but his eyes have a stoned look to them.

“The nurse was in here and gave him his meds so he’s pretty doped up,” Carson tells me.

“I’m not so bad that I can’t see Jess,” Dylan says. “But I’m loving the drugs. At least I can smile at you without it feeling like a knife in my face.”

“Hi.” I come around to the side of the bed near Carson.

“Hi, there, yourself,” Dylan says. His voice is a little woozy from the painkillers, but it’s my old Dylan. “I heard I scared the hell out of you. Come here.”

I hesitate. Carson has his arms folded and is smiling at me. He nods in the direction of Dylan, giving me the go ahead. I appreciate that Carson doesn’t attempt to kiss me or touch me in any way in front of Dylan. I move to the side of Dylan’s bed where he has one free arm without needles and tubes.

He grabs my hand and rubs it on his head. “Feel this,” he says groggily. “It’s like when I was a kid. Remember my buzz?” I laugh because I think I do remember him having a buzz cut as a little boy; his dark blond hair was soft against his scalp like it is now.

“I’m amazed at your body’s resiliency.”

“You should have seen the truck. The trooper came by with the photos they took at the scene. The truck did a complete roll over and I bounced all over the inside of that thing like a bowling ball. My head pounded repeatedly against the steering wheel and actually dented it to half its original size. The trooper said anyone else would have died.” Dylan slurs this last statement and closes his eyes.

I look over at Carson who shakes his head in disbelief, but I can see the gratitude in his expression as well. “It’s true. I saw the photos. They think Dylan survived because he’s young and packed with enough weight and muscle that it protected him.”

“He was driving so fast…” I let my words trail off. This is a conversation I need to have with Carson at another time and place.

“Jess.” Dylan’s eyes are open again.

“Yes, I’m still here.” I reach for his free hand again, which is now limp on his leg. His eyes flutter closed and then open again.

“I can’t say what I’m trying to say, the words are coming out funny,” he says.

“The morphine is kicking in,” Carson explains. “He’s going to fall asleep. We can leave him alone for a while. His nurse will be back to check on him.”

I get up and follow Carson out into the hall. Lois is gone, so I figure she must have headed off for the waiting room.

“I need to go home and shower and shave,” Carson says. I admit he is handsome with his one-day beard and his tussled hair, however, he looks completely beat.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Maybe a total of twenty minutes. I would start to doze off, but there are too many beeping machines and the nurses were in his room doing checks and tests every half hour. I want to run home.” He takes my hand. “I thought you could come with me and wait while I get cleaned up. Then we could grab a real meal some place and come back to the hospital together.”

I take my hand away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Carson. You need to be with Dylan, not me.”

“What’s wrong, Jess?” His smile fades as he searches my face for an explanation.

“We can’t start something now, not with Dylan in the hospital. You can’t flaunt this in front of him or other people. I shouldn’t have been at your house, Carson. I shouldn’t have started anything with Dylan, either. This is messed up. I’m going to find Lois and have her take me home.”

“We’re not flaunting anything. You’ve got this wrong.”

“We’re not going to argue about it here. I’m going home with Lois,” I say, moving away.

“This isn’t messed up. You and I are good together.”

I shake my head and start walking away. Carson looks back at Dylan’s room and then at me.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he says too loudly for a hospital. “When I knock on your door later tonight, I expect you to answer it. Don’t hide from this, Jess.”

Twenty-Eight

Imogene and Lauren choose the two bedrooms that belonged to Carson and Dylan that one summer long ago. Lauren borrows her father’s truck to bring all of their boxes to my house. They begin unpacking their clothes, toiletries and worldly possessions of junk. It takes all three of us to carry their jewelry supply boxes up to the playroom that belonged to the young Blackard boys and me. They are eager to get settled in so we eat Pop Tarts for dinner instead of taking a break to prepare an actual meal.

I keep checking the clock, noticing as the hour approaches the time of the end of visiting hours at the hospital; the moment when Carson will leave for home. I am on my knees, helping Lauren fill dozens of shallow trays with jewelry findings when she unexpectedly hugs me tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she says.

She has me in a crushing embrace and I am bewildered and touched at the same time.

“I was terrible to you yesterday. Dylan’s accident was not your fault and I shouldn’t have come down so hard on you about Dylan and Carson.”

“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?” I ask as she lets go of me.

“It’s a small town, Jess. Archie and Lois are very worried about you and I know you worry enough for one hundred people. You don’t need me riding your ass, too.”

“Oh.” I sigh. “Thanks for being so understanding, but I’ve been thinking about everything a lot. Dylan and Carson. Dylan’s accident was a wake-up call. I don’t think it’s as simple as everyone is making this out to be.”

Imogene comes in the room with another box. “I heard that,” she says. “Dating Dylan is one thing, but if you think you can win over a guy like Carson and then just walk away from it, you’re crazy. It doesn’t work that way.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. Then there is a loud pounding on the front door, which could only mean that Carson is making good on his promise to bash my medieval doorknocker continuously until I respond.

“Hark! But what is that obscene pounding and which caveman could it be?” Imogene sings. “I know it’s not Jeremy or Leo because they haven’t grown big enough balls to ask us out.”

Lauren starts laughing.

“I’ll get it,” I say.

“Damn straight you will. You have the makings of a perfect life and this is the guy you have been infatuated with all along. So you are going to talk to him and you are not going to blow it.”

“I never said I was infatuated with Carson. How could I? I was dating Dylan.”

“Sometimes we have stand-ins until the real deal comes along,” Imogene says. “Some of us realized that Dylan was your stand-in.”

“Oh.” It’s obvious I don’t have a good comeback.

Carson doesn’t stop knocking, so I take the stairs two at a time as fast as I can without breaking my neck on the way down.

I swing the door wide open. “It was unlocked,” I say to Carson who’s walking through the door before I finish the sentence.

“You told me to stop letting myself in. I’m not here to bully you into doing what I think is right. I’m here because we had the best day with each other yesterday,” he says passionately, wild-eyed.

“Until it stopped being the best day,” I say.

“Then, I guess I am here to bully you. Jess, I don’t play games of any kind, especially guessing games. I’ve been completely honest with you, so you know where I stand. I want to know why you’re angry at me and what you were thinking back the hospital earlier today. Something set you off and you left.”

“You do play games, whether you realize it or not. You were interested in me from the beginning—that’s what you said—but you let Dylan and I carry on, knowing full well that Dylan couldn’t handle it and I wasn’t serious enough for him. You knew this would blow up. If you had asked me out first, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Carson stares at me and then laughs. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes, I sound really stupid and it’s not coming out the way I want,” I snap at him.

“Do you think I’m the Dating Czar in this town? That I have the authority to control who everyone dates or doesn’t date?”

“We could have prevented Dylan’s accident, if it was really an accident,” I retort.

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m not like Dylan. I don’t flirt, I don’t remember to buy flowers and I don’t keep track of birthdays, unless Archie reminds me. If I was the Dating Czar, then my two stupid, yet lovable employees would be dating the two unattached women you have upstairs,” he shouts to the upstairs floors.

“Thank you, Carson!” Imogene interjects from the second floor.

“You’re welcome,” he shouts back.

“You’re not listening to me,” I say.

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t get it. I’m not known as Mr. Romance in this town. Dylan won you over the minute you saw him. I didn’t have a chance. The one thing I don’t do is date. I don’t do the small talk and ask random women out.”

“He doesn’t date!” Imogene and Lauren both shout from upstairs.

“Hey! Greek Chorus, shut up!” I yell to the invisible pair upstairs.

“Thank you!” Carson responds to them again, but he glares at me. “Did you hear that? I don’t date, not in ages, because I don’t do it well. I don’t take chances with women. I do it once. I waited because I wanted the time to be right to tell you how I felt.”

“That is a stupid policy. You do it once, huh? You did have a chance with me. In fact, you had two chances; day one and then the two week period when I wasn’t talking to Dylan before we actually got together,” I say softly. “But you didn’t take them. Dylan did. After the fight you had with Dylan in my kitchen, you could have stepped in then.”

“I almost did. I wanted to tell you when we were on the bridge and again when we were making those crappy pies.” Carson is hovering over me, his face fallen, his hands out while he figures out how to touch me.

“But you didn’t take a chance on me and by not taking a chance and telling me the truth, I ended up with the wrong guy and I hurt him. Badly. It’s a mess. Dylan’s alive; however, we haven’t addressed the bigger problem.”

“We will,” Carson says, trying to be reassuring. “As soon as he’s out of the hospital. I finally got space for him in that really good residential treatment program that will help him.”

“That’s great,” I say. “Then that’s what you should do.”