The Final Piece (10 page)

The sun peeking over the horizon casts a hundred different shades of pink, orange and yellow across the lake. I walk gingerly across the gravel to the dock on my bare feet. The light dances across the surface of the water and beckons me with a siren’s call.  I find my spot at the dock’s edge and hang my feet over the side. That is how Tommy finds me, savoring my coffee and drawing circles in the water with my toes.

“Hey baby girl, I thought I might find you out here,” Tommy yawns, scratching his stomach through his Iowa Hawkeyes t-shirt. It doesn’t surprise me to see him. We’ve been having early morning pow-wows on the dock for a long time. “Couldn’t sleep?” He brushes his hand across the top of my head before joining me.

“Bad dream.” I murmur into my mug. Tommy regards me with sleepy eyes, but the twitch of his mustache clues me in to his concern.

“Wanna talk about it?” He wraps his arm around me and squeezes my shoulder.

“No, but Dr. Warren says it’s the only way I will ever get past it.” I stare into my mug and try to gather the courage to continue.

“You know you can tell me anything, Beth. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, baby girl.” Tommy’s warm baritone washes over me, giving me the boost that I need.

“It was about Drew,” I start, “nothing specific, more like a mash-up of everything.” My hair falls like a curtain, hiding my face from Tommy’s reaction. I hear him blow out a breath as he takes in my statement.

“I have bad dreams too,” his confession surprises me. Pulling my hair behind my ear, I turn toward him. His eyes are focused on the lake. “In my dream, I am back in your living room, pounding the living shit out of Drew, except this time I don’t stop, Beth. I kill him with my bare hands,” his voice trembles as he pinches the bridge of his nose. I reach over and lay my hand across the top of his. I don’t want this pain for him. ”The dream doesn’t scare me as much as waking up wishing that I had.”

I rest my head on Tommy’s shoulder and let the weight of his words soak in. Knowing the extremes he would go to protect me makes me feel brave. As the sun continues its ascent into the sky, I lay out the whole story. I have to give Tommy credit, he masks his fury well when I tell him how Drew struck up a friendship with me when I was five and by my sixth birthday had me convinced that touching me meant he loved me. Tommy swallows audibly when I tell him how Drew encouraged me to show him how much I loved him by touching him, too. I close my eyes, not wanting to see Tommy’s reaction when I explain it was two years before I realized Drew was doing something wrong and when I tried to stop it, he cried like I had broken his heart. After that, Drew made sure to remind me that no one would believe the word of a child over him. Once I have purged the last detail, Tommy cocoons me in his arms. The same arms that struck out to protect me, the arms that saved me.

“In my life, I have never known, nor will I ever know, someone as strong and courageous as you, Elizabeth Irene Bradshaw,” Tommy whispers against my temple. I have no words, so I nod my head against his chest, hoping he understands my acceptance of his praise. ”You honor me with your trust, baby girl. I am so very proud of you.”

“Dr. Warren told me that I made a good choice when I told her that I trusted you, T.” I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should tell him the whole of what Dr. Warren said. “She told me that I did good choosing Ryan, too,” Tommy’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, “to trust, I mean.” Tommy’s face is frozen in surprise, so I continue, “I trust him to be careful with me. At the same time, he doesn’t treat me any different than normal.”

“I don’t know about that, the way he was looking at you... “ Tommy wiggles his eyebrows up and down, eliciting a mortified gasp from me.

“I mean, he doesn’t act like he’s afraid to be around me, like I’m going to fall apart if he says the wrong thing. It’s nice to just feel normal.” I shake my head, embarrassed by Tommy’s candor but glad to have made my point. “He thinks you believe he’s a dirtbag.”

Tommy’s face falls at those words. “Oh,” Tommy whispers, “I never meant it that way. I just don’t like boys ogling my baby girl.”

I shove Tommy in the shoulder. “You mad at me for ogling him? Talk about a double standard!” I laugh.

“No! La-la-la-la-la-la-la!” Tommy sticks his fingers in his ears, “I am not listening!”

With the mood significantly lighter, we grab our mugs and return to the house to see who is ready for some lake time.

Chapter 17

From the moment Tommy and I cross the threshold into the house, our day begins in a flurry. Gran is in the kitchenette frying up egg sandwiches and Uncle Rob and Ryan are at the card table scarfing down theirs. Pops is dancing around Gran, trying to pack a cooler to take fishing. As he reaches into a high cabinet, I catch him swatting Gran’s butt.

Gross.

Aunt Melissa comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and pauses when she sees me. Her face breaks into a huge smile filled with her love for me. It makes me blush for some reason, and I feel a little sheepish when she holds her arms out for me. I step into her embrace and let the soapy scent of her shower wash over me.

“Happy Birthday, Elizabeth Irene!” She squeezes me until I grunt from the force, as she pushes me to arm’s length, assessing me. “Well you look the same as yesterday, how do you feel?”

“I feel better than I have in a long time.” I answer Melissa, but my smile is for Tommy. Yes, it’s starting to feel like I am on my way to leaving Drew where he belongs, in the past.

“Saddle up, hanyaks! We are wasting precious lake time dilly-dallying in here.” Uncle Rob pats the card table as he stands and clears the table. The promise of the lake is all the motivation I need—I am skipping to the bedroom when I feel eyes boring a hole in me. From the card table, Ryan is watching me with amusement. He stands and skips into the kitchen with over exaggerated movements.

Moron.

We all scatter to our rooms to ready ourselves for a day on the lake. I grab a pair of cutoffs and my Aerosmith t-shirt to wear over my bikini. While sunblock helps, unless I cover up, I will end the day with a gazillion more freckles I hate. I grab my bag, making sure to pack my towel with my SPF 85 and Walkman. I am anxious to listen to the mix tape I made for the trip. The pull of music and the lake almost has me skipping out the door before I remember Ryan poking fun at me. I sling my bag over my shoulder, lift my head high and remind myself that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Ryan looks confused as I climb into the jet boat. “You aren’t going out on the ski tube today?”

“I am,” I reach into the neck of my t-shirt and pull the string from my bikini into view. “The sun is freckle fertilizer and I need more of those like I need another hole in my head.” I mean to sound playful, but Ryan doesn’t play along. He studies my face and cocks his head to the side.

“I like your freckles,” he says nonchalantly, “they’re you.”

I blush at his compliment. He smiles warmly as he takes my bag and stows it under the bench seat as he continues readying the boat for the day.
             
“Hey, did you say something to Tommy?” his question pulls me back from my swooning.

“Huh?” I stall, trying to figure what he knows about my talk with Tommy. My stomach hits the floor of the boat at the thought of anyone overhearing my early morning confessions. Sweat beads on my top lip as I wait for Ryan to answer.

“About me?” he says. “Did you say something? Because he took me aside to tell me how proud he is of me.” Ryan stops winding the towrope to look up at me through his long blond lashes.

Crap, I can’t think when he looks at me like that.

“Umm...“ I stutter, “No, he’s just in a sentimental mood. He told me the same thing this morning when we were having coffee on the dock.” There, that’s part of the truth...minus the other nine-tenths of the conversation. Ryan raises an eyebrow at me and I shoot him a toothy smile.

“Uh-huh,” Ryan mutters. “Well, since you didn’t say anything, I won’t thank you.”

He goes back to winding the towrope, shaking his head at me. Even though he has turned his gaze back to his task, I can see the upturn of his lips and know that he is pleased. I smile, knowing how good it feels to hear those words from someone you respect and admire. I felt the same rush of pride when Tommy said them to me.

Pops and Uncle Rob take off with their fishing rods in the bass boat, determined to bring back a cooler full of Muskie and Catfish. They assure me that they will forfeit my traditional beer brat birthday dinner by opting for a Fourth of July fish fry. We wish them luck as we pull away from them and head toward the center of the lake.

“You think they’ll catch anything?” I gesture in the direction of the bass boat. I am lounging on the bench seat with Aunt Melissa while Tommy and Ryan ride up front.

“God, I hope not,” Aunt Melissa cringes, “I hate fish.”

I snicker and nod my head in agreement.

Good, I’m not the only one.

I pull my Walkman out from beneath the seat and settle in for the ride. Strains of classic rock flow through my headphones as the boat picks up speed and we are flying.

I stare at the back of Tommy’s head, thinking about all of the things he knows about me, now. I’m not sorry I told him everything. It feels good to know someone else knows my secret. Still, I worry that it’s irrevocably changed the way he sees me. I close my eyes and tilt my face toward the sky, as the warmth of the sun chases the sudden chill away. The Stones are crooning on about wild horses when someone nudges my knee. I lift one eyelid, expecting to find Aunt Melissa, instead I find a grinning Ryan. Aunt Melissa looks over her shoulder from her new place in the front seat and winks. That minx, she is a shameless matchmaker. I love it.

“What’s up, Ry?” I pull my headphones down around my neck, hoping I sound calmer than I am.

“You were sending me smoke signals up there,” he gestures toward the front seat. I crinkle my brow in confusion so he continues, “The smoke coming off your head from thinking too hard. It spoke to me, ‘Ryan come save me from myself before I think myself into a coma.’” I laugh at his observation and just like that, I’m relaxed again. We fall into easy conversation about life, music and talking Tommy into shaving his mustache.

“Tom Selleck called, he wants his ‘stache back,” Ryan chuckles.

“It
is
very Magnum P.I., circa 1981,” I giggle.

The rest of the day, between our turns in the water, we whisper the names of famous mustaches.

“Groucho Marx,” Ryan challenges.

“Charlie Chaplin,” I shoot back.

“Burt Reynolds,” he banters.

“Freddy Mercury.” I smile—not only is Freddy’s ‘stache iconic, he’s a musical genius.

“Ooo, that’s a good one,” Ryan cheers. I watch as his face lights up, “Geraldo Rivera!” he shouts.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Tommy asks while we tie down the ski tube for the ride back.

Ryan and I shoot each other panicked looks and speak at the same time,

“Nothing.”

I laugh so hard I have tears streaming down my face. Ryan is holding his stomach, trying to breathe between his guffaws. Tommy is looking at us like we are a couple of loons. He furrows his brow, shakes his head and goes back to securing our gear.

Chapter 18

That evening, we gather around the card table where Gran has lit up her famous chocolate cake with fifteen candles that flicker like sparklers. My family belts out “Birthday” by The Beatles and chants for me to blow out the candles. Surrounded by the people I love most in the world, I have never been happier. Already having my wish in mind, I pull in a deep breath and blow.

“That was quick, did you make a wish?” Gran asks.

“I already knew what I was wishing for.” I smirk but she doesn’t see it, her attention is focused on serving us. She passes me a plate and kisses my forehead before going back to tending to the cake. I bite, savoring the rich chocolate while I try to think up a subtle way to get Ryan alone. Nerves start to kick around my self-doubt and when I am about to give into it, Ryan interrupts.

“Are you done with that?” he points to my plate.

“Yeah, I’m done,” I sigh at the double meaning of my statement and push my plate toward him. “Have at it, it’s all yours.”

“No,” Ryan chuckles, “I don’t want your cake. I thought if you were done, you might want to go for a walk?”

Oh. My. God.

“Sure.” I am certain I’m blushing head to toe but I am so excited, I don’t care. I leap to my feet with too much enthusiasm, making Ryan laugh. As we slip out the front door, I don’t look over my shoulder to see if anyone is watching us, but I’m pretty sure that Aunt Melissa has a big smile on her face.

We walk along the shoreline in silence awhile, until Ryan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rumpled envelope.

“I got you something for your birthday, I just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everybody.” He holds it out for me to take. “Sorry, it got a little beat up in my pocket.” He smiles shyly. I nibble at my bottom lip as I tear at the paper, inside are two tickets to see Brutal Strength at The Iowa State Fair. My eyes shoot from the tickets to Ryan’s face.