Waking Up to Love (17 page)

“I know,” Nessa said. “I know. But I'm back now.”

Ramona studied her sister's face. Because they were identical twins born only minutes apart, looking at Nessa had always been like looking in a mirror. They had the same cluster of freckles, the same cute nose, the same dark blue circling their light blue irises. Even their hair was similarly styled and cut.

But she didn't feel that way now. Now, looking at her sister, she saw a completely different person. Nessa didn't look younger than her, per se, but she looked more childlike, less mature. Even the makeup she wore looked like she was trying to compensate for something, like she was a kid trying to pass as an adult. Her smile wasn't very confident. Her gaze wasn't as steady. Perhaps she had changed in the last few months. Or perhaps—

Perhaps Ramona had changed. Perhaps she'd matured in a way that Nessa still hadn't. She'd lived through broken hearts and family drama and loads of issues that Nessa had simply run away from. Ramona was seven minutes older than Nessa, but she suddenly felt years more mature.

“Where were you this whole time?” she asked.

Nessa looked away.

“Please talk to me,” Ramona pressed.

“I was … I was staying with friends. On the coast. I know I should've told you, but it was hard for me.”

“It was hard for you?” Ramona asked. “I had to stay behind and pick up your pieces. Don't ask me to feel sorry for you.”

“I'm not! I—”

“Just tell me why you left.”

“Because he picked you!” she shouted. “After the wedding, I realized my mistake. I was ashamed and I couldn't handle it. But … it wasn't fair. He picked you.”

“I don't understand.”

“You will,” she answered. “I should probably go.”

Ramona grabbed her sister by the wrist. She'd walked out of her life once before; she wasn't going to do it again. “You're not leaving.”

Nessa pulled away. “I'm not. I'm staying here. I just … can't be
here
, you know?” She gestured at McInney Manor looming behind her. “But I promise to call you. Tonight. I'm going to be a part of your life again. I … I promise.”

And with that, she walked away. Once again, she left Ramona behind. But this time, she looked over her shoulder as she went. And that made all the difference.

With Nessa once again gone, Ramona became acutely aware that her charade was over. Everybody knew she was the wrong twin. Everybody—even Debra. She looked at all the faces surrounding her, and they were motionless. Everyone stared at the imposter in the dress.

Silence.

Nothing but silence. Inside, Ramona could hear her own pulse. Outside, nothing.

She saw Scott talking to Debra. He was gesturing wildly, trying to explain all these days of lying and pretending. Debra shook her head. Ramona couldn't hear exactly what was being said, and she was thankful for that.

She didn't want to be a part of that argument, but she knew she had to be. Whether she'd intended it or not, she was part of this mess. As she walked through the clusters of party guests, she passed Rob, who diverted his gaze as she walked by.

After what felt like a long walk of shame, Ramona reached Scott and Debra.

“And that's it,” he was saying. “We were so worried about you, we just … we lied.” He was flailing. He needed Ramona's support.

Silently, she joined them and slipped her hand inside his. “Sorry, Debra.”

Debra looked at them, first Scott, then Ramona, then Scott again. In the background, party music continued to play. She waited, seemingly weighing her possible responses, and then she laughed.

“Debra?”

“Mom? Oh God. Is your heart okay?”

Debra doubled over with laughter.

“Mom?”

“Honey, I've known for days. I'm old, not stupid.”

“What?” Ramona asked. The party music seemed to fade away, but that was probably just in her head.

Debra stood up and held both their hands so that the three of them formed a circle. “Since you were babies, I always thought you two would grow up and fall in love. I always hoped you would. These last two weeks, I've just been playing along so I could watch you two grow closer together. Now, I love Nessa, don't get me wrong. But come on, everyone knows you two were the real soul mates.”

Ramona felt numb. First her sister, then Debra. Everyone seemed to be conspiring to get them together. Either they were destined, or they were so
un-
destined that no amount of matchmaking could bring them together.

“And how's your heart?” Scott asked.

“It's
fine
,” Debra said. “It swells whenever I see the two of you.”

Scott turned toward Ramona. “I've really made a mess of things, haven't I?”

“We both have,” Ramona said.

“So does that mean—?” Debra asked.

Scott squeezed her hand. Ramona was tempted to squeeze back. But she couldn't. “I have to go,” she said.

“What?”

“Something always happens,” she said. “Every time I'm happy, every time I think this'll be it, something always happens. No matter how many people keep pushing us in the right direction, one of us—you or me, probably you—ends up ruining it. I've lived my life with this sense of hope that everything will turn out okay, but that has never happened. And honestly, I don't think
my
heart can handle that stress anymore.

“So this is your last chance, Scott McInney. I will give you the rest of the day to figure things out. If you have any doubts, don't bother finding me. No judgments either way. You just need to make up your mind. I think we both deserve that.”

Ramona walked away from the party, a mixture of fear and excitement building up inside her. She wasn't like Nessa, running away from her problems. She was finally doing things on her own terms.

“Where will you be?” Scott called to her.

She didn't answer. He'd know.

The party wound down and everybody left. Rob and Jeffrey were on clean-up duties, which included a couple of unpleasant wet spots on the dance floor courtesy of Scott's BLM crew. Hopefully they were just from spilled beers.

Scott volunteered to take Debra to her much awaited hospital check-up, to show support and to distract him from his upcoming life-changing decision.

While Debra checked herself in, Scott walked down the familiar hallway. He'd spent so many sleepless nights here during the last few months. He knew every corner, but something seemed different somehow. Foreign. It was like he'd never stepped inside these walls before.

“Mr. McInney!” someone called from the edge of the hallway.

Scott turned around to see a familiar face: Dr. Nguyen, the young doctor who had been treating Debra since she first came to Farber Memorial. He looked frazzled and busy, as doctors usually do, but he smiled at Scott.

“Dr. Nguyen,” Scott said. “We just got here.”

“So I heard,” the doctor explained. “I was just about to meet with Debra. I trust you've been making sure she hasn't had any issues.”

“I tried.”

The doctor patted him on the shoulder. “I figured you would.”

Scott's eyes shifted to the room at the end of the hall: the waiting room. Had it only been two weeks ago that he'd proposed there in front of total strangers? Debra stood there waiting for them.

“Debra. You look great,” Dr. Nguyen said. “I just ran into your son. Come with me and we'll check out your vitals.”

• • •

An hour later, X-rays were finished, blood was drawn, and Dr. Nguyen was happy to report that everything looked fine. Scott held his mom's hand and waited for official word that she could go.

“Have you thought about Ramona?” Debra asked.

“Every minute I haven't been worrying about you.”

“And?”

“And I shouldn't have put her through all that. She didn't want to lie to you. If I hadn't pushed her—”

“Don't be sorry,” she said. “You were trying to help me.”

“But it was a stupid idea,” he said.

“No argument there,” she said. “It was perhaps the dumbest thing you could do in this situation. But, come on. We both know you inherited your father's reasoning skills.”

Scott laughed in spite of himself.

“Don't beat yourself up about it, okay?” Debra said. Her voice had all of its strength back. “I understand why you did it. And your heart was in the right place. Just don't ever do anything like that ever again.”

He stuck his fingers into the air. “Scout's honor.”

She laughed. “You were never a Scout.”

The sound of her laughter didn't take away Scott's feelings of regret and guilt. All his careful plans had backfired on him. On everyone. His mother deserved the truth. But he'd made the decision in a moment of weakness, back when Debra's health was definitely in the front of his mind. And once he made that decision, he'd stayed committed to it, for better or worse.

And the end result was definitely in the “for worse” category.

“Oh, don't look so glum,” Debra scolded him. “No one's dying.”

Scott tried to course-correct his face, turning his frown into a smile, but all he could accomplish was a worried grimace.

“Seriously,” Debra said. “Stop fretting about me. You need to figure out what you're going to do about Ramona.”

“I already put her through so much. I—”

“Scott Owen McInney,” Debra said. That shut him up fast. “I just have one question for you. And you'd better be straight with me.”

“I promise.”

Debra looked him straight in the eyes, and he saw the strength and confidence that he always expected from his mother. “Scott, who do you love?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me the name of the woman you love.”

“Ramona,” he said. He didn't pause to think. That would've been too dangerous. Besides, his mother knew what he was going to say anyway.

“Honey,” she said. “You've done some profoundly stupid things this year. I won't stand by while you add another one to that list.”

“You're saying—”

“I'm saying you should go after her. Get the girl, the
right
girl. She gave you some time. You've thought about it. Now go.”

He didn't get up. He wanted to. He wanted to jump up and scream Ramona's name from the rooftops and run until he couldn't run anymore. He wanted to give Ramona a big, dramatic ending to their big, dramatic week together. But there was something holding him back.

“You're not running after her,” Debra said. Disappointment hung on her wrinkled face.

“Mom, what if I already blew it?”

Even though she was weak, Debra pulled herself forward and placed her hands on Scott's shoulders. “Son,” she said. “Listen to me. Please.”

“I'm all ears,” he said.

“My mother, your Grandma Pat, she had this saying. She used to say it all through my childhood, every time I got my heart broken by the long train of losers that I met before your father. Mom always said to me, ‘You can't make someone love you any more than you can make the ocean stand still.' And I believe that. I always have. But I think there's a second half to that saying, too. You can't make someone love you, sure, but you also can't force yourself to love someone you don't. Now, the way I see it, Ramona loves you and you love her just the same. Am I right?”

Scott nodded.

“Then there's your answer,” she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Go get her.”

• • •

Scott drove his old Ford all the way across town. As he pulled into her apartment complex, he tried to see if her lights were on, but the curtains were all closed. He ran to her front door and pounded. Again and again.

No answer.

“Ramona!” he shouted.

No answer.

He tried calling her cell again, but it only went to voice message. “Uh, hi. Ramona. I know this is the third message I've left in the last ten minutes, but will you please call me? Soon? I've made up my mind. Finally. We really need to talk. Uh … this is Scott.” He clicked off his phone. He knew she wasn't going to pick up.

He also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wasn't in her apartment. And if she wasn't in her apartment, then there was only one other place where she could possibly be: He had to get back to McInney Manor.

The drive to his childhood home took forever. He hit every red light on the way. When he finally pulled up to the house, he could tell that she wasn't inside. The front door was locked, and there was no way she would sneak inside.

So he ran around back, looking for her amongst the remaining party decorations. Some of the balloons still bobbed in the air. Even the speaker system hadn't yet been disassembled and stored away. It was a party with no people. The whole place felt haunted.

And Ramona still wasn't there.

“Ramona!” he called out, hoping for some response. Anything.

He looked all around him—cake, confetti, streamers, and no Ramona. Then he looked up. Their old treehouse loomed overhead. He wasn't sure why he had the sudden realization that she was up there, but he felt her presence. She had to be up there.

Scott didn't believe in intuition, but he certainly felt it right now. He began to climb.

“Ramona!” he shouted.

No answer.

“Ramona!” he shouted again. In his mind, he thought he heard a soft, sweet voice reply, but it was just in his imagination. There was no reply. If she was there—and he certainly felt her there—then she was keeping quiet.

Still, he couldn't give up now, not when he had the fire in his belly, not when he finally understood what his heart really wanted. He climbed the treehouse's rickety steps.

“Ramona!” he called again, once he was halfway up. He'd climbed this tree so often as a child, but now—now, it felt different. It didn't feel smaller, like so many childhood things tended to feel. In fact, it somehow felt bigger, more important. And the treehouse steps seemed to extend upward for miles.