“Don’t talk like that,” I admonish him quickly. “Seriously, stop it. Yeah, things got fucked up but no one deserves to be in a god damn helicopter crash. No one deserves this, especially not you. People make mistakes, I get it. We just weren’t what I always hoped we’d be.”
“No, we weren’t. We were better than that.” He gives me a half smile. “Together we were the best. That’s why it hurts so fucking much.”
There is a knock at the door and I turn to see James standing there. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I want to kick him the nuts.
“Sorry,” he says, and he does sound sorry. “A nurse told me visiting hours are almost over. I just wanted to say a few words to him.”
I nod but Linden squeezes my hand tighter. “Please don’t go,” he says hoarsely, trying to hold me to him. “I need you.”
Does he really? Or is he in a drugged-up, overly emotional because he faced death head on, kind of daze? I keep forgetting he lives here now. I keep forgetting how much everything has changed.
“You’re going to be fine,” I tell him. Then I reluctantly let go of his hand and walk away so that James can say his peace. As I pass by him in the room, I shoot him a warning. I don’t know what James is going to talk about, if he’s going to lay it all on him like he did to me on the plane, but I’m not sure how much Linden can handle.
James nods though, seeming to understand. I look back in time to see Linden watching me, looking more pained than before. I step out in the hall and see Bram and a distinguished-looking older man standing a few feet away.
“You must be Stephanie,” the man says, coming toward me with his hand out, talking in a ridiculously refined Scottish accent. “I’m Linden’s father.”
“Oh, hello,” I tell him, happy to finally meet this infamous figure. His father is tall and handsome with salt and pepper hair and twinkling eyes. I can definitely see where his sons get their looks from. I shake his hand as firmly as I can, wanting to impress. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“Yes,” he says. “Nice to finally meet you, the famous Stephanie Robson.”
I snort. Not exactly very ladylike. “Famous?”
He exchanges a look with Bram. “Linden has talked about you a lot over the years.”
“He has?” Linden barely talked to his parents at all.
“Yes. You were always mentioned at some point or another. And ever since he moved here, well…you’re mentioned a lot more. It’s nice to put such a lovely face to such a beloved name.”
Linden’s been talking about me his father even now? While I’m pondering that, he places his hand on Bram’s shoulder and says, “I’m going home to get your mother. I’ll be back in a bit.” He gives me a small bow. “Pleasure meeting you. Hope to see you again sometime.”
“Sure, yes of course,” I tell him and watch him go.
“Hey,” Bram says to me. “I’m not sure how long you’re staying in New York for but do you want to get a coffee while we wait for James? There’s a good place next door.”
I nod, thinking that’s better than staying in the hospital. The problem is, I have to head back to SF soon to open the store – I can’t afford to close it right now.
As we leave the hospital, I’m wondering if I’ll even get a chance to say goodbye again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LINDEN
I remember once when I was a wee lass, I’d gone to the stables to help my mother. Well, I wasn’t really helping per se, as I was just hanging around. My nanny had the day off and so my poor mum was relegated to taking care of Bram and I. Boy, we really were a couple of twats. Bram would climb up into the hayloft and jump into the bales below, while I would sneak in and out of every horse’s stall.
This one day, I was following my mum around, like a spy. I knew it annoyed her to have us playing around her when she was trying to work, so I kind of hung around in the background. I remember watching her though, maybe even wondering what was it about the horses that she seemed to like so much more than me.
That day she was fussing over a yearling that she was trying to sell, I think. I remember it being a filly and sometimes I fancied that maybe it would be my horse. My mum seemed to pay that much more attention to it.
When she left to go check on another horse, I went into the filly’s stall. Appleton I think was the name, though now I’m realizing they would have named it after a bottle of rum. But then again, that seems about right.
I was petting the horse, just like my mom had, when Bram dropped somewhere in the barn. It made the filly spook and she ended up bucking out, kicking me right in the head. I was obviously not standing where I was supposed to be.
All I remembered at the time was an explosion of wet fire inside my head and then everything went deep, deep black. I woke up later with a veterinarian peering over me. Apparently it was easier to call him than it was to take me to the hospital.
For most of my life, I thought that was the scariest thing that had ever happened to me. But now, now that’s changed.
Surviving the helicopter crash is the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. Of course that seems quite obvious. That would be one of the most traumatizing things to ever happen to anyone and luckily it rarely does. But it wasn’t the crash itself that shook me to my bones, nor the actual bones inside me breaking. It had nothing to do with that.
It was after, when I woke up in the hospital, and realized I didn’t have the one person on earth that I needed. I was alone, maybe not physically – thankfully my father and brother were there – but I was alone in my soul. My heart still belonged to someone else and I could have died without ever seeing it, or her, again.
That’s when the loss of the last couple of months, the despair and the change, all came tumbling around me at once, crushing me until I had no choice but surrender to it. Surrender to the loss. Surrender to the shit fucking choices I made.
This was all my fault.
I cried. I really fucking cried for that first night. Everyone thought I was in pain so they kept pumping me more and more full of drugs, but the pain was somewhere they could never reach. The crash was over but I was still breaking, breaking, breaking inside.
All for Stephanie, the woman I lost, the woman I threw away.
And for what? For a better conscience? For pride?
For nothing. It was all for nothing.
Nothing has such a hollow, infinite sound to it.
When Stephanie appeared by my bed, I knew it had to be a dream. There was no way I could just ache and want so much and have it appear the next day. I wasn’t a fucking genie.
But it wasn’t a dream. Was it?
I’m looking at James right now but he’s not the person I want to be looking at. The person I want left me again. The person I want still has my damn heart.
“Was Steph really here?” I ask him, my throat so hoarse and dry it’s like I swallowed sandpaper. The room still spins like I’m in a slow-cycled washing machine, so maybe it really was a dream. How am I to know?
But he nods. “Yeah. She was here.”
Then why am I still in pain?
“Look, I know I’m the last person you want to see,” he says.
I can’t help but frown, even though it hurts my head to do so. “Actually I thought I’d be the last person you’d want to see.” Considering the way things ended between us, I’m shocked he’s even here.
I’m shocked Steph is here too. And then my mind wants to focus on something I hope isn’t true. Are they together now? Did James follow through on his intentions for her? Did she end up falling for him all over again?
Was this my doing?
My heart clenches. There is not enough morphine in the world for this.
James scratches at his head and then sighs. He sits down on the plastic chair beside the bed. “Linden. I’m going to tell you something and it’s not going to be easy.”
Oh fucking hell. I’m right, aren’t I?
“Okay,” I say. It’s barely a
udible over the blood whooshing in my ears.
“You’re going to want to kill me.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“And I probably shouldn’t tell you this right now of all times, but if I don’t tell you then you’ll never get back to where you need to be. And you know where you need to be, don’t you? You need to be back in San Francisco. And you need to be with her.”
All right. It’s taking me a while to process this but that’s not at all what I thought he’d say.
He swallows uneasily. “I told you I was in love with Stephanie. And you know what? I was. When we were together, I was. And after we broke up…yeah, I did have a hard time letting go of her. Sleeping with her again didn’t help either. It’s not like I lied to you but…when I told you I was in love with her, that I broke up with Penny for her, I didn’t really know what I was saying.”
“I am so confused,” I tell him, trying to understand. “You may have noticed I’ve got a concussion.”
He looks right at me and it’s like he’s bracing himself. “I wasn’t so much in love with her as I wanted to have her. I wanted to have her want me. And I wanted to take her away from you. Because I knew. All along I knew what was going on between the two of you. I knew you both were lying to me, hiding shit from me, sneaking around. I didn’t like it. And more than that, I didn’t think it was fair.” He pauses. “This isn’t an easy thing for me to admit but the fact is, I was jealous. I wanted you to know what loss and sacrifice was. For once, I wanted you to not have everything.”
I don’t realize how much I’m clenching my jaw together until my head starts to pound with pain. But that’s nothing, nothing compared to the rage inside. “What the fuck?” is all I manage to eke out. “Why would you do that to me?”
His smile is cold. “Because you were doing it to me. And because I was a weak, stupid friend who couldn’t seem to stop resenting you. I’m not proud of it. But it’s true.”
“You’re going to give me a fucking heart attack,” I swear at him. “If my fucking arm wasn’t broken, I’d fucking choke you to death. Hell I bet I could do it with one bloody hand!” And suddenly I’m reaching for him, but the IV is pulling at my skin.
“I’m sorry,” he says, not moving, like he wants me to kill him. “I fucked everything up. I ruined what you and I had and I ruined what you and Steph had. I ruined everything. Even my relationship with fucking Penny! All because I was too petty and blind and angry to see what I was doing.”
I can barely speak. “Why the fuck are you telling me this now?” I growl at him. “I’m barely alive, in the bloody hospital. Did you tell me that to appease your own god damn conscience?”
He shakes his head. “No. Because I don’t feel any better and I don’t think I will. I’m telling you this now because Stephanie is here. That you don’t have to worry about my feelings. That you shouldn’t feel guilty for anything. I’m telling you this so you can fucking fight for her. That’s what she deserves. Someone to fight for her. We both had her at some point and we were both very lucky. But you’re the one who can have her again, should have her again. You’re the one she belongs with. It’s always been you.”
I close my eyes, trying to regain my breath. “I broke her heart.”
“Then man the fuck up and put it back together.”
I open one eye at look at him. He’s gotten to his feet, looming over me.
“We both fucked up. But you’re the one with best shot of making it right. Get her back. Win her back.”
“She doesn’t want me back.”
“She’s still in fucking love with you,” James says, exasperated. I want to believe him so badly but I don’t know how anyone could love anyone after this. Love is so fickle, so rare, so fragile. There’s no way she would have held on to it. There’s no way she could ever forgive me after what I’ve done.
“Do you still love her?” he asks quietly.
I don’t even think. I just nod. “Yes. More than ever. I love her more than anything.” And with each word that comes out of my mouth, my chest caves in a little bit more. Maybe it’s a broken bone, but I can’t be sure.
“Excuse me,” the hawk-eyed nurse, I think her name is Andie, appears at the door. “Visiting hours are over. He needs to rest.”
I look to James in a panic. “Where is Steph?”
“I think maybe with Bram,” James says. He looks at the nurse. “Anyone else out there? The girl in the grey sweater, dark hair?”
She shakes her head. “No one. Please, sir, come on. You can come back tomorrow.”
James looks back at me. “Sorry man. I’ll see if we can stay another day. She said she can’t afford to close the shop, so…”
So she’s going to go home. Hell, it was a miracle she even came at all.
“Anything you want me to tell her?” James asks.
I shake my head gently. “No.” Because everything I want her to know, I have to say myself. Only now I won’t be able to.
“Hey, again I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to lay this all on you. But I wanted you to know that I fucked up and I’m going to try and be a good friend again. I really fucking miss you, bro. It’s not the same anymore.”
I don’t know what to think or what to say so I only nod. “Tell Steph…” tell her what? “tell her I’m glad she came.”
“Will do buddy.”
And even though I don’t feel comfortable with calling James my buddy anymore, I do feel another pinch of loss when he leaves.
***
“Linden,” I hear a female voice calling me. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
It’s not the female voice I was hoping for.
I slowly open my eyes. Sun is pouring in through the hospital room windows. My mother is at my bedside, sitting on the chair. Her hand, a skinny, pale hand with crepe paper skin, rests on my arm.
There is no one else in the room. We are alone.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been alone with my mother.
“Mum,” I say thickly. I try and sit up.
“Shhhh,” she says, pressing her hand into me. “Don’t move.” I can smell alcohol on her breathe, no surprise, but her eyes are clear. She seems with it.
She seems concerned, too. This is all very jarring.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask.
“I came to see my boy,” she says softly but she doesn’t sound offended or defensive over such a question. It’s as if she knows it’s a bit strange for her to be here, looking over her son while he’s in the hospital. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was in a helicopter crash,” I tell her.
She smiles. It’s a thin, hard line but it at least reaches her eyes. She’s dressed very demurely in a white turtleneck and beige pants. She has on no jewelry at all. It also looks like she hasn’t slept for days but that could just be another bender wearing on her face.
“Your father wants to sue the helicopter company,” she tells me.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“You don’t object?”
I sigh. “I don’t know if it would do any good. We don’t need the money, do we?”
“Of course not,” she says. “But I think it’s more for principle. You make people pay when they’ve messed up.”
“But I don’t really know what happened, whose fault it was.”
“They said it was an electrical short.”
“I’m sure a better pilot could have landed it.”
“Linden,” she says, her voice harder now. “You’re one of the best pilots there is.”
I have to admit, I’m stunned by such an admission. My mouth drops a bit and there is a peculiar warm feeling in my ribs.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she adds. “We all know this. The company is at fault.”
I sigh heavily. “But these things happen. It’s just the risk you take. I knowingly take that risk every time I fly. I know what I’m getting into. It’s a complicated, convoluted machine, made up o
f rotors and drive shafts and wires and it flies vertically. You know what you’re getting into every time you step on board one of those things. You can have a perfect safety record, but you’re never really safe because nothing is. But that’s life.”
“That’s life,” she repeats. “I take this that you’ll still be flying then?”
“Of course,” I say, with no fear, no hesitation. “I’m not sure if I’ll go back to the same company, but one accident isn’t going to stop me from flying. I know it’s not exactly what you want to hear, but it is what I was born to do.”
She sighs delicately. “I know, son. Your father and I haven’t been the most…enthusiastic…about your career choice. And this is exactly why. No one wants to see their child hurt.”
I’m tempted to interrupt her, to tell her I’m surprised she even knows she has children, but I let her continue. This is rare. This is very rare.
She folds up the sleeves of her sweater and goes on. “But if you feel like it’s in you and this accident, this horrible, horrible thing, hasn’t dissuaded you from your passion…well then your passion is meant for you. And we, nor anyone else, shouldn’t have any say in it.” She pats my hand. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but truly, we just want you to be happy.”
I think that’s as close to “I love you” as I’m going to get from her but it feels just the same.
“So,” she says, slowly getting to her feet. “Are you going to stay here? Or are you going back to San Francisco?”
I flinch, which makes my head hurt. “Why would I go back to San Francisco?”
“I thought that’s where you are most happy.”
I swallow. “I don’t know.” I can’t imagine going back and being happy without having Stephanie.
My mother peers at me for a moment with those strangely clear eyes. Then a tiny smile appears. “You know, your father says he finally met the girl.”
“The girl?”
“Stephanie,” she says, as if she’s been some huge event. “I hate to tell you how to live your life, Linden, though I’m sure you would disagree with that.” She laugh softly to herself. “But if you’re willing to go flying again, despite the crash, despite the risks, and put it all on the line…maybe you’re willing to do other things. Maybe helicopters and hearts aren’t so different.”