Hell Bent (11 page)

I make my way into the shower and stay in there for quite a while, getting warm and clean. I shampoo my hair over and over and over, extracting the mud and weeds it holds.

When finally I emerge, Bryce is gone. The door is locked, and only my bedroom light is still on. Puzzled, I go to my dresser to get my brush, and that’s when I see it. On my vanity mirror, in my own lipstick color, is the handwritten message, “I love you. See you tomorrow.”

My heart is thumping as I read it, over and over, and eventually, I grab my phone from my purse and take a picture of it. I want to save it forever. I brush and dry my hair and climb between the clean sheets, thankful for the sensation.

Bryce is the last thought I have as I finally fall asleep.

T
he day is finally here
. Milly’s wedding, the source of her dreams—and a few of my nightmares—has finally arrived. Since the wedding is small, the wedding party is even smaller: literally, Milly, Cam, Bryce, and I. My heart sort of aches for Milly at her mother’s cheap tricks, but then in one sense, I adore the simplicity of the event and therefore am enthusiastic for her.

Milly has an adorable dress—it is so “her.” She looks like a doll in an expensive toyshop window, layers of white ruffles and a sweeping train littered with sparkles and pearls. It’s so very feminine, so very Milly. The front of it looks a bit funny to me, with the gathered frills over her waist at the center, but I guess that’s the style she’d picked. If you ask me, it’s a bit unflattering, making her look slightly bigger, but the dress is adorable overall, there’s no question about it.

Cam looks great in a black pinstriped tux, and while the look on his face clearly proves that he adores his bride, there is a certain stoicism in his manner that I can only ascribe to his knowledge that he is marrying a woman who may not be able to bear him children and may not see their silver wedding anniversary. I have to say, this takes guts.

Bryce, equally gallant in his tux, has eyes only for me. I am relishing this greatly, smiling and even winking once in a while. We are establishing our own secret world. I must admit this is new to me, and I really like the idea of being best friends with a man.

This is when I realize that Milly and my “best” friendship is ending. She will be loyal to Cam from here on out, and while we will pretend we are still like sisters, I can never fully trust or influence her again. This is natural, and right, and to tell the truth, I am feeling a certain guilty sense of relief over not having to worry about her all the time. This will be her husband’s job.

The vows are spoken, the music played, and we are all off to a celebration reception. While we are a small group—immediate family and closest friends only—there is a joy in the room that cannot be denied.

Between the potted palms and the fountains of water and chocolate, I spot Sabrina sitting like an ugly toad with a smirk of satisfaction on her face. I wonder if she realizes there is something called divorce, and she might get her “un-marriable” daughter back in her lap once her deception is uncovered…including the ire of Milly, who will never trust her. The senator is, at this moment, playing her trump card, and after the wedding night, she has to fold and go home to whatever fate brings to her. I feel no pity for her, or her husband, who knows the truth but won’t even share it with his son.

To her credit, Milly splurges on the music—a five-piece instrumental group of very talented musicians. While I am not traditionally much of a dancer, being in Bryce’s arms makes it more like gliding on ice, so I’m up for it.

After the dinner, the happy couple is leaving for their honeymoon in Maui, a paradise within a paradise, in my opinion. We wave goodbye, throw the obligatory rice, and turn to one another thinking,
now what
?

Bryce puts his arm out to me and we head to his Explorer. Although I had not followed through on my threat to wear the pink striped socks beneath my dress, I am, on the other hand, anxious to shed the dress. I’m not a fan of fussy clothes, and the idea of soft, worn-in jeans and a loose shirt has my name written all over it.

Bryce, unlike me, is smart enough to pack a bag with extra clothes and leave it in the Explorer, so we head to my place to change. I have yet to bring up the conversation about his saying he loves me. I am deciding to let that one rest until after Milly’s wedding, which is…now.

We settle on the sofa, comfortable, and I have a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. There is a companionable silence between us, dialing down from the hectic activity of the day. While we have another day left in the weekend, we both have to be at work on Monday, so it’s sort of a mutual agreement to relax.

Bryce is stroking the inside of my palm, my eyes are closed, and I am thoughtful. He finally breaks the silence.

“What did you think about today?” he asks.

I sip my wine and consider my words carefully. “I think Milly had a lovely wedding, and I hope they will be very happy.” Those words are filled with so much more than the obvious, and I know Bryce understands the substance beneath each and every syllable.

“Well chosen words, my dear,” he says with a smile.

“Okay, so you want me to say the senator is a bitch, her husband is no better and totally deserves her, and the best part about the whole shindig was taking off the horrid dress?”

Bryce is smiling. “Now,
that’s
my Susie,” he comments wryly.

“Well?”

“Well, with the exception of the part about the dress, I would say I wholeheartedly agree. And as for the dress, I liked that you took it off, and it would be fine with me if you didn’t wear anything at all,” he finishes, smiling wickedly.

“Bryce, let’s be serious,” I parry.

“I am being perfectly serious, sweet Susie,” he teases.

I can feel myself blushing and don’t know where to take the conversation from that point on.

“Come here,” he says, pulling me closer to him. “We need to talk,” he begins.

I am on alert now. Is this going to be a good conversation or a heartbreaker? Now that the wedding is over, there is no good excuse to see him, to be with him. Am I about to be cut loose?

“I think we should move in together,” he says quietly.

I jerk upright in surprise. I am all prepared to hear the farewell speech, and here he is, with a completely opposite proposition!

“Really?” I ask, amazed. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am, cream-puff. I couldn’t be more serious. What did you think I was going to say?”

“Never mind, nothing.”

“No, tell me. What did you think I was going to say?”

I wait a few moments, strategizing how to say it, and finally just burst out with it. “I thought you wanted to break up.”

I feel him stiffen behind me in surprise. “Is that what you want to do?” he asks in a little-boy voice.

I shake my head. “Of course, not.”

This time I feel him expel a huge breath, and now that we are both on the same page, we are both feeling relief.

“Live here?” I ask, looking around at my cramped quarters. As it is, I’m using an old kitchen table as a desk and there isn’t enough room to get into my bed except for one side.

“Well, if you really want to,” he says, “except I had more of a house in mind.”

“House? Bryce, I’m sorry, but I can’t afford a house. I have huge student loans to pay off, and I need a new car. There’s just no way I can afford more than this dump, and not even as your roommate sharing costs.”

“Who says I’m asking you to share expenses?” he returns.

I whip around so I can see his face to decide whether he is, indeed, serious or not. His look says it all—he is dead serious.

“What are you saying?” I whisper.

“Look, I’ve been wanting out of the place where I’m at right now, been wanting a house. You’re here all alone, and I don’t want to be alone and I thought…well, maybe if I bought a house…you might be willing to live in it with me?” His expression is hopeful, sort of like a kid asking whether he’s going to get a new bike for Christmas.

“I would love that,” I breathe, “absolutely love that!”

He smiles and pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. “Good, then it’s settled. I’ll get my realtor working on it and see what we can find.”

It does not escape me that he refers to “
my
realtor” instead of “
a
realtor,” and I wonder how often he buys houses, but I decide this isn’t any of my business. “I would want to kick in on it, naturally,” I say.

“Not necessary, cream-puff. I’ll tell you what. You buy the food and cook, and I’ll take care of the rest. Deal?”

“Deal!” I squeal.

This means my expenses will be cut back dramatically, and I can pay off my loans faster. More importantly, it means I can actually see the man of my dreams each and every day…and especially each and every night.

It just doesn’t get any better than this!

I
climb
into the Explorer and cannot believe how my life is changing. Susie agreed to live with me! I sort of came up with this on the spur of the moment, but it’s one of those impromptu things that just feels so right that you never look back. I know this will work, I’m certain of it.

I shower and head for bed, but I text the cream-puff first.

“I really do love you, you know.”

I wait for a response, but none is forthcoming. I tell myself she is sleeping and hasn’t seen the text. I tell myself she wants to wait and tell me these words back when we are together again. I tell myself that she’s saving it for a special occasion.

I tell myself all sorts of things, but it still boils down to disappointment that I don’t get the words in return. Disappointment and fear—that she doesn’t love me back.

I
t’s morning
, and even though it’s Sunday, I know realtors work on this day, maybe harder than any other. Bill is a friend of mine from the Corps; we served together at the end of his tour, and when he got out, he stayed in the area and got his license. One thing about the DC area—there is a lot of moving going on.

I give Bill a call and let him know what I’m looking for, and he says he has some properties I can check out at this afternoon if I want to. I agree to meet him at his office, but I won’t bring Susie with me until I’ve gone through what’s available and narrowed it down.

I wonder what it will be like to live with a woman, much less one I’m in love with. Can we make it work? This is critical to me. I cannot stand the idea that anything could go wrong. We are too perfect otherwise. It will kill me if this isn’t the right time, but I don’t want to wait.

I meet up with Bill, and it’s great to see him again. While we never saw active duty together, we still have a lot in common to talk about. We go through his listings, and I find a few I’m interested in. I tell him about Susie, and he seems to be genuinely happy for me.

“You need a good attorney, you know,” he offers, unsolicited.

“For the closing you mean?” I ask.

“Well, for more than that, buddy. You’re buying this house, but if things don’t work out, it could be a problem to get her to leave, you know. This will be her permanent residence, and there are laws to protect her from having you kick her out.”

“It’s not like that between us,” I say. “You don’t know her.”

“I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that one,” Bill chuckles. He is a stout guy and has put on some weight through the middle since the last time I saw him. He taps his belly. “This is drinkin’ weight, buddy. And I haven’t been drinkin’ alone.” He laughs again. “There’s always some poor slob on the stool next to me, drinkin’ down his woes.”

“I’m telling you, Bill. Susie is different.” My voice is firm, and I am beginning to resent his attitude. I am feeling defensive.

“Okay, buddy, calm down. If you say so, then you must know what you’re talking about,” Bill reassures me.

The seed, however, is now planted, and I feel some anxiety at the thought that the odds of working out might even be against us.

Bill deposits me back at my vehicle, and I resist going by Susie’s, even though there’s nothing I want more. I head home and get ready for work in the morning. There sure is a lot to think about.

T
he ward is
quiet during my next shift, and I’m glad because I need to think. Bryce’s proposal to live together is taking me by surprise. It’s as though he can read the longing of my heart without even hearing the words. I do feel some anxiety about this, though. What if it doesn’t work out? When people move in together and it doesn’t work, for whatever reason, they tend to split forever. There’s nothing left to work toward as a goal, so they call it quits and part for good. I’m not sure I can take that if it happens. Am I making a mistake?

There’s also the issue of Milly. She will be back from her honeymoon next week, and her new life will be beginning. I won’t see her as much and I will be alone. I don’t like this idea, so Bryce’s timing seems even more appropriate.

I admit I’m feeling a level of excitement that cannot compare to anything I’ve ever had in my life. I wish Mom was still here, she would be excited with me.

I get a text from Bryce, asking me to meet him after work to look at some properties. I am surprised by this—if he is buying a house, why would he want my approval? Nevertheless, this makes me happy and shows he’s a considerate person. My excitement builds.

I watch the clock, and eventually my shift ends. I find Bryce waiting in the parking lot, idling right behind my VW. He emerges and kisses me, saying, “Leave your car here and ride with me.”

I gladly climb into his Explorer and again appreciate the feel of the leather beneath me. My VW is giving me trouble, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on to it. This is another reason I’m glad to be moving out of the apartment—I might actually be able to afford a small car payment on a good used model. Maybe I can even get Bryce to help me find one.

Bryce is cruising down streets that lie far from the hospital. This is more expensive housing here, and I’m wondering where we are going. I know he cannot afford this on his desk job salary, and I begin to wonder whether he might have misunderstood me when I said I couldn’t afford to chip in more than the food.

Eventually, we turn down a shady street with homes that feature deep front lawns, beautiful landscaping, and paved, circular drives. He turns into one of these drives, and as the huge oak trees part, I see a home with a two-story central structure, topped by a mansard roof and then extended wings on either side. The front door is double, and there is a covered porch that is banked by mature bushes that I know will bloom in the spring. Sitting somewhat to the side and back of the house is a three-car garage, and I can see an enclosure in the back yard and wonder what lies there.

Bryce parks his Explorer in front of the house’s entrance and comes around to open my door.

“What is this?” I ask, feeling as though we should talk about this before we waste these people’s time.

“I want you to see this,” Bryce says.

“You
did
get the part about my not being able to kick in on the payments, right?”

I am feeling a growing anxiety and even a slight bit of paranoia right now. I’ve never been in a house as grand as this, not even the one where Milly grew up. Mammoth coach lights bank the front entry and lacquered black pots that will hold flowers next summer sit beneath these.

Bryce just smiles and opens the front double doors, standing back to allow me to enter first. The entry hall is two-story and has a marquis floor and a wide staircase hugging the wall and gracefully curving upward to the second floor. There appears to be a living area to the right and perhaps a study to the left. Indeed, Bryce heads toward the living area first and my mouth drops open as we walk through the doorway.

There is a natural stone fireplace at one end and the far wall is banked by floor to ceiling mullioned windows, each with a padded seat before it. I am drawn toward these as they remind me of lavish homes in the old 40’s movies, the kind I always dreamed about. As I look out toward the back grounds, I see the enclosure I noticed from the outside is protecting a huge swimming pool, now winterized but with a cabana and an outdoor kitchen with grills and bar. I feel transfixed, and Bryce has to pull at my arm to move through the rest of the room.

We cross the entryway, and sure enough, it is a library with floor to ceiling mahogany bookcases. There is a plaid sofa facing leather wingback chairs, each with matching tufted footstools. A massive carved desk sits before a front window, and I can hear soft music emanating from a hidden speaker system in the bookcase. There is a small wet bar in the corner, and it appears to be stocked and waiting—even an ice bucket sparkles in the recessed lighting of the room. Tiffany lamps crown end tables, and another fireplace is cheerily burning against the far wall.

Bryce tugs at me again and this time we visit the kitchen that is huge and completely outfitted with gourmet appliances, a ten-foot granite center island, and a breakfast nook overlooking the pool area. Between this and the living area, is a formal dining room, again with mullioned windows and another fireplace.

Bryce is at me once more, and this time we climb the staircase to the second story. Here I am confronted with a number of bedrooms and en-suite baths, the number of which I have lost count. Each is tastefully decorated and has a walk-in closet. I will gladly throw myself upon the padded bed of any of these, but will be highly embarrassed if the owner were to find me thusly ensconced.

I keep moving down the hallway that suddenly opens into a large area that is framed by a panorama of stained glass windows. The sunlight is making the jewel tones come alive, and I draw in my breath at the beauty of these. There are massive potted palms and expensive-looking oil paintings covering the remaining walls. This feels like the entryway to a king’s bedroom.

I am not to be disappointed. Bryce opens a door before us, and I am suddenly in the middle of what could only be described as a castle. The walls are built of stone and plaster, just enough of both to keep it majestic and yet cozy. Again, there are paintings lining the walls, and there is an enormous four-poster bed sitting on a raised dais at the back of the room. Skylights direct sunlight down onto its pillowed surface, and Bryce hits a switch that activates blinds between the glass panes. There are four walk-in closets, and a beautiful, gilded vanity with slipper chair is tucked into the corner inside one of them. A seating area with sofa and two club chairs sit at the other side of the bed, and these face yet another fireplace.

The adjoining bath has a separate shower and a huge garden tub, mullioned glass stained windows providing privacy from the gardens below. Double sinks and a sauna complete the luxury.

I wander through the suite, absolutely agog. I have never seen anything like this in my entire life.

“Like it?” comes Bryce’s voice behind me.

“You’re joking, right? Bryce, what are we doing here? We can get into trouble for coming to a place like this. We stick out like a sore thumb. They might even arrest us!”

“I don’t think so,” he says in an amused voice. “Look, what is that, on the pillow?” He points at the bed.

Walking over, I see a box in the most glorious foil paper imaginable. It’s deep teal blue and the ribbon is a concoction of peacock feathers, intermingled with strands of gilt lace. I am stupefied to see a white, hand-lettered card on a string with my name on it. I look up at Bryce, and he nods.

“I don’t understand…” I begin.

“Go ahead, Susie…open it,” he says, nodding toward the box as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Bryce! Don’t sit on the furniture. You’ll get it dirty!”

Bryce just laughs, delight written all over his face. “Open the box,” he repeats, and with hesitant hands, I lift the lid.

Inside, there is a velvet box, about the size of a deck of cards. It’s black, and there is a gilded initial “S” on its cover. I look at Bryce once again, sure that we are going to be arrested, but he nods and motions for me to open it.

I carefully tilt open the lid and see three golden keys inside. What is this? Some kind of game?

I look at Bryce with questions in my eyes, and his voice is soft as he moves to sit next to where I’m standing. The words he is saying will be forever engraved in my memory.

“The first key on the left is to this house, Susie. It belongs to you, now and forever.”

My mouth drops open and my eyes fill with tears of disbelief. “Bryce, you’re crazy? You can’t do this!”

Bryce continues. “The second key in the middle is to the car waiting for you in that garage out there. Your VW has already been towed away, and you have no choice in the matter. It’s a red convertible Audi with white leather interior, and I think you will be stunning in it.”

I am feeling faint. This must be a joke or a dream because surely this is not my life.

“The third key, however, Susie, is the most important.” Bryce stands now and is leaning over me while reaching into his pocket. He kneels. “It’s the key to my heart. Will you marry me Susie?” he asks, holding out a stunning emerald and diamond engagement ring.

My legs give way and I sink to the floor, shaking. Bryce is dismayed and surprised at the same time, bending to pick me up and lay me upon the bed’s quilted coverlet.

“Honey, Susie, are you okay?” he asks anxiously.

I nod.

“Will you marry me?” he repeats.

I nod again, unable to speak.

With this, Bryce scoops me up and kisses me, then lies down on the bed next to me, holding me against his chest. I look down at the scrubs I’m wearing and think that sure this is a dream or I am hallucinating and it will soon be over.

“I don’t understand, Bryce? This can’t be real…it’s a joke, right?”

“No joke, Susie. I don’t joke when it comes to things like this.”

“But how? You can’t afford this on your pay!” I look to his face for some sort of explanation.

“Is that what you thought?” he laughs. “No, my sweet cream-puff, I surely cannot afford this on my pay. It happens, however, that my grandfather could, and he left the money in a trust for me. It came into my possession when I turned thirty, a few weeks ago. I’m quite wealthy, it turns out, and you will be, too, once we’re married. In the meantime, the house and the car are in your name, and I want you to quit working, unless you want to stay there—it’s up to you.”

“Are you serious?” I cannot believe what I’m hearing, and this sort of feels like many years ago when some kid at high school had talked me into smoking pot with him. I feel all sort of dizzy, and there’s a sense of unreality in the room. I cling to Bryce, holding on in case I fall again to the floor.

“It’s all real, all true, and all yours, sweet cream-puff,” he says, his smile huge and his strong arms holding me upright. “Let’s go look at your car.”

I let him lead me by the hand through the house once again and then out through garden doors past the pool, the pool house, the outdoor kitchen, and toward the garages. Sure enough, inside is a red convertible, its finish unmarred by wind or rain. It looks like it’s outfitted with state-of-the-art electronics and sound system, and I can’t wait to try the keys.

Suddenly, I stop in my tracks. “No, this isn’t right. I don’t deserve this. It wasn’t in my plans. Bryce, I love you, but this just isn’t meant for me!”

Bryce’s face is torn—he has finally heard the words I know he wants to hear from me, but he is also hearing something he’s not happy with.

“Susie, don’t be silly. I don’t know anyone who deserves this more than you do. It’s for you, and it’s all quite real. As a matter of fact, you will have a couple of people to help you keep the house going, our housekeepers, and one of them is on his way here right now with your clothes and effects from the apartment. I’ve settled with your landlord, and you need never go back there again. I’ve opened accounts for you at several of the department stores in the city, and you have carte blanche to get whatever makes you happy. Don’t worry, cream-puff…I can afford it.”

I open my mouth to say something, but my head is swimming, and the light is closing in on me. There is a brief moment when I think: I’m drowning.

And then it’s all gone.