Midnight Lily (Signs of Love) (23 page)

"But you grew brave, didn't you? You wanted more than the small world your mother had created for you."

I nodded, feeling the familiar guilt claw at my throat. "Yes," I whispered raggedly. "I wanted more. We fought. We fought a lot back then."

"That's normal, Lily. What you were feeling was normal."

"I know . . . logically, I do know."

"It doesn't make it easier, though."

"No, it doesn't."

"Did your mother end up giving you more freedom?"

I shook my head. "I got sick again. That time it wasn't even for any particular reason." I frowned. "In any case, by that time my grandfather, who was big in the real estate industry, had purchased Whittington."

"You were sent to Whittington?" Ryan breathed.

I nodded. "At that time, only one wing was open. It looked different than it does now. The garden was still beautiful. The open wing was clean, and there were only a very few patients being cared for. My grandparents believed I'd get more personal care there than I would anywhere else."

Ryan sat back on the couch, looking surprised. "Wow, Lily."

I nodded. "I know. I can't remember much of what happened while I was there. They kept me highly medicated. It's all so bleary." I furrowed my brow. "But I wasn't there very long. I did get better, and I went home. And soon after, my mother died. An aneurism. Such a freak thing."

"Oh no, God, Lily. Baby, I'm so sorry."

"It sent me somewhere else again." I took a long, shuddery breath. "And back to Whittington I went."

"Oh, Jesus."

I nodded, recalling how cold it'd been there, how the lights were always too bright, the noises too loud. "Again, I wasn't there for very long . . . I went home. But I couldn't cope. Couldn't cope with the loss of my mother, with living in the world without her. Maybe I wasn't ready. I don't know."

"Lily, you'd never been given a chance to grieve. Did your grandparents help you with that? Did
anyone
help you with that?"

No, no one had. "No, they wouldn't talk about her. I think they thought mentioning her name would drive me into a psychotic break. And maybe they were even right, but," I sucked in a breath, "not to talk about her, to just pretend she'd never existed, when she had been my whole world. My everything. It was . . . unbearable. God, Ryan, it hurt so much." I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.
It still did.
She was the only person who knew the horrific images I'd seen. She was the only person who knew the crushing helplessness I'd felt that night. I missed her so desperately.

"I know, baby." He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm.

"Last year, it happened again, and that's why I ran away." I lowered my eyes.
I could describe it from my doctors' perspectives, but I wanted him to understand it from mine.
"It's so difficult to explain and have it sound rational because it's not rational. It's not and I know it." I paused. "The world shifts, and something in me shifts, too, because I just accept it. I accept a new story, a new life, new characters. Sometimes it's only a slight variation of my real life, and sometimes it's entirely different." As if I were looking at the real world through a kaleidoscope,
there
, but changing, shifting with a thousand different colors, and patterns, and light. I watched my own hands fidget in my lap, feeling embarrassed and insecure.

"I know," he said softly, because he
did
know. I looked up at him and saw the understanding, the acceptance in his eyes and felt both love and sadness blossom in my chest. My lips tipped up into what felt like a sad smile, and I nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Last spring, I began imagining my mother was still alive. My grandfather—who had been ill—had passed away a few months before, and my grandmother was planning to sell Whittington. And in my imaginings, my mother wanted to spend the summer there. Just a couple months of the two of us, of mountain air, and sunshine, and a reprieve from my grandmother who did nothing but stare at my mom and me with worry and walk around wringing her hands. I can't even tell you exactly why it made sense in my mind that we go there. I could tell you the conversations I had with my mom, I could explain it all, but it would make me sound like the crazy person I am."

"Lily, stop, don't say it like that." His voice was raspy.

"It's true, though, isn't it?"

Ryan sighed, pressing his lips together for a moment. "I guess we're both crazy people, then. And Lily, I think that sometimes, well sometimes, the only way to survive is to go crazy."

I thought about that for a moment, how similar grief and madness seemed, two sides of the same coin perhaps. I thought about how the grief stricken tore at their hair, their clothes, seeming to want to escape their skin. And I thought about how the mentally ill sometimes did the very same thing. I'd seen it often enough at the institutions I'd been at, felt like doing it myself. Perhaps that's what a mental illness really was—an extreme, long-lasting cousin to grief.
How
did you carry such a thing with grace?

And he had to understand . . . "It happens to me again and again, Ryan. It happens over and over—even when things are seemingly fine."

"You've been well for a year now."

"Yes, and I've been well for a year before. Is this really something you want to deal with? When you already have struggles of your own? When you're just getting well? Just feeling strong? You are, aren't you?" I felt tears stinging my eyes again, one spilling over.

"Lily," he said, the tone of his voice tortured. "I want you just as you are. I just . . . I want you, and—"

"Please," I interrupted. "Please don't say that now." I brought two fingers up to his lips. "Please think about what I've told you. Consider what you're agreeing to. Consider what a life with me would be like. What a life between the two of us would mean. Please, Ryan. Please do that for me. And if you think about it and decide it's not best for you, for either of us, then you'll be honest with me, right? You'll be honest with me because you're good and kind and because you love me." I brought my fingers from his lips and used my hand to cup his cheek. Slight prickles of a new beard lightly scratched my palm. He closed his eyes and leaned in to my hand for several moments.

When he finally opened his eyes, he nodded, his expression so very solemn. "Okay. Yes, I'll always be honest with you. Always."

I let out a breath and nodded. "I know," I said. "I trust you, Boy Scout." I gave him a tremulous smile. "I've trusted you from the moment I met you."

Ryan leaned in and placed his forehead against mine and we both breathed together for several moments. "Will you tell me what happened at Whittington? How you found me and how your grandmother came to be there?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Ryan sat back and I cleared my throat. "I found you in the woods, right near Whittington. You'd fallen into a very shallow ravine. You looked to be mostly bruised and scratched, more so from your walk through the woods than from your fall."

"I was trying to get to you."

I nodded, bringing my hand up to his cheek again. "I know." I brought my hand away and continued, "I used a thick quilt and moved you onto it and dragged you to Whittington. And then I used your phone to call my grandmother. She was a nurse before she met my grandfather . . . Anyway, I knew she'd be able to help you." I shook my head. "I probably should have called an ambulance, but I didn't think you'd broken anything vital, and there was no blood—"

"You did just fine. I was fine."

I nodded, still feeling guilty. "Anyway, my grandmother assessed you and agreed to help as long as I promised to check myself into a hospital. Finding me there, muddy and frantic, learning that I'd been living at Whittington with my . . . mother," I bit my lip and closed my eyes briefly, "she was worried and heartbroken to say the least." I sighed, recalling that confrontation, the arguments, the tears. "I said I would check myself into a hospital as long as it was one near you. When we returned you to the lodge, I found your bag with a luggage tag on it with your name, faded and hard to read, but there. It just confirmed what I already suspected—that your name is Ryan. Ryan Ellis. My grandmother looked up the rest of your information." I paused. That whole time was so murky. I'd been filled with grief, with fear. I'd let my grandmother handle the details while I walked through the days as if I was half asleep. Grief does that to you. "Later, my grandmother rented a house in Marin, and we were going to return to Colorado after my treatment was complete."

"So you and your grandmother drove me to Brandon's lodge and carried me upstairs?"

"Between the two of us, yes," I said. "You helped a bit, but my grandma had given you a mild sleep medication."

"I thought so," he muttered. "Thank you for taking care of me." He looked down for a moment. "God, Lily, what you did for me." He raised his eyes to mine, and they were filled with an emotion I couldn't define. "You agreed to go to a hospital for an undetermined amount of time
.
Because of me. It's like going to prison. I
know
. I," his voice cracked, "I don't even know what to say about that, how to express to you how grateful I am."

I shook my head, looking down at my lap. "I would have done anything for you, Ryan, made any sacrifice. And deep inside, I knew I was sick, too. I knew. Despite my worry for you, I knew I needed treatment myself."

Ryan was silent for a moment, his eyes roaming my face. "You must have been so," he paused as if searching for the right word, "surprised to discover who I really was, what I was going through."

"Yes," I said. The word broke and I cleared my throat. "I knew we couldn't be together, knew I wasn't good for you, but I loved you. I still do. I still love you."

"Lily," he said, pulling me to him again, "I love you, too. We will never be perfect or without flaws, the lives we've been given are not like that. But, Lily, in my heart, you are perfect for me. Perfectly mine. And I'm yours."

The heat suddenly flowing through my veins surprised me. After everything we'd just talked about, after baring all my secrets, revealing every last skeleton, I could hardly believe I was capable of feeling desire. And yet I did. Ryan leaned away slightly so he could look in my eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he asked.

"Yes," I murmured softly, leaning in and brushing my lips over his.

He hesitated for the space of two heartbeats before he said, "Don't kiss me as if it's goodbye, Lily. Don't do that to me again. Just promise me that."

I squeezed my eyes shut and I shook my head. "I'm not saying goodbye."
I just want
you
to be able to, if you decide you cannot live the kind of life I'd give you.

His hands came up to my face, and he pressed his lips to mine. He slid his tongue into my mouth and I sighed, the sound of pleasure mingled with sweet relief, with
hope.
It seemed that, in so many ways, I knew him better with my eyes closed—I remembered the taste of his mouth, his skin. I remembered the sounds he made when he was causing me to lose control, and the sounds he made when he was losing it himself. I remembered the feel of his body pressing into mine, and the way he trembled against me. We kissed and kissed, sitting on his couch, becoming familiar with each other once again, and it felt like coming home.

When I finally pulled away, I said, "I have to get back. My grandmother's expecting me." But I didn't move, instead kept nuzzling his jaw, his ear.

"You don't have to go. You could just stay here and we could . . . talk some more," he said, not moving either, moving his lips back to mine and kissing me again. I smiled against his lips.

"No, I really have to go. I don't want to, but I have to," I murmured, finally pulling back and meeting his eyes. "And, Ryan, if you think about
us
and decide it isn't right, if you decide we shouldn't be together, I won't blame you." I kissed him once quickly on his lips and then on his forehead, both eyes. "I'll understand, and I'll love you anyway. I'll love you, but I'll let you go . . . again."

"God, Lily," he said, rubbing his own lips on my forehead, "I already—"

"No. Please, take some time. I only ask that. I need to know you've taken some time. Please."

He nodded, more sure, and pulled away to give me room. "Yes, okay. Okay. I will. I promise."

I gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand, bringing it up to my heart and holding it there for a moment before letting it go. With shaky legs, I moved toward the door. My body wanted to stay. My heart wanted to stay. But I knew at that moment, I needed to go, and as Ryan slowly led me to the door—holding my hand within his—I knew he understood. When he opened the door, I walked through. I couldn't bring myself to look back. If he chose to let me go, it meant that I'd just left my heart behind.

Ryan

The contemporary one-level home was visible from the top of a set of darkly stained wooden steps that leveled out to a deck wrapping around the front of the house. I began descending, taking in the incredible view. From where I was standing, I could see the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridges, San Francisco, and Sausalito. The sun was just beginning to set, the sky burning with red and orange fire. The view alone had to be worth a cool million. Quite the rental home.

When I got to the front door, I knocked twice. After a moment, I heard footsteps and a few seconds after that, the door opened to reveal Lily's grandmother. "Hello, Mrs. Corsella," I said. She only looked mildly surprised.

"Ryan."

I waited for a beat. "Is Lily home?"

"No, she's not."

Disappointment hit me. "Oh." I frowned. I hadn't anticipated her not being here. I had tried to call her on the way over and she hadn't answered, but it was dinnertime and I figured she might be busy with that. Or maybe she really was here and her grandmother was lying to me. "Do you know where I can find her?"

"Ryan, please come in." I hesitated. I hardly wanted a lecture right now on why Lily and I shouldn't be together. I'd taken a second day off work and spent it doing just as Lily had asked me to do: thinking about us. I sighed and stepped over the threshold of the door she was now holding open. I followed her to a formal living room to the left, directly off the small front entryway.

She took a seat in an off-white wingback chair, and I sat down on the couch. I waited for her to speak first. "Lily told me this morning that she confided in you about her . . . past. Her situation."

Her situation.
"Yes, Lily told me about her life, her illness," I said. "I accept everything about her."

Her grandmother stared at me for several moments, her look assessing, but not cold. "You accept her." She was silent again for a moment. "Do you really even know what that means? Do you understand what it's like to love someone like Lily?"

Someone like Lily.
Someone like
me.
"Yes, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me," I said, putting the conviction into my words that I felt in my heart.

"You think that now, Ryan. You think that now because Lily's doing well, she's here with you in every sense. You haven't felt the heartbreak of watching her just . . . disappear right before your eyes, of seeing her talking to people who aren't there because she's living in a world of her own."

"No, you're right, I haven't. But I'm willing to accept that possibility, even the probability. I'm willing to accept it because to let her go entirely is so unthinkable, that for me, there's no other choice. I choose her willingly, every part of her, even the darkness."
Just as she accepted me, even the darkness.

Her grandmother's face seemed to gentle. "You're in love with her."

"Yes.
Yes.
"

She sighed. "Well, that's a start I suppose."

"I like to think it's a really good start."

"And you'll care for her?"

"With my whole heart and soul."

The glimmer of a smile appeared on her grandmother's lips. "She's in love with you, too. She made that quite clear to me this morning. She made it quite clear a year ago, too, though to my mind, there were more dire priorities." She looked down at her hands for a moment. "We talked . . ." Her words faded away, but I didn't speak. It looked as if she was still pondering something. When her eyes met mine, they were filled with sadness. "Lily is the only family I have left, Ryan. And she has no one except me."

It was obvious that she loved her granddaughter very much. I didn't want her to think that with me in Lily's life she would be relegated to the sidelines. She didn't deserve that.
She
didn't deserve to be alone either.

"Had," I said. "She has me now, too. You both do."

She nodded slowly, her eyes soft. "She has money, you know, from her mother's estate. And I've left Whittington to her. I suppose she can do with it as she sees fit. That seemed right."
Whittington belonged to Lily.
She paused. "Still, I worry, you know, what happens to Lily when I'm gone." She put her hand over her heart. "My heart is weak, and I worry—"

"You don't have to worry anymore. I want to be here for her."

"And what happens if
you
become ill again? What then?"

I let out a breath. "I don't know. I don't have all the answers in this situation. But I think—no, I know—that Lily and I belong together, and I have to believe we will find a way to make things work, whatever that might look like, whatever that might mean."

Her grandmother nodded sadly. "So much uncertainty. It's what I've tried to avoid for Lily."

"You can't. I don't know if anyone can, but especially for Lily and me, there will always be uncertainty. It's love that will make it bearable. No matter what, it will always be our one sure thing, our one constant. It will
always
be the light to lead us from the darkness."

Lily's grandmother's eyes shimmered with tears as she nodded. "Okay, Ryan." She let out a deep sigh, perhaps resigned, perhaps relieved, perhaps some of both. "I'm sorry I tried to keep you apart. I'm sorry for that. You have my blessing."

My shoulders relaxed, and I gave her a small smile. "Where is she?"

"She went to the planetarium. She should be home any minute if you—" We were interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing.

"Excuse me," I murmured, taking my phone from my pocket. It was Lily. "Lily," I answered. I heard static on the line. "Hello?" I turned slightly away from Lily's grandmother.

"Ryan," Lily said. "Sorry, it's windy. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, where are you?"

"I'm on the Golden Gate Bridge. I'm walking—"

I frowned. "The Golden Gate? What are you doing there?"

She answered, but it was lost in a burst of static. "Lily, I'm coming to get you, okay? Stay there, I'll find you. Hello?" I heard her garbled voice and repeated what I'd said right before the line went dead.

I looked at her grandmother. "Go," she said, giving me a small, concerned smile. "Go get her."

**********

The wind hit my face as I moved quickly through people walking along the bridge. The sky was dark now and the bridge was lit, but the lighting was soft and subdued. To me, the Golden Gate at night never looked as if it was illuminated by electricity, but rather as if it was bathed in starlight. I walked through the strolling crowd, moving swiftly, swiveling my head when I spotted dark hair, disappointment hitting me each time I realized it wasn't Lily. My heart had begun to beat faster.
Where was she?
I picked up my pace even more, practically jogging now, my breath coming out in short bursts of air. I finally spotted a lone figure with long, dark hair standing near one of the towers, her arms resting on the ledge, staring out over the bay. My heart leapt with joy. It was her. Lily of the Night.
My
Lily of the Night. I slowed down as I neared. Her head turned right before I got to her as if she had sensed me approaching and the smile that lit her face made my heart jump in my chest. "Hi," I breathed.

"Hi," she said, turning her body to face me.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've never walked across the bridge," she said. "The sunset was so beautiful tonight, and it just called to me, I guess. And now, the moon." She glanced up and I did, too. "Do you see that?" And then I did. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before, so intent on finding her. The moon above was full and bright, so brilliant it outshone the stars.

"I do now," I whispered. We looked back at each other and Lily tilted her head, her smile fading, and a slightly nervous look replacing it.

"What are you doing here?"

I took her hands in mine. "You told me I had to understand what I was agreeing to. What being with you means. That sometime in the future you
will
just . . . go away. And it won't necessarily be because something terrible happens and it won't be because you want to. And it won't be because I could have done anything to prevent it from happening. Or sometimes it
will
be because something happened that you couldn't handle. It's unpredictable and—”

"Yes," she choked out, sorrow moving across her face, averting her eyes away from me and then back again. "Yes, Ryan."

"Then I'll come find you."

She laughed on a sniffle. "What?"

I squeezed her hands more tightly. "If you go away, then I'll come find you, even if it means I have to get lost for a while, too."

She shook her head, her smile sweetly puzzled. "How will you be able to do that?"

"Because," I said, moving even closer so our bodies touched and she had to tip her head to look up at me, "I'm not afraid of the darkness. I've been there before. I'll step into it willingly, unhesitatingly, and I'll come find you. No one else could make that promise and mean it, Lily. No one. No one except me."

A tear spilled from her eye and streaked down her cheek, but I continued to hold her hands, neither of us wiping it away. "I don't want to bring you into the darkness," she said.

"
I
might be the one to go there first. I can't guarantee that I won't. Would you come for me, Lily? Would you?"

"Yes,"
she said, a sudden intensity in her voice. "A thousand times, yes. But this is why people would say we're all wrong for each other. People would say we're encouraging each other to be sick."

"That's ridiculous. I'm not saying I
want
you to be sick. I'm not saying
I
want to be sick. What I'm saying is that if you get lost, I will find you. And I will bring you back. Wherever you are,
whoever
you are, I will come there, and I will find you. And I hope you'll do the same for me."

"I don't know if that's possible, Ryan," she said tenderly, moving a piece of hair off my forehead, "and even if it is . . . the world certainly isn't set up for that kind of thing. Unless you're Willy Wonka and you own your own chocolate factory."

I gave her a slight smile. "Then we'll make our own world. No one can know what's possible until they've been inside minds like ours. And I believe we'll figure it out.
Somehow
. . . Do you believe, too?"

She finally smiled again, her lips trembling. "You
make
me believe."

"Good, because it's true."

She breathed out a small laugh and looked down, tilting her eyes up, looking so beautiful it made my heart ache. And deep inside, I felt something stir to life, as if my soul itself was just beginning to wake.
Finally.
"I love you, Boy Scout," she whispered.

"I love you, Lily of the Night. I love you so much." I let go of her hands and reached up to hold her face, her beautiful face. I brought my lips to hers and kissed her. "I'm going to love you forever," I murmured between kisses. "Forever. In the darkness, or in the light." She smiled against my lips as the world moved on around us. And for just that moment, we
had
found our very own world, and we lived in it joyfully.