Riverbend (37 page)

“Just reach for me and I'll fall into you,” she whispered to him before the ceremony started.

“I'll be here to catch you,” he whispered back. “For as long as I'm able.”

The sky turned pink in the twilight until the light faded completely and one by one the stars appeared, scattered across the Milky Way. They ate cake around the big table, laughing and talking until Tommy brought out his guitar. “So, I wrote a little song for the occasion,” he said. “It's called, ‘Because Now We're Us.’”

He strummed the guitar, as if to start, but Drake rose to his feet and said, “Wait. I want to ask my wife to dance.” He turned to her, holding out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

“Yes.” Just that. Yes.

And as Tommy sang the words he'd written for them, Drake held her close, and they danced.

It began with a spark
,

Just a look between us
,

Merely a hint that said
,

I know you.

I want to know you like no one else.

Tell me your secrets, your longings
,

Your dreams, your shame.

I can bear it. I will bear it.

Because now we're us.

It's your eyes I search

For in every crowded room.

My sacred space between the silences
,

The laughter between every difficult moment.

Tell me your secrets, your longings
,

Your dreams, your shame.

I can bear it. I will bear it.

Because now we're us.

The draping flowers in our garden brighter
,

The dappled light at twilight obvious
,

The scent of the ocean spray

Wafting in the afternoon breeze sweeter
,

The brilliant stars closer.

Tell me your secrets, your longings
,

Your dreams, your shame.

I can bear it. I will bear it.

Because now we're us.

And I've got you

No matter the madding crowds

Or the rushing sea

Or the tides that threaten to overwhelm us.

My hand reaches for you in the dark.

Tell me your secrets, your longings
,

Your dreams, your shame.

I can bear it. I will bear it.

Because now we're us.

I'll take your beating, tender, passionate heart

And hold it in my hands, draw it close
,

Shelter it no matter the storms to come
,

No matter how the years unfold.

Tell me your secrets, your longings
,

Your dreams, your shame.

I can bear it. I will bear it.

Because now we're us.

It wasn't until Tommy finished singing that she realized everyone had joined them on the impromptu dance floor. She smiled to herself when she noticed that Ben, although dancing with his date, kept glancing over at Bella, who danced with Alder.
Ben, you don't stand a chance
, she thought.

Looking around at all the familiar faces of the people that she loved and that loved her, she thought only this:
Love is all there is and all there ever will be.

In the early morning hours, wrapped in Drake's arms, Annie woke to the howl of the coyote. She rose from bed, careful not to wake her new husband, and slipped out to the deck. There, at the edge of the garden, was the large coyote, his eyes glowing yellow in the moonlit night. She put her hand on her heart. And he blinked, twice, and then was gone, disappearing into the forest. Annie remained for a moment, under the giant moon and the stars, her heart full and grateful, before going inside and slipping into bed next to her husband and falling into a dreamless sleep.

THE END

K
eep reading for an excerpt from the third book
in the River Valley collection by Tess Thompson

Riverstar

Available August 2013

Preview of

Riverstar

By Tess Thompson

IT WAS THE GIRL'S AGE
that crawled under Bella Webber's skin like an unseen but insufferable rash. Not the fact that the girl was attached to Ben Fleck in a python type grip. No, it was that she was a girl, barely legal, and had no right to even be here. The wedding of her brother Drake and Annie was a small affair, intimate, not for strangers. One had only to look at the white chairs, rented for this simple outdoor wedding on the lawn of her brother's house, to know this. There were only a dozen chairs, three on each side, arranged in two rows for her
gang of misfits
, as Annie called her close circle of friends. Earlier, Bella had dropped rose petals to make a path between the chairs so Annie could walk to meet her groom. Annie's son, Alder, stood with his mother and soon-to-be stepfather, included in a union that bonded them as a new family. Yes, all this was intimate, not for strangers. Ben should have had the common decency, at least, to know this. He was an insensitive womanizer. That was all there was to it. What had she seen in him, anyway? Lust. That was all. It was nothing real, despite the fact that two months ago he'd so expertly made love to her for sixteen hours that she'd temporarily forgotten everything about her real life, including her married lover lingering in California with empty promises that he would someday leave his wife.

Stop
, she told herself, hearing the voice of her therapist in her
mind.
Just stop trying to mask your pain by telling yourself lies or making excuses.
This condemnation of Ben Fleck was not the truth. Surely she'd learned enough in her copious visits to the therapist to admit this to herself. Her feelings for Ben were more than lust. He was a good man, a man to be trusted and to trust. It was her fault he was not sitting next to her now, with his strong arm draped around her slender shoulders, sheltering her from any storm that might come her way and from the thoughts of the past that haunted her.

She'd created this chasm between them. This was the undeniable truth.

And why? Graham Rouse: movie producer, power broker, dealmaker in the inexplicable world of Hollywood. They'd met on the set of one of his movies three years ago; Bella was the make-up artist for two of the main actresses in the film, and was Graham the head producer. With his polished looks and smooth tongue, he'd made it his mission to get Bella to fall for him. Unfortunately, she had, despite his situation: married with two little boys.
I just need a little more time
, he said, time and time again. Or,
I can't leave now because of my boys. Soon. Next month. After the holidays. Just one more birthday.
There were three years of lies she'd clung to during endless dark nights, asking God why and how and please, all the while knowing this was not the life He wanted for her or envisioned for her when he created her from nothing. Finally, she said,
enough
. One afternoon last spring, during a walk through her Westwood neighborhood in Los Angeles, she'd stumbled into an empty Catholic church that smelled of incense and candle wax and roses. She'd gone down on her knees to pray.
I'm on my knees, Lord. I need help.
And the answer had come, swift and clear, like a voice in her head.
Go north.

So she did. North to Oregon. North to her older brother. North to Drake's enormous, chalet-like home perched on the side of a mountain, with the river below that curved and flowed in its natural cycles until it emptied, finally, into the sea. Yes, it was the river that had reminded her of her name, forgotten for three years in the embrace of a liar.
I must start a new life
, was her daily mantra, as she hiked the mountain and swam in the current and watched the stars from Drake's deck. And slowly, her thoughts grew less and less of
Graham, in a way they couldn't have if she'd stayed in Los Angeles. Indeed, all through June and July she'd grown and healed, basking in the Oregon sun and submerging all the pain and heartbreak into the water of the river until she was ready to let go of the past and move forward into the life she dreamt of—one she was just learning to believe she deserved.

And then one night that summer there was Ben at her brother's dinner table—just there, out of nowhere, visiting from Seattle on business—lean and blond with green eyes that looked as if he were about to burst into laughter at any moment. She'd fallen for him, succinctly and without provocation. But Graham had shown up in almost the next moment, confessing his devotion, saying her disappearance had awakened him to what he really wanted and needed—her. And although her heart had been forever changed in the moments with Ben, she was compelled to explore, at least, if Graham was telling her the truth. Or, perhaps, just to have final closure.

Of course, as it turned out, he was still a liar. He hadn't left his wife. It took only two days home in Los Angeles to understand it was yet another empty promise from a man who lied without apology as only a narcissist could do. So she'd ended it once and for all. When she'd emptied her apartment of everything Graham had ever given her, she called Ben, apologizing, explaining that Graham had shown up unexpectedly and she'd had to figure it out without Ben's influence, without him making her crazy in bed. He'd listened silently, and then, finally, just this: “My dance card's full. I'm sorry.”

Dance card? Surely, she thought now, he hadn't meant this child clinging to his arm? Who was she, anyway? The hostess at Riversong, the restaurant where Annie was head chef. Amanda was her name, some trust fund baby exploring her inner artist by moving to southern Oregon or some other equally ridiculous nonsense. Yes, she told herself again, it was the girl's age that bothered her. Not that she herself was dateless, sitting alone across the aisle as beautiful Annie exchanged rings with Drake.

The sun was low in the sky, casting everything in an orange tinge. A slight breeze rustled in the firs surrounding the yard. The wooden swing tied to a thick branch of the large oak swayed
slightly. Lee, Annie's best friend and business partner, stood and read a Mary Oliver poem. Lee's husband, Tommy, sang a song and played the guitar.

Bella crossed and uncrossed her legs, skirting her eyes just slightly to the right, stealing a glance at Ben, who sat across from her in the other aisle. And there it was. He was looking at her legs. Indeed,
her
legs, not the child's legs. That was something, at least.

What had he said about her that night? The night?
Power in a tiny package
, referring to her petite but tight and muscular body. He'd splayed his fingers through her dark curls, worn short so they fell over her forehead and dangled just below her ears. He'd kissed each of the dimples on the sides her mouth and traced his fingers along her heart-shaped jawline.
So beautiful
, he'd whispered with his mouth at her neck.
So very beautiful
.

Now, she shook her head, as if that would dispel the memories. The vows were done; Annie's dear friend Linus was pronouncing them Mr. and Mrs. Drake Webber. Alder, Annie's ten-year-old son, clapped his hands together and let out a shout. The rest of them all jumped to their feet and clapped and cheered as well.

Then, as it sometimes did, out of nowhere, Bella remembered her little niece Chloe and Drake's first wife Esther, buried side by side in the family plot. On the tombstone:
Always in our hearts
. Bella's heart ached; tears came to her eyes.
Esther
, she said silently,
he's happy with Annie and Alder but we'll always love you. There's room enough in our hearts to love you all.

The next thought was of her mother, gone since Bella was sixteen. How she would have loved to see this day. But they were all in heaven now; perhaps her mother was frolicking through a rose garden holding Chloe's hand. She reached into the small purse wrapped around her wrist and took out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes.

Drake and Annie were coming down the aisle, both beaming. Bella turned slightly and her eyes met Ben's. For a split second, before he made them dull and unreadable, she'd seen sympathy, as if he knew what was in her mind. The night they'd spent together, she'd talked of her niece and sister-in-law; it had given her comfort to know he'd known them as well, because of his long relationship with Drake. She'd confessed to a deep emptiness since their deaths
she couldn't rid herself of, despite all the ways she tried to fill in the caverns of grief with friends and booze and intense sports. The only thing she hadn't confessed to Ben? Graham Rouse. She'd tried to fill the grief with Graham, as well. But he brought further grief, time and time again. Those days were done, at least. Yes, at least there was that.