Seven (14 page)

Holding Bryant’s hand, we make our way to the end of the trail to where his truck is parked. He helps me in and I wait as he loads the cooler and our blanket into the back. The truck is pleasantly warm after spending the morning sitting in the sun. All the fresh air from this morning coupled with a nice warm truck is the perfect invitation for an afternoon nap. I resolve to stay awake for Bryant’s sake though. It probably doesn’t bode well for a girl if she falls asleep on a first date.

The windows are slightly down, causing my hair to blow in the warm breeze. We both have our sunglasses on, hiding the fact that since that kiss up on the trails, we’ve both been a bundle of smiles. It’s like kissing me has finally put a spring in Bryant’s step and if I’m being honest with myself, it has taken a small weight off of my burdened shoulders. I didn’t realize how much pent up tension I was carrying around with me until I was able to release a little bit of it. They say that kissing someone for more than fifteen seconds releases endorphins, like a shot of adrenaline to the body.

Maybe I should kiss him more often
.

Bryant turns the radio on and immediately starts singing. I can’t help but laugh watching him. I’m not familiar with the song but it’s obviously one of Bryant’s favorites. He knows every damn word. He reaches over and squeezes my knee while he sings to me.

Damn his voice.

How did I not know he could sing?

I’m catching phrases like being all over the road and not being in control because of the girl sitting next to him. It’s cute and quite catchy. “What’s this song? I don’t know it!” I smile. I don’t want it to end because I like the feel of his hand on my leg. I lay my hand on top of his to let him know I’m okay with him keeping it right where it is.

“It’s Easton Corbin. You don’t know him?”

“Nope. But I also don’t always listen to country music.”

“Oh yeah? What do you like? You can change the station.”

“No it’s fine,” I purse my lips. “I’m eclectic. I like a little of everything really.”

Thinking he’s going to call my bluff, Bryant smirks and says “Bullshit.”

I gasp but laugh out loud at his response. “What? What do you mean ‘bullshit’?”

“There’s no way you’re a rap girl.”

“Oh no?”

“Nope.” He’s adamant that he knows enough about me to know my musical preferences.

“Suit yourself smarty pants.” I shrug my shoulder and smirk as I look straight ahead out the front window of the truck.

“You should come by the bar tonight. Bourbon Creek is playin’ and they’re doing live karaoke night,” Bryant says over the radio.

“Oh yeah? Karaoke huh?”

“Yep.” He nods. “There’s always a crowd on those nights. Blake Browning, he’s the lead singer for the band, always knows how to get people up on stage for a good time and I swear he can play just about anything. He’s genius! You should come. I promise you won’t leave unhappy. That’s for sure.”

“Hmm…maybe I will. If I come, am I going to be forced to stand up on stage?” I ask a little frightened at what Bryant’s going to say…but not that frightened. I can think of a song or two that would surprise the shit out of the guy sittin’ next to me.

He thinks he knows me!

Bryant let’s out a chuckle. “Would you like to? Because I can arrange that.”

“No. I’m not saying that. Just curious. Maybe I’ll call Rachel and see if she wants to hang out.”

“Good idea. She’ll come for sure. She loves karaoke night.”

I take my phone out of my pocket and shoot a quick text to Rachel to see if she’s available to go with me tonight.

Me: Hey girl. I need your inner Jennifer Hudson tonight. You game? #karaoke
Rachel: Sure! Does Bryant know?
Me: Nope…and it’s gonna stay that way.
Rachel. Shit! This ought to be good! I’m in.

Immediately a long list of songs plays through my mind of what I could perform and oh, how shocked Bryant would be. The thought causes the grin already on my face to widen. I look down for a moment and pretend to pick non-existent lint from my jeans. The ride back home is warm and comfortable. With my body turned slightly toward Bryant I’ve been able to talk with him, laugh with him, and just watch him as he drives us home. Sometime during the ride, I close my eyes for a second listening to Bryant’s voice as he sings softly.

Is that a Brad Paisley song?

It’s sweet.

Is he singing to me?

I hear him sing the words
“
She’s everything to me
”
and how I’m a warm conversation, a fighter when I’m mad and a lover when I’m loving. I keep my eyes closed so that he thinks I’m sleeping, and because the sound of his voice when he sings does things to parts of my body that I wasn’t sure still worked.

I could get used to this.

Chapter 17

Bryant

I’ve been driving for an hour and a half. Not because it took us that long to get home but because the beautiful angel sitting next to me in my truck fell asleep and I don’t want to wake her. She looks comfortable and peaceful and damn, if she isn’t a vision to look at. I’m easily falling for her. How can I not? She’s perfection. She’s everything I always wanted but couldn’t ever hold on to. The life I have, living with Ivy, being her superhero, is one I never thought about having in the past, but I’m content. I can be Dad and still have time to be Bryant. I can work hard at the bar and know that Ivy is taken care of, that I’m doing all of this so that she’ll never want for anything. I can keep her healthy and happy and safe. That’s all that matters, it’s all that has ever mattered. But all of that changed in one damn instant, the moment she turned around that night in my bar. Savannah Turner took my breath away, made me weak in the knees and immediately hungry for something more. She makes me want to pull this truck over to the side of the road and make out with her until our lips are raw, but instead, I continue driving in circles around the outskirts of town, while she sleeps. Not only does it mean extra time spent with a beautiful girl in my presence, but the quiet time gives me time to reflect on how I even got here.

*****

January 2, 2013

The waiting room feels cold even though it’s painted in vibrant primary colors. I thought waiting rooms were supposed to be calming, but this room, with blue and green and red striped walls with yellow curtains around the windows, is anything but. I get it. It’s a children’s hospital. Everything is happy and cheery. Maybe I’m just going crazy because my little girl has been laying on a surgical table for two hours now and I haven’t heard anything yet. Dr. Fellgud said it would take a while; I just expected to hear something by now.

“You should stop drinking the coffee, honey. It’s making you jittery.” My mom says calmly. She likes to think she’s the calm one, but I’ve been watching her for the past hour twiddling her thumbs with Olympic speed, and if her head isn’t sore from constantly turning and looking at the door expecting someone to walk in, I will be shocked.

I’m pacing the room for what has to be the one hundred and twenty fifth time. “Yeah I know. I just really thought I might hear an update by now. I don’t know whether to worry or not.”

“No news is good news, Son. It’ll all be fine. Ivy is a fighter. She’ll pull through this with flying colors.” My dad says from behind his newspaper.

“I know, Dad. I know.” I roll my eyes hearing his words go in one ear and out the other.

No news is good news, my ass.

What if there’s no news because they’re arguing over which one has to tell me that she’s gone?

Exasperated, I throw myself in a waiting room chair. Before I go stir crazy I pull my phone out of my pocket so that I can text Sloan. At least checking on the bar gives me something to do.

Me: Hey Sloan, is everything ok there?
Sloan: Hey! Is Ivy out of surgery? How did it go?
Me: No. Still in surgery. Hoping to hear something soon.
Sloan: No news is good news man! Yeah the bar is fine! Pretty light afternoon.
Me: Good.
Sloan: Hey did you hear the news about your girl, Savannah Sanders?
Me: Asshat. She was never my girl and no. Why?
Sloan: I heard she was in a bad accident last night. Lost her husband and child.

WHAT?

“Holy fucking shit.” I mumble covering my mouth in shock.

“What is it?” My mom asks anxiously.

“Sloan just told me that Savannah Sanders was in a car accident last night. He said her husband and child were killed.”

“What? James and Margie’s daughter? Oh Lord, have mercy!” Mom cries. “That poor girl. I’ll need to send them a card right away. I can’t imagine what they’re going through losing that grandbaby that they loved so much.” She dabs at her cheeks with a tissue while I sit and stare at the text from Sloan on my phone. I still haven’t replied to him. I don’t even know what the fuck to say.

Me: Thanks for letting me know.
Sloan: Uh, sure thing. You ok?
Me: Yeah. I can’t think about it now. Ivy comes first.

It’s the only reply I can think of right now because it’s true. Ivy comes first. She has to. But damn if my heart isn’t crumbling for the girl I was in love with all those years ago.

*****

September 30, 2013

Ivy is finally asleep after a fussy battle of having to take new medicine that she doesn’t like. Why do those pharmacies tell us that it’s a yummy grape flavor when in reality they all taste like Robitussin? It’s just gross. I feel bad for my baby girl, but taking that medicine is important. She’ll get used to it. The weather is still mildly warm this evening so I grab a beer and the baby monitor and head outside onto the deck off the kitchen. May as well enjoy some peace and quiet and fresh air while I can. The solidarity after a rough day is nice.

I’m two sips into my beer when my phone rings in my pocket.

So much for solidarity.

It’s my mom undoubtedly calling to check in on Ivy. “Hey Mom. What’s up?” I greet her.

“Hey Honey, I was just calling to see how my little princess did tonight. Did she like her new medicine?”  Mothers can be so predictable…or in this case, grandmothers.

“She did alright after a nice screaming fit. They should make that shit dye free. She took one look at the purple color and wanted no part of it. I got it in her eventually. An extra Hershey kiss did the trick.”

Mom chuckles on the other end of the line. “Smart thinking, Daddy. Good job.”

“Yeah, whatever gets the job done at this point. How are you and Dad? Everything okay?”

“Oh yes. We’re fine. We had a nice day out antiquing this afternoon and we took a drive down to the lake.”

“Sounds like a nice day.” Retirement is obviously treating them very well. We talk for another ten minutes before a quick silence falls between us.

“Oh hey, did I tell you that I ran into Margie Sanders the other day?” she asks.

Savannah’s mom.

I haven’t heard anything about her in months.

“Nope. Why? Is she okay?” I ask.

“Of course. She’s fine. It’s her poor daughter that isn’t doing well I guess.”

Savannah?

I sit up a little straighter, not that anyone can see me. “What do you mean not doing well? Is she sick?”

“Depression I would guess. Margie mentioned that she was in therapy but still pretty despondent over her loss. Who wouldn’t be, really? But anyway, Margie said they moved her back home so she’s staying with them now. Hopefully that helps her a little bit.”

She moved home?

She’s closer now?

If only we had been closer in high school.

I could go to her.

I could help her.

Anything.

I try to sound nonchalant even though my heart breaks again for Savannah. “Yeah. She probably shouldn’t be alone. She’ll do better being around people.”

“You guys were friends in school right? Maybe you should check in on her sometime,” Mom suggests.

There’s nothing I would love more, Mom.

“We knew of each other. I wouldn’t say we were friends. Not that we weren’t friends…” I correct myself. “We were just in different social circles. Maybe if I run into her I’ll see how she’s doing.”

“Good idea,” Mom says. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to have some company either.”

“Yeah, Mom. I hear you.”

“I love you, Honey. You sleep well and give a big hug to Ivy for me in the mornin’.”

“Love you too, Mom. Will do. G’night.”

*****

July 20, 2014

The day is shaping up to be the steamy hot day that all the weather stations warned us about. I took Ivy to the park earlier rather than later in the day so that we could avoid the heat during the afternoon. I even surprised her with an ice cream cone before lunch which put me at Best-Daddy-in-the-World status as far as she’s concerned.

“Mail Daddy! I get the mail okay?” If there’s one thing Ivy likes to do, to make her feel like she’s a big girl, it’s pulling the mail out of the mailbox.

“Sure thing Princess. Let’s walk down and get it together.” I take her hand as she leads me back down the driveway where our mailbox sits near the road. I lift her little body enough that she can pull down the lid and grab today’s mail. “Biws biws biws.” She says as she looks at each envelope in the small stack. “Nuffing fun. Here, Daddy.” She hands me the mail and skips back up the driveway where she waits for me on the porch. It’s the same response she gives every day, but I laugh anyway. Through my laughter I finger through the mail one envelope at a time. It seems Ivy is right. Medical bills, medical bills, medical bills. The cycle never ends as far as those are concerned, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. I would come up with a million dollars to pay for Ivy’s care if I had to. She’s worth it. Her body went through hell seven months ago and I’m so proud to see her doing okay now. The around-the-clock care, the strict timing of her medicinal needs, the constant worry as her parent, it’s all worth it to see her on days like today. It’s like that liver inside her was made for her.

There is one envelope in the stack of mail that I don’t expect to see. Addressed to Ivy and me from the Donor Family Services Coordinator at Give Life, an organization that aids donor and recipient families in communicating with one another. I tear open the envelope and pull out the letter inside.

Dear Mr. Wood and Ivy,

We received this letter from the family of Ivy’s organ donor. We hope that this letter brings you joy and peace and finds you both well, and healing happily. If you would like to send a response to this family, please follow the instructions in the attached brochure. I am also available to help you in your communications in any way I can.

Sincerely,

Mary Ellen Duffler
Donor Family Services Coordinator
Give Life

It’s a letter from Ivy’s donor family.

Well I’ll be…

I never thought about writing one myself.

Man, do I feel like an asshole.

Who goes through this painstakingly emotional process and doesn’t say ‘thank you’? Me, that’s who. I never gave it a moment’s thought. I just focused on Ivy and her needs. Shaking my head at myself and resolving to write an immediate reply, I swallow a huge piece of humble pie before opening the envelope that on the front says,

Donor Recipient

Eager to learn more, I rip open the envelope and pull out a neatly handwritten letter.

            
 
Dear recipient,

              My name is Savannah. My daughter, Peyton, was the little girl who donated one of her organs to you. She would have celebrated her second birthday on July 7
th
. Although she is no longer with us, I know Peyton and her Daddy are smiling down on you from Heaven and watching you grow in strength and peace. I hope you…

“Oh God, no…” I gasp.

My hand starts to shake. It doesn’t take long for me to figure it out. Bardstown, KY is a damn small town. News travels fast, and when it’s headlines like “Hometown Girl Loses Husband and Daughter in Car Accident,” there isn’t a person alive not talking about it. I still remember the text I got from Sloan that day in the hospital waiting room. I knew Savannah had a husband and a little girl named Peyton. I knew she lost them both the day before in an accident. I don’t even need to read the entire thing because the person writing the letter states that her name is Savannah and that her daughter, Peyton, was the donor of Ivy’s liver.

Holy shit.

No.

Just, no.

Never in a million years.

What are the odds?

Of all the fucking livers in the world…

How many Savannahs and Peytons could there possibly be?

It has to be.

Fuck.

“Daddy, I need my Mickey!” I hear Ivy whine, standing at the front door. My hand continues to shake as I pull my keys out of my pocket to unlock the front door.

I clear my throat and wipe the sweat off my forehead before looking up at Ivy. “Go ahead Sweetness. I’ll be right there.” I open the door and let it swing all the way open as Ivy waltzes in, making a beeline for her favorite Mickey Mouse doll.

The weight of the letter in my hand is too much for me. I stumble in the doorstep and sit down quickly on the bench inside the door.

What do I…?

Who do I …?

I…where…?

I don’t even know where to start. There’s no way in hell I can tell anyone about this. Not one fucking person. Damnit! Gossip flows through this town just as fast as the bourbon does. There’s no way I can ever risk Savannah finding out, not that there’s anything she can do about it really but if it were me…I don’t…even…know.

It could break her even more.

I can’t be the cause of her pain.

Because the hurricane that was my life at the time wasn’t shitty enough, on top of it all, I now have to hold on to the fact that my daughter’s liver once belonged to the daughter of a girl I wanted when I was young. A girl I wouldn’t mind having a second chance with. What the hell am I going to do with this information? I can’t write her back. I can’t tell her who I am. I haven’t seen her in years, but I know she’s living with her parents. I know she lives on the outskirts of town. We live not even fifteen minutes apart for Christ’s sake. I know she’s alone. I know I would love to see her but how the fuck can that happen now?