Taylor Lynne: The Women of Merryton - Book Two (8 page)

He met me at the door and
shook his head at me. He jaw was clenched and he had tension written all over
his body. He helped me down and took up applying pressure to my hand. He kept a
hold of my hand for the short distance it was to his entrance. He let go of me
and I took up applying pressure while he dealt with alarms and doors. We walked
in and I was pleasantly surprised to see he had done away with the eighties
motif his last office had. When we moved here forever ago he had taken over Dr.
Garrison’s practice. Dr. Garrison was retiring and his office was decked out in
mauves and hunter green. The furniture looked like a floral shop threw up on it.
It was terrible. I remember us laughing at the ridiculousness of it, but we
couldn’t afford to change it out, so it had to stay. Now his office was
professional looking, with wainscoted walls and taupe paint. The waiting area
had black high back chairs. It was nice.

For someone that wanted
to have it out with me, he sure was quiet as he led me to patient room one. He
helped me onto the table. “Lay back and relax.” Anger laced his words.

I did as he said since he
seemed to be in no mood for my arguments. I kept my eyes closed and thought of
all the things I wanted to say to him, along with all of the ways I could get
out of talking to him. I knew he was right—we needed to have it out—but I was
afraid of what would happen if I finally let the dam break. I was worried
I
would
break.

I listened to him wash up
then open and close drawers. It didn’t take too long before I heard him wheel
his chair next to me. He pulled out a tray from the table and carefully laid my
arm on it. As he undid the towel, I opened my eyes and looked over at the
damage. My cut was a doozy, it was deep and ran almost the whole length of my
palm.

After he examined the damage, he sighed
and softened his voice, switching into doctor mode. “I’m going to numb it
before I clean it out and stitch it up.”

I nodded my head in
acknowledgement.

“You’re going to feel a
tiny prick,” he warned me like I was six.

I gave him a small smile
and he gave me one in return, then went in for the kill.

“I like your new office,”
I said searching for something to distract me from the fact he was sticking a
needle in me.

“Thanks. My partner
Debbie can be credited for the design.”

“She has good taste. How
long have you been partners?”

“About ten years now.”

“That’s a long time.”

“We get along well. She’s
an excellent doctor and friend.” He paused. “I think you would like her.”

“Really, why?”

“She’s not afraid to tell
me when I’m being an idiot.”

I laughed softly. “Is
that a common occurrence?”

He smirked and went on
cleaning my hand. “You certainly did a number on your hand.”

“Any permanent damage?”

“No, but you’re going to
have a nice scar.”

“Great.” Because that’s
all I needed.

He meticulously placed
several stitches across my hand. I could feel the tug, but not the pain. I knew
that would come later. This wasn’t the first time he had stitched me up. When
we had moved here several years ago, I had scraped my leg against one of our
old chairs that, unbeknownst to me, had a nail sticking out of it. It had left
a nice scar, too. This town had a penchant for leaving scars, both physical and
emotional.

Easton was done in no
time at all. He cleaned me up and loosely wrapped my hand in gauze. “Lie still
while I clean up,” he instructed me.

I behaved like a good patient.
Besides, I wanted him to take his time. I wasn’t looking forward to what was
coming after he was done playing doctor. I watched him, and even from my
vantage point I could tell he was agitated. It took a lot to rile him and I had
done a good job tonight. He was shutting drawers harder than necessary and
muttering under his breath.

He left briefly and came
back in with a plastic cup of water and some Tylenol. I began to push myself up
as best as I could when he entered. He set down what he was holding and rushed
over to help me. In doing so, his hand skimmed the bare skin on my back, where
my shirt had come up in the process of sitting up. His soft, warm touch made me
shiver, but his intense brown eyes warmed me right back up as we locked eyes. I
swore if I had reached between the narrow space that separated us, I would have
been shocked by the electricity we seemed to generate.

I was grateful when he
broke the connection by stepping back. “Do you feel lightheaded at all?”

“No.” Yes, but not from
the stitches.

He turned, retrieved the
medicine, and handed it to me. I took it in hopes of warding off the pain for a
bit longer. I wondered if he had anything for a broken heart.

“Thank you.” I downed the
medicine and water.

“You’re welcome,” he said
stiffly.

“You probably still have
time to make your game,” I said, hoping to avoid the storm in his eyes.

He shook his head slowly.
“Not unless you can explain to me in the next five minutes why you left me
fourteen years ago.”

“Only if you can tell my
why you never asked me to come back.” I did my best to hold back the tired and
angry tears.

“I think it’s going to be
a long night.”

I had a sinking feeling
he was right.

Easton called Ashley as
we left his office. “Your mom and I will be gone for a while. Yes, your mom is
fine. Make sure Raphe leaves by eleven,” he warned.

I looked at the time, it
was only seven-thirty; I guess he had a lot to say. I wasn’t sure what I was
going to say. My stomach was tied in knots and my throat felt constricted. I
didn’t think we would be having this conversation so soon, or ever. I had
really banked on the uninvolved ex brochure.

Before we left his office,
he loaded me up with ice packs, extra bandaging, and some spray to keep
infection at bay.

We stopped at City
Market, the town grocery store. He threw his truck in park and looked at me
sternly. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

I did so with my head
against the window, trying to decide whether I should stay and let this happen
or get out of his truck and walk home. I had a feeling the latter wouldn’t go
over too well with him. I had never seen him so determined.

He came back out carrying
a Styrofoam cooler and a couple of grocery bags. I was perplexed, to say the
least. I watched him walk to the back of his truck and let down his tailgate.
From the rearview mirror I could see him fill the cooler with ice, water, and
some other items I couldn’t make out. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. He
secured the cooler and joined me in the cab.

“So where are we going?”
I asked as soon as he started his truck.

“Somewhere we can be
alone and talk.”

“Could you be more vague?”

He looked over to me. “Trust
me.”

I took a deep breath and
nodded.

It was a silent ride, other
than the radio playing classic rock. We made our way out of town and up into
the mountains. He took a turn-off I was familiar with. It ironically led to a
dam. I wondered why he was taking us up Dam Road, but I didn’t say a word. Once
in a while, we would glance at each other, but that was our only communication
until we made it to the visitor parking lot. I wasn’t even sure if this old dam
still did tours.

I looked over to him and
raised my eyebrow.

“Trust me,” he repeated.

He came around and opened
my door. He helped me out, but stopped me before I could move away from him. “Let
me see your hand first.”

I gave him my injured
hand.

He pulled back the
dressing and looked it over. “Are you in any pain?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you feel up to taking
a little walk?”

I nodded my head yes.

He held out his hand for
me to take. I thought for a moment.

His eyes narrowed in
frustration. “Come on, Taylor. I want to make sure you keep steady on the rocky
path.”

I gave him my left hand
and our fingers intertwined naturally.

“I’ll take you over the
river, start a fire, and come back for the cooler.”

I nodded my head in
agreement to the plan. I didn’t even know you could cross the river here.

We walked across the
empty parking lot and took a little trail that led down to the river. The path
was rocky and steep. I was grateful for his hand as the evening sun was
overshadowed by the trees. And admittedly, I missed holding his hand. I missed
him. As we approached the river, I could make out a narrow bridge. We would
have to walk across it single file. He led and I followed while he held my hand
tightly. He even rubbed his thumb across it like he used to do. I always loved that
small act.

The river below was rushing
more than usual due to the abundant snowpack and run off they had had during
winter and spring. It was definitely much cooler up here than down in the
valley. I wished I had known where we were going; I would have dressed more
appropriately. The shorts and t-shirt I had on weren’t sufficient, especially
as I hadn’t acclimated. I was used to hot and humid weather in June.

We continued in silence,
except when Easton was pointing out where not to step. I had always loved the
sounds of the evening up in the mountains, so I appreciated the quiet. I focused
on the sound of the water and the rustling of the aspen trees. I also breathed
in the deep, clean smell of the pine trees and water. The path after the bridge
ran parallel with the water, but it edged up higher. We didn’t have to walk
very far, maybe a quarter of a mile before we landed at our destination. There
was a little clearing off the trail. It looked like a place that had been used
before. There was already a stone fire pit and logs that circled it for
sitting.

Easton led me to a log
and helped me sit down. I immediately started using my good hand to rub my body,
trying to generate some heat.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get a fire
going, sit tight.”

What else could I do? I
probably looked ridiculous blowing warm air on my hand and reaching down and
rubbing my legs, but it was chilly. I had the goose bumps to prove it. Easton
gathered kindling, wood, and went to work building a fire. Watching him
reminded me how much he loved the outdoors. The mountains had hooked him from
day one. I remembered our first visit to Colorado together. We slept out under
the stars. He was amazed at what you missed in the sky living in the city. The
altitude and clear atmosphere up here illuminated the night sky. It was simply
breathtaking. He was definitely Rocky Mountain high. And I must have been high
letting him convince me to move back here.

It didn’t take him long
to get the fire going. That first wave of warmth from the golden flames felt
glorious. I sighed in relief.

He chuckled. “Will you be
all right here by yourself for a few minutes?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

He handed me a small
flashlight. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched him disappear
into the darkness. I stood carefully once he was out of sight. I took turns
warming up my front and back. I decided I needed a fire for both sides. What I
really needed was a jacket.

As promised, he wasn’t
gone that long. He brought with him a cooler and a jacket. He sat the cooler
down and wrapped his large fleece jacket around me. I curled up as much as I
could on the log and pulled the jacket around my legs too.

Easton grinned. “I’m
sorry. I forgot how much you hate the cold.”

“I’m warming up now.
Thanks for the jacket.”

He scooted closer to me, dragged
the cooler with him, and opened the lid. It was filled with all my favorites: nectarines,
cherries, and dark chocolate. There was water, too.

I looked at him and took
a moment to appreciate his handsome face in the glow of the firelight. He had
subtle lines around his beautiful eyes, but it added character. I could also
see a little gray hair interspersed. In my opinion, it only made him more
attractive. I found myself wanting to reach out and touch him, but I refrained.
I reminded myself how we got here in the first place. “Thank you,” was all I
ended up saying.

He reached up and tucked
an errant piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re welcome,” he whispered.

I shivered, but not
because I was cold. In fact, I was feeling toasty. Too toasty. I had to look away
from him. I grabbed a nectarine and held it in my hands.

He looked out over the fire
that was now blazing. I loved how it made the tree line ahead light up. It gave
everything a magical feel, but this was no fairytale. I heard him take a large
breath and blow it out. “So, ladies first.”

I stared at my nectarine.
Where did I even begin? “What do you want to know? I thought it was obvious.”

He turned to me and I
think his eyes reflected more heat than the fire. I guess he was angry too.
“What I want to know is how my wife could just leave and take everything I
loved most with her without any indication that she was planning on leaving me
and without any thought of what that would do to me.”

I felt an immediate rush
of anger. “You’re asking me if I considered what it would do to you? Did you ever
stop and think about what you were doing to me when you were sleeping with your
nurse?”

“I wasn’t sleeping with
Kathryn! Why couldn’t you believe that? Where did the trust go?”

“It went out the window
when you started acting like a husband that was cheating. Coming home later and
later, sleeping on the couch instead of with me, smelling like another woman. I
can give you a laundry list, but I did try to give you the benefit of the
doubt. I got a babysitter for Ashley the night before I left. I decided to
surprise you late at your office, but instead I got confirmation. I saw you
there with Kathryn.”

He took the nectarine out
of my hand and threw it has hard as he could. I was taken aback by his
behavior. I thought he was long over this. I heard a thud in the distance where
the nectarine had landed.

“So you jumped to a
conclusion and the next step was to leave me instead of asking me about it?”

“Because I knew what you
would say! I didn’t want to be like my mother. I only ever saw my father deny,
lie, and promise to change and it never lasted. Besides,
 
when
was I supposed to ask you about it? I never saw you. You were constantly gone
and when you were home, you were sleeping.”

“Taylor, you knew what
you were getting marrying a doctor.”

“Yes, I did. And I
supported you and supported you. I did everything I could to make sure you
could do your job. My life revolved around you and then Ashley. Unfortunately,
you revolved around you, too.”

He had this look of
incredulity on his face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s see, for starters,
I worked two jobs to help you finish medical school, basically putting in as
many hours as you a week, but it was still me that took care of all the cooking
and cleaning too. Every time I had a break, I would sneak over to visit you at
the hospital. Never once did you take your time off to come and visit me. And I
told you I didn’t want to move back to this place, but I did, even though it
was painful for me, because I wanted you to be happy. We could have made more
money in Birmingham, but I supported your dreams and made do with what we had.
I pushed off the things I had been looking forward to. And then we got here and
it was like Ashley and I barely fit into your schedule at all. I tried so hard
to stay perfect and hold it all together, but I was tired. I was taking care of
a baby all night, with no help from you, but you didn’t care. Not once did you
try to give me a break because you saw what you did as being more important.
Then, worst of all, my mom died and the day of her funeral—the day I needed you
most—you dropped me and Ashley off at home after the service and left to check
on your patients. Honestly, I’m surprised you even noticed we left.” I took a deep
breath and looked into his slack face. “I always wondered how long it took you
to notice we were gone.”

Wow! I exhaled slowly. I
had to say, it felt good to get that out after all of those years. I was proud
of myself.

By the look on Easton’s
face, he felt anything but good. Maybe sorrow and regret. But wow, I felt the
knot I had been carrying in my chest for years loosen. It was still there, but
I didn’t feel like it was strangling me anymore. I picked up another nectarine
and took a bite. I figured I better eat it quickly, because Easton looked angry
enough to throw something. As I ate, he watched me. I could see trouble brewing
in his eyes. He attempted to speak several times, but each time he failed, and
I could tell that was frustrating him.

He got up and started
walking around, kicking rocks as he went. I didn’t say a word, but I wondered what
was making him behave this way. And maybe part of me felt glad that this had
bothered him, too.

After almost ten minutes,
he threw himself back on the log next to me. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you
were so unhappy being married to me?”

I found myself in tears
remembering back all those years ago. “Because, Easton, for a lot of our
marriage, I was happy.”

Easton reached out and
took my uninjured hand. 

“I loved being married to
you. And, honestly, I thought if you loved me enough you would have noticed. I
thought I didn’t need to say anything; it seemed so clear. But you never did. You
even quit saying you loved me, unless I said it first, and sometimes even then
you didn’t reciprocate. And when I left, you acted as if you couldn’t have
cared less, so saying anything seemed like a moot point.”

He took a deep breath and
squeezed my hand. “Taylor, I did care and I noticed the second I got home that you
were gone. The house felt empty. I didn’t even need to read the note you left.
I knew you weren’t there.”

“Why didn’t you ask me to
come home? Why didn’t you come for me?”

He let go of my hand and
turned toward the fire. He sat there in deep contemplation for several minutes.

While waiting, I decided
chocolate was in order. I opened the cooler to grab a few pieces. That act
jolted Easton out of his reverie. He looked over to me as I unwrapped the red
foil.

He sighed heavily again.
His eyes looked so tired. “At first I was angry. I couldn’t believe you would leave
me for no reason. I let my pride take over. I figured you knew where we lived. And
every time I called you, all you did was accuse me of cheating on you, and I
got tired of denying it. Then the divorce papers arrived.” He shook his head.
“I never even stopped to consider I was the problem.”