The Pretty Lady and the Cowboy (Songs from the Heart) (17 page)

BOOK: The Pretty Lady and the Cowboy (Songs from the Heart)
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“And I think I need to devote all my energy to Ally for now,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to be more specific than that.

But Levi said, “Meaning?”

“Meaning, the next two days may be critical for her. I can’t cope with anyone else’s problems right now—not yours, not mine…” I almost said “and not ours,” but I caught myself just in time. I had to be realistic. There was no “ours.”
Two days from now, Levi would be gone
, I thought to myself. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

I was hoping he would protest, hoping he’d tell me that life could be just the way it was in his songs, that together we could do anything. But he didn’t. He pulled me to him one more time, gave me one last kiss on the forehead, and then walked out of Ally’s room. I could hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

I sat back down in the hard chair next to Ally’s bed and closed my eyes. Tears streamed down my face and my body was wracked with silent sobs. Here in the infirmary with nurses and janitors walking up and down the hall, with Ally passed out in the bed next to me, I had never felt so alone in my life.

# # # # #

Somehow, despite everything, I guess I managed to fall asleep. The next thing I knew the clock on the wall said it was twenty minutes after seven and a nurse was coming in to check on Ally. She was still asleep and didn’t stir much when the nurse checked her blood pressure and changed the IV bag again.

I tried to stretch out some of the kinks in my arms and legs that sleeping upright in an uncomfortable chair had given me. The nurse told me that they’d be waking Ally up soon and that she would probably be released later that day, assuming all the alcohol was out of her system. I asked the nurse to please let me know if there was any change in Ally’s condition and wrote my cell phone number on a slip of paper I dug out of my purse. Then I gave Ally a kiss on the forehead and left. She and I needed to talk. Again. But even more seriously this time.

Since Jess had driven, I called a taxi company for a ride. While I waited for someone to show up, I tried to focus on what I was going to do about my little sister. And I tried not to think about the one person in the world that every cell in my body was yearning for. I told myself that if Levi had been serious about me… well… he would have stayed with me last night, he would have protested my decision not to see him again. He wouldn’t have just kissed me on the forehead and walked out.

In a perfect world, what would he have done? Really, I had no idea. What my heart yearned for was the classic fairy tale solution where the prince sweeps the heroine off her feet, the magic coach takes them to the castle, and the real world and its problems somehow disappear into the mist. What I had instead was the reality of a sister who needed my undivided attention right now, and the revelation that the man I loved—

I stopped myself, willing myself to quit being as head over heels, crazy in love with Levi as I knew I was. It didn’t work. Each door I considered opening seemed to be the wrong one. The Ally door led to more troubles, no end in sight. And the Levi door? Would it even open? And if it did open, would there be anything at all on the other side?

My mind was spinning. Between waiting for the taxi and the ride back, it was nearly an hour later when I reached my place and wearily climbed the stairs. On top of everything else, I was facing a long, hard day at the store. I needed a few minutes of peace and quiet, a hot shower, some breakfast.

What I got instead was a phone call from my dad’s sister, Esther. Auntie Esther lived in the small farming town of Westford, Connecticut. She has never married, had been a high school teacher, then a principal, then a superintendent of schools in the last several years before she retired. She has never needed a man in her life and over the years she made sure I knew that women could be strong and independent. In her late seventies now, she is one of the people I cherish most in the world.

“Auntie Esther!” I said, picking up the phone. I tried to make my voice sound cheerful.

“How’s Ally?” She never wasted words and this morning was no exception. “The infirmary called last night when they were having trouble reaching you.”

Right. She was on the emergency contact list for Ally. I should have known.

“She’s sleeping it off right now. Honestly, Auntie Esther, I’m feeling like a total failure at this guardianship business.”

“What part of her behavior do you figure is your fault?” she asked.

Tears came to my eyes. “Just about all of it,” I said. “I feel like I haven’t given her the love and understanding she’s needed since Dad died.” My throat was knotting up and I could hardly speak.

“And if you’d just loved her hard enough, that would have prevented her from abusing alcohol?” she asked.

“Y-yes,” I said. I was choking back sobs.

“Katharine, sit down and take a minute to calm down,” my aunt said. “I need to tell you something that your father should have talked to you about a long, long time ago. Or that I should have discussed with you, since it was always clear to me that he couldn’t do it.”

I grabbed a box of tissues and sat down on the couch. I blew my nose. I took several deep breaths.

“Okay,” I finally said. “I think I’m ready.” I couldn’t imagine what she had on her mind.

“You were a small child when your mother died,” she began, “and your father, bless him, believed your memories of her should all be happy ones.”

“She really was a saint in his eyes,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that was why he never remarried—no one else was ever good enough.”

“But as it happens,” Auntie Esther continued, “your mother wasn’t a saint. Your dad told you that the night she was killed in a car crash, a drunk driver was at fault.”

“Yes,” I said cautiously. I had been angry with that driver every day of my life since then. I still had nightmares in which I saw a car driven by some faceless, nameless driver speeding out of control toward me. I was haunted by the thought that my mother had watched as another car, and her own death, sped toward her.

“Well, what your father never did tell you was that your
mother
was the drunk driver. There is a hereditary thread of alcoholism that runs in her family. Ally may have a genetic predisposition to alcohol abuse.”

Her words felt like a slap in the face. My mother? Not a victim, but at fault in the crash that killed her? But after the initial jolt, I felt fragments of memory sliding into place like pieces of a puzzle. Things my father said, things he refused to speak about, suddenly began to make sense.

“That can’t be,” I said, not wanting to believe it. Even though her words rang true, part of me was still in denial. “My dad loved my mother!”

“Of course he did. Do you think we can only love people who have no problems?” she asked. I couldn’t help thinking about Levi. Maybe that’s what love was really all about. Maybe love was what gave two imperfect people the strength to face life together. But I forced myself to stop thinking about Levi. I had closed that door and was going to have to live with the consequences.

Auntie Esther was going on. “Anyway, the point isn’t what can or can’t be,” she said. “The point is that I’ve given you information, knowledge. Knowledge is power. You can use this knowledge to help Ally. And you can use it to stop blaming yourself.”

I tried to tell myself that it was kind of like having a toothache and finding out you had a cavity. Okay. Now you could take steps to do something about it.

Right.

“It’s going to take me some time to process this,” I said.

“But you will. And it will make you stronger,” she replied.

“Auntie Esther,” I said, “there is no one else like you in the whole wide world.”

“God doesn’t make the same mistake twice, eh?” she said. I could hear the wry smile in her voice.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” I said, smiling through my tears. “I’m not getting my hopes up yet, but I’m beginning to understand a lot of things that never made sense before.” Now if only I could make use of that understanding.

“I’ve always had great faith in you, Katharine.” I could feel myself gaining confidence from the strength of her love.

“You’ll be here for Thanksgiving, won’t you?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “I hope Ally and I will both be there. Love you, Auntie E.”

Chapter 17

Thank heaven The Finish Line was insanely busy all morning. I didn’t have time to eat lunch, and I was grateful for the fact that I had almost no time at all to think. I called the infirmary several times to check on Ally and got progress reports. I was told that she had woken up briefly, had eaten a little toast, was dozing off and on. Finally around 2:00 p.m., a nurse informed me that Ally was complaining of a terrible headache, but that she was stable and could be picked up after 5:00 today.

By 3:00, I was starving, so I told Jess and Dan I was going to go next door to the coffee shop for a few minutes. Things were a little calmer by then so Jess told me to take my time. I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, glad to have even a few minutes to myself.

I needed some comfort food today, so I ordered a BLT with extra mayo and a chocolate milkshake. It was going to take an extra-long run to work off those calories, but I didn’t care. I paid and took the bag outside to eat at a café table. The autumn air felt chilly despite the sun. I shivered in my short-sleeved tee-shirt. I took a few deep breaths and then just sat and watched the crowds go by as I ate my lunch, trying not to worry about Ally, willing myself not to think about—

My thoughts stopped abruptly as I looked across the street and saw her. The blonde mystery woman. She was eating outside at the same restaurant where I’d seen her with Levi. She looked annoyingly beautiful. Her hair loose and flowing on her shoulders, her crisp white shirt, the navy blue sweater draped around her neck, the perfectly creased gray trousers—everything about her was an irritatingly perfect combination of expensive and casual. I looked down at my blue jeans, running shoes, and Nike logo tee-shirt, and wished my fairy godmother would magically appear to help.

No such luck.

My whole life was kind of in crisis overload, so my first impulse was to do what I had done the last time I’d seen this woman eating there with Levi. I figured I could sneak back through the coffee shop and out their back door once again. The saner side of me, though, made me realize how silly that would be. She probably didn’t know anything at all about me.

But there was a lot I wanted to know about her.

I stood up, straightened my shoulders, walked across the street, and headed for her table. She looked up as I approached and smiled.

Once I was there, though, I didn’t know quite what to say. I held out my hand and introduced myself. “I’m Katharine Addison,” I said. “I’m the owner of the running shoe store across the street.”

She looked politely interested and waited for me to continue.

“I saw you at the party after Levi McCrory’s concert the other night.”

I could sense wheels turning inside her head as she started making connections.

“Katharine, aka Kitty?” she asked. I had another moment of panic. Had Levi mentioned me to this woman? And if so, why?

I nodded. “Have a seat,” she said, “I’m Angela Wright. You can call me Angie. I live here in Chester Port—how about you?”

I said I did, too, and we made small talk for a few minutes about the town. Then I couldn’t help asking, “How do you know Levi?”

“We’re old friends,” she said. “He told me you and he are pretty friendly, too.”

Friendly. Is that how he described what was happening between us?

“He told you about me?” I asked.

“Yes. And he told me that you’re having some troubles with your sister and that he hoped you would be able to work them out.”

“Why would he tell you that?” I asked. I couldn’t decide if I felt flattered that he had mentioned me at all or irritated that he had talked to this outsider about something I still thought of as a family secret.

She took a long sip of her iced tea. “Let me tell you how Levi and I met,” she said. “This is really hard for Levi to talk about, so he asked me, as a friend, to explain things to you, if the opportunity presented itself. And—well, here you are and here I am.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I’ll give you the short version.”

I was curious, but apprehensive. Would she tell me more than I wanted to know about her relationship with Levi? Had they been lovers? I had been curious about who in the world she was and what in the world she was to Levi. But now that she was about to tell me, I wondered whether getting that information was in the “be careful what you wish for” category.

Angie went on, though. “Six months before we got to know each other, Levi had crashed a car one night after his performance. He had been drinking pretty heavily at an after-concert party, but he insisted on driving his wife back to their hotel. When he ran a red light, the passenger side of his car was hit by a large SUV. Levi escaped with just a few cuts and scrapes, but both his wife’s legs were broken and she suffered a number of other internal injuries. She was in the hospital for over six weeks and in rehab for several months. She began divorce proceedings as soon as she got out.”

I nodded. So that was the story of Levi’s marriage. Or at least the end of the story.

“That sent Levi into a real tailspin. He started drinking harder than ever. And then one night during his run at the casino here, he stumbled into an AA meeting I was running. Many of the people there knew who he was and were shocked to see someone so famous walk in. But an important part of AA is anonymity—that’s why they call it Alcoholics
Anonymous
—so they listened to his story just the way they did with anyone else’s.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “A sponsor would never discuss an AA member with anyone else and, as I said, I’m only breaking that rule now at Levi’s own special request. As open and easygoing as he is about most things, this subject is really hard for him to talk about.”

I nodded again. I didn’t know what to say.

BOOK: The Pretty Lady and the Cowboy (Songs from the Heart)
12.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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