A Woman To Blame (17 page)

"Rick, we have to leave. Now," she said in a choked voice.

"What's happened?"

"My grandfather was trying out his walker on his own and fell and hit his head. They haven't been able to bring him around. Rick, I'm scared."

His arms were around her before he could speak. "It's going to be okay," he said. "I'll be with you."

* * *

"Bryn, you've got to calm down. They said he was only out for fifteen minutes."

Her hands came down from her face to gesture wildly. "Well, how long does it take to X-ray someone's head? And why can't I go downstairs to wait for him?"

He knew by now she wasn't expecting answers from him. She'd become more frantic with each passing mile on their way back from Key West. All he could do was reassure her, and that wasn't calming her at all. He had to try. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached for her again.

"No," she said, shaking her head as she pushed off the wall in the little blue alcove. Holding up her hands, she motioned for him to move away. "I don't deserve a hug at the moment."

"What? What are you talking about?" he asked, watching her closely. Seeing her first tears fall, his heart felt as if it were crimping around the edges. "Bryn, please," he begged, "what is it?"

"It's me," she whispered hoarsely. "I needed to tell him something." Rubbing her eyes, she stood tall, continuing to keep her distance from Rick. "Maybe it's too late."

"He's going to be fine. Come on, Bryn. What are we talking about here? Pappy knows you love him, and he loves you. Do you know what he once told me about you? 'She's a pistol.'" When that didn't raise a smile, he took her by the elbows and made her look at him. "So what is it? You never got around to explaining why you took ten cents off his dresser when you were seven years old? You washed the car with his good white shirt?" He gave her a tiny shake. "You don't have to apologize. That old man thinks the world of you. So whatever absolution you think you need to ask for, isn't important."

"It's none of those things, Rick."

"Go on. Don't stop now," he said, loosening his grip.

"I have to tell him that I forgive him. I should have told him the moment I found out the truth." Looking away, she slowly shook her head. "But I didn't, I didn't."

Rick led her to a sofa and sat down beside her. Reaching for a tissue, he fumbled, pulling out a handful instead, and shoved them into her hands. At least that elicited a snorted laugh from her. After a while she stopped dabbing her eyes and looked up at him.

"How much do you know about my grandfather's life before he came to the Keys?"

He started to speak, but realized he had virtually nothing to say. "Bryn, people down here leave a person's past alone. They don't ask questions about a newcomer's background either. What I know about Pappy's past can fit on a post-it note. It's what I know about him now that counts. He's a good man."

"I know that. But what you don't know is, he had a fight with his brother, my uncle Ron, over the family business. Uncle Ron wanted him to open up another auto parts store in the next county, but Grandfather refused. Everyone in the family had an opinion about it, even my grandmother. She pushed and pushed for him to open another store." Bryn stopped talking, staring hard into the hallway. Finally she sighed and leaned back against the sofa. "One day, after about a month of this, Grandfather suddenly packed a suitcase and left town."

Rick twisted slowly around to look at her. "He left your grandmother?"

Bryn nodded. "We couldn't figure it out. Grandmother refused to talk about it. She said it was too humiliating. Within a year they were divorced and he'd started his life over down here. A few years later everyone praised Uncle Ron for marrying her. My father was so angry with Grandfather that he wouldn't let us mention his name." Tears started down her face again. "For years I almost forgot about him—forgot this wonderful man who always treated me like a princess."

"What happened?"

"After my grandmother and Uncle Ron died in a car accident, we were going through her things. I found a stack of love letters."

"Ah, from Pappy," Rick said, reaching for her hand.

She gulped and swallowed. "From my uncle Ron. They were seeing each other during her marriage to my grandfather. Rick, she was having an affair with his brother, and he must have found out about it. Knowing that must have broken his heart. And his pride... well, that kept him from seeing me. Seeing all of us."

"But you've been coming to see him, Bryn."

Swiping at her nose with the ball of tissues, she said, "Only after I'd read those letters. I think he knows that I know about his brother and my grandmother. Rick, I should have said something to him."

"Bryn," he said, shifting uneasily. "Why would you want to bring up something that painful from the past? Why not let it alone?"

"And pretend nothing ever happened? Oh no, this kind of hurt, going on as long as it has, needs its moment in the light. I've already told him how badly I feel about missing all those years with him, but I never told him I've forgiven him for not being there, and for his pretending we all stopped existing when he found out about Uncle Ron and my grandmother." Picking at the ball of tissue, she asked in a desperate whisper, "Don't you see?"

"I see that an old man who has the granddaughter he adores with him doesn't need to be reminded about a miserable time from his past. Bryn, I'd reconsider telling him." He watched for a sign that he'd made his point, but she continued to cry and he wasn't certain how to read a woman's tears anymore. It had been so long.... Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "If you still feel compelled, I'd highly recommend you don't tell him until he's back on his feet."

Staring hard again into the hall, she shook her head in confusion. "I'm not sure what to do. I have to think." Raising her hands in a helpless gesture, she thumped them against her chest. "Rick, you never know when people you love are going to leave you."

"I know, I know," he said, pulling her into his arms when she hid her face in her hands. Patting her back, he whispered words of comfort as he thought about Pappy. And Angie. If he waited long enough, he reassured himself, all those chaotic thoughts trying to claim him would drift to the back of his mind. Pulling her closer, he pressed a kiss against the curly top of her head.

"Excuse me," came a voice from the hallway. "Pappy Madison is back in his room."

Bryn sat up, clutching the raggedy remnants of tissues to her breast. "Is he going to be okay?"

"No broken bones. We should have known Pappy would be too hardheaded. He's going to be fine."

"Can we see him?" Bryn asked as Rick stood up with her.

"The nurse will be out to get you in a minute."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said, slipping her arms around Rick's waist. As the doctor walked away she looked up at Rick. "Thank you for being here. And for listening. I think I would have really lost it if you hadn't been here for me."

Brushing her hair away from her brow, he stared down into her eyes and smiled. He didn't agree with the way she wanted to handle things with Pappy, but at least she'd heard him out. Maybe those scenes from his past would stop replaying and he could start this afternoon in the present with Bryn again.

"Hey," he said, thumbing away the moisture below her eyes, "you almost lost it last time we stood in this alcove too. Remember?"

Her sigh was a cleansing one, deep and revitalizing. "What I remember most is that you almost kissed me. Or did I almost kiss you?"

Pulling her close, he brushed his lips against hers in a sweet kiss. "Go ahead, blame it on me," he said, happy to have made another memory to add to his list.

Chapter 8

"That's it," Bryn said, standing in the middle of Pappy's Crab Shack. Pointing to the second smear of paint on the wall, she nodded confidently to the group as the reinstalled jukebox played another oldie. "This, uh," she began, then paused to look at the paint chip card in her hand, "Sumatra Tan is so much more workable than Bark Beige or Cafe au Lait. You see, there's not as much gray..." she said, squinting at the wall and then the paint chip card. "At least, I don't think—"

"Quick," Rick said to the rest of the people in the room, "start rolling it on before she changes her mind."

"Ha-ha. Very funny," she said good-naturedly amid their laughing. Walking over to the far end of the bar, she heard Rick coming up behind her. Slapping the paint chips onto the refinished wood surface, she turned to point at him.

"Just because I've decided to get back to basics with the decor doesn't mean I'm willing to settle for second best for Pappy's Crab Shack."

In the only shadowed corner of the room, Rick took her finger between his teeth, sucked it into his mouth, and swirled his tongue around it. For one intense second she thought she was going to embarrass herself by gasping out loud. Then he released her finger and turned back toward the rest of the people.

"Bryn's right, Captain Parrish," Rita Small said, from her place by the secondhand piano. Chiseling off suspiciously barnaclelike substances from the top, she stopped long enough to offer her opinion. "This old place is going to be as comfy as before, only fresher. Pappy's going to love what Bryn's done to the place."

"How's his head from that fall he had?" Jiggy asked.

"Harder than ever," Rick said as he went down the stairs. "I'm going for that extra tarp in the truck."

"Need help with it?" Jiggy asked.

"No, thanks. Just keep stirring that paint and I'll be up with it in a minute."

"Okay," Jiggy said, before turning his attention to Bryn. "Now that Pappy's started his physical therapy, when will he be well enough to have a look at the place?"

"The doctor says the week of the sports festival is the soonest we can have him back. I'll never be able to thank you all enough for pitching in with this," she said, raising her hands to indicate the interior of the Crab Shack. "With so much going on with the festival, Grandfather's hospital stay, my own business, and then turning this restaurant project around, I don't know how I'd have managed without you."

Liza Manning looked up from the papers spread out before her on the opposite end of the bar. "Seems only right that we should, since Pappy insisted we use the place as headquarters during Sports Festival Week. Besides, what are friends for?"

"Ms. Manning, don't go getting all sappy or I'll cry in this paint and mess it up," Jiggy said from his squatting position next to a paint can. Lifting the stir stick, he let the rich tan liquid dribble off the end. "Looks like the color of the sand over on August Moon Key."

Bryn glanced away from the old brass clock she had started polishing to glimpse the color. Smiling, she turned back to the clock again, recalling the afternoon a few days ago when Rick helped her pick it out in an antique shop in Key West. That was the same day he'd finally gotten to show her the secondhand piano Rita was working on. The same day they'd finally checked into Lord Eddie's, took that long walk on the beach and then made love all afternoon. "August Moon Key," she said slowly. "That sounds so romantic."

"Captain Parrish used to think so," Jiggy said as he concentrated on neatly pouring the paint from the can into the paint tray. "He used to take Angie there every chance he could."

The room went silent, leaving Bryn with the deafening sound of her pounding heart.

"Hush up, Jiggy, or I'll put a tangle in your tackle so tight that you'll go blind getting it straight again," Liza said.

Rita Small thunked the chisel onto the piano and noisily cleared her throat before reaching for the sandpaper by her feet. "Liza, I believe you've been spending too much time with Pappy."

Rita's words of admonishment came a few seconds too late to ring true. Eight pairs of eyes were now slowly turning toward Bryn. Heat crept up her face, making her skin sting. Why should it matter to her if Rick used to take his wife to a deserted little island? That happened years ago; they were divorced now and that's what mattered. Shoving a lock of hair away from one eyebrow, she found herself wondering once again why Rick was virtually mute on the subject of his ex-wife.

If Angie Parrish was no longer a part of his life, then why hadn't he brought her up in the normal course of their conversations? Had Angie been the dragon lady who broke Rick's heart? Or did Rick continue to feel guilty because he had been the cause of their divorce? He'd had no trouble explaining Sharon Burke to her. Why not his ex-wife? Was he still in love with her?