Among Wildflowers (11 page)

Ryland sat in the rocking chair
on his front porch. The chair beside him was covered with snow and ice, the pile of old, dried, brittle wildflowers encrusted with the white powder. He pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck and stared at the chair for a moment. Why had he kept it so long?

When Isabelle was alive, she’d often be waiting for Ryland right
here on this porch, sitting right in that chair, when he came in from working on the ranch. During the summer she adored the wildflowers that grew in the meadow near the house, especially the
tiny daisies. Each day, after he was done with the day’s chores, he would go to the meadow and pick her a small bouquet. Then he’d go to the house to find her quietly rocking in her chair and present her with the flowers. She would smile and take them, smelling them before holding them in her lap as they talked about their days.

Every single evening they spent rocking beside each other, gazing at the beautiful landscape of his property. Everything with her was simple and uncomplicated. Both of their jobs took them away from each other often, but they always made it work. He was on tour a lot with his band and she was a professional trick horseback rider, performing in rodeos across the country. She loved it and he encouraged her, but he hadn’t realized it would be the thing that would take her away from him. Maybe if he had known then, he never would have let her…

No, he would have. She had loved it so much. He wouldn’t have taken that away from her. But still, the guilt gnawed at him. He was her man. He was supposed to protect her and keep her safe. He hadn’t made many of her shows because he was often on tour at the same time. That’s how it was that July when it... happened. A lump formed in his throat at the thought.

He questioned himself a lot about the way he had handled everything with Isabelle. Even before she died. Why had it been so damned important to him to keep her a secret from the public? She always said she didn’t care one bit one way or the other. Let the paparazzi take her picture, she didn’t have anything to hide. She was in love with Ryland Quinn. Isabelle was strong and hadn’t cared what anyone thought of her.

But Ryland had. Ryland knew just how ruthless and cruel the media could be. He knew that if he ever discovered that some trashy gossip had decided to write a nasty article about Isabelle, he would have been homicidal. He had just felt it better to keep her all to himself and not let the media close to her.

But now that he thought back on it, maybe that had been stupid. He should have just trusted that Isabelle could handle it. It had made his grief so much worse after she died because he couldn’t tell anyone what was wrong. Michael had had to cover for him, and it had been wrong to put his friend in that position.

Isabelle… his Isabelle.

Maybe that’s why he was so undeniably attracted to Macy. Maybe he missed Isabelle so much he was trying to replace her with Macy. Maybe. Maybe a lot of things.

Ryland rocked back in his own chair and looked over at Isabelle’s again. After Isabelle died he still brought her flowers every day and placed them on her chair. The pile grew over time, sometimes a strong wind would come through and blow them away and he’d have to start the pile over again. He stopped bringing the flowers when Macy and Lane came because he didn’t want to get caught doing it and have that little nugget put in their story. But taking a few days off had given him a different perspective about it, and he realized maybe it wasn’t the healthiest behavior. Hell, maybe it was hearing Macy talk about AA and addictive behaviors that had gotten him thinking about it. Healthy behavior wasn’t exactly something that Ryland had been exhibiting for the past couple of years, but maybe now was the right time to start the process.

He stood looking down at her chair, his chest tight with grief and anxiety. Then he knelt down, taking off his hat and holding it tightly against his chest.

“I know this chair isn’t you. I know you’re far beyond worldly possessions now. You’ve probably been looking down at me bringing you these stupid flowers and laughing.” He smiled despite the tears that had begun to pool in his eyes. “I guess I’d laugh, too. Somehow I thought maybe if I still brought you flowers everyday you’d know it. You’d feel me... maybe I’d feel you. But I know it’s not right. I know it’s kind of crazy that I’ve been doing it for so long, but it helped me feel closer to you, maybe even a little less lonely without you.” He paused. “But I think I’m going to stop now.”

Then he took his hat and gently brushed off the small pile of flowers and snow before finally standing and looking down at them. He felt... okay. And for Ryland, okay was miles better than how he usually felt.

***

Helen stood at the large picture window that overlooked the front porch as Ryland cleaned off Isabelle’s rocking chair. She watched with a mixture of shock and awe as he carefully and lovingly wiped the dust and snow away. He’d kept the chair as it was for two years, almost as a shrine when Isabelle passed away. Helen dabbed at the corner of her eyes. Isabelle had been so young and she and Ryland had been so in love. When she died, his whole world collapsed, and it pained Helen to watch Ryland go through it. He’d gone from being a happy-go-lucky guy to a cantankerous man that Helen and Michael tiptoed around because he was so volatile.

Helen had been working on getting Ryland to go visit his folks back in Georgia for a long time and he’d always refused. When his manager had arranged for Lane and Macy to come out for the interview, Helen had really pushed him to go to see his parents first.
She told him that maybe he was being presented with an
opportunity to start getting his life back. Not only working to get his career back on track, but working on allowing his family into his life again. Thankfully, he’d agreed to go. Looked like maybe it had really helped him.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she went to find Michael in the storeroom. He had been spending the day helping Helen around the house with a few things.

“Ryland cleaned off Isabelle’s rocking chair.”

Michael turned to her, his mouth agape. “He did what?”

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t just seen it myself.”

“That’s... I don’t know. Good, right?”

“Yes, I believe that’s a mighty good sign.”

“Did that boy some good to go spend time with his folks. Thank God you were able to talk him into it.”

“Wasn’t easy, but he had to do something. He was a mess... still is. But I think he’s finally pulling through.”

“Knew he would,” Michael said, shoving the last tote of linens onto a shelf. “There. Finally got your to-do list done.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

“You know, you’re kind of a slave driver.”

“Oh, I am? Well, you’d be smart to keep that mouth of yours
shut or I’ll give you another list,” she said, swatting him with a dish towel.

“Yes, ma’am,” Michael said with a grin.

Helen smiled to herself as she headed to the laundry room to finish up the bed linens. Ryland deserved to be happy, and she was so relieved that he appeared to be coming out of his darkness. But there was one thing that kept nagging at the back of her brain—that photographer from New York City. It seemed to her that Macy and Ryland had been spending too much time together. She’d spotted Macy going into the barn after Ryland this morning and she’d been in there for a good twenty minutes before leaving. Now, Helen knew
she was probably just a nosey old woman and she was certain it was none of her business, but she was worried for Ryland. That man needed to keep his head. She couldn’t bear to watch his heart break again.

***

“Aunt Suzy.” Macy stood standing beside her aunt, clutching her duffle bag. “This is crazy. I can’t do this.”

Aunt Suzy looped her arm through Macy’s and gently tugged her along. “Don’t be silly, my dear, of course you can.”

Macy shook her head. “No. This is bad idea. Let’s just go back home.”

“Macy, sometimes you have to take a chance in life. Sometimes you just have to go for it. This is one of those times.”

“But how can you afford this?”

Suzy smiled lovingly at Macy. “That’s not your concern, sweetie. Your job was to work hard and get in, and you did.” She stopped, looking very seriously at Macy. “And I’m so, so proud of you.”

Macy felt tears threatening to surface. “I don’t think I’m good enough to be here, Aunt Suzy. I’m not like the other students.”

“No, you’re not. There’s not anyone else like you in the world, which is why I’m so lucky. You came into my life by the grace of God and made me the luckiest woman in the world. Now you hold your head high and act like you belong here, because you do.”

Macy threw herself into her aunt’s arms, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much, Aunt Suzy. I...” She sniffled. “I wish you were my mama.”

Suzy pulled Macy away so she could look at her and whispered, “I’ve told you many times, Macy Elizabeth, I couldn’t possibly love you any more if you were my biological daughter. You are my daughter, Macy, and I would do anything for you. Anything.”

Macy knew Aunt Suzy was speaking the truth. She was beyond ecstatic to have gotten into Brown University, having put in the application without expecting even a response. She was shocked to have received the acceptance letter, and Suzy shrieked with joy when Macy told her the news. But Macy felt horribly guilty for putting this kind of debt on Aunt Suzy, who was basically living from paycheck to paycheck. But Aunt Suzy told her that this was her gift for turning herself around, getting her grades back
up, and staying out of trouble. In fact, Macy had remained a straight-A student since she and her aunt had their big blow up when Macy was sixteen.

“Now,” Aunt Suzy said, wrapping her arm around Macy’s waist. “What do you say we go find your dorm?”

Tabatha darted to the back
of the apartment the moment Macy walked in the front door. Macy shrugged. She’d never really liked that stupid cat anyway. She walked to the bedroom and threw her bag on the bed. Standing with her hands planted on her hips, she stared at her bag for bit, considering whether she should take her dirty clothes out from the trip and wash them. She already felt more claustrophobic being in this apartment by the minute. The thought of Logan coming home invoked a sense of dread that seemed to seep into her limbs. She knew she shouldn’t jump to a decision. She shouldn’t do anything hasty. Erratic behavior was one of the things she avoided because of her past. Endless hours of private therapy and group sessions had taught her that erratic behavior was a common trait among addicts. She had worked to improve herself and prove to everyone else that she could be a stable person. But the thought of staying one more night in the same apartment—the same bed—as Logan proved to be too much. The thought of having to make polite conversation with him over Thai one more time made her want to vomit.

Quickly, she went to her set of drawers and began yanking all of her clothes out, shoving them in her bag. When that bag was full, she pulled a second suitcase out of the closet and filled that with the rest of the clothes she owned, along with all her shoes and toiletries. Finding an office file box that Logan had discarded, she emptied the drawers of her nightstand into it. Then she glanced around the apartment, looking for other things she wanted to take with her.

Nothing really spoke to her. Logan had picked out and paid for everything. It was all so posh and extravagant. Not her style at all. She really had no use for a seven thousand dollar couch or any of the priceless paintings that hung on the wall.

Shuffling her bags to the front door, she felt a wave of relief wash over her that it was finally over with Logan, even though she really had no clue where she was going to go, but that didn’t matter. She’d figure it out. Macy had spent too much time letting Logan take care of her and make decisions for her. She had to stand on her two own feet now—her sobriety depended on it.

***

“I haven’t seen your face before.”

Macy was making her way down the hall, carrying a basket of laundry when she realized that the boy was talking to her. She took a quick look around her, just to be sure.

“Yeah, I’m new here.”

He grinned. “I figured. You looked like a freshman.”

“Yep,” she said awkwardly.

“Oh, can I help you with that?” He motioned to her basket.

“That’s okay, I got it.”

“Please, I’ll walk with you,” he said, giving her a dazzling smile.

Macy blushed. “Okay, thank you.”

“So, what’s your name?”

“Macy Ferris.” Macy kept her hands clasped together, looking down at the ground as she walked.

When they reached the laundry room he set the basket on a washer and turned to Macy. Her heart sped up when he grinned down at her. He was the cutest boy who had ever paid her any attention.

“It’s nice to meet you, Macy Ferris. I’m Logan Tanner.”

Macy giggled for some stupid reason, unable to contain her giddiness. “Logan,” she repeated breathlessly.

Logan smiled. “Macy, my fraternity is having a big party tonight. Would you like to come?”

Macy thought her heart might actually leap from her chest. “Sure.”

“Good,” Logan said, backing out of the laundry room, never taking his eyes off her. “I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“Okay.”

Macy watched Logan leave and, as soon as she was certain he was out of earshot, Macy squealed, jumping up and down. Maybe she was going to fit in after all.

***

“What?” Logan sat with his hands clasped on top of his desk. “You’re... you’re breaking up with me? You’re moving out?”

“Yes,” Macy said simply. One of the things she had learned at Tall Oaks was to stop sugarcoating things. It was far better to be straightforward and upfront about everything.

“Why?”

“Logan, we don’t fit together anymore. Maybe we never did. It’s time for us to move on.”

“What will people say? Jesus, Macy. You
just
got out of rehab, and now you’re breaking up with me?”

“I think this is going to be for the best. Jackie said this is a very crucial time for my recovery. I have to take care of myself, and I need more support from you than you can give me right now.”

Logan nodded, his jaw set tight. “Well, if Jackie says so then it must be true, right?”

“Don’t be like that, please. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“So that’s it, huh? This is the thanks I get for taking care of you while you were going through whatever... whatever you were going through? For taking care of you when you had to be admitted into that place?”

Macy’s laugh was humorless. “That’s the problem, Logan. The first thing you worry about is what people think. That was the worst part of me going to Tall Oaks for you, wasn’t it? That you were humiliated in front of your friends. You didn’t care about me at all.”

“It isn’t all about you, Macy. You realize people go through shit all the time, right? People lose people they care about and life
doesn’t stop. People die and life goes on. The way you reacted to
Suzy dying was... crazy. It was fucking insane. People aren’t supposed to freak out like that when someone dies.”

“Logan, do you not understand anything? God. I’m an alcoholic. That’s why I didn’t handle it well. That’s why I got help. I needed help.”

“That’s just an excuse you use for your behavior, Macy. Tell everyone you have a drinking problem so that you can run around and act the way you do.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “I’m not excusing my behavior. That’s why I got help.”

Logan sighed. “It’s my fault, really. I should have seen the warning signs back when we were in college.”

Her lower lip began to tremble and she trapped it between her teeth, not wanting to hear what he was about to say.

“Back in those days it was hysterical that you would get so drunk you’d pass out or throw up all over the floor or act like a fool. Back then when we were
kids
it was amusing. But not now. Not when you still do these things to get attention from God knows who. That’s why I really can’t figure you out. I don’t know why you do the things you do.”

Macy’s entire body was quaking with anxiety. “I have a problem, Logan. Do you think I’m like this on purpose? Why in the world would anyone want to be like me? I hate me.”

“Oh, just grow up already. I’m tired of cleaning up after your messes, I really am.” Flinging his pen onto the desk, he crossed his arms and glared at her.

“I am growing up,” she yelled, slapping her open palm down on his desk. “That’s why I spent six goddamned weeks at Tall Oaks! To
grow up!”

“You told me that you wanted to be better than your upbringing. You told me you wanted to be better than what you got as a kid. You wanted to be better, Macy. But as far as I can tell, you’re just following right along with your mother. How long before you’re going to start standing out on the street corner?”

“Screw you, Logan.”

Logan threw his hands up. “I’m sorry. I just cannot keep dealing with your crap anymore. I’m too tired, Macy. Your aunt couldn’t handle you, I can’t handle you either. I only started dating you in the first place to upset my mother by being with a girl of your… class.”

“I’m so sorry if my problems ruined your life, Logan. I’m so sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your ultra-important friends. ”

“It’s not just about my friends. I have important work colleagues and connections. It’s very complicated for me, and your little stunt made things so much worse. I did my best to take care of things while you were gone.”

Macy stood, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Allow me to simplify things for you. We’re done.” She turned and strode to the door before turning around one last time. “And for your information, you didn’t take care of shit. I took care of myself.
I
realized I needed help.
I
realized I didn’t want to become my mother.
I
called Tall Oaks and booked it myself.
I
went to every fucking meeting there and will continue going to meetings for the rest of my life. You didn’t do anything. I am making my life better. And part of the process means getting you out of it.”

Macy shut the door quietly behind her. She smiled at the thought of him going home and finding all her stuff gone. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she headed for the elevator and hit the call button. She wondered if maybe he would come after her, to try and reason with her. Taking a glance over her shoulder, she peeked back down the hallway, but he was nowhere to be seen.

***

“Well, holy shit, if it’s isn’t Ryland Quinn himself.”

Ryland grinned widely at the rotund man wearing a ridiculously large cowboy hat, gut hanging over his belt buckle.

“Robbie told us you was coming, but I didn’t believe him. I told him, ‘Ryland Quinn hasn’t stepped foot in this studio in quite some time. Doubt he’ll be here anytime soon,’ but here ya are,” he said with a chuckle. Shaking Ryland’s hand, he pulled him in for a hug and pounded his back hard. “Good to see ya, son.”

“Good to see you, too, Tom. I’ve been working on songwriting a lot lately. I’ve got some stuff I’d like to show you guys.”

“That’s excellent, man.” A tall, lanky guy walked into the room, all smiles. “Are we actually going to get this show on the road?”

“Hey, Elliot. I think we are.”

The two men hugged and then Elliot said, “Well, thank God. Let’s get started.”

Ryland looked over at Michael, who was leaning casually against the doorframe. Hands shoved in his pockets, he stood watching the scene, a small smile on his lips. If Ryland could guess what the man was feeling, he’d guess that Michael was feeling proud. Almost like a father would feel for his son. Ryland was finally starting to feel blessed again. Finally starting to feel like his life had purpose and meaning, and a big step in that process was getting back into the studio.

“It’s good to see you get in here again, Ryland,” Michael said, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“It feels good to be back in Nashville again, Michael. It feels right being here.”

“Good.”

Ryland reached for his guitar and took a seat on a nearby stool. He began strumming quietly as he gathered his thoughts. He felt excited to show the guys what he’d been working on. He hoped that they would go for the more serious feel he was looking for in this new album.

As much as he tried to avoid it, his mind kept floating back to Macy. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since she’d gone back to New York. But she had gone back to her life. Back to Logan. Back to reality. And so should he.