The Someday List (10 page)

So that was it. Her childhood and college friend was dying.
Now it all made sense. "I'm sorry to hear that, Rachelle;" Gabe
said. He knew how to handle patients who were struggling with
difficult diagnoses. He did it all the time and always received
glowing reviews for bedside manner.

I know this is difficult;' he said. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?
Why didn't you tell me you were going to California?"

He heard a heavy sigh and suspected she was crying. Gabe settled back into his seat. "This must be traumatic for you, especially with Jillian being so young. I'm so sorry."

Silence permeated the airwaves.

"You know what, Gabe?"

He could tell that Rachelle was clinching her teeth.

"I am insulted;' she said. "I've heard you assume this same tone
hundreds of times when you've had to make difficult calls to your
patients or their relatives. I would think that you'd have some real
empathy to share with your wife, not some canned method you
honed in med school:"

Gabe winced. He had underestimated her.

"What do you want anyway?" Rachelle asked.

This was it. The moment to get everything back on track. "Look,
Rachelle, I'm sorry about everything that I've said or done over
the past few days to upset you," Gabe said as softly as he could,
hoping that the doctors, who had begun to meet in the lobby for
the upcoming sessions, weren't listening. "Just come home so we
can figure it out, okay? I'm taking a flight out tonight and will be
there by seven p.m. Can you get to Houston by then and pick me
up from the airport?"

Rachelle's laugh was short and dry. He wished he could see her
face; she sounded so unlike herself.

"Do I have `Taxi Driver' stamped across my forehead, Gabe?
Sorry-can't do it;' Rachelle said. `And by the way, I gave Helen
the week off, so she's not going to be there, either.

"I'm at Aunt Irene's for a barbecue in honor of Indigo's birthday.
She turned fifteen yesterday. Plus, I haven't spent any time with
my aunt and uncle in forever, thanks to you. I'm here now, so I
might as well stay and enjoy myself."

Gabe rose from the seat and grabbed his briefcase, which sat
near his feet. "Rachelle, why are you doing this? I'll be home tonight and I'm leaving for Uganda on Tuesday, remember? What's
going on? Are you messing around? Don't be stupid:'

Rachelle wasn't the type to cheat, but something clearly had her
acting out of character. Did she know about Veronica? He quickly
dismissed that thought. He had been too careful.

Maybe it was simply the shock of Jillian's looming death. Whatever the cause, he needed to nip it, because it had Rachelle pushing
all the boundaries.

He hated for her to go back to jubilant without him. Somehow
she always wound up on Everson's campus, visiting the special
spots she had shared with Troy or passing the church where she
had eloped with Troy or visiting the aunt and uncle who had loved
Troy as much as they had loved her.

Now she had defied his wishes and was probably there rehashing her past at a time when she was angry with him. At least Troy
had moved away a long time ago.

He frowned again and wished he could get her under control.
For now, he'd just be happy to have her home.

"Gabe, I'm sorry, but I won't be there tonight," Rachelle said,
more calmly this time. "I'll think about coming tomorrow, to be
there before you leave for Uganda. In case I don't, I've already
packed your bags. They're tucked in the right corner of your closet.
Your passport and travel checklist are there too, okay? Be safe"

She ended the call without giving him a chance to respond.
Here he was, preparing to travel to Africa, and his wife was abandoning him.

Gabe placed the Blackberry in his belt clip and walked toward
Stevens, who was waiting near the elevators, eyeing him.

"Everything all right? Ready for our presentation?"

Gabe forced a smile and clapped his friend and colleague on
the back. "Ready as I'll ever be, man. Let's do it:"

Right now, work required his focus. Whether it happened tonight or after his ten-day stay in Uganda, he was going to put
Rachelle in check. The other docs bragged all the time about
straightening out their wives and girlfriends and reminding them
who wore the pants. Hed never had a problem with Rachelle, and
as far as he was concerned, he wouldn't for much longer.

When he was off of his game because of distractions at home,
someone's life potentially could be jeopardized. If she wanted him
to continue living up to his duties as her husband, she needed to
fall in line as his wife.

achelle knew she had gone overboard, but it felt
great.

Every jibe she uttered made up for the years of stuffing down
her emotions, biting her tongue, and letting Gabe make decisions
that weren't always wise or fair.

She hadn't meant to twist the knife, but when he had failed
to ask why Jillian was dying or how much longer she might live,
Rachelle's hope that he really wanted to make things right faded.
The fact that he couldn't muster up genuine concern over the
imminent death of a woman she had once been so close to broke
her heart.

Granted, Gabe continued to hold a grudge against Jillian for
refusing to participate in their wedding; but under these circumstances, none of that mattered.

Rachelle leaned back on Reuben's bed, where she found herself
for a second time today fielding a private call. She could hear the
partygoers just outside the window, laughing and chatting.

She felt like curling up and taking a nap, which wasn't an option. But then again, facing Troy, who was outside with the other
guests, wasn't either.

She sat up and stared at the suitcase in the corner. Technically, she could repeat her actions from a few days ago and sneak out of
the house unseen. The thought both intrigued and rattled her.

How would that feel-to up and go, leaving Aunt Irene and
Uncle Charles a note, informing them that she would be back to
visit at another time? They'd get the message that she didn't appreciate how they had handled Troy's arrival, without her having
to initiate another uncomfortable conversation like the one with
Uncle Charles this afternoon. And maybe the next time something
like this came up, they'd treat her like an adult, instead of a child
who needed to be spoon-fed the news.

I should do it, she thought. Her heart pounded as she envisioned
the scenario. Isn't that what I want?

Well, respect, yes, but not at the risk of losing the adoration
she had always received from her aunt and uncle. Was it possible
to get both? If she changed the status quo, would their affections
shift, too?

Honoring Jillian's request to thrive and be happy wasn't going
to be easy. In the few days since she had promised to live in
that fashion, she was realizing that she had been existing like
a wind-up doll, going through the motions and following expectations set by others. She had somehow numbed herself to
the possibility of writing her own script, like Jillian had managed to do.

Was it too late? She just didn't know. But hurting Aunt Irene's
and Uncle Charles's feelings this afternoon wasn't the answer.
Jillian hadn't told her to rush the process; she had simply urged
her to begin.

Rachelle surveyed Reuben's walls, which were plastered with
an eclectic mix of posters, ranging from those featuring the poses
of his favorite sports figures to the beguiling glances of singers
Beyonce and Rihanna.

She chuckled. Is this what she had to look forward to when
Tate was older?

She stood up and stretched. She didn't want to, but she knew
she had to return to the barbecue before Aunt Irene or Aunt Melba
came searching for her. She had to face Troy Hardy.

Rachelle followed the hallway from the bedroom to the kitchen,
as before. This time the pictures didn't distract her; she was trying
to prepare for whatever awaited her outside.

However, just as she reached for the double-paned door leading to
the backyard, Troy pulled it open. The two of them nearly collided.
He kept her from tripping over his feet by grabbing her arm.

Great, Rachelle thought, just great.

Troy quickly let go once she had steadied herself.

"Hello, Rachelle;' he said. "Sorry about that. I'm looking for
the bathroom."

He stepped aside and pulled the door open so she could exit.

She was surprised, expecting him to try and make small talk.

"Thanks, Troy. It's right down the hallway" She motioned to
the area she'd just left, but made no effort to walk past him. "It's
nice to see you. Congratulations on your position at the church.
I didn't know you were pursuing music as a career:"

She could have kicked herself. That sounded so dumb. How
would she know what he had been doing for the past decade unless she had been stalking him?

Her eyes were drawn to his dimpled chin when he smiled at
her. He was about ten pounds heavier, but it was in all the right
places. She thought about her hastily secured ponytail and her
rumpled, sweaty outfit. She must look a hot mess.

"Yep, I've been fortunate to use both sides of my brain-the
artistic and analytical sides;' Troy said. "Engineering and music
have been a good combination."

He was still holding the door open for her and gave her a quizzical look. Rachelle had more questions-like where was the mother
of his child?-but didn't want to seem overly interested.

Humph. Funny how the tables had turned. She had been intent
on fleeing from him after church today, but he didn't seem the
least bit fazed by her.

She nodded and stepped outside. "Well, good to see you. I hope
you and your daughter enjoy St. Peter's:"

Troy hesitated and cleared his throat. "I'm sure we will. Pastor
Taylor is a great leader, and the members have already given us
a warm welcome. It's good to see you, Rachelle."

With that, he slid into the kitchen and let the door close behind him.

Rachelle stood there for a moment to get her bearings. The encounter had been odd. Not as uncomfortable as she had expected,
but somehow unsettling for that very reason.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and wandered over
to the grill, where Aunt Melba was begging Uncle Charles to
burn her a hot dog.

"You know how I like them-nice and crispy," Melba said.

Uncle Charles shook his head. "You and your burnt stuff, girl.
Burnt baloney, burnt hot dogs, burnt-"

"Dates!" Melba finished for him and laughed.

"Dates?" Rachelle asked and laughed. "Are you still breaking
hearts, Aunt Melba?"

She smiled slyly. "Can't tell all my business, niecey. Some things
need to remain between me and the Lord. I'm single, so I can
keep looking"

She put her hand on her hip and leveled her eyes at Rachelle.
"You on the other hand? Watch it. I just saw that exchange with
Mr. Ex-Husband in the doorway. Be careful, Rachelle."

Everyone in the Burns family, except the resident teenager,
seemed ready to fall into bed too. Indigo had wandered off to the
family room with her cell phone attached to her ear, chattering
with the same level of energy she possessed six hours earlier.

Rachelle returned to Reuben's bedroom and removed her
sandals. This time she lay across his twin-sized bed as if she
owned it.

She hadn't slept in something this small in forever, but if Reuben, who was nearly six feet, could fit comfortably, she figured
she should fit too. At least the mattress was firm.

There was a light rap on the door and Aunt Irene peeked inside.
"Got a minute to chat, or are you about to pass out?"

Rachelle rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Come in, Aunt Irene; we
haven't had a chance to catch up. Besides, I need to talk to Tate
and Taryn before I call it a night"

Aunt Irene shuffled into the room and eased herself onto the
bed.

"When will you have your hip replacement surgery?" Rachelle
asked.