Branching Out (17 page)

Shelby felt her emotions welling up inside again, this time being triggered by a man she hardly knew and whom she had considered an absolute embarrassment. Until now.
I've been so wrong about so many things,
she thought with remorse.

“After his marriage fell apart a few years ago, he was unhappy where he was and felt he needed a fresh start. So he decided to move back home. That was the same month as your wedding. When he heard about the wedding through one of his mother's friends, he told me that he had a hunch that I would be there.”

Jackie continued, saying Chad had never forgotten about her. He took a chance that he could find her and apologize, to free himself of that guilt. That opportunity came when he discovered her leaving the groom's dinner in downtown Bayfield on the night before the wedding. They ended up talking well into the night. Jackie fell apart when Chad told her that he knew who she really was and he hoped that girl would eventually find the courage to return home.

Wanting to protect Shelby from the truth, even though it was a reckless thing to do, he blurted out that he was her father. Jackie was shocked but didn't correct him. Jackie admitted that it was poor judgment on her part. Needless to say, soon afterward news of that announcement went out, and once it hit the media they agreed that more harm would be done if they retracted the statement.

“The truth is, as crazy as this seems, through all of this I've actually fallen in love with him,” Jackie said.

“After everything our family has gone through, no. It doesn't sound crazy.”

“He feels the same way about me.”

Of all of the things that had been consuming Shelby's thoughts over the past year, the least of her worries had been her mother. And that coincided directly with the day that Chad Covington reentered her mother's life. If Shelby was being honest, she would have to admit that her mother seemed uncharacteristically grounded. Responsible, even.

“I came back to Bayfield reluctantly,” Jackie admitted. “But now, I can honestly say that I feel good. Maybe more comfortable than ever.”

“Because I'm gone,” Shelby couldn't help but say.

“You're never gone, Shelby. Your presence is everywhere in that house, as it should be,” her mother said. “I'm comfortable there because, for the first time in a very long time, it feels like home.”

Shelby let that sink in for a moment, the idea of home. It was ironic that now her mother was the one who felt settled on the family property, while Shelby was the one who felt unsettled. And detached.

“So, let me ask you again, Shelby. How are you feeling?”

C
HAPTER
26

R
yan was there when Shelby was released from the hospital. He was unable to hold back his surprise when he found Jackie at his wife's bedside and then learned that Chad had freshened Shelby's room with yellow roses and had held vigil in the hospital's family waiting room until Jackie was ready to leave. A nurse told Ryan that Chad even requested that Shelby's bed linens be replaced regularly with fresh, warm blankets to help keep her feeling safe and secure.

Ryan and Shelby hadn't seen much of Jackie and Chad since the wedding, and even though he was emotionally and physically exhausted, Ryan could clearly see that his first impression of Chad didn't hold. The same was true for Jackie, who Ginny had said had taken on a great deal of responsibility on the farm. But until now, Ryan hadn't seen the transformation firsthand. If Shelby weren't in such a pained state, he knew she would notice it, too.

He thanked Jackie and Chad before they left, closed the door to Shelby's hospital room, and walked slowly to her bedside. He was grateful to find her asleep. It gave him time to take in the enormity of what they were facing together. He couldn't fathom how they would come out of this—not even a year into their marriage and already facing a hardship that could tear them apart.

Coming to Shelby's side in Wisconsin meant leaving his son. . . .
Oh, God
, Ryan thought, pushing his hands onto his eyes to fight off another wave of agonizing grief.
No no no.
His son's body would be safe until they could retrieve his cremated remains.

Ryan wiped away his tears and quietly pulled a chair up to the bed. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to kiss and comfort her. But instead, he studied the features of her face while she slept. She looked so peaceful. He couldn't imagine what images filled her dreams. Her skin was flushed and warm. Soft. Long lashes twitched slightly against her closed lids. He followed the curve of her cheekbone with his eyes and settled on her lips. Lips he had kissed so many times. Lips that had shaped her laughter, her wit, her visions for their future.

What would she possibly say now?

He was lost in thought, bent over in the chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his hands, when she spoke.

“Ryan,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes and leaned toward her.

“I don't . . . I'm not sure what to say.” She was struggling to express herself when her words were overwhelmed by shallow, quick breaths. “I'm so sorry.” Her eyes were swollen and the soft skin beneath her lashes was a violet gray.

“Shh,” he softly hushed, feeling his own eyes well up in tears again. He didn't know when the grief would end and he could think clearly again. Every word, every recollection of these past days, was a stab to the heart. The long drive north had been almost more than he could bear and he now felt the heavy weight of fatigue on his body. He took her hand in his and pulled his chair closer. “I know. We don't have to talk about it now.”

“I do,” she sobbed. “I have to tell you.”

“Later.”

“Did you see him?” she struggled to ask. “Did you see how beautiful he was?”

“He was perfect,” Ryan said, bowing down his head and wiping tears with the back of his hand. “And I gave him the name we talked about.”

“Charlie.”

Ryan nodded and dropped his head upon her chest. She stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. “I don't know why I left like that,” she sobbed. “I'll never forgive myself.”

“No. I'm the one who's sorry. I am so sorry you had to go through it alone.”

In the privacy of her hospital room, they clung to each other and mourned together until they were too exhausted to keep their eyes open.

 

Once Shelby was released from the Wisconsin hospital, Ryan helped her to the car and together they completed the drive north that Shelby had begun in the Chicago cab. They were going home.

Unlike the day before, Shelby was now unusually quiet and withdrawn. During the drive, Ryan found himself being careful with his words, concerned for her fragile state and not wanting to trigger another wave of grief. She had been through too much already. As much as he wanted to help her through it, he felt inadequate. Outwardly he tried to be strong, while inside he knew he was failing her. The truth was, Ryan had no idea how to pull Shelby out of her despair.

“We're just about there,” he said as they rounded County Road J and reached the juncture in the road that was marked with haphazard arrows nailed to a wooden post, each pointing the way to one of the many orchard and berry farms on the Bayfield bluffs that overlooked Lake Superior. Rather than going to the cottage he had purchased before their wedding, Ryan knew she would want to see her grandmother first. At the signpost, Ryan turned onto the gravel road and continued the final mile in their journey home.

“Ginny is going to be so happy to see you. She's been worried.” He turned to offer Shelby a comforting smile, but she didn't look at him or reply. She continued to lean on the passenger door, with her eyes fixed on the barren trees that stood row upon row in the snow-covered orchards.

He slowed down the car as he approached the familiar sign to their property, a barn-red sign with white trim and wording. Ryan then proceeded down the driveway, hearing the icy shell of the packed snow crack beneath the weight of their car until he reached the farmhouse.

The car had barely stopped when Shelby's hand was already pulling on the door handle and she had stepped out, making her way to her childhood home. Ryan unbuckled his seat belt and looked up just in time to see Ginny race out of the house without having put a jacket or boots on and throw her arms around her granddaughter. They clung to each other for some time, out in the cold, oblivious to anyone else. He didn't need to hear what Ginny said to Shelby. Ginny's warm embrace of his wife and kissing away the tears conveyed more than words could say.

Shelby's instincts had been right. Ginny would give her the mothering she needed to guide her through the grief.

After Ginny waved to Ryan in the car and the two women retreated back into the warmth of the Meyers home, he took some time before gathering what little he and Shelby had brought with them—nothing more than his overnight bag, her purse, and a few items the hospital sent with Shelby to aid in her recovery. He stepped out of the car and stretched out his legs. The cold air felt good after their long car ride. He took his time outside, walking down the driveway a short ways, peering into the barn where they had celebrated their marriage. Ryan wanted to give Shelby time with her grandmother, but he also needed time to himself.

When he finally entered the home, the reception he received took him completely off guard.

“Oh, Ryan, dear.” He couldn't help but notice that Ginny was the only one to greet him.

“It's good to see you,” he said, and meant it.

“You must be exhausted. What can I get you? I have a fresh pot of coffee on in the kitchen. And I think there's still a fourth of a pie in the fridge—apple. Your favorite.”

“Thanks. Maybe later,” he replied, looking over her shoulder and into the dining room, where his wife was in the arms of another man. Ryan's back stiffened and Ginny pulled back. She followed his glare into the other room.

“Oh, um,” she said, realizing at the same time Ryan did the awkwardness of the situation.

“Is that John?”

“Yes. He's been—well, he's been waiting here for Shelby to arrive. I mean, for the two of you to arrive, of course,” Ginny said, unintentionally making an awkward situation worse. “They've known each other for a long time. You know how it is . . .” she said, her voice trailing off.

Ryan did know how it was. It was quite clear. Judging from the way John held Shelby, and the hushed voices in which they spoke, he was someone she could confide in. During the most difficult moment of her life—of her and Ryan's married life—she had risked her own health in order to rush to Bayfield to be with John.

While she physically had left Ryan that night at the Chicago hospital, the emotional abandonment was a much greater pain to bear.

Although Ryan was a part of the Meyers family, he felt like an outsider. The connection between his wife and John was indisputable. They had a history and a friendship that had lasted nearly a lifetime. Ryan was her husband, but in this moment, although he didn't understand it, she needed Ginny and John more than him.

Shelby and John were seated next to each other on the sofa in the living room when Ryan walked up behind them and set his hands gently upon her shoulders. “Shel, it's been a long day,” he said. “We should get going—settle in at our place. We can come back first thing in the morning.”

She first looked at John, which felt like an affront, before turning to address Ryan over her shoulder.

“Actually, I really would rather stay here.”

He refused to believe she wanted to continue her conversations with John, rather than be alone with her own husband. Ryan looked at the way John was nodding in Shelby's direction, giving her a compassionate smile that Ryan saw as a betrayal. “We haven't been alone since—”

She shifted in her seat to face him but turned back immediately with a pained expression. She wrapped her arms around her middle.

“Are you all right?” John asked, instinctively placing his arm around her shoulders.

“Come on, John, seriously. I'd like a moment with my wife—alone.”

John kept his eyes on Shelby before moving.

“It's okay, John. Thanks,” Shelby assured him, pushing herself up from the couch and out of his embrace. She walked around the couch and took Ryan's hand, leading him to the front door. “I'm going to tell John to go. You know he's harmless. He's just trying to take care of us.”

“Us? He isn't here to take care of
us.
”

“I can tell that you're getting upset, and I assure you, there's no reason for it.”

“I don't want to talk about this now—not while the others can hear us. You have to know that after everything we've gone through—and everything we need to talk about, but you've said you're not ready—your old boyfriend is the least of my concerns.”

“He was never my boyfriend.”

Ryan wasn't going to push it. He recognized the look on John's face, the expression he had whenever Shelby was near, but this wasn't the time to let idle jealousy get in the way of something much bigger. She had left Ryan—and Charlie—without offering a reason why.

“I really want to sleep in my old bed tonight. I haven't really slept at all over these past few days. I need it,” she said.

“And I want to be beside you,” he said, glancing briefly over his shoulder, noticing that John was still within earshot. Ryan wouldn't allow himself to feel this resentment toward John. He wasn't worth it. Shelby set her hands on Ryan's chest and leaned toward him to lightly kiss his lips, but it held none of the warmth of her kisses as they stood on the sidewalk after a romantic lunch together—just before he took the car to visit his mother's apartment and Shelby walked off toward her favorite store.
How can this be happening?
he thought. Everything that he had been looking forward to and counting on had disappeared in an instant. He wouldn't let any of it stand in the way of his love for her—not John, the truth about Olen's accident, the media fallout, and especially not the distinct possibility that they may have lost their chance at parenthood. He would do everything he could to recover what they once had.

Taking care not to cause her any pain, Ryan tenderly put his arms around her, pulling her in close, and pressed his lips against her forehead. After his kiss, she dropped her head into his chest and sighed. “I need you, Shelby. I love you. And I can't do this alone.”

“I know,” she whispered. “We'll talk tomorrow. I promise.”

 

A few weeks later, Shelby was still sleeping alone at the farmhouse. To help pass the time and occupy his mind with something other than his broken family, Ryan had picked up his camera and started taking long walks around the property. On this day, Ryan was sitting at the dining room table, editing photographs on his computer as snow fell lightly outside of the kitchen window. He couldn't help but lament how much could happen in such a short amount of time to two people who loved each other.

It didn't seem that long ago that he was in this same place, finishing the edits to his
Family Trees
series, a bachelor in seclusion, unsure if he was prepared to alter his life in order to be with the woman he had grown to love. While he had worked in the cottage she had been helping her grandparents in the orchard. It was just a few years ago. Even though he had been wrought with indecision and torn between his obligations and his heart, the decisions he faced then paled in comparison to what he and Shelby were dealing with now.