Yours Always (21 page)

“Actually, I have to get Molly home, so no cake for us.  We’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay, goodnight.  Thanks for everything,” I say.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” I softly whisper to Fletcher.  He nods, and in a slow gait, he meanders into the bathroom.  It’s not until I hear the water running that I finally seek answers from Ben.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice laden with concern.

Ben sighs.  “We were alone, sitting on the patio of a bar and grill, just talking and trying to relax after a good day of golfing.  Suddenly, this obnoxious jerk decides to bring his group of equally obnoxious friends outside.  I could see that Fletcher was getting agitated, and I told him we could leave, but he wanted to stay.  I think things would’ve been okay, but the dude kept going on about how he was some kind of war hero, and that he had served as a combat veteran.  This guy had the crowd eating out of his hand, but Fletcher openly called bullshit because he knew the guy was lying.  It only took three questions for Fletcher to blow the guy’s validity out of the water, and the jerk wasn’t very happy about it.  You know, with Fletcher actually being a combat veteran, having people like this douche going around falsely seeking glory is the ultimate insult.  Fletcher started talking about the true heroes, the fallen, he even mentioned Brody.  The crowd swayed their attention to Fletcher, and they began ostracizing the loser.  He got so mad that he took a swing at Fletcher, and Fletch put him out.  I mean like lights out, unconscious, flat out on his back, with one punch.  The crowd cheered, Fletcher ran, and I caught up with him at the truck.  We waited around for the police, but they never came, so we rode around for a little while before coming here.  He’s mad at himself for losing his temper, but Savannah, the guy totally deserved it.  If Fletcher wouldn’t have done it, I would have.”

I nod.  “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure.  Lizzy, you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she says, the shock from hearing the story still in her voice.

“I’ll be here at eight, okay?” Ben asks.

“Perfect.  Thank you.”

I show them out then I sit on the edge of the bed until Fletcher comes out of the bathroom.  He’s running a towel through his wet hair, and when he looks up to see me, he asks, “So, Ben filled you in?”

I nod.  “He says the guy deserved it.”

“It’s still no excuse for what I did.  What if I had killed him?”

“You didn’t.  Hopefully, you taught him a lesson about lying to get attention.”

“But I could’ve.”

“Fletcher, we all have the potential to kill.  Every last one of us.  It depends on the situation, the circumstances, and the motive.  Fortunately, most people don’t kill, but we all can.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“The point I’m trying to make, and failing miserably at, is that you did what a lot of people would’ve done.  Ben told me that if you hadn’t hit that guy, he would’ve.”

“I don’t think it’s the fact that I hit him that bothers me.  Ben’s right; he totally deserved it, and probably a few more, but the sucker was out cold in one punch.  What bothers me is the fact that when it happened, I blacked out.  Completely. I remember talking to the crowd, then the next thing I remember after that is seeing him sprawled out on the ground and feeling my fist throbbing.  It scared me so badly that I took off.  I’ve zoned out before, but blacking out?  That’s something different.  I hate to bring this up, but the times I attacked you…,”  he hangs his head,  “I was aware of what I was doing, but I wasn’t aware of who I was doing it to.  This time, I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing.  Does this mean I’m getting worse?”

“I don’t know, baby,” I say, lightly rubbing his shoulders.  “But I do know someone we can call, if you’d like.  He’s one of the new doctors at the hospital, Robert Goodman.  He used to be an army doctor, and then he worked as an ER doc.  He’s switching specialties to pediatrics, but he’s very knowledgeable about PTSD, and he’s easy to talk to.”

“You’ve been talking to a co-worker about my problem?”

“No!  It’s not like that, Fletcher.  He found me sitting in one of the empty rooms, and he said he could tell that something was on my mind.  I wasn’t going to tell him anything, but he eventually got me to open up, and I felt much better after talking to him.”  The fact that Dr. Goodman found me bawling in the waiting room was a detail Fletcher didn’t need to know.  “He gave me a card with all his contact information, and he said we could call him day or night.”

Fletcher shakes his head.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“The only reason I bring it up is because I think he can relate.  You both saw and experienced terrible things, and while Ben, Lizzy, Julia, and I try to sympathize, we can’t relate to it on the same level as someone who has actually been there.”

He sighs.  “Okay.  Will you see if he’s available, just so I can determine if I need to be locked up these last few days before leaving for Colorado?”

“Of course.”  I dig through my purse for the card, and Robert picks up on the second ring.  I apologize for disturbing him, but he insists that I’m doing no such thing.  I give him a brief rundown of the night’s events, and he agrees to come to the house.  He arrives in less than fifteen minutes.

“I was just down the road at the gym…,” he’s silent for a few seconds once I fully open the door to allow him inside, “so I apologize for being underdressed.”

It takes me a second to realize I’m still wearing Lizzy’s ball gown and tiara.  “I’m so embarrassed,” I say, yanking the tiara from my head.  “My friends threw me a princess party because I never had one growing up, and then Fletcher came home, well…  I don’t usually walk around my house in a tiara and gown.”

He laughs.  “Good.  I was going to ask if I should go home and change into my tux.”

“No, you’re dressed just fine.”  Fletcher comes out the bedroom wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt.  “See, we’re casual here.  Fletcher, this is Dr. Robert Goodman.  Dr. Goodman, this is my husband, Fletcher Reilly.”

Dr. Goodman extends his hand in Fletcher’s direction.  “It’s nice to meet you, Fletcher. Please call me Robert.”

“Nice to meet you, too.  Thank you for agreeing to come over.”

“I’m happy to do it.  So, tell me a little bit about your time in the military,” he says, jumping straight to the point as soon as they’re sitting at the kitchen table. 

I interrupt them.  “I’m going to excuse myself so you two can talk and I can study.  There’s plenty of cake on the counter if you’d like some, and there’s still half a pot of recently brewed coffee, too.  Good night, Dr. Goodman.  Fletcher,” I say, kissing him lightly on the top of his head, “I’m right in the bedroom if you need anything.”  He takes hold of my hand, and kisses it before I leave.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he says, with a smile.

I spend about two hours studying before I can’t manage to keep my eyes open.  I turn out the light, and it’s not until about one in the morning when I feel Fletcher crawl into the bed.  I roll to face him and sleepily ask how the meeting went.

He tells me it went well then lightly kisses the tip of my nose.  “We’ll talk about it more in the morning.”

“Okay,” I agree, snuggling closer to him.  “I love you, Fletcher.”

“Do you know what I’d love?”

“What’s that?” I ask, feeling more awake.

“For you to show me.  Show me how much you love me, Savannah.”

I’m fully awake now, and once I slide free from my nightshirt, I show Fletcher Reilly just deep my devotion is to him. 

I see Dr. Goodman briefly the day before Fletcher and I are due to fly to Colorado.  He tells me that he was glad to meet Fletcher and that he hopes he was of some help.  I assure him that he most certainly was.  Even so, Fletcher still continues to have panic attacks and black out sessions, although very few happen when I’m home with him.  Ben is the person having to handle the episodes.  He does it with patience and is diligent in trying to keep the intensity of the attacks to a minimum.  Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t.  My heart hurts for my husband.  I see the toll the seemingly endless barrage is taking on him, and I’d give anything to be able to take that pain and struggle away from him.

My last night at home with Fletcher isn’t as quiet and uneventful as I’d hoped.  Normally, once we go to bed, things are fine.  This particular night is plagued with restlessness and frustration brought on by the terrifying nightmares that haunt his psyche.  He jerks awake twice and bolts upright in bed, his body drenched in sweat as he gasps for breath.  The first time it happens, I manage to calm him with soothing talk and tender touches.  The second time, he thrashes and flails about, and as I try to quiet him, I take an elbow to the cheek.  Fletcher is so upset that he’s hurt me again that he spends a full hour profusely apologizing even though I assure him I’m fine.  It was a dreadful night for the both of us, and we give up on the notion of actually getting sleep. 

I go to the kitchen to cook breakfast while Fletcher retreats to the office to finish up some last minute paperwork for Triceratops.  It’s obvious that something is weighing heavily on his mind when he sits down to eat.

“I’ve made a decision, and I want you to hear me out,” he proclaims.

“Of course.  What is this decision?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.

“I don’t want you to fly with me to Colorado.”

“What?  Why?” I ask, sitting a little straighter in my chair.

“I’ve really thought this through.  First of all, if you go with me, you’ll miss at least two more days of school in addition to what you’ve already missed.  I don’t want you to do that.  You’re going to miss even more days when it’s time for me to come home, and you’ve worked way too hard to get docked on attendance.  Plus, think about how much nicer it will be for you to greet me in person AFTER I finish with my therapy.”

“But..” 

Fletcher holds up his hand.  “There’s more.  Second reason.  Do you really think we’ll get to spend any quality time together on this trip?  Checking bags, flights filled with strangers who hear our every word, an overnight hotel stay where all we’ll do is fall into bed only to get up extra early the next morning to get me checked in.  Then after all of that, you’re going to have to fly back home all alone.  That’s going to keep me from putting a hundred percent into trying to heal because I’ll be so worried about your safety that I won’t be able to focus on my treatment.  Not to mention, it’s a whole lot of unnecessary hassle.”

“I don’t see it that way,” I argue.

“If you give it some thought, you’ll agree.  I’ve already cancelled your ticket, and we’re being issued a reimbursement.”

“Fletcher!” I fuss.

He pulls his chair closer to mine, props his elbow on the table, and lightly tips my chin with his finger.  “I’m right about this one.”

“You cancelled my ticket,” I say, still fuming.  He brushes his lips against mine, but I don’t respond to his kiss.

“Savannah, this is for the best.  Everything I do is because I believe in my heart that it’s for the best.  Please don’t be mad.  Please.”  He gives me puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip.

I sigh.  “I’ll concede, but only because you say it’ll interfere with your treatment.  Am I at least allowed to bring you to the airport?”

He smiles.  “Of course.  I want you to give me a send off that will leave the masses blushing.”

I laugh. “You sure about that?”

“Oh yeah, baby,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

We arrive at the airport about an hour before his flight.  I’m with him while he checks his bags, checks the flight info to make sure everything is still on schedule, and makes his way to the security gate.  I’m suddenly filled with yearning for him, and he hasn’t even left yet.  It’s the anxious anticipation of knowing that we’ll be apart from each other longer than any time since we’ve met.  The thought of it tugs at my heart, but I work hard to hide it from Fletcher.  I see in his face that he’s battling with his emotions, too, but I don’t call attention to it. 

We find a quiet little corner to huddle in, and I’m the first to speak.  “It’s pointless to pretend that we aren’t going to miss each other.  My thoughts are going to be on you day in and day out, but it’s going to be okay.  I’m going to be eagerly counting down the days until you come back to me.  I love you, and I’m so proud of you for reaching out for help.  Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so grateful that you saw something in me that no one else did.  You’re my heart, Fletcher Reilly.  I hope you have a good flight, and please call me when you get settled in at the hotel tonight.”

“Ah, my sweet Savannah, everything I do is for you.  You make my life so much better.  Thank you for standing by me through all of this.  There are a lot of women who would have bolted after the first incident, but you…  Well, please remember that my love for you is immeasurable, and that I’m so incredibly sorry for ever hurting you.  I’m grateful for your confidence and devotion.  It’s what gets me through.”

“Fletcher, you never hurt me on purpose.  You’re a good man.  Please, quit punishing yourself for something you had no control over.”

He shakes his head.  “None of that matters.  I’m supposed to protect you… to keep you safe.  It crushes my soul to know everything you’ve been through in your life and to know that I added to that pain.”

“That’s not how I see it at all, Fletcher.  You rescued me from that life.  Your love saved me from the nothingness that consumed me.  Please, baby, please quit being so hard on yourself.  You’re sick right now, but you’re going to get better, and the day you come home to me is going to be a new and better beginning for us.”

He’s holding back tears, but I’m not able to contain mine anymore.  They gently fall down my face.  “Don’t mistake these tears as a sign that I’m not going to be okay while you’re gone.  I am.  I’m going to be just fine, so don’t worry about me. All these tears mean is that I’m going to miss you like mad because I love you so much.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear,” Fletcher says, scooping me off my feet so he can kiss me.   After one final parting kiss, he sets me down and picks up his bag.  Hand in hand, we walk to the end of the security line.  I stay with him all the way until it’s his turn to be processed, and I put on a brave face as he waves to me through the glass window that now separates us.  I blow him a kiss, wave a final goodbye, and then quickly turn away so he won’t see the fresh tears falling.

Once I’m home, I immediately start cleaning in an effort to preoccupy my thoughts.  I start with light house work, but then I move onto the heavier stuff.  Even getting down on my hands and knees to viciously scrub the floors doesn’t work at keeping my thoughts from drifting to Fletcher.  Eventually, I give up on the cleaning altogether and expend my nervous energy elsewhere.  I’m constantly checking his flight status, flipping on the news to be sure there weren’t any emergency landings or crashes, and in between, I’m simply wearing a hole in the floor with all my pacing.  Hopefully, this severe anxiety will end once I know he’s safely arrived at the treatment facility.  He’s still somewhat of a loose cannon, and I pray that he doesn’t have any triggers to set him off on the way.  I should’ve insisted on going with him, but damn Fletcher and his smooth talking ways!  He didn’t want me to go, his reasons for not wanting me to go were actually pretty valid, and no matter, it’s too late to do anything about it now. 

I check the flight status, and it shows that Fletcher’s plane landed in Colorado three minutes ago, so I breathe a sigh of relief.  Now I just wait for him to check into the hotel and give me a call, then the first step will be complete.  I’m sitting with my hand on the phone when the doorbell rings.  So excited about Fletcher’s phone call, it doesn’t even register to me that someone’s at the door, and I answer the phone instead.  Realizing my silly mistake, I hang up the phone and head to the front door.  Not thinking twice about it, I tell the sheriff’s deputy that he must have the wrong address because I didn’t call in a complaint.  The door is almost closed when he pushes his hand against it to keep it open.

“Is this the Reilly residence?”  My stomach flips.  
The guy Fletcher hit is pressing charges, and Fletcher’s out of state.  What does this mean?  Are they going to have to cut his treatment short?  Can they wait until he finishes treatment before they do something?  Maybe I can talk to the guy, explain the situation, and he’ll drop the charges?

“Yes sir, it is, but Fletcher’s not here right now. He’s in Colorado.”

“May I come inside?” he asks.

“Of course,” I say, holding the door open for him.  “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“No, ma’am.  Thank you anyway.”  His hand rests on the pistol on his gun belt, and he’s quiet for a beat as he takes in his surroundings.  Once he’s made a full sweep around the place with his eyes, he asks, “Are you here alone, Mrs. Reilly?  I presume that you’re Mrs. Reilly, Savannah Reilly.”

“Yes, I’m Savannah, and yes, I’m alone.  As I mentioned before, Fletcher is out of town.”

“This truly is the worst part of my job,” he says, moving to cross his arms in front of himself while shifting his gaze to look down at his feet.

“I don’t understand.  What do you mean?”

“May we sit down?”

I hold out my hand to gesture that the sofa is available.  Once we’re seated, he looks at me, a sympathetic sadness shows in his eyes.  It suddenly clicks.

“This isn’t about the other night, is it?”

“No, ma’am.  I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but this is unrelated.”

“No,” I say with disbelief.

“It’s with great regret that I have to inform you…”

“NO!  Don’t say it. I dropped him off at the airport.  I saw him go through security.”

“Mr. Reilly never boarded the plane.”

“He had to have!  It’s some kind of mistake.  A terrible mistake.”

The deputy uncomfortably picks at his thumb nail while disclosing the information he has, “Mr. Reilly walked out of the airport and rented a car from one of the nearby agencies.  He then drove himself to a secluded area not far from I-10 where I’m sorry to say, he appears to have intentionally overdosed on sleeping pills.  He was found by a deputy patrolling the area and pronounced dead at the scene by the coroner.  There was a note.  The original is in evidence right now, but it will be released to you at the close of the investigation.  However, I have a copy of it for you.  You have my deepest condolences, Mrs. Reilly.”

I sit, my mouth agape, shaking my head.  The deputy places the letter in my hands, but I refuse to look at it. 
It’s a joke.  A terrible joke.  Fletcher isn’t a quitter.  He loves me, and he’d never leave me, not on purpose anyway.  No.  He’s not gone.  He’s not!

“Were you the deputy who found him?” I ask.

“No, ma’am.  It wasn’t me.”

“Because it might not have been Fletcher in that car.  I was going to show you a picture, and then you could tell me…”  He knows I’m grasping at straws, and he interrupts me.

“Mrs. Reilly, it was Fletcher in that car.  There’s no doubt about it.  Is there someone I can call to come be with you?”

I lurch from my seat. “Julia. I guess you can call Julia,” I say, tossing him my phone as I hurriedly pace the floor.  I run my hands through my hair as the full weight of what he’s told me sinks in.  Fletcher has left me forever, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to get him back. 

I drop to my knees, collapse to the ground, and beat my fists against the floor.  “NOOOOOOOO!”

The deputy helps me stand, and I turn my anger onto him.  “He gave up.  He gave up on us.  How could he do this to us?  Why?  Why wasn’t my love enough to save him?  Why didn’t he give the treatment a chance?”

Julia comes through the door just as the patient deputy is helping me to the sofa.  Her blotchy red face is streaked with tears as she grips me tightly.  I squeeze her back, unable to talk because of the sobs that rack my body.

“Is there anything else I can do?  Anyone else I can call for you?” the deputy asks.

“No, thank you very much, sir.  We’ll take care of each other,” Julia says, taking control of the situation. 

“Here’s my card.  Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.  We’ll be in touch as more information becomes available.  Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Julia nods and offers the deputy a little wave as he leaves the house.  I desperately cling to her as I wail in agony.

“Shhhhh.  It’s okay.  Savannah, it’s okay. Cry.  Get it out.” She gently strokes my hair.  After a few minutes, the tears refuse to come, and I pull away from her shoulder.

“How can you be so calm through all of this?” I ask in between shaky breaths.  “Is it all just a joke?  Is this some kind of cruel joke that you guys cooked up so I’d be relieved when Fletcher surprises me by walking through the door?  Please tell me that’s it.  Please!”