Speaking in Bones

I woke feeling edgy and out of sorts, as though my skin was no longer large enough for my body. Small wonder, given the stalled progress on the investigation. And the sterling state of my personal life.

It was raining like hell, which ruled out a jog. And I was too bummed to suit up and drive to the gym.

After a bagel and coffee, dressed in baggy sweats and bunny slippers, I settled at the dining room table, determined to stay put until I’d eyeballed every goddamn receipt in the box. At least I’d get Allan Fink off my back.

By four I’d pretty much decided that rolling the dice on a tax audit was preferable to the paperwork hell in which I was stuck. I was deciphering an illegible bill from a restaurant I’d never heard of when a sharp knock rattled the back door. Delighted to escape, I headed to the kitchen.

And froze before clearing the swinging door.

Through the window I could see a figure standing on the back stoop. Tall. Male. Wearing jeans and a weathered brown leather jacket.

A knot twisted my stomach. I was still feeling off, actually worse than earlier due to the added joy of eyestrain. The last thing I needed was rancor or confrontation.

But something else was peeking around the foreboding that had ballooned in my chest. Something that fluttered softly, like a butterfly on a leaf.

I crossed to open the door. “Surprise, surprise!” A bit too cheery.

Ryan drew a bouquet from behind his back and held it out. “Supermarket special. Best my driver could do.”

“Thank you.” I took the flowers. “They’re lovely.”

“You’re lovely.”

“Right.”

For as long as I’ve known Ryan, he has possessed an uncanny knack for showing up when I look my worst. Self-conscious about the sweats, ratty hair, and absence of makeup, I stepped back.

Ryan entered the kitchen. We kissed. I gestured at the table. He removed his jacket and sat. I noted that he carried only a very small duffel.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said.

“Yeah. Took the dawn flight. Better than having to connect.”

He looked tired. I wondered where he’d been since landing at mid-morning.

“Would you like a beer? Something else?”

Ryan shook his head.

“Quite the covert op,” I said. “You never let on when we talked last night.”

“I didn’t know last night. Hope you’re okay with impulse.”

“Of course.” Actually, I was far from okay. Though happy he’d made the effort, I felt, what? Ambushed? Pressured? Definitely pressured.

Moving with fabricated composure, I got a vase from the pantry. Turned on the tap. Filled the vase with water.

“I thought it might help if we talked face-to-face.” Ryan spoke to my back.

I started to toss out a flippant remark. My usual reaction to anxiety. Instead, I unwrapped the flowers.

Ryan went straight for the kill.

“I wrote you a letter, Tempe. An old-fashioned, pen-and-ink communiqué meant to wing its way to you via stamps, aviation, and human sweat.”

I continued disentangling and arranging blossoms.

“I tore it up. They were just words on paper. And hardly expressive.”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Ryan. You’re an excellent writer.”

I heard him catch his breath as though to speak. A beat, then he let it out and the chair creaked softly.

I turned to face him.

Ryan looked at me, the astonishing blue eyes full on mine. “I’m sorry, Tempe. I’m sorry for everything. For trying to make you into what I want you to be. For being less than what you want me to be. For loving things and places that keep us apart. For leaving you that first time. For running away when Lily died.”

“Ryan—” My heart was going hard and a little fast.

“I love you, Tempe. I came here to tell you that. Just that. And to promise that I will never hurt you again.”

I opened my lips to respond. Could find no words. Seconds ticked by on Gran’s mantel clock.

“Nothing to say?” Ryan’s tone held not the slightest note of impatience.

“I’m waiting for the part that begins with ‘but.’ ”

“There is no but. I love you.”

“Does this mean you’ll stay for supper?” Regretted as soon as the quip was out.

Ryan’s head dropped, then hung a moment. When it came up he regarded me with a look of obstinate imperturbability. And more. Compassion. Kindness. Remorse?

“I know Pete hurt you. I’m not Pete. I know I hurt you. I can’t change that. But I am changed.”

I started to respond. He raised a hand to stop me.

“I know you have obligations. Katy. Your mother. Your job. Responsibilities that tie you here as firmly as I’m tied to Quebec. But we can make it work.”

I swallowed, not trusting myself to speak.

“I will never betray you, Tempe.”

I felt as though liquid nitrogen had been injected into my bloodstream. I’d heard that promise before. That exact statement.

Ryan must have read the look on my face. He rose and gathered his duffel.

“Wait,” I said softly.

He did. But clashing emotions were scrambling my wiring. Seconds passed. A full minute. No sound left my lips.

“It’s okay, Tempe.”

“No. It’s not. You’re right. I’ve been paralyzed by indecision. It’s childish and self-indulgent and unfair to you.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Because I don’t.” Suddenly words poured forth, racing like water carving a mountain gorge. “I know that I love you. That I’m happiest when I’m with you. Not because you buy me flowers or make me laugh. Or share my love of Giacometti or The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. I don’t simply love you. I genuinely like you. I admire and respect you. And, in most situations, you respect me.”

“Most?” Puzzled.

I flashed on the times I’d been in a tough spot and Ryan had ridden in all guns blazing. Literally. “Your impulse to save the day on my behalf scares the hell out of me, Ryan. It makes me wonder if you really believe in me as a capable person.”

“You mean intervening when some scumbag is about to shoot you?”

“That’s one example.” Defensive.

“I don’t want you hurt.”

“And I don’t want me hurt. But your overprotectiveness implies that I can’t take care of myself. That I can’t handle difficult situations on my own. I love you, Ryan. But I need my autonomy. I need to know I can rely on myself.”

“That’s it? No more cop-to-the-rescue routine?”

“That’s just part of it.” Jesus! What was the rest? I took a moment. Then, “If Katy ever comes to harm I know I’ll reach out to those I love. To Mama, Harry, maybe to you.” I could feel my cheeks flaming, but there was no turning back. “When Lily died, you chucked me away like last week’s garbage.”

Ryan started to interrupt. I barreled on.

“I don’t need you in my life, Ryan. I learned to live without you once. Twice. I didn’t like it, but I survived.” Quick shallow breath. “I don’t need protection. I don’t need a bodyguard. I need someone who will be there, both physically and emotionally. When life is good, and when life gets rough.”

“And you doubt my ability to fill that role?” Flat.

“I don’t know what I think, Ryan.” Stepping back and staring down at the furry cottontails on my feet.

A very long, very leaden silence slammed between us. No one moved. The clock ticked.

After what seemed a lifetime, I looked up. The sadness on Ryan’s face nearly broke my heart.

“Will you spend the night?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

Something skittered across the troubled blue irises, vanished before I could read the meaning. Two more ticks from Gran’s timepiece. Three. Four. Then Ryan’s lips hitched up in an unexpected grin.

“I’ve delivered my stirring and persuasive communiqué. You’ve responded with equal eloquence.” Delivered with a lightness that was obviously forced. “I think now it’s best that I leave.”

“That’s not how I want it.”

“Nor I.” His eyebrows did a few Groucho hops.

“Then—”

Ryan crossed to me and kissed my cheek. Tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “You need to be by yourself.”

“Where will you go?” I asked.

“Home.”

I nodded, tears threatening hard.

Christ on a flagpole! Don’t cry! Don’t you dare cry!

Cupping my chin in his palm, Ryan tipped my face up so my eyes met his. “We are different in many ways, Tempe. But our differences complement each other. Together we were better, stronger. More than just the sum of you and me. I truly believe that.”

I ached to wrap my arms around him and press my cheek to his chest. But there was a rigidity to his shoulders now, a tautness to his mouth that froze me in place.

Behind me, footsteps crossed the floor. Inside my head, words crashed like cymbals. By yourself. And Ryan’s chosen tense. We were. We were.

The door opened and closed softly.

I stood paralyzed, mind spinning, fire burning beneath my breastbone.

Certain I’d driven away a true shot at happiness.

Uncertain why.