Among Wildflowers

among

wildflowers

Stella Jean Rose

Copyright 2016 stella jean rose

Cover Design by Marisa Shor

Edited by Sandra Nguyen

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

PRINT ISBN 978-1-5137-0732-7

EPUB ISBN 978-1-5137-0833-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016903895

In loving memory of my mom—

Thank you for supporting my every dream,

showing me the world is full of love,

and reminding me it’s okay to take baby steps.

Thank you for the all Kevin Bacon movie marathons.

I didn’t realize then just how much I would cherish those memories.

I always think of you when Footloose comes on the radio.

P.S. I know, I can’t believe I wrote a book about country music, either!

Macy couldn’t believe that today
was the day she was getting out. She watched a blue bird that was perched in the tree just outside the large picture window in her room. For a moment, Macy watched as the bird sang its song merrily before she got distracted by the golden rays of light that cascaded through the glass. The illuminated specks of dust danced erratically. Macy slipped her hands behind her head, entwining her fingers together, staring up at the ceiling boards. They were dark blue, but the paint was old and chipping away, betraying the off-white color hiding beneath. This was the last time she’d be lying here, staring at this ceiling. Today she was being released from Tall Oaks Behavioral Health and Rehab Center. Although the first two weeks had been possibly the most grueling and challenging of her life, she was surprised at how fast the following four had gone. And she hadn’t really even minded it that much.

She rolled over onto her side, tucking her hand beneath her cheek. Her roommate’s bed had been unoccupied for more than a week now. It had been neatly made and scattered with old-fashioned throw pillows decorated with god-awful floral patterns. Patrice had slept in that bed from the moment Macy took up residency at Tall Oaks. Patrice was a little older—in her mid-thirties probably—and she had seen much more of the world. Too much, maybe. But the two women had similar upbringings, and that had helped to build their friendship. But last Wednesday one of the nurses had found Patrice’s body hanging in a storeroom, the cords from the blinds in their bedroom tight round her neck.

Macy had been a nervous wreck the day she checked into Tall Oaks. Patrice had been the first to introduce herself and had made Macy laugh, breaking the ice.

“They serve oatmeal for breakfast every day, they tell you when to wake up and when to go to bed, and the bar here sucks. As soon as I get out of here, I’m complaining on Yelp about this resort.”

Macy liked Patrice immediately. She had that deadpan and almost self-deprecating humor that had Macy laughing constantly, helping to take her mind off recovery and rehab. As Macy went further with treatment and therapy, she’d hoped that Patrice was on the same track. She’d hoped they would be friends outside of Tall Oaks and could even lean on one another for support. Yes, there had been something in Patrice’s eyes that Macy had found worrying, but she hadn’t expected that her friend would commit suicide, and it made her question her own progress.

Rolling onto her back again, she held her wrists in the air above her as she inspected them. The scars were still visible, but fading. They hadn’t been that deep to begin with. One more item to add to the list of things she’d failed at.

“Macy.” A quiet voice and a soft knock broke her from her musings. “Your boyfriend’s here. It’s time to go.”

She sat up and gave the nurse a polite smile. “Thanks, Denise.”

“Can I help with your bags?”

“No, thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Of course he wouldn’t bother coming inside. With a sigh, Macy slid off the bed, grabbed her two duffle bags from the floor and her camera from the nightstand before giving the room one more look. Her stay at Tall Oaks was over. She was supposed to be healed now. She was supposed to feel strong and ready to get back out into the world again… so why didn’t she feel any of those things?

She stepped into the hall.

“It’s that time already, huh?”

She smiled and stepped into the man’s open arms. “Thanks for everything, Ben.”

He squeezed her tightly. “I think I should be the one thanking you. I hope you know you’ve become a good friend of mine.”

She smiled, pulling away. “You too.”

“Hey,” he said as she headed to the stairway. “If you’re ever in Jersey, hit me up. We can go get Shirley Temples or something.”

Macy laughed. “You got it.”

She made it to the bottom of the stairs and waved goodbye to a couple of other nurses before opening the door and stepping outside into the bright sunlight.

Logan was easy to spot, leaning against his canary yellow Ferrari and sporting expensive aviator sunglasses. He wore his signature pressed white polo shirt with designer jeans and designer shoes. He had his arms crossed over his muscular chest. Logan went to the gym before and after work every day, meticulously maintaining his physique. Macy often felt guilty that she didn’t have the same compulsion.

“You look good,” he said. He grasped her shoulders gently, examining her. “Better.”

“Thanks.” She handed him her bags and then slid into the passenger seat.

“I thought maybe we could grab some lunch on the way back to the city.”

“You never came to visit,” Macy said, looking out the window.

He fell silent for a few beats before responding. “You know, they don’t really like loved ones hanging around those places too much. It interferes with the treatment.” He reached over and squeezed her knee. “But I thought about you constantly, baby.”

“There were two visitor days while I was there. I was the only one who didn’t have anyone come visit. Even Patrice’s sister came to see her, and she offed herself last Wednesday.”

“Don’t talk like that, Macy.”

She turned to him. “It’s true. I just don’t understand why you didn’t want to visit me. I would have come to see you.”

He sighed heavily. “Listen, I know you Miss Suzy. I do, too. She was a great woman. Believe me, I get it. I understand what you’re going through. But it’s been over a year.”

“Don’t.”

“What?” He turned to her.

“Don’t you ever say that you understand?”

“Fine,” he said, gripping the steering tightly. “I was just trying to
help.”

“Well, don’t.”

She peeked at Logan out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but she was hurt. Although she knew that, like most men, he wasn’t good with stuff like that, and the things she had done had really taken a toll him. She needed to take it easy on him.

“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand and gripped it gently. “I’m just glad to be out of there.”

“Me too,” he said, flashing a dashing grin.

Back to normal,
she thought, shaking her head.

***

The moment Macy set foot in the Upper Manhattan apartment, she felt like an intruder. Logan hurried past her with her duffle bags in hand and headed straight for the bedroom.

“Tabatha’s going to be glad you’re home,” he called over his shoulder.

“I missed her,” she said lightly, glancing around. “Kitty, kitty, kitty.”

A tiny meow came from behind the ottoman, and the chubby little feline emerged, rubbing herself against the furniture.

“Hey Tabatha,” Macy cooed, reaching down to pet her. But Tabatha arched her back, hissing, and darted down the hallway.

Apparently, the cat hadn’t missed her at all. Macy sighed and straightened, shoving her hands in her pockets. Logan came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Give it time,” he said softly. “Everything is going to take a while to get back to normal, but it will. I promise.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. Sometimes Logan could be so thoughtful and say such nice things. Why couldn’t he be like that more often? Why did he have to be so cold and self-centered the rest of the time?

“I’ll be patient.”

“Good girl,” he said with a grin, turning her around to face him. “How about Thai tonight?”

“Okay.”

Logan went off to order dinner. Macy took another look around the apartment. Everything looked much the way it had looked when she’d left. It was cleaner maybe—Macy had made a mess of everything before she went away.

***

Ryland leaned back in the rocking chair, making the old wood squeak loudly. He looked out onto the sweeping valley. The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the old ponderosa pines that lined his property. As he took a long sip from his coffee mug, he heard the phone ring inside the house. Cussing, he set the mug on the railing of the porch and hurried inside.

“Quinn,” he barked into the receiver. God, he hated being disturbed on the weekend.

“Ryland, it’s Robbie.”

Ryland leaned his forearm against the nearby door jamb and rested his forehead against it. He wasn’t in the mood to chat with his agent today.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that Celebrity News wants to send a photographer and a reporter out there next week to do a shoot for a big story. They’ll be out there for about a week probably.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Hell no. Does that clear it up?”

Ryland scowled as Robbie groaned into on the other end of the line. “Ryland, I have producers breathing down my neck. People are getting tired of your shit. You canceled your last tour, for God’s sakes. You were supposed to be ready to jump into the studio four months ago to start working on the new album, and you keep blowing everyone off.”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“Ryland, if you don’t put out a single soon you’re going to burn the few bridges you have left. Celebrity News wants to run a story about how you’re working on your new album and how your ranch is your muse. Ryland, we don’t have a choice. This is publicity that you very much need right now.”

“This is bullshit, Robbie. I don’t want some nosey reporter hanging around my place for a week.”

“Ryland, if you don’t do this…” Robbie paused. “I don’t know what else to do. You’ve put me in a difficult spot.”

Ryland rubbed the bridge of his nose. He knew Robbie was right, but he hated this idea. But it was only for a week and he’d survive it. He sighed heavily.

“Fine.”

“Great! As soon as the travel plans are firmed up, I’ll update you.”

Ryland hung up the phone and headed straight back outside, retrieving his mug from the railing and taking a seat again. He loved this place. So much so that sometimes he felt like he didn’t really need the rest of the world anymore. He’d be just fine staying right here for the rest of his life, getting up every day, just like today, having his coffee, doing the chores, then turning in for the night. That was really all he needed.

“Want some breakfast, Ryland?” Helen poked her head out the door.

“No thanks,” Ryland said without turning around.

“Everything okay? I overheard your phone call.”

Ryland took a long drink from his mug before responding. “Yep. ‘S'pose it is.”

He turned just in time to see Helen shake her head in frustration before going back inside the house. He knew that Helen was just as
sick of the funk he was in as he was, but he couldn’t help it, no matter how hard he tried, and frankly, he was sick of trying anymore.