Nineteen
NINETEEN
Bea
W hen I booked my little getaway, I had every intention of resting, playing Glory, and digging deep for the inspiration I needed. But all that changed.
Now, I wanted to be where Tag was and do whatever he was doing. But I’d have to be blind to see how uncomfortable he was around me. I didn’t want to unnecessarily hover.
Earlier that morning, I sat down to strum some songs and ended up scrolling social media “for just a few minutes” first. Funny how fast an hour melts away. The last place I needed to be was online. As expected, Adrienne was already getting up and after it, rocking and rolling with her reels, lives, and event planning. I wasn’t jealous. She could have it all.
Over the weekend, her texts had tapered off. I think it finally clicked in her mind that, yes , I did seriously need a break and, no , I wouldn’t be making any concrete plans.
After sixty minutes of fretting and answering comments on a few tour videos I was tagged in, I deleted my apps. Because social stress was a kill shot to my inspiration .
I ended up putting Glory away without even tuning her.
When my phone rang, I rushed to answer it, thankful for someone to talk to.
But, of course, it was the warranty company bearing bad news. My stomach dropped to my shoes. I didn't want to deliver more problems to Tag. Because I wasn't privy to Meadowbrook’s income, I couldn't know for sure…but based on the things Tag had said, how few employees Meadowbrook had, and the overdue bills I’d found…I figured the ranch had intense financial needs.
If Tag wanted advice, Peter would help him. Peter was an accountant and very adept with money management. If it ever came up in a conversation, I would volunteer Peter for on-the-house guidance. Assuming Tag and I ever had a real conversation. Pipe dream? Probably.
It was nearing noon. Maybe taking Tag a sandwich would prime him to hear that the semi didn't have an active warranty.
Thirty seconds after I hung up with the warranty company, Peter, of all people, rang my phone. Always delighted to talk to my Irish twin, I answered with a smile. “Ah, Peter! I was just thinking about you.”
“About how much you miss me?”
“Just about your financial advice.”
“Aw. How sweet. I miss you too, Beatles. Is something up financially?”
“Oh, no. I just met someone who might need help at some point.”
“Gotcha.”
“How are things going?”
He took a deep breath, sounding uncharacteristically serious. “Well, Dad is home for a few days. Sarah and I are going over for dinner. I think everyone is coming, actually.”
“Oh.” A pang stabbed in my heart as I imagined my beloved family gathering around my parents’ table. “That sounds so fun. Give Mom and Dad hugs for me.”
“I definitely will. We all miss you. ”
“I miss you guys, too.”
“You getting some R&R?”
The rodeo filtered through my mind. I’d done very little resting and relaxing. Between helping Tag and fretting over music, I'd barely had the chance to breathe. Today was Tuesday. I’d had one night of decent sleep under my belt. I couldn’t explain my weekend to Peter—he would worry himself sick if he knew I’d spent the weekend sleeping in the same semi with a strange man. Peter had no idea Scribbs existed, and I was not about to launch into that explanation right now.
So I said, “Yeah! It’s been…good!”
“Is the ranch nicer than I remember? The only thing I can recall about that place is the leeches.”
I cackled a laugh. “The leeches. I’d forgotten about them!”
“Yeah, I’d steer clear of the pond if I were you.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” I squished the phone against my shoulder, opened the fridge, and pulled out mayonnaise and turkey. “The ranch is the way I remember it—old fashioned. But I like it here!”
He only grunted a response to let me know he was still present.
“How’re the renovations going?”
“Not bad. Sarah and I got the last room painted and are putting in furniture now.”
“Does that mean you're basically done?”
“Just about.”
“And with plenty of time to spare! Now, you can just focus on getting married.”
“Yeah.”
I frowned to myself. Our conversation felt oddly…stilted? Peter and I were close. Awkward, hesitant conversations didn’t exist between us. He seemed distracted.
“So what’s up? Why did you call me?”
His pause ticked my heart rate up.
“Peter?”
A loud sigh sounded through the phone. “Look, I didn’t want to call you about this… ”
The words flung me back into the fears of my childhood. My voice felt strangely hollow, distant from myself. “About what?”
“Mom and Dad said you would be upset if I didn’t call and tell you. I knew that, but I asked the family not to say anything because I don’t want you to change what you’re doing or rush home or anything.”
Warmth pricked behind my eyes, sibling intuition kicking in.
No. Not his health. Please not his health.
“I—I had a seizure late Saturday night.”
Breath rushed from my lungs, my chest tightening. I couldn’t respond.
“I collapsed in the bathroom right after showering. Sarah was with me, thank goodness. I would’ve choked if she wasn’t. At the ER, they did a CT scan and an EEG but neither of them showed any abnormalities. We’re just waiting for the results of the MRI, and I'm scheduled to follow up with a neurologist soon.”
Why? Why is this happening?
I closed my eyes against the mental image his description conjured up. Sarah had to be terrified.
“No abnormalities is a good thing, right?”
“Maybe. The biggest concern is a brain tumor…the tests thus far look hopeful, but of course, that’s still lingering in the back of our minds as we wait to get an all-clear.”
The blood froze in my veins. I couldn’t allow myself to entertain the thought of Peter having another invasive surgery. I swallowed down my emotions, forcing myself to respond. “Was the seizure—a big one?”
“It's called a grand mal and yes.” He sighed again. “It was.”
I sniffled, the words scraping against my vocal chords. “Why? Why would you have a seizure out of the blue?”
“I don't know.”
My brain clawed at the unknown, desperate for an answer. “Is there something that can trigger them?”
“Theoretically, in the moment, there are triggers. It’s possible I was stressed, but…sometimes seizures are a long term side effect of ra diation. If that's what we're looking at, there won’t be much we can do except navigate the complications as best we can.”
Peter was a survivor. Someone who had shaken hands with death— twice —and lived to tell the tale. His typically buoyant attitude had taken a hit, the dejection in his voice spoke volumes.
“I’m so sorry, Peter.” I whispered. “Is Sarah okay?”
“She’s—yeah, she’s a little shaken up, but she’s hanging in there.”
“Are you? That’s so much to carry. Especially with the wedding only—what? Eight weeks away?”
He didn’t respond immediately.
“Talk to me, Peter.”
A twinge in his voice, fear creeping in, made my heart ache. His voice was a tender rasp. “I’m worried about Sarah.”
“She loves you.”
“I know, but?—”
“You can’t start doubting that now.”
“I just want her to be happy. I’ve already put her through so much.”
A brief moment of silence passed. I fought back a rising tide of emotions.
“I keep thinking…” His words died off, but I heard what he didn’t say.
Losing strength in my legs, I plopped down on a bar stool. “You have cold feet, don't you?”
“Crap, Bea.” He gave a breathy, humorless chuckle. “This is why I didn’t want to talk to you.”
The deflection attempt was noted and ignored. “Are you having doubts?”
“I don’t know. A little, I guess.” He sighed again, the exhale shaky. “Not because of her. Only because of what we’re up against. The seizure was just icing on the whole damn cake.”
“Oh, Peter.”
“That part stays between us, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll be fine. I think I just need to mentally adjust.”
“Okay.” I pressed my lips together and swiped tears off my cheek. “You guys have twelve years of history. That’s not going to change because of a seizure.” The word felt weightless. His concerns were valid. Would the obstacles become tiresome to her?
No. Impossible. Sarah sat through two rounds of radiation with him. She wouldn't do that for nothing.
“Yeah. I hope so.”
“I know so. Sarah is everything you need.”
“That’s kind of the problem though, Bea.”
“What is?”
“I don't want her to end up taking care of me.”
“Peter, that's not how it works. She’s going to need you and you're going to need her. In different ways, yeah, but that’s part of loving someone. You hold each other up during hard seasons.”
“I just have a hell of a lot of hard seasons.”
“And who’s been there the entire time?”
He gave a soft chuckle. “I hear you. Thanks. I know I’m being stupid.”
“It's not stupid—anyone would have doubts right now because this is a huge change.” I fiddled with the red zipper on the turkey bag. “When is your appointment? I should be there.”
“It's next week. The only person going with me is Sarah. There’s nothing anyone can do. If there’s any bad news, I promise you’ll be one of the first to know.”
“Okay.”
“I want you to enjoy your time. If it wasn’t for Mom guilt-tripping me, I would’ve waited for something concrete before bringing it up.”
“I’m glad you told me.” I felt a little salty I hadn’t known along with the rest of the family, but I didn’t press the issue. I knew now, and that was what mattered. “I love you both so much. What can I do for you guys?”
He took a deep breath, his voice strengthening. “If you would text Sarah and ask about the wedding plans, that’d be great.”
“Of course.”
“It would mean the world to have someone be excited with her. Her family is totally uninvolved per the usual.”
I shook my head at myself. “I should’ve already thought to check in on her. I'm officially the worst bridesmaid ever.”
“You’re fine, Bea. You’ve got your own life and stuff. Don’t feel bad.”
“I’ll text her as soon as we hang up.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“I love you. Please keep me in the loop, okay?”
“I promise I will. Love you too.”
I put the phone down on the counter top, and the strength I’d held in place for Peter’s sake completely dissolved. Tears stormed my eyes with the force of a waterfall. I covered my face with my hands as a stifled sob leaked out. Hadn’t Peter been through enough? Hadn’t Sarah? Would seizures be a concern for the rest of his life?
I couldn’t shake the mental image of him on the bathroom floor. Nausea turned in my gut. If I could take it for him, I would. If I could shoulder the burden for them, I'd already be under it. They deserved a freaking break.
With shaky hands and blurry vision, I sat down and typed out a text to my soon to be sister-in-law.
Me
Sarah, I just talked to Peter. I love you both so much. How are you? If you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. Just a phone call away. Btw, did you get your dress alterations finished?
The phone buzzed in my hand.
Jerry.
I’d been so distracted since arriving at the ranch, I hadn’t given the contract much consideration. I emailed the contract to my attorney on Friday, but I hadn’t heard back yet.
Buzz.
Suddenly, I imagined myself away—living in a lonely Nashville apartment—while my family needed me. I imagined forcing myself to smile and perform for a crowd while my heart ached to be with the ones I loved. Was music or money or the future worth all that?
Buzz.
Did I want my journey to stay my own? Or was music important enough to sign my freedom away? I couldn’t breathe without music— I knew that. But if I moved forward without the label, music would, by necessity, be relegated to a side hustle. And for the first time in my entire life, I’d need a nine to five.
Buzz.
Is that what I wanted?
Missed call.
I exhaled a sigh of relief.