Chapter Twenty-Eight – Rule
“Uno!” Bianca yelled, drawing the stares of some other patients and staff members. It was recreation time, and she’d claimed the deck of Uno before anyone else could. “Another loss, Rule.”
Her teasing tone made him smile. Since their first conversation, Bianca had made it a point to seek him out. She continued teaching him the Spanish language, although he still hadn’t perfected the prayer.
Not counting Freya, Rule had had no other friend in the facility.
Bianca was in the same boat, though unlike him, she was the one who avoided others.
People avoided Rule like the plague; people flocked to Bianca just to be ignored.
Guys especially showered her with attention, something that peeved Rule more than he wanted to admit.
It also left him wondering why Bianca would reject them and choose to give her attention to him.
He was nothing special, especially with his bad reputation.
“Don’t get too cocky,” he said, tossing the plus-four he’d just pulled onto the pile of cards. “The color is red.” Her dramatic jaw drop made him chuckle. “Go ahead, get to drawing so I can win.”
She snorted. “Now who’s being cocky?”
“The odds are just in my favor,” he said with a shrug, her friendliness and big personality pulling him out of his shell.
Whatever retort she had was cut off when Freya walked to the table. They both looked at her questioningly. She smiled at Bianca before focusing on him.
“Father Wilkins just called me. He wants me to wheel you down,” she explained, waving at Bianca as she began to haul him away.
“See you later,” he said quickly, satisfied by the disappointment on her face.
The walk to the elevators was silent. Once the doors closed, however, he asked the question burning a hole in his mind.
“What does Father Wilkins want?”
“He didn’t say,” Freya said, much to his disappointment. “He just said it’s urgent.”
“Probably another group,” Rule said morosely.
“He told me he asked for permission to take you beyond the fence, to picnic on the palisades.”
“That would be a change. Do you know if he’s talked to my mom? Even if she can’t visit me, I just want to talk to her and Rebel. A-apologize to them.”
“He said that he talked to Mrs. Caldwell, and she told him she wasn’t interested in visiting.”
Told you.
Rule jerked. Nowadays, he had control of those voices. They rarely visited him and when they did, he was able to push them away. He knew they weren’t real. They were the reason his mother and his sister wanted nothing to do with him.
He hung his head, so very sad inside. No matter how much he enjoyed Bianca’s company, he wanted Mom. He wanted Reb.
He hated the thought of her with Diesel, but if that’s who she wanted, it no longer mattered to him. As long as she forgave him.
“I-I want to go to my room.”
“You know he’ll come up, demanding answers. Let’s see what the old coot wants,” Freya coaxed, fondness in her voice.
“You’re right. Let’s get it over with.”
They rode the elevator to the ground level in silence, Freya lost in her thoughts and Rule silently singing a song to keep his friends at bay.
No, not his friends. His enemies.
Father Wilkins greeted them the moment the elevator doors opened. He backed up slightly, allowing Freya to wheel Rule out, but he didn’t move out of the pathway.
“I talked to your doctor, Rule,” the priest said, a little frantic. “He’s given me permission to take you and Freya to lunch at a restaurant away from here.”
Any other day, Rule might feel some excitement. Not today, when he missed his mother so keenly. He talked to his father almost daily. His brothers called him regularly, too. Mom and Rebel didn’t, and he couldn’t make up with them if they shut him out.
“Rule would like to talk to his mother and sister,” Freya announced.
“He would?”
“Yes,” Rule answered. Maybe if he refused his medicine and his condition deteriorated again, Mom would relent. “Just for a few minutes.”
Pursing his lips and pulling at his collar as if it was too tight, the priest glanced over his shoulder, toward the administrative offices.
“Talking to her may not help you,” Father Wilkins said, ringing his hands and then clasping them together. “Let’s go to the restaurant. I don’t want you to have a setback. You were…it was frightening.”
“I’m not all that hungry.”
“I should’ve come up to you.” Father Wilkins half-turned, glanced in the same direction.
Snatching a handkerchief from his pocket, he mopped his brow.
“It is most urgent that we leave now. I thought you’d be happy.
I didn’t think you’d put up so much resistance.
Otherwise…” He dabbed the cloth over his lips and nodded to the long hallway on the right.
It led to a private parking lot, reserved for staff.
The priest was permitted to park his SUV there.
“Take him to my car, Freya. I will see if your friend would like to ride with us. Fresh air will do you a world of good.”
He walked around Rule and pressed the button on the elevator, then nodded toward the door at the end of the hallway. “Hurry. Go.”
Freya turned his wheelchair in the direction, but before she had a chance to push Rule away, one of the office doors slammed open.
Mom stormed out, then turned and waited until Rebel limped into view, painfully slow and in tears. At first, Rule thought he was imagining them, until Rebel lifted her head and her gaze fell on him.
“Rule!” she squealed, sobbing, and clutching Mom.
Turning, Mom took in the scene, sweeping her furious gaze from Freya to Father Wilkins, and finally to Rule.
He forgot to ask Freya to wheel him and, instead, guided himself to Mom and Rebel, operating the chair with the two big back wheels. Rebel hopped her way to a group of chairs, finding the same newfound energy as Rule.
She didn’t say that. He just knew. The thought settled into him. He could feel her again, know her without words, connect with her on a level that only twins shared.
They met each other halfway. Rebel leaned down at the same moment he leaned forward. In sync, they wrapped their arms around each other. For long moments, neither one of them spoke. They didn’t have too. Not then and not ever, though Rule had so much to tell her.
Starting with… “I’m so sorry, Rebel,” he whispered tearfully. “I—”
Rebel straightened and tangled her fingers through his hair, just the way they did when they were little. They loved to play dress up. Because Rebel dressed in Mom’s clothes, Rule had, too.
Mom, Dad, his brothers never disparaged him. They just chalked it up to the usual: Rule following whatever Rebel wanted.
“I’m sorry, brother.” She blinked; tears poured down her cheeks anyway. “I was so mean and horrible to you. I should have been kinder. More understanding. You wouldn’t have gotten so bad off.”
“It isn’t your fault,” he told her.
“It isn’t your fault either, Rule.”
“My head isn’t right. My brain. It is my fault.”
“As opposed to whose head? Certainly not Daddy’s. Mine. We’re all fucking lunatics.” Rebel clapped her hand over her mouth and lowered her lashes, more tears rushing down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Rule smiled and grabbed the hand that didn’t have a cast. “You will forever be wild and free, sister. Don’t change. I always admired you so much.” He drew in a breath. “And if you want Diesel—”
“He’s our brother. That’s gross.”
Rule wouldn’t say anymore.
His sister leaned in. “Do you want to see Mom?” she whispered, close to his ear. “That fuckhead director said you didn’t.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Rule threw the priest an evil eye. “I wonder where he got that idea.”
“I need to sit, but if you don’t want to see her, we can go.”
“I miss Mom as much as I miss you.”
Rebel nodded and limped to a chair.
Their mother remained near the director’s door, where the man lurked. Rule had never met him. He’d seen him around, though.
“Rule?” Mom said hesitantly, glancing from him to Rebel. His sister nodded.
At Mom’s visible relief, Rule gritted his teeth. He’d have to talk to the priest. True, he had guardianship but it was temporary. Megan Caldwell was still his mother.
Though she wore an orthopedic boot, she rushed toward him. It dawned on Rule that Mom looked normal, the way she had before she’d gotten pregnant with Jo. Energetic, her eyes sparkling, and her hair flowing.
Her hug was fierce, her arms enveloping him as only she could. With a mother’s love and forgiveness, absolving him even though he hadn’t apologized to her yet. Kissing his cheek. Loving him because that’s what she did. Loved. Kept their family together. Kept Dad together.
It was everything. Everything he’d dreamed about, prayed for, and wished for.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I love you so much. I never meant…I would never forgive myself if I’d hurt you and Reb.”
“We survived, son,” Mom said, sounding as if she struggled not to breakdown. She hugged him again and rested her head on his shoulder. “You survived.”
Her cherry blossom scent enveloped him. It calmed him, since he’d smelled it on her in one variation or another: body wash, shampoo and conditioner, lotion, and even perfume.
“Is Dad here? CJ?”
Straightening, Mom shook her head. “Reb and I have been in LA for some girl time. We couldn’t leave without seeing you.”
“If you hadn’t seen me today, would you have left?” he asked quietly.
“I was going to call your aunt Kendall.”
Rule nodded, though he wondered why she wouldn’t call Dad. Now that he thought about it, he realized it was unusual that she was so far away from home without him.
“Are you…? When are you going home?”
“Tomorrow.”
“What…what are you doing the rest of the day?”
Mom kissed his cheek again. “I would love for me and Reb to spend it with you.”
“Really?” Rule breathed.
“Yes, love,” Mom said gently. “If you’d like us to stay. This is about you, sweetheart. Not us.”
Rule hugged her again. “You’re wrong, Mom. It is about us. We’re a family.”