The Light Between Us (25 page)

It made him want to cry, or to break things, to break everything.

What if it was too late?

But his friends were right.  It almost didn't matter if it was too late.  Derek knew that he had only one course of action – to try.  To apologize.  To fight for Ruth, for what they'd had.  For what they still could have.  His only other alternative would mean a wasting away of his spirit, of who he was at the core. 

He had to try.

He would try.

Throwing a glance at the steel-framed clock hanging above one of the gray couches, he saw that it was still fairly early in the evening.  He could call her. 

But no – her phone.  She'd lost it.  Derek frowned.  So now what?

An idea began to take shape inside him.  It was small, but felt true, born from the heart.  Not fancy, but he doubted that fancy would persuade her now. 

Derek swung into his coat, grabbing a pen and his wallet and stuffing them into his pockets as he strode out the door. 

Chapter 16

By the time Ruth staggered into her apartment that night, her legs were wobbly with exhaustion.  She'd been walking since she'd left the coffee shop, phone slid into her boot along with the key to her front door, her ID, and a single credit card. 

It had been a wandering walk of grief.  She felt that with each step she was mourning, releasing the pain of her broken hopes, of what she'd thought was the truest love she could have ever dreamed of experiencing, in spite of all the tumult mixed in.

She'd meandered along the Freedom Trail, blind to the tourist sites that usually captured her heart and imagination and intellect, along the wharves, through decrepit cemeteries and the long shadows of pristine skyscrapers.  Not once had she sat, or eaten, or even taken a train.

Now, she limped to her bedroom and peeled off her boots, the black pantyhose, and the  turtleneck dress that had made her feel powerful and sexy when she'd donned it that morning.  She massaged her sore feet that had so bravely put up with such harsh treatment, wincing at twin tender spots adorning the backs of her heels.  Then she unlatched her bra and stripped off her underwear, both still damp from sweat in spite of the cool autumn weather.

Ruth lay back on her bed, naked, first stretching her limbs out so that her body formed a star shape, then contracting into a fetal position and heaving silent, wracking sobs into the bedspread.  Rufus leaped onto the bed and, purring, pushed his face against hers, the feline's affection only making her cry harder. 
             

She had wanted this, wanted to be with Derek.  She had wanted
him
.  In spite of logic warning her against a whirlwind romance and engagement, it had felt unbelievably, impossibly right, being with Derek.

And now, he had tossed her away like she was worth nothing to him.

The ring he had given her still glimmered from her finger, her vision of it blurred by scalding tears.  She should take it off, she knew.  Return it, sell it, anything to get it away from her.

But instead she ran a gentle finger along the subtly golden band, the finely wrought leaves, the diamonds.  The ring comforted her, somehow, and she could not bring herself to even consider taking it off, much less removing it from her life. 

It was silly, she knew.  Just causing herself more pain.  But the ring felt too important, too lovely, too much a part of her to let go of just yet.

The sound of a gentle knock on her apartment door met Ruth's ears, making her stiffen, then sit up on the bed, wiping the tears from her eyes.  She waited, listening.

The knock came again, a little louder this time, making her heart beat faster.  Who could it be?  She'd texted Padme earlier, once she'd retrieved her phone, to let her friend know how things had gone.  Maybe it was her, coming by with a stash of chocolate and wine and sappy movies to sustain Ruth. 

But no, she'd told Padme that she wanted to be alone, that she didn't want to put Operation: Breakup Healing into effect until the next day.

One last knock came, quieter than the two that had come before, just a single, soft rap followed by a rustling sound.  Ruth stayed sitting on her bed for several minutes, straining her ears, but at last she relaxed, flopping backwards onto the pillows. 

Her stomach rumbled.  She was, she suddenly realized, ravenous.  After walking all day and missing both lunch and dinner, she was more than overdue for sustenance.  Rolling off the bed, she pulled on soft hot pink flannel pajamas and padded toward the kitchen. 

As she passed the front door, her foot met something that slid beneath her sole.  Frowning, Ruth peered down and saw that she was standing on a powder blue  envelope.  Her frown deepened as she stooped to pick it up, heading to the kitchen and flicking on a light. 

She turned the envelope over in her hands, examining its almost silky surface.  The envelope bore no markings.  For a brief moment, she wondered if it could be some sort of a subtle new terrorist attack.

After a long moment, Ruth snorted, laughing at herself. 
Way to jump to the most implausible situation, crazy lady
, she scolded herself and tore the envelope open.

Reaching inside, Ruth drew forth a single piece of cardstock in the same powder blue hue, the top and bottom of the paper adorned with a chocolate brown trellis of vines and flowers.  The design reminded her of the engagement ring, which she spun absentmindedly around her finger a single time as she lowered her eyes to the scrawling handwriting that had been trawled in black ink between the trellis borders.               

             
Dear Ruth,
she read,

             
I am so sorry.  Deeply, profoundly (these words seem so inadequate).  It was wrong of me to act so cruelly toward you, to not trust you – especially when you have been so generous toward me with your own trust.  You are the best thing that's every happened to me.  I know I don't deserve it, and I know I can't undo what I said, but I would love the chance to apologize in person, if you'll have me. 

                                                                                                  Love,             

             
                                                                                    Derek

As Ruth read the jagged, looping script, she felt a pressure begin to build in her chest.  Her blood ran faster through her veins, and her jaw locked tight.

She wanted to throttle Derek.  How could he put her through all this pain and drama and still sign his note of apology with “Love”? 

With a shout of anger and frustration, she ripped the powder blue into two pieces, then into four, then slapped them on the kitchen counter.  She stood gazing at the pieces in triumph for a moment, then that pressure in her chest seemed to give, replaced by a fluttering panic, an aching sorrow. 

Sweeping the four pieces of Derek's note into her hand, she crumpled to the floor, sobbing.  Ruth halfheartedly tried to piece them back together, but it was no use.  She'd ruined it.  It could never go back to its original lovely form. 

She cradled the pieces to her chest and keened over them, salted tears washing down her face and dropping onto the cardstock. 

If this is love
, she thought, making herself cry all the harder,
I don't want it.  It hurts.  It hurts too much
.  Ruth felt as if her soul was being rent, tearing just as she had torn Derek's note.  How could she ever be the same after this?  How could she go on?  She had no idea. 

At last, the tears refused to flow anymore.  Sniffling, breath coming in tiny, mewling pants, Ruth sat, the feeling of her heart's rhythm within her rib cage calming her.  Uncurling her hands from around the four pieces of the note, she arranged them on the floor so that the words were readable.  Reaching up to the counter, she groped for her phone and, fingers landing on it, pulled it into her palm.  She snapped a photo of the semi-reassembled note.

Look what just showed up
, she typed into a new text and sent it off, along with the photo, to Padme.

A few moments later, her phone buzzed with a reply. 
Derek sent you a torn up note of apology?  Slacker.

Ruth couldn't help but huff a breath of laughter. 
I tore it, obv.  He slid it under my door.

And?
  texted Padme.

Ruth stared at the word glowing from her phone in the yellow the kitchen's light.  What did she mean,
and
? 

The phone buzzed again with another text from her friend. 
I really hope you're planning on taking him up on that offer of an in-person apology.  Make sure you get some groveling from him.

Ruth rolled her eyes. 
Do I dare?
she wrote.

The phone jumped in her hand, a call from Padme coming in.  She answered it, but before she could utter a single word, her friend's voice was streaming through.

“
Dude.  What happened to my friend Ruth, who put her I-don't-take-no-shit boots on this morning and confronted the guy she loves who was, unfortunately, acting like a total jackass?”

“
She got burned.  Again.” 

“
Yeah, but it sounds like maybe he's come to his senses.”

“
Or he's setting me up just to knock me down again. 
Again
again.”

“
Okay, if he is, you will not be able to stop me from kicking his ass,” said Padme, “but that doesn't make much sense.  I mean, he was free of you.  Why would he slip a fake apology under your door just to reject you for a third time?”

“
Because he's mean,” said Ruth flatly.

“
Was the Derek you knew mean?”

“
Well, no.  But that doesn't –”

“
Some guys are actors,” said Padme, “just saying what you want to hear to get you in bed.  But why would Derek do that with you?  He was already getting all the tail he wanted.  I don't think he's flat-out mean.  I think he just made a mistake.”

“
Just made a mistake
?” Ruth thundered back.  “Are you serious?  He took my heart and dragged it through the dirt, then came back and dumped gasoline on it and lit it on fire.”

“
He did those things?” Padme asked in a bland voice.

“
Figuratively, yes,” snapped Ruth. 

“
Do you love him?”

Padme's question caught her off guard.  “What?”

“
Do.  You.  Love.  Him?” her friend said again.

“
I don't know,” Ruth said with a sigh.  “I mean –”

“
Okay, then answer me this,” Padme interrupted.  “Where's the ring he gave you.”

Ruth's stomach twisted as she looked down at the engagement ring still adorning her finger. 

“
You're wearing it, aren't you?” said Padme. 

“
Yeah,” she said in a tiny voice, feeling the last of the anger that had made her decimate Derek's note wilt.

“
Then you still have major feelings Derek.  If he could do the whole metaphorical heart arson thing and you're still wearing his ring, that at least means that you like him – and that you need to let him apologize.  You don't need to marry him, or take him back, or even accept his apology.  But you need to hear him ask for your forgiveness.  He owes you that, and you deserve it.”

Ruth sighed, eyes still on the ring, turning it around and around her finger.  “Okay,” she said, voice barely louder than a whisper.  “I – I do love him.  And I want to see him again.  I want to marry him still, even, for some stupid reason.  But . . .”

“
But what?” said Padme voice gentle.

She felt tears burn at her eyes again.  “I'm afraid.  I'm so afraid.”  Ruth's voice trembled.

“
I know, hon.  I know.  But it's all part of it, I think.  Love is risky.  You're putting your heart in someone else's hands and hoping he'll treat it right.”

“
This week has been – wow, it's been amazing,” said Ruth, words thickened by trailing tears.  “And it's been horrible.  I don't know if I can live through a relationship if it's like this.”

“
You guys got off to what must be the worst start of all time,” Padme said with a snort.  “But it won't always be like this, I promise.”

“
Are you sure?”

“
Way more people would be on antidepressants if love was always like the week you and Derek have had.  Although it'd make an excellent romance novel.”