Beautiful Sacrifice

  "If you want to keep the baby," I said, "I know Taylor will help you."

  He nodded. He seemed a million miles away.

  "I don't need anyone's help," Alyssa said, "but I appreciate the offer."

  I stood up.

  Taylor reached for me. "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "Home."

  "Just ... give me a second. I'll drive you."

  My next words caught in my throat. "You should stay. You two have a lot to talk about."

  Taylor began to stand, but I touched his shoulder.

  "This decision has nothing to do with me, Taylor. And it's important."

  Taylor stared at me, taking deep breaths. "What do you mean, it has nothing to do with you?"

  "I mean, it's your decision to make."

  He shifted in his seat. "Just remember what you said to me not ten minutes ago."

  "I remember. I remember a lot of things. Stay here. You'll regret it if you don't."

  I set down the phone he'd given me on the table and then left Taylor and Alyssa behind.

  "Falyn!" he called after me.

  But I ignored him.

  Out of the lounge, I walked across the lobby, passing Dalton on the way.

  "Hey, Falyn. You headin' out?" he asked.

  I smiled politely and continued through the doors, beginning my trek to downtown. I expected a long walk, but every step I took became more difficult as I fought the urge to sob.

  But I would not cry. So many times I'd said--to myself and to Taylor--that we had met for a reason. I'd thought it was so that I could have closure with my past, but sad stories had a funny way of ending the way they'd begun, and the irony of our situation wasn't lost on me. I had given up my child and couldn't have more. Taylor was going to stay with me anyway, and by a snowball of events that had started with me, Taylor would have a child of his own after all.

  The streetlights were buzzing, flickering as they reacted to the dim light. Stars were beginning to poke through the twilight sky, and I still had a long way to go. The cars whizzed by, a few full of kids, blaring music and honking as they passed, and I walked alone with the reality of what Alyssa's pregnancy meant sinking in with every step.

  Summer was in full swing, and it hadn't rained in weeks. The world was still green but dry. The intermittent wildfires had brought Taylor's crew to the area.

  The walk to downtown took longer than I'd thought, and I was out of shape. A dark Mercedes G-Wagon slowed next to me, and the tinted passenger window rolled down, revealing Blaire behind the wheel and no one else in the car. I began to walk again, but she honked.

  "Falyn?" she called. "Where are you headed, dear?"

  I sighed. "No one can hear you."

  "Are you going home?"

  "Yes."

  "Please let me drive you. We don't have to talk."

  I looked down the road and then back at Blaire. "Not a word?"

  She shook her head.

  As much as I didn't want to get in that SUV, my feet were already hurting, and all I wanted was to crawl into my bed and cry. I opened the door and got in.

  A victorious smile lit Blaire's face, and she pulled away from the curb.

  After just a quarter of a mile, Blaire sighed. "Your father hasn't been well. I don't think this campaign is good for him."

  I didn't respond.

  She pressed her lips together. "The car is still parked in the garage at the house. Your father drives it sometimes to keep everything in order. Still changes the oil. We would like you to have it back."

  "No."

  "It's dangerous to walk around alone in the dark."

  "I rarely venture out," I said simply.

  "But on the off chance that you do ..."

  "You said we didn't have to talk."

  Blaire parked in one of the many empty spots in front of the Bucksaw. "You have to come home, Falyn--or at least let us move you into an apartment and your father can get you a decent job."

  "Why?"

  "You know why," she snapped.

  "It's always about appearances, isn't it? You couldn't care less about me."

  "That's not true. I'm appalled that you live up there in that filth," she said, looking up at the cafe's second floor.

  "Don't you see where keeping up appearances has gotten our family? Your husband is sick. Your daughter wants nothing to do with you. And for what?"

  "Because it's important!" she hissed, her hair swaying when she moved her head.

  "To you. It's only important to you. I'm not obligated to live a life I hate so that you can feel important."

  She narrowed her eyes. "What is wrong with our way of life? Because I want you to go to school? Because I want you to live somewhere that doesn't need to be condemned?"

  "When you say it that way, it sounds wonderful. But you can't keep omitting the ugly parts. You can't just erase a pregnancy. You can't hide a baby. You can't pretend your daughter isn't a waitress who doesn't want to be a doctor. Our life is not a highlight reel. It's time you stopped pretending it was."

  She inhaled through her nose. "You have always been supremely selfish. I don't know why I expected tonight to be any different."

  "Don't come back," I said before getting out of the car.

  "Falyn," she called.

  I leaned down as the passenger window lowered.

  "This is the last slap in the face. If your father loses this campaign because of you, we won't offer to help you again."

  "I didn't expect that you would."

  I thanked her for the ride and then left her alone, ignoring the sound of my name.

  By the time I pushed open the glass door, it was night, and I was exhausted--physically, emotionally, and mentally.

  The headlights of the G-Wagon poured through the glass wall as Blaire backed out and then disappeared as she pulled away.

  The dining area was dark, and I was alone. I sat on the orange-and-white tiles, lay on my side, and then curled up into a ball before crying myself to sleep.

  Someone stabbed a finger into my shoulder, and I winced. The person did it again, and I opened my eyes, raising my hand to protect me from another jab.

  My vision sharpened, and I saw Pete standing over me, concern in his eyes.

  I wiped my face, sitting up. "What time is it?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

  I twisted the narrow leather band on my wrist to see the face of my watch. It was five a.m. on Saturday morning. Chuck and Phaedra would be arriving at any moment.

  "Shit," I said, scrambling to my feet.

  Before I could make a dash for the stairs, Pete grabbed my wrist.

  I relaxed my shoulders, covering his hand with mine. "I'm okay."

  He didn't let go.

  "Really. I'm okay."

  Pete touched his thumb to his lips, lifting his pinky in the air.

  "No. I wasn't drinking. The girl Taylor was with in San Diego? She's pregnant."

  Pete's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he released my arm. I hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  I jumped in the shower, pushing down memories of the previous evening before they could surface.

  I was never so glad to be working on a Saturday. It would be busy, and there was a festival this weekend. There was no better distraction than impatient, hungry customers. Without a phone, Taylor would have no way to contact me, other than coming to the Bucksaw, and I knew he was on second shift that day and the next.

  I was conflicted, trying not to cry one minute and fighting anger the next. I worried, knowing he was miles away in the burning woods with so much on his mind. Leaving him alone to deal with Alyssa hadn't helped matters any, but I had created the mess we were all in. Taylor had made it worse. But his job wasn't going to change, and neither were our problems. It was time I bowed out for good. One of us had to do it.

  I walked down the stairs, tying my still damp hair into a bun at the crown of my head, and I heard Phaedra having a one-sided conversation. I pushed through
the double doors and sat on my regular counter in the kitchen, across from the center prep table.

  Hector was washing vegetables, keeping his head down, not saying a word. Pete was peeling potatoes, grimacing at me while he worked.

  "What the hell is going on?" Phaedra asked.

  Chuck was standing behind her with no sign of talking her down. I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

  "And don't tell me it's nothing, that it's no big deal, or that you just had a bad night because nothing that's nothing is going to make you curl up in the fetal position on a tiled floor for an entire night."

  I snapped my opened mouth shut. Phaedra could intimidate anyone, but she had never been so cross with me.

  "Spill it," Phaedra demanded.

  "When I asked Taylor for the break, he went to San Diego to see his brother. He ended up ... with another woman while he was there. He told me about it in Saint Thomas. We've been working through it."

  "And?" she asked, unfazed.

  I sucked in a breath, feeling a lump form in my throat. "She came to the hotel last night. She's pregnant."

  Audible gasps came from all four of my coworkers.

  I quickly wiped away a few escaped tears.

  "She's keeping it?" Chuck asked.

  I nodded.

  Phaedra shifted, trying to uphold her stern demeanor. "What does Taylor have to say?"

  "I didn't stick around long after that."

  Phaedra held out a set of keys and tossed them to me. I caught them, recognizing the key chain.

  "There is also the matter of your parents dropping off your vehicle. You'll have to move it. It's sitting in customer parking."

  "What?" I asked.

  "I told them you didn't want it," Chuck said. "The key is in the ignition."

  I looked down at the shiny metal in my hands. "My car is here? They just left it?"

  "Lord, girl. Aren't you listening?" Phaedra asked.

  "Where should I ... park it?"

  Phaedra pointed in the general direction of the street. "Next to where Kirby usually parks. Well? Get goin'."

  "Why are you angry?" I asked, wiping my cheek with my wrist.

  "I'm not angry, damn it! I'm worried. Beat it. I've got pies to make." She whipped around, wiping her eyes as she marched to the back.

  "Want me to move it?" Chuck asked.

  I shook my head. "I'll do it."

  "Falyn," Chuck said, his voice soft, "Pete finding you on the floor like that is concerning. We wish you'd talk to us."

  "It just happened. I haven't had time to talk to anyone."

  "You should have called."

  "I gave Taylor back the phone."

  "Does he know that?"

  I nodded.

  "So, he knows it's over then."

  I gripped the keys in my palm, feeling the edges digging into my skin. "He has something far more important to concentrate on."

  I turned for the door, but Chuck called out, "Falyn?"

  I stopped but didn't turn around.

  "You should let him decide if you're his priority or not."

  "It's not that I don't think he would choose me," I said over my shoulder. "It's just that I couldn't live with myself if he did."

  After work on Saturday and Sunday nights, instead of waiting for Taylor to come to the Bucksaw after his shift, I would get into my car and drive. I would keep my foot on the gas pedal until I was too tired to continue, trying to get lost and find my way back again.

  Monday, I told myself that Taylor would know better than to show up at my place of work, but at eleven thirty, he and his crew arrived.

  Kirby, already knowing what to do, sat them at the back table, and Phaedra took their orders. I did my best to ignore them, but Dalton made it a point to tell me hello.

  I remained polite, only seeing Taylor from the corners of my eyes. He was staring at me, waiting for me to see him, but I passed by.

  "Falyn! Order up!" Chuck yelled.

  My feet moved even quicker than normal toward Chuck's voice. There was no food in the window, so I knew he was allowing me a moment to collect myself. I slipped through the double doors and escaped to my countertop, letting it support my weight as I leaned against it.

  "You okay, kiddo?" Chuck asked.

  I quickly shook my head. I took a deep breath and then used both of my hands to burst through the swinging doors. If I looked unsure in my decision to end things or showed even a second of weakness, Taylor would be relentless until I gave in. If his post-island actions were any indication, he would never give me a moment of peace.

  Taylor didn't try to make a scene. He ate his food and paid his bill, and then they left.

  By one o'clock the next day, I thought that I'd seen the last of him, but he arrived for lunch again--this time, with Trex in tow. Phaedra waited on them again.

  I passed by their table, and Taylor reached out for me. "Falyn. For the love of Christ."

  Even though the desperation in his voice made me want to break down, I ignored him, and he said nothing else. Just a few of the closer tables noticed, but Phaedra frowned.

  "Falyn, honey," Phaedra said, "this can't go on."

  I nodded, pushing through the double doors, knowing Phaedra was heading to Taylor's table. When she returned, I looked at her from under my brow, ashamed that she had to deal with my problems.

  "I told him he can still come in, but only if he promises not to cause a scene. He's agreed not to bother you."

  I nodded, hugging my middle.

  "Should I tell him not to come back?" Phaedra asked. "I hate to be mean to the poor kid. He looks like a lost kitten."

  "I don't think he would take that well. It's just for the summer, right? He can't drive here every day when he's back in Estes Park. By next summer, if they come back, he'll be over it."

  Phaedra patted my arm. "I don't know, baby. From where I'm standing, it doesn't look like either one of you will." She scrunched her face. "You sure you can't try to work it out? I know it's a mess, but it might be a little easier to fix it together."

  I shook my head and stood up straight before pushing through the kitchen doors and waiting on my tables as if my heart weren't broken.

  I lay in bed that night, swearing to banish every memory of Taylor--the way he'd held me, the way his lips had warmed mine, and the way his voice had softened whenever he told me he loved me.

  It was better than the agony of mourning him.

  That went on for days, and each day he came in, I would tell myself it would get easier to see him. But it didn't.

  Just like Taylor had said, I had to accept that the constant ache was going to be a part of my day. I couldn't waste another moment, another tear, on thoughts of him. His life had veered off the path we were on. If he wouldn't let me forget him, I would learn to live with the pain.

  May ended, and June began.

  The skies grew hazier every day, and reports on television were circulating the globe. The wildfires in our area were at a peak, the firefighters and hotshot crews seeing more occurrences than they had in a decade. Still, Taylor didn't miss a lunch--sometimes, coming in as late as two or three, and other days, hurrying in while covered in soot and sweat.

  By mid-July, Chuck and Phaedra were considering banning Taylor from the restaurant, but no one could justify it. He never caused a ruckus, he always ordered a meal, he always paid and tipped well, and he was always polite. He never approached me or even tried to initiate conversation.

  Taylor would simply show up, waiting patiently for me to give in.

  The Bucksaw had been closed for half an hour, and Kirby and I had just finished our nightly duties when Phaedra broached the subject of how to handle Taylor.

  "You can't ban him for loving Falyn," Kirby said, disgusted with our conversation.

  "It's just not natural," Phaedra said. "And it damn well isn't healthy for either of them. He's got a baby on the way. He needs to be preparing for that."

  I agreed.

 
"He's a good kid, Phaedra," Chuck said. "He misses her. He'll go back to Estes after the season, the baby will come in December, and he'll be busy."

  Kirby pouted. "You're being cruel."

  "Kirby," Phaedra warned.

  "I have always been honest with him. I want nothing to do with adoption," I said.

  "But this is his child!" Kirby screeched.

  "You don't understand," I snapped.

  "No, you're right. I don't," she said. "But that's because it makes no sense."

  "We might be talking about his child, but it poses the same risks as adoption--risks I'm not emotionally capable of taking. She could come back. She could want joint custody or full custody. She could win, Kirby, and she could take the baby to California. I'm not willing to lose another child."

  She paused. "What do you mean ... another child?"

  I covered my face.

  Phaedra put her hands on my shoulders. "Falyn had a baby just after high school. She gave her daughter up."

  Kirby stared at me for a long time. "I'm so sorry." Once the shock wore off, her expression twisted into revulsion. "I'm sorry. I really am. But he was willing to forgo a family for you, and you won't even entertain the idea of a family for him?" she asked. "You think you're saving him or whatever, but you're covering your own ass. You're scared."

  "Kirby!" Phaedra said. "Enough!"

  Kirby hopped off the stool, looking for something to clean. She turned up the volume on the small overhead television in the corner. Looking up at it, she crossed her arms.

  "Falyn?" Kirby said, watching the screen.

  "Leave her be, Kirby," Chuck said.

  "Falyn?" Kirby said again, scrambling for the remote and turning the volume to the maximum level.

  The rest of us watched in horror as a female reporter stood in front of tall grass and burning trees not two hundred yards behind her while the words ALPINE HOTSHOT CREW FEARED MISSING scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

  "That's correct, Phil. The Estes Park crew who have traveled to the Colorado Springs area to help control this fire have not returned or reported in, and officials have listed them as missing."

  I rushed to the television, standing next to Kirby. In the same moment, everything I swore to forget came back to me--the way his skin felt against mine, the dimple that sunk into his chin, his laugh, the security I felt in his arms, and the sadness in his eyes when I'd walked away from him in the hotel.

  "Cassandra, do officials have an idea where the crew is?" the anchorman asked.