He turned toward her. Shadows played across his stoic expression, making him look more rugged, tougher. But it was his eyes, glistening in the low lamp light, that made her feel like she’d just opened a forbidden closet.
“I only found out a few years ago…when I was bailing Trace out of a jam caused by the alcohol.” Ty turned his line of sight toward the bedroom door, away from her. “Funny thing is, he thought I knew or at least suspected. I didn’t. She’d been staying in bed a lot. I thought that was because she was sick and my daddy hadn’t wanted to tell us. She’d cry sometimes. I’d hear her. But I thought that was because she knew she wasn’t well and was worried about us. Little did I know she wasn’t worried about leaving us at all. She was planning on it.”
The pain wasn’t covered by the toneless recitation of facts. It was amplified by it.
Mandy thought back to her father’s death, so unexpected. The toxicology reports had indicated her father had been drinking that evening. And though her father had never had a drinking problem that she knew of, it had taken a long time for her to forgive him for imbibing that night at the stockowners’ association meeting. How long would it have taken her to forgive her father for something like suicide? Forever.
Without thought, she reached across and rested her palm on his denim-clad thigh. She felt the muscle flex beneath, but she didn’t remove her hand. Even if he didn’t want the connection, she did.
“I’m so sorry, Ty,” she finally said when she trusted herself to speak. “I know how hard it is to lose a parent regardless of the circumstances, but to learn later it was suicide…that’s tough to bear, harder to make sense out of it all.”
“I’m not asking for anyone’s pity.” His tone had sharpened.
“And I’m not offering pity. I got too much of that when my own father passed away. But depression is a disease, Ty. It’s an illness. She obviously wasn’t thinking straight.”
“She was thinking straight enough to take a whole lot of pills.” The bitterness in his voice had the stinging effect of lemon juice on a cut. “As Trace tells it, my daddy found her in the bedroom, passed out. By the time he got her to the hospital, it was too late. She was pronounced dead. All the while I thought she was sick and the doctors just couldn’t save her—I thought she had a weak heart. No one told me different.”
“Trace knew though?”
“He’s four years older. He knew. We never talked about it. My father never said a thing. But knowing it now, I should have seen signs, done something.”
Guilt was a heavy burden to carry. Especially when it warred with anger at the very person you felt guilty about. She knew because she had watched JM suffer through it. He’d blamed himself for not going with his son that night. He would have been driving most likely, if he had.
“There’s nothing a child can do to save a parent in a state like that, Ty. Even your father couldn’t save her. He probably didn’t even understand what was happening.”
“He took it to his grave. If Trace hadn’t slipped, I’d never have known. Part of me wishes I’d never found out that I’d been such a disappointment to both my parents.”
“I’m sure that you weren’t a disappointment to either of them.”
“No? My mother couldn’t face being my mother, and my father pretty much cut me out of his life after I took that scholarship. Barely spoke to me.” He shifted on the bed. “But I didn’t do so bad for myself. Thanks to JM.”
“Thanks to your abilities.”
Ty was wealthy, independent, self-reliant. Still, she couldn’t get the thought of him struggling to understand the actions of a mother bent on leaving him permanently. Or what it must have felt like when he found out the truth.
It was like a damp winter wind had blown over her, over them both. She wanted to hold him, comfort him, wrap her arms around him in a hug, but she settled for resting her hand on his leg to reinforce the fragile bond she felt arcing between them. They had both lost a parent. They had both felt abandoned, felt anger…and betrayal.
She tried to imagine what it must have been like for Ty growing up with a cold father and a distant brother. She’d never been alone in her troubles. She’d always had family around to support her. For all of Ty’s lone-wolf nature, he probably could have used some support. Maybe her grandfather knew that. Maybe that was why he’d watched out for Ty.
For the first time, she realized Ty was probably as devastated by the loss of her grandfather as she was and maybe he needed a little support too, given her grandfather had thrown him the same curveball he had thrown her. They were, for better or worse, in this together.