Chapter 10: The Space Between
We drove to the hospital that night.
I didn't have to go.
Ryan didn't ask me to.
But I put on my coat and got in the car, and he looked at me once and didn't say anything, and that was enough.
The ward was quiet.
A nurse met us at the desk and told us Diane was stable — a cardiac episode, not a full attack, but serious enough that they were keeping her for observation.
Her sister, Carol, was already there.
She stood when she saw Ryan and hugged him for a long moment.
She looked at me over his shoulder.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
Like she meant it.
Ryan went in first.
I waited in the corridor with Thomas and Carol.
Carol sat beside me.
"I heard about the wedding," she said quietly.
"About the dress."
I looked at her.
"Diane called me that night.
She was — not remorseful, exactly.
But shaken.
Thomas had frightened her." Carol folded her hands in her lap.
"She's been frightened of losing Ryan for a long time.
Since before you, even.
Since his father started pulling away." She paused.
"That doesn't excuse it.
I'm not saying it does."
"I know," I said.
"She loves him.
In her way.
It's just — her way has always been about holding on too tight." Carol looked down the corridor.
"She's done it her whole life.
With Thomas.
With Ryan.
With anything she was afraid of losing."
I thought about the white gown in the garment bag.
The receipt dated three weeks before the wedding.
The challenge filed two days after our meeting.
Holding on too tight.
"She filed a legal challenge," I said.
"I know.
She told me." Carol was quiet for a moment.
"I told her it was a mistake."
"Did she listen?"
"She never listens.
Not until something stops her." A pause.
"Maybe this will."
Ryan came out of the room after twenty minutes.
He looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour.
"She's awake," he said.
"She's asking to see you, Laura."
I looked at him.
"You don't have to," he said immediately.
"I told her I wasn't going to pressure you."
"What does she want to say?"
"I don't know.
She wouldn't tell me." He met my eyes.
"Whatever you decide, I'm with you."
I sat there for a moment.
The corridor was very quiet.
Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeped steadily.
I thought about Eleanor's letter.
*You belong.*
I thought about my grandmother's dress, pale blue under the reception lights.
I thought about Diane's face when Thomas had placed that photograph on the table.
Not just caught — afraid.
The face of someone who had realized, too late, that the thing she'd been trying to prevent had happened anyway.
"I'll go in," I said.
The room was dim.
Diane was propped against the pillows, smaller than she looked anywhere else.
The careful composure was gone.
She looked her age, and tired, and something I hadn't expected.
She looked ashamed.
"Laura." Her voice was quieter than I'd ever heard it.
I sat in the chair beside the bed.
She looked at her hands for a moment.
"I don't know how to do this," she said.
"I don't — I'm not good at this."
"I know," I said.
"I told myself I was protecting the family.
The collection, the estate, Ryan's future.
I told myself you were — that it was too soon to know if you were the right—" She stopped.
"That's not true.
That's not why." She looked up.
"I was afraid.
That's all it was.
I was afraid he wouldn't need me anymore."
I didn't say anything.
"I ruined your grandmother's dress." Her voice broke slightly on the last word.
"I knew what it meant to you.
I knew, and I did it anyway.
And I—" She pressed her lips together.
"I'm sorry, Laura.
Not the way I said it in the bridal room.
I mean it."
The monitor beeped.
The corridor was quiet.
"I know you filed a challenge," I said.
She closed her eyes briefly.
"I'll withdraw it," she said.
"Tomorrow, when I can reach Marcus.
I'll withdraw it."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Eleanor knew," I said.
"She knew what was happening in this family.
She left me those pieces because she wanted me to know I was wanted here." I paused.
"She saw you, Diane.
And she still wanted me to belong."
Diane's face crumpled.
Just for a second.
Then she pressed it back together with the effort of someone who had spent a lifetime doing exactly that.
"She was a remarkable woman," she said quietly.
"She was."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"I can't promise it will be easy," I said finally.
"Between us.
I can't promise I'll forget what happened.
But I'm not going to spend my marriage at war with you.
That's not what I want."
Diane nodded.
She didn't try to say anything more.
I stood.
I put my hand briefly on hers — just for a second — and then I walked back out into the corridor.
Ryan was waiting.
He looked at my face.
"She's going to withdraw the challenge," I said.
He exhaled.
"And?" he asked.
"And we'll see." I took his hand.
"That's all.
We'll see."
Thomas was standing a little apart from us, looking out the window at the dark car park below.
I walked over and stood beside him.
"She's going to be alright," I said.
"I think."
He nodded slowly.
"Which one?" he said.
I looked at him.
He turned to look at me, and there was something in his face — not quite a smile, but close to one.
The tired, honest expression of a man who had finally said the things he'd held for thirty-one years, and found that saying them had not destroyed everything, only changed it.
"Both of them," I said.
He nodded again.
He looked back out the window.
May you like
"Good," he said quietly.
"That's good."
