Emily Duvall's Blog - Posts Tagged "read"

All of my Back to You fans are in for a treat! Beginning November 2, I am posting One Winter Night, the short story of Phillip Beckett, one of the side characters from Back to You. Over five days of posts on Instagram, Facebook, & Goodreads, you can follow along to see where his life takes him one year after everything fell apart. Will he find happiness or will he struggle to get his life back to together?

-Emily

Three weeks went by and Phillip still got a sick feeling in his stomach over the mystery woman. The EMTs had swooped in and had taken her away while the police got his statement. Nobody would tell him her name, and everything happened so fast that he found himself back at home without a scratch on him. But he the pain in her eyes he couldn't forget. That haunted look of loss he recognized in his own reflection in the mirror this time of year.

Phillip flashed his eyes up at the computer screen. A contract from an important client awaited his attention. Money and numbers he could understand. So black-and-white, nothing left to interpretation with figures, gains, and losses.

Commotion sounded from the hallway and he looked to his open door.

An older woman with gray hair pushed a younger woman in a wheelchair, paused in front of his door. “Excuse me,” the younger one said.

Phillip froze. The woman in the wheelchair. Discolored bruises on her face. An arm in a sling. One foot stretched out in a cast. She looked broken in half. “It’s you,” he said, standing.

“By ‘you,’ you mean Leah Carson,” she answered and jutted up her chin. “You’re Phillip?”

“Yes,” he said. “How did you find me?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

He gestured at her. “How bad is it?”

“Let’s start with the small stuff. A broken arm. A busted kneecap. Fractures in three spots in my ankle. Oh, and the four toes I had amputated along with a shattered foot."

“I am so sorry,” he said, knowing how insufficient those words sounded. “I want to make this right. I’ll pay for all of your medical bills, no questions asked.”

She raised the sling. “I don’t want your money. You’ve ruined my life, my career, my…everything. Caroline,” she said to the stone-faced woman standing behind her. “Wheel me over to Mr. Beckett.”

He met her halfway. He narrowed his eyes at the phone in her hand.

She shoved the screen in his face. “Read,” she demanded.

Phillip’s eyes scanned the text: NIGHT BEFORE OPENING PERFORMANCE AT KENNEDY CENTER, PRINCIPAL BALLERINA SUFFERS DEVASTATING INJURIES...

His gaze jumped to hers. “Christ. I broke you.”

“I’ve worked my entire life for this role,” she continued, pulling her phone back. Tears shined in her eyes. “Thanks to you, I have nothing. I can’t dance with one toe. This role,” she said with quivering lips, “was once-in-a-lifetime. Everything is messed-up…All of it. Thanks to you. Keep your money.”
Until the next post...

December inched closer to Christmas and Phillip couldn’t stop thinking about Leah and what he’d done. If she didn’t want his money or his apology, so be it. He’d just as soon forget about her, but the knot in his stomach, thick with guilt, ate away at him. He couldn’t stand that he’d been the catalyst for someone else’s unraveling.

He walked home from his office. The stretch of restaurants and businesses of the downtown looked busy and warm on the inside. The sight of his condo building came into view, a gray high rise set against a starry night sky.

A coffee shop on the corner, one of his favorites, came into view and he decided to grab a cup. Upon entering, he stopped and cursed under his breath. Leah in her wheelchair poised in front of a table. She looked up from her menu. Their eyes met. Damn. She did something to him. It wasn’t like it had been with Allison. Everything between them had been…neat and shallow, but looking at Leah with anger in her eyes and her lips pouted in annoyance, she seemed genuine. And he needed genuine. He also needed to a chance to make things right.

“No way,” she said adamantly.

Phillip removed his coat, slung it over the back of the chair, and sat down. “How does one get to be a ballerina?” he said.

A fiery retort hung in her eyes, but her cheeks and lips softened. “I can tell you how one stops being one.” She pressed her lips together, relented, and added, “Years of practice. My whole life.”

“I read up on you after I found out who you are,” he said. “You are quite accomplished in the art of ballet.”

“I might know a little bit about you too." Her eyes met his. “Your ex-wife is a friend of a friend.”

His stomach tightened. Allison couldn’t taint whatever this was, and he made sure Leah knew the subject was off-limits. “I never talk about her.”

“Then let’s talk about something else.”

Only 2 more posts!

They talked for over an easy hour at the coffee shop. They said good-bye without exchanging numbers or promises to call. Phillip left wanting more. Wanting to know he'd see her again. Wanting to see that face again and those lips and eyes and just...more. But he was afraid that she might want him too and if she did, would it ever work? Would she always be resentful?

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see her the next day on a sidewalk on Wisconsin Avenue near the National Cathedral. The same older woman from that day in his office pushed Leah in her wheelchair. He asked the cab driver to pull over and let him out. The drinks he was supposed to have with his friends Alex and Olivia could wait.

“Leah!” he said, running up to her. “Hi,” he told the wheelchair-pusher. “Mind if I do this?”

“I’ll walk ahead of you,” the lady said to Leah and got out of his way with a scowl.

“Your mother?” he said, grinning.
“My aunt.”

“Is she always so pleasant?”

“She’s pushing me around in thirty-degree weather hoping we make it to my house before the snow starts. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry you can’t dance anymore. I know what it’s like to have your life ripped away from you. I didn't tell you that last night, but I wanted to." This time the apology was sincere. He meant it.

She sighed, then, “It’s okay, Phillip.”

“I want to make this okay for you. Please, let me take some financial responsibility.”

“I haven’t decided whether to sue you.”

He didn’t see the start of a smile on her lips. “I’d understand if you did.”

“The moment you hit me," she said, serious again. “Were you on your phone?”

“No. I’d just put it down.”

“You were distracted though.”

He stopped the wheelchair and met her around at the front to face her. “I’m paying attention now.”

Her aunt, who’d kept a good distance, turned and put her hand on her hip. “I need go," she said.

“I know this is going to sound sudden, but…” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his business card. He opened the flap on her coat and tucked it inside.“If you’re not doing anything Christmas Eve…”

“I have plans,” she said, looking offended. “Don’t you?”

"I should get going too," he said. He did not have plans. Because he wasn’t celebrating this year. He wasn’t celebrating ever again.

One more post!

Christmas Eve rolled in with a thin layer of fog. He poured himself a glass of fifty-year-old whiskey and stood in front of the window, arms crossed over his chest. White lights twinkled on the trees lining the sidewalk down below. His family had called, asking him to reconsider his decision to be alone. He could have been anywhere else--charity events, fundraisers, drinks and dinners with friends...normally he’d look forward to busyness of the season. But this year was different. He was different. After his drink, he'd open his laptop and get lost in his work. That was his life now. And maybe he'd distract himself enough not to think about how over eager he must have sounded to ask Leah to spend this sacred evening with him.

The knock at the door caught him off-guard. His family, he thought, irritated. Of course they'd come anyway. With too much food and exuberance. He flung open the door. "You didn't have to come," he clipped.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, but you asked if I wanted to come over,” Leah said, looking up at him from her wheelchair, gorgeous and miserable all at once. “My Aunt is down stairs, if you've changed your mind?"

“I haven’t changed my mind," he said. "I thought you were my family. They--never mind. You're beautiful by the way."

She smiled weakly. "Everyone says I should hate you, but I don't. I've got a tough recovery in front of me. I can't promise I won't be resentful...and I can't promise you anything right now. But I'm here and I don't know if that's right or wrong or bad timing or what.”

Phillip grinned for the first time in months. He had a feeling about her and he wouldn't give up so easy. He stretched out his hand to take hers. "We can figure all of that out later. For now, come inside, let me take care of you. It is, after all, just one winter night."

***THE END***
Thank you for following along! This was so much fun. Ever since writing Back to You, I've always wanted to check back in on Phillip. And who knows if this is only one night for Phillip & Leah or...just the beginning. Time will tell. I'll repost the story to my website http://www.emilyduvall.com.