“Alexis, I am here to listen to you, to make you feel comfortable enough to open up to me and rid yourself of information and feelings you do not know how to dissect and comprehend. I’m here to help you, and I want to, but you need to tell me what you’re thinking.”
Still keeping my eyes closed, I confessed what I had held onto since Scott’s attempt at my murder. “Scott pushed me down the stairs. He was the reason I fell and lost our baby. He confessed before he tried to blow up the apartment, but... I think I kind of already knew that he’d pushed me, that he was at fault.”
“Hmmm, it would appear you did. And how does that make you feel?”
“Angry,” I bit out, while turning to face her, my back now to the window.
“That is a reasonable reaction, Alexis.”
“I’m not angry at Gareth, because Scott’s actions were never his fault. I realise that, I do. I’m angry because Bryce will blame himself.”
She pushed her glasses back up to the top of her nose. “He feels responsible for Gareth.”
“Yes, he does, and he will feel responsible for the death of our daughter because of that. I will not let him bear that guilt. Ever! Her death was not his fault. It wasn’t my fault. Fuck, it wasn’t even Gareth’s fault. It was Scott’s.”
“So, you’ve chosen not to tell him the truth?”
“Yes.”
“That’s quite a secret to carry.”
“I know,” I sighed while closing my eyes again. “But, I will carry it. I will bear it to save him more heartache, he has suffered enough. I love him so much I can barely breathe, Jessica, and I can’t handle seeing him torture himself any further. Carrying this secret is nothing compared to seeing that.”
“Well, Dear, that’s why I’m here. You no longer have to carry that secret alone.”
***
Shortly after my session with Jessica ended, we headed to the Melbourne Cemetery in order to pay our respects to Gareth. Bryce had been terribly quiet during the limousine ride, and Lucy had not said much more than him.
I threaded my arm behind Bryce’s back as we walked along the grass to the marquee set up for Gareth’s memorial service.
“I know this is a stupid question on a day like this, but are you alright?” I asked softly as I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” he answered flatly.
I stopped us from walking any further, the marquee only meters away. “Bryce, why are you angry?”
“I’m not.”
“You are. You’re angry with Gareth, and you’re angry with yourself.”
He twitched his eye ever so slightly, and I noticed his free hand fist into a ball.
I grabbed hold of it and brought it to my lips, kissing it tenderly. “For starters, you shouldn’t be angry at yourself. We’ve gone through this. None of it was your fault. So please, let it go. And secondly, you shouldn’t be angry with Gareth. Scott yes, Gareth no.”
He gave me a slight roll of the eye.
“Bryce, don’t blame Gareth for Scott. Gareth was a hero. He saved your brother, pulled him free of a burning car wreck without a second thought. He saved me, Bryce.” A tear rolled down my cheek. He lifted his hand and wiped it away like so many times before. “He saved my life. He fought back, took control. He allowed me to get away. Gareth was a hero, don’t ever forget that. Don’t let Scott mar your good memories of your cousin. A cousin you cared deeply for, a cousin you loved like a brother. Don’t be angry with Gareth, okay?” It was now my turn to wipe a tear from his eye.
“Okay,” he answered with mustered courage, then pulling me to him, he placed a renewed kiss on my forehead. “Let’s go say goodbye.”
I gently touched his cheek. “I love you, Bryce Clark. You are an amazing man.”
He went to say something, and I could tell by the look on his face that his response was going to negate my words to him, so I put my finger to his lips then continued toward the group of people that were slowly gathering.
We sat under the make-shift marquee in the hot summer sun, listening to Gareth’s life story, a story of achievement, of loss, of sadness, but also of friendship and family. Looking around, Gareth had many friends and family that cared for him. There were a lot of people I did not know, but there were also a lot of people I did know, and it warmed my heart that they had come to pay their respects. I noticed Derek, Abigail, and Santa, together with other board members of Clark Incorporated. I also noticed Jessica, Patrick the Head Designer, and even Clarissa. But it was Sam who stood beside Abigail, with her head hung low and a tissue scrunched in her hand that had me catching a breath. She looked so sad, so torn, so heartbroken. It really was awful.