Chapter 43

Sara

I knew the story coming out was really hard on Ryan, and I tried to stay as strong and supportive for him as possible. On Sunday, after telling me the whole story, I then spent the day watching him fielding phone calls from his PR agent, crafting and putting out statements, and rehashing all the painful memories of his past. He then talked to carefully-selected new outlets about his past. I had to admit, his actions were admirable. The way he had the ability to sound genuine and to own up to his past mistakes while still sounding hopeful for the future was pretty amazing. He surprised me every time I turned around, and I felt good about the fact that I finally knew everything about his youth. I’d known he had a rough childhood, but I could have never imagined that it was that deep and that painful.

He had done the only thing he knew how to do as a kid to combat what his terrible father was doing to his mother and his sisters. He had no guidance, no love from the outside, so he found money wherever he could. He kept his sisters alive, and his mom, too, and that was something to be said for someone who should have been coloring and playing with Legos, not drug running for a gang. It was heartbreaking and eye-opening knowing that even that day, somewhere in New York and other places, there were children doing things that even adults shouldn’t have to do to survive. Growing up in Bonanza had sheltered me from those hard truths, making me think every child grew up like I did with an entire town of love to raise them. I’d grown up where if a family fell on hard times, everyone gathered together to help them through it. No child went to bed hungry in Bonanza, but that wasn’t true for the rest of the world. It was heartbreaking, to say the least, but I found a new respect for Ryan that I hadn’t had before.

Then, without warning, my phone started to ring. I knew I shouldn’t answer a number I didn’t know, but the vet in me couldn’t help but do so. What if it were someone with an emergency, and I wasn’t there to guide them to someone closer who could help? So, I answered.

“Hello, this is Sara,” I said.

“Hi, this is Nancy Elwood, I’m a journalist for the Rag Online,” she said. “I was calling to find out if you would give a comment on the most recently released story on Ryan Reines and his sordid past.”

I sat there for a minute, thinking about what that woman had just said. She was a journalist, calling me for a comment about a past I had nothing to do with. On top of that, she’d called it sordid like he had done something that anyone in his situation wouldn’t have done. I shook my head and pulled the phone away from my ear, hanging it up. I was freaking out and irritated at the same exact time. If that had been the only phone call that day, I could have dealt with it, but it was only the beginning of the circus. I didn’t tell Ryan. I felt like he had enough on his plate to deal with without worrying about whether I was upset or not. I kept ignoring the incoming calls and sending them to voice mail. After about three hours, my voice mail was filled, so I left it that way, figuring if I recognized the number, I would answer. Otherwise, they were out of luck. I knew that wasn’t a permanent decision. I knew I had to come up with something to do or say to these people so they would slowly stop calling me. This was not a story I should have an opinion on, much less give it to the press to misconstrue and cause problems between Ryan and me.

The truth of the matter was, I had no idea what to do in this situation. I had never spoken to the media, much less been the center of attention for them. I didn’t know what the protocol was. I didn’t have a PR team feeding me the right answers to these questions, and I was not used to people trying to get things out of me like that. I hated every second of it. I went through several different responses I could give, including telling the press Ryan was a great man who faced terrible circumstances as a child and grew up to be successful to just giving the journalist hell for even approaching me. None of them seemed like the right answer, though, and I knew if I gave one a quote, the rest of them would come piling down on me, and I’d never be able to use my phone again.

It wasn’t that I was ashamed of Ryan. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I was proud of him for moving through a hard time in life, for being responsible for his family, for protecting the ones he loved, and ultimately, for pulling himself out of the trenches and making a really amazing life for himself. The problem with it was, I hated the spotlight. I hated the press getting anything from me about my feelings or my course in life. I hated having my name displayed on the front pages of newspapers, and I hated that they would twist and turn my words into something they weren’t. It was a messy situation, and I wanted to stay out of it the best I could and keep Ryan out of that part of it too.

So, when the next call came through, I answered and declined to comment. Then, without thought, I turned off my cell phone and went back to my room, shutting myself in there for the day. I was torn, emotionally, physically, and mentally torn. I sent Alison an email to let her know that she could contact me through there at that point, that my cell phone was off. I shoved it in the drawer and just lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, unsure of what to do next. I wanted Ryan, to be comforted by him, but he was so busy and so stressed, I didn’t want to put anything else on him, not even for a second. He was constantly worrying about me, and I needed to make sure that was not something plaguing his mind at that moment.

Later, I came out of my room to get something to eat. I was going to make us both something, but when I walked down the hall, I saw he was shut away in his office, and I could hear him talking with irritation in his voice. I fixed myself some food and sat at the table by myself eating it. I didn’t even want to watch television, too afraid to turn on the news and see something about the story on there. The last thing I needed was to see my face or Ryan’s on cable television. That would just send me right over the edge. So, instead, I sat alone in the silence of the house, eating my soup, wishing things would just go back to normal. But what was normal those days? It felt like I had been on a roller coaster for the last month.

When I was done eating, I washed off my dishes and headed back to my room, pausing for a moment outside of the office door but figuring he was too busy to be bothered. I closed myself back in my room and lay down on the bed, drifting off to sleep for a nap. The whole time I was dreaming about Ryan being in the streets, being a young boy. I woke up in a cold sweat and went into the bathroom and rinsed off my face. I stood staring at myself in the mirror, shaking my head and breathing deeply. This was the thing that was going to push me over the edge of my sanity. I wanted to be there with Ryan, but part of me really wished I was home with my house and the horses. I walked out of the room and back down the hall to see if I could catch Ryan again, but he was still hidden away in his office with the door shut.

I spent the day alone, going through the books on the shelves, trying to find anything I could do to occupy my mind. Reading helped a lot, but in the end, I had to put the books down. My mind was wandering too far off the path to keep track of what the book was saying. I was usually a very focused person, someone who could push everything out of their mind and focus on the task at hand. I had learned that when it came to caring for animals. Some situations were dire, and you couldn’t let your personal life get in the way. Today wasn’t one of the days I could do that, though, and I went to bed that night alone, wishing things would calm down by morning.

When I woke up the next morning, I reached for my phone but remembered again why I had put it in the drawer. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and pulled on some shorts and a tank top. When I opened the door, I could hear someone in the kitchen, and I got a little excited, figuring I would get the chance to see Ryan finally. I opened the door and smiled, seeing him sitting in his chair, reading the paper and eating an English muffin. I grabbed a cup of coffee and meandered over, sitting down across from him. I waited for him to notice, sitting there staring at the back side of the paper. Finally, he put it down and smiled over at me.

“So,” I said. “What are our plans for the day?”

“Well, I have to do damage control,” he sighed. “And then I have to make the rounds on the morning show circuit. I’m sorry, Sara. I know this isn’t what you had in mind when you came to New York.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “It’s not your fault, and I’m here waiting for you when you’re done.”

“Thanks,” he said, folding the paper and standing up. “I’ve got to hit the road. The traffic will be thick, and I got to get to the studio and get set up for the interview.”

“All right,” I said, faking a smile. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he said, bending over and kissing the top of my head.

Then he was out the door without another word about anything. I sat sipping my coffee, listening as the front door shut behind him. The house fell quiet again, and I was left to my own devices. I felt deflated almost, hoping for a better outcome than the day before. Not only would he not be able to talk to me, he wasn’t even going to be in the house for the day. I picked up my coffee and went out into the living room, settling in on the couch. I guess I would have to watch my handsome billionaire on the television like everyone else.