Post by sensible on Jul 31, 2009 12:21:44 GMT -5
CHAPTER ONE
The woman sitting at the bar ordered another Scotch. “Please, make it a double this time,” she slurred. Her head lolled backward as she finished her most recent drink, and then carelessly slammed the glass back on to the counter.
“Really miss, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” the bartender said softly.
“Enough? . . . Enough? Yeah, yeah, I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of just about everything,” she said, laying her head down on the bar. “I’ve just about had enough of just about everything . . .”
The bartender looked at the woman pityingly. She was beautiful. Even in spite of the dirt that was on her clothing.
“Miss,” he said, “What is your name? Is there someone I call?”
“My name? My name? My name was ‘Mrs. Ridge Forrester,’” she said as she held up her glass as if in a toast. “But no, not now, now ever. It’s over . . . it’s – it’s – it’s really over,” she choked on the last three words. She began sobbing uncontrollably. The bartender leaned over the bar and tried to console her.
“Now miss,” he said. “A beautiful woman like yourself, I can’t believe that any man would walk out on you. Surely . . .”
“But you don’t understand,” she sobbed raising her head off the bar, “He – he – he has waffled between the two of us for 20 years. Every time I try to move on with my life, thinking he is out of it for good, he finds a way back in again.” She raised the glass to her lips and gulped the drink down quickly. She dropped the glass on the bar.
The bartender shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry miss, but I can’t serve you anymore tonight.”
“Oh, please, please, just one more, please?” She begged.
“This is the last one,” he said firmly. “Give me a phone number and I’ll call someone to come and pick you up.”
“I – I – I – will, I promise,” she said as she greedily accepted the offered drink.
She held the glass in her hand and looked at it, as if she wanted to get lost in its contents. Her tear filled eyes, now bloodshot from the alcohol, tried desperately to focus. She thought back to the days events and bowed her head in shame. What was she thinking? What on earth was she thinking. How could she think she could ever compete with her. She clumsily placed the drink on the bar, spilling some of the liquor, and rested her head on her folded arms on the bar. How could she even think she could win Ridge. How . . . How . . . How . . .
Brooke stood at the door of the Beach House, holding the reins of her horse, looking astonishingly at Ridge, at the scene before her. Taylor jaw dropped open at the sight of her nemisis, hoping against hope that her dream of marrying Ridge would not turn into a nightmare.
"Brooke?" Ridge said as he looked at her disheveled appearance. "What are you doing here?"
"I was waiting for you at the beach, Ridge. You text me to meet you at the beach," Brooke said softly. "Forgive me for interrupting your ceremony. I'll leave." Brooke turned to her horse to back him out of the door onto the patio.
"Brooke, wait!" Ridge said. He walked over to her. "I didn't text you, Brooke. I made it clear that I was going to marry Taylor."
Brooke pulled out her phone. She showed the text messages to him. Ridge read the conversation that she saved on her phone. He looked perplexed. "I'm sorry Brooke," he said, scratching his head. "But I these are not from me."
"Then who, Ridge?" Brooke asked.
Ridge turned his head and looked at Taylor. She was standing so still, as if drawing a breath would cause the dream she worked so hard for, to disappear. His gaze went to Steffy and Thomas. Both children were looking down at the floor, trying to avert eye contact with their father. Ridge walked over to them.
"Did you send these text messages?" he asked them, shoving the phone in their faces.
"D-Dad," Steffy began.
"Stop," Ridge said raising his hand, interrupting her. "I can't believe you could be this cruel. Especially you, Steffy, considering Brooke supported your relationship with Rick, which caused us to separate in the first place."
"Ridge," Stephanie stepped in. "This doesn't matter anyway, you are marrying Taylor. The children just didn't want any uninvited guests to ruin it for their parents' special day." Stephanie was shooting daggers at Brooke. "You've made your decision, so what harm is done now, really?"
"We don't want you here!" Thomas shouted at Brooke, and he ran towards her from across the room. This sudden movement caused Brooke's horse to rear on his hind legs. Brooke yanked on the reins, trying to control the horse, talking soothingly to him, but the horse would have none of it. The horse's hooves struck Brooke in the head and shoulders multiple times, knocking Brooke down on the patio, as it reacted to the sudden attack brought on by Thomas.
"Thomas! No! NO! NO!" Ridge shouted, he raced over to Brooke who was lying lifeless on the patio. He placed his body over her, shielding her from the horse's trampling hooves, as the horse, finally free, found his way off the patio of the beach house and galloped away down the beach.
Donna screamed Brooke's name as she and Eric moved swiftly over to Ridge who was also injured by the horse's hooves, striking him as it tried to escape.
"Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!" she cried over and over. Ridge finally managed to lift himself up with one arm. He looked down at the bloodied body.
"B-Brooke? B-Brooke?" Ridge sobbed. "Please, Brooke, don't leave me, please, please, please, please," Ridge's head rested on Brooke's chest as pleaded with her. He sobbed uncontrollably. "Please, Brooke, don't leave me. I can't live without you."
"Someone call 911 NOW!" Eric yelled. "Ridge, come on, come on, we have to get her to a hospital quickly."
"D-Dad, I think I've broken my arm," Ridge whispered to Eric.
"Oh, son," Eric replied, "Let me help you up."
"No! NO! I don't want to leave her, Dad," he said helplessly. "I can't let her go . . . not now . . . I'll never let her go!"
Taylor was still standing there, taking in the actions before her. The bouquet of flowers that she held in her hands had long fallen to the floor. Steffy was standing beside her, her hand covering her mouth. Her dark eyes glistened as she watched her father refuse to leave Brooke's side.
Thomas went to his father's side. "Dad, come on. Everyone is waiting. Mom is waiting. Get up, Dad. GET UP!" Thomas said through clenched teeth, as he was yanking on Ridge's shoulder. "Come on, Dad. Do the right thing . . . "
Ridge looked at his son, seeing the fanatical stare in his eyes, said softly, "No son, there will be no wedding today."
Sirens were blaring as they pulled up to the beach house. Paramedics arrived on the scene. They carefully helped Ridge onto a gurney and then attended to Brooke.
"There is slight pulse," the first paramedic said, moving quickly to start an IV. A backboard was brought and Brooke was gingerly lifted onto the board and placed on a second gurney, and wheeled her out quickly into the ambulance.
The medics started to put Ridge in a second ambulance. "No! No!" he blurted out, "I want to ride with her, please, please. Please let me ride with her. She needs me . . . I need her!"
Eric stepped up and spoke softly to the paramedic, "If you can, it would be best for Brooke if she felt Ridge was with her."
"Eric!" Stephanie hissed rushing up to him. "NO!"
Eric turned to his former wife. "Yes, Stephanie. This whole ceremony, everything about it stinks. This isn't the way for Ridge and Taylor to start out married life. Not like this . . . not through trickery. If this marriage is going to happen, it will happen in spite of this, but not today."
"Grandpa!" Thomas moaned. "My Mom and Dad want to get married! It has to happen today!"
"No, Thomas." Eric reached for Donna. "Let's follow in the car."
Taylor, Thomas and Steffy stood helplessly in the beach house, watching everyone leave.
"Don't worry, Taylor." Stephanie came up to them. "This marriage WILL happen."
"Yeah, Mom," Steffy echoed her grandmother, "Dad will come back to you, he always does."
"No," Taylor whispered. "Not this time. I'm not who he loves." She bent down and picked up her tattered bouquet of flowers. She stared at them for a few moments. "No, I'm not the one he loves." She walked by the kitchen counter and dropped the flowers in the wastebasket that sitting there, and ran out the door. She continued to run out onto the beach, towards the ocean.
“Mom! Mom!” Steffy cried running after her. “Mom, wait!” She caught up with her mother, pulling on her arm, causing Taylor to fall onto the sandy beach. Steffy fell to her knees next to her. “Mom, please, don’t leave. We have to wait here for Dad to come back,” she cried.
Thomas approached his mother and sister. “I should have killed that bitch!” he screamed. “That bitch and her f*cking children, all of them! Get them all out of our lives once and for all and leave my Dad alone. I hate them. I HATE THEM ALL! Grandma was right. We’ll never be rid of them until they are all dead.”
Taylor was startled at Thomas’ outburst. She looked up at her son so animated with hate. How did this all happen? Her poor children have suffered so much. First the loss of Phoebe, and Thomas’ difficulty of coping with that. His attempted murder of Rick and his escaping incarceration by the grace of Brooke and Rick. She got to her feet and grabbed her son. “No, Thomas! Don’t talk like that. You don’t know what you’re saying. Hush!” She grabbed both Steffy’s and Thomas’ hands and held them tight. “Now look, both of you. Go back home. I need to be alone for awhile. I will be fine. But you both need to go home and stay there. I don’t want you talking to anyone. Not Dad, not Grandma . . . NO ONE! Please do as I say.” She placed Steffy’s and Thomas’ hands together urging them to do as she asked. “Go home.”
“But Mom, where are you going?” Steffy spoke softly.
“I need some time by myself. I need to think about my life, our lives. Now, please!” Taylor begged them, “Please go home and let me be for a while.”
Taylor stood there and watched her children walk away from her and go back to the beachhouse. Tears started to stream down her face. What has happened to her children? How she missed Phoebe. How she had such high hopes of reuniting with Ridge and putting the pieces, as best she could, back together for her remaining children . . . for herself. She collapsed to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably.
Finally rising to her feet, she wiped the tears from her eyes with her hands. She began walking. She didn’t care where, just as long as she was as far away from this place as she could get. She walked passed the little restaurants and bistros that littered the beach along the coast. She walked into a bistro and sat at the bar. The bartender approached her, “What will it be?”
“Um, I think I just want a coke,” she said softly. “No, no, make that a Scotch.”
The woman sitting at the bar ordered another Scotch. “Please, make it a double this time,” she slurred. Her head lolled backward as she finished her most recent drink, and then carelessly slammed the glass back on to the counter.
“Really miss, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” the bartender said softly.
“Enough? . . . Enough? Yeah, yeah, I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of just about everything,” she said, laying her head down on the bar. “I’ve just about had enough of just about everything . . .”
The bartender looked at the woman pityingly. She was beautiful. Even in spite of the dirt that was on her clothing.
“Miss,” he said, “What is your name? Is there someone I call?”
“My name? My name? My name was ‘Mrs. Ridge Forrester,’” she said as she held up her glass as if in a toast. “But no, not now, now ever. It’s over . . . it’s – it’s – it’s really over,” she choked on the last three words. She began sobbing uncontrollably. The bartender leaned over the bar and tried to console her.
“Now miss,” he said. “A beautiful woman like yourself, I can’t believe that any man would walk out on you. Surely . . .”
“But you don’t understand,” she sobbed raising her head off the bar, “He – he – he has waffled between the two of us for 20 years. Every time I try to move on with my life, thinking he is out of it for good, he finds a way back in again.” She raised the glass to her lips and gulped the drink down quickly. She dropped the glass on the bar.
The bartender shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry miss, but I can’t serve you anymore tonight.”
“Oh, please, please, just one more, please?” She begged.
“This is the last one,” he said firmly. “Give me a phone number and I’ll call someone to come and pick you up.”
“I – I – I – will, I promise,” she said as she greedily accepted the offered drink.
She held the glass in her hand and looked at it, as if she wanted to get lost in its contents. Her tear filled eyes, now bloodshot from the alcohol, tried desperately to focus. She thought back to the days events and bowed her head in shame. What was she thinking? What on earth was she thinking. How could she think she could ever compete with her. She clumsily placed the drink on the bar, spilling some of the liquor, and rested her head on her folded arms on the bar. How could she even think she could win Ridge. How . . . How . . . How . . .
Brooke stood at the door of the Beach House, holding the reins of her horse, looking astonishingly at Ridge, at the scene before her. Taylor jaw dropped open at the sight of her nemisis, hoping against hope that her dream of marrying Ridge would not turn into a nightmare.
"Brooke?" Ridge said as he looked at her disheveled appearance. "What are you doing here?"
"I was waiting for you at the beach, Ridge. You text me to meet you at the beach," Brooke said softly. "Forgive me for interrupting your ceremony. I'll leave." Brooke turned to her horse to back him out of the door onto the patio.
"Brooke, wait!" Ridge said. He walked over to her. "I didn't text you, Brooke. I made it clear that I was going to marry Taylor."
Brooke pulled out her phone. She showed the text messages to him. Ridge read the conversation that she saved on her phone. He looked perplexed. "I'm sorry Brooke," he said, scratching his head. "But I these are not from me."
"Then who, Ridge?" Brooke asked.
Ridge turned his head and looked at Taylor. She was standing so still, as if drawing a breath would cause the dream she worked so hard for, to disappear. His gaze went to Steffy and Thomas. Both children were looking down at the floor, trying to avert eye contact with their father. Ridge walked over to them.
"Did you send these text messages?" he asked them, shoving the phone in their faces.
"D-Dad," Steffy began.
"Stop," Ridge said raising his hand, interrupting her. "I can't believe you could be this cruel. Especially you, Steffy, considering Brooke supported your relationship with Rick, which caused us to separate in the first place."
"Ridge," Stephanie stepped in. "This doesn't matter anyway, you are marrying Taylor. The children just didn't want any uninvited guests to ruin it for their parents' special day." Stephanie was shooting daggers at Brooke. "You've made your decision, so what harm is done now, really?"
"We don't want you here!" Thomas shouted at Brooke, and he ran towards her from across the room. This sudden movement caused Brooke's horse to rear on his hind legs. Brooke yanked on the reins, trying to control the horse, talking soothingly to him, but the horse would have none of it. The horse's hooves struck Brooke in the head and shoulders multiple times, knocking Brooke down on the patio, as it reacted to the sudden attack brought on by Thomas.
"Thomas! No! NO! NO!" Ridge shouted, he raced over to Brooke who was lying lifeless on the patio. He placed his body over her, shielding her from the horse's trampling hooves, as the horse, finally free, found his way off the patio of the beach house and galloped away down the beach.
Donna screamed Brooke's name as she and Eric moved swiftly over to Ridge who was also injured by the horse's hooves, striking him as it tried to escape.
"Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!" she cried over and over. Ridge finally managed to lift himself up with one arm. He looked down at the bloodied body.
"B-Brooke? B-Brooke?" Ridge sobbed. "Please, Brooke, don't leave me, please, please, please, please," Ridge's head rested on Brooke's chest as pleaded with her. He sobbed uncontrollably. "Please, Brooke, don't leave me. I can't live without you."
"Someone call 911 NOW!" Eric yelled. "Ridge, come on, come on, we have to get her to a hospital quickly."
"D-Dad, I think I've broken my arm," Ridge whispered to Eric.
"Oh, son," Eric replied, "Let me help you up."
"No! NO! I don't want to leave her, Dad," he said helplessly. "I can't let her go . . . not now . . . I'll never let her go!"
Taylor was still standing there, taking in the actions before her. The bouquet of flowers that she held in her hands had long fallen to the floor. Steffy was standing beside her, her hand covering her mouth. Her dark eyes glistened as she watched her father refuse to leave Brooke's side.
Thomas went to his father's side. "Dad, come on. Everyone is waiting. Mom is waiting. Get up, Dad. GET UP!" Thomas said through clenched teeth, as he was yanking on Ridge's shoulder. "Come on, Dad. Do the right thing . . . "
Ridge looked at his son, seeing the fanatical stare in his eyes, said softly, "No son, there will be no wedding today."
Sirens were blaring as they pulled up to the beach house. Paramedics arrived on the scene. They carefully helped Ridge onto a gurney and then attended to Brooke.
"There is slight pulse," the first paramedic said, moving quickly to start an IV. A backboard was brought and Brooke was gingerly lifted onto the board and placed on a second gurney, and wheeled her out quickly into the ambulance.
The medics started to put Ridge in a second ambulance. "No! No!" he blurted out, "I want to ride with her, please, please. Please let me ride with her. She needs me . . . I need her!"
Eric stepped up and spoke softly to the paramedic, "If you can, it would be best for Brooke if she felt Ridge was with her."
"Eric!" Stephanie hissed rushing up to him. "NO!"
Eric turned to his former wife. "Yes, Stephanie. This whole ceremony, everything about it stinks. This isn't the way for Ridge and Taylor to start out married life. Not like this . . . not through trickery. If this marriage is going to happen, it will happen in spite of this, but not today."
"Grandpa!" Thomas moaned. "My Mom and Dad want to get married! It has to happen today!"
"No, Thomas." Eric reached for Donna. "Let's follow in the car."
Taylor, Thomas and Steffy stood helplessly in the beach house, watching everyone leave.
"Don't worry, Taylor." Stephanie came up to them. "This marriage WILL happen."
"Yeah, Mom," Steffy echoed her grandmother, "Dad will come back to you, he always does."
"No," Taylor whispered. "Not this time. I'm not who he loves." She bent down and picked up her tattered bouquet of flowers. She stared at them for a few moments. "No, I'm not the one he loves." She walked by the kitchen counter and dropped the flowers in the wastebasket that sitting there, and ran out the door. She continued to run out onto the beach, towards the ocean.
“Mom! Mom!” Steffy cried running after her. “Mom, wait!” She caught up with her mother, pulling on her arm, causing Taylor to fall onto the sandy beach. Steffy fell to her knees next to her. “Mom, please, don’t leave. We have to wait here for Dad to come back,” she cried.
Thomas approached his mother and sister. “I should have killed that bitch!” he screamed. “That bitch and her f*cking children, all of them! Get them all out of our lives once and for all and leave my Dad alone. I hate them. I HATE THEM ALL! Grandma was right. We’ll never be rid of them until they are all dead.”
Taylor was startled at Thomas’ outburst. She looked up at her son so animated with hate. How did this all happen? Her poor children have suffered so much. First the loss of Phoebe, and Thomas’ difficulty of coping with that. His attempted murder of Rick and his escaping incarceration by the grace of Brooke and Rick. She got to her feet and grabbed her son. “No, Thomas! Don’t talk like that. You don’t know what you’re saying. Hush!” She grabbed both Steffy’s and Thomas’ hands and held them tight. “Now look, both of you. Go back home. I need to be alone for awhile. I will be fine. But you both need to go home and stay there. I don’t want you talking to anyone. Not Dad, not Grandma . . . NO ONE! Please do as I say.” She placed Steffy’s and Thomas’ hands together urging them to do as she asked. “Go home.”
“But Mom, where are you going?” Steffy spoke softly.
“I need some time by myself. I need to think about my life, our lives. Now, please!” Taylor begged them, “Please go home and let me be for a while.”
Taylor stood there and watched her children walk away from her and go back to the beachhouse. Tears started to stream down her face. What has happened to her children? How she missed Phoebe. How she had such high hopes of reuniting with Ridge and putting the pieces, as best she could, back together for her remaining children . . . for herself. She collapsed to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably.
Finally rising to her feet, she wiped the tears from her eyes with her hands. She began walking. She didn’t care where, just as long as she was as far away from this place as she could get. She walked passed the little restaurants and bistros that littered the beach along the coast. She walked into a bistro and sat at the bar. The bartender approached her, “What will it be?”
“Um, I think I just want a coke,” she said softly. “No, no, make that a Scotch.”