by Ginny Baird
“Wheels on the road! Thanks, Brent.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Brent had always believed that Jackie was a morning person, but he’d apparently been wrong. Maybe it was just the stress of this last week—and their wedding—taking its toll on her. She’d barely said two words to him during their drive from Blue Hill to Boston, and he’d done all the driving.
Mostly, she’d been distracted and playing around on her phone. He’d really liked those brief few days when they’d gone without technology. Maybe he could suggest a reprise for Bermuda? “You’ve been awfully busy,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed.
“I’m sorry.” She looked up, appearing regretful. “It’s Hope. I just wanted to fill her in.”
Now he felt bad for being annoyed. It was natural she wanted to check in with her sister. It must have been heartbreaking to not have Hope at the wedding. “How’s she doing?”
“Finally better. Almost completely. She says the airline delays were probably a blessing in disguise. She had another minor relapse last night.”
“Oh no.”
“She’s going to be fine,” Jackie said. “She went to the doctor earlier and will check in at urgent care later this morning just to be safe.”
“Good. That’s good. She can update us before we board the plane, then.”
“Yes.”
She kept madly typing away, her fingers thumping against the tiny keypad.
“Looks like you’re writing a whole novel.”
“Nope.” She smiled sleepily, and Brent could tell she still wasn’t totally awake. Perhaps they could grab more coffee in Boston before heading to their gate. “Just the story of our love.”
That sounded terribly sweet to him, and he said so. “It’s got kind of a ring to it.”
“Ha-ha, yeah.” She kept typing and glanced up only briefly. “I’m sending some photos, too. You know, group photos and a few couple shots.”
“Great idea.”
“She wants to know what she missed.” From the constant buzzing indicating her replies, he surmised Hope was pretty enthusiastic about it.
“It’s a shame she couldn’t make it.”
“Yeah, but you’ll meet her soon.”
“When?”
Jackie bit her bottom lip, which was a new habit of hers he’d noticed. She’d only started it this week. “Um, maybe after we get back from Bermuda? Hope has the summers off, so we could go down to Durham sometime.”
“That would be fun.” He set his gaze back on the road. They were on I-95 now and approaching Boston, so traffic was getting thick. “Or she could come see us.”
“Yeah, that, too.” She turned off her phone with a flourish. “There. All done.”
He glanced at her phone lying dark on her lap. “It’s funny how those things have taken over our lives.”
“It’s true. They can be a pain but necessary.”
“Not necessary,” he told her. “Maybe a plus.” He centered his hands on the steering wheel. “We seemed to get along just fine without our phones those first few days.”
Jackie laughed. “I loved our picnic. Even the trek through the mud.”
“That was a bit dicey. What with that gigantic stick-worm chasing us.”
Jackie laughed again. “Right.” She dumped her phone in her purse. “It was kind of fun not being distracted by phone calls, emails, and such.”
“The Internet and social media, too.”
“Yes, all of that,” she agreed.
“Sometimes I wonder what life must have been like in the old days.”
“Which old days?”
“Well,” he said, “Grandmother Margaret and Grandpa Chad’s day. Back when there were only three television channels—”
“Four, counting PBS.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled at her attempt at accuracy. “Did you know that my grandmother still communicates with some of her friends by snail mail?”
“How archaic,” she teased.
He shot her a grin. “When’s the last time you wrote a real letter?”
“On paper, you mean?” She settled back against her seat, adjusting her shoulder strap. “Last month.”
“Liar.”
“Hey! Our wedding invitations went by snail mail.”
“That was an exception. An event. I hardly think that counts.”
“Oh yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants? When’s the last time you sent a snail mail?” Before he answered, she jumped in. “Business correspondence doesn’t count.”
“Hmm.”
“See? You can’t remember.”
“I would have if it was important.”
“That’s exactly it,” Jackie said. “There’s something so much more serious about snail mail.”
“Do tell.”
“I mean it. Nobody jokes around or says ‘LOL’ in a handwritten letter.”
“Maybe you just haven’t read one in a while?”
“Ha-ha.”
Brent smirked. “Or written one, either.”
She swatted his arm. “When I have something important to say, I’ll write one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said smugly. “Absolutely.” Her face lit up as she stared out the window and up at the sky. “Look. There goes an airplane. And another.”
“We’re almost there,” he said with a grin. “Get ready for Bermuda.”
…
Hope walked beside Brent at a brisk pace, pulling her rolling carry-on bag behind her as they entered the airport. They’d left his SUV in the long-term parking lot and taken a shuttle to the building. Though she’d spent a large part of the trip here catching Jackie up on particulars and coordinating their meet-up, she’d truly enjoyed her lighthearted banter with Brent. He was so easy to talk to, even when they were kidding about something as mundane as snail mail.
She fretted over his interest in meeting “Hope.” Naturally, he was simply being a caring husband and trying to be a good brother-in-law, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen the next time they saw each other. Would he experience any spark of recognition in seeing her? Or would he remain so completely convinced that she’d been Jackie that he’d never guess a glimmer of the truth? She was glad this whole charade would soon be over, because she couldn’t endure playing her sister for one more day—or night. It was too painful.
Poor Brent. She’d really put him through the ringer on his wedding night. There’d been no prospect of romance at all. She supposed he and Jackie would work that out in Bermuda. The sad part was Jackie didn’t know Brent any better than she had before, while Hope felt like she knew him inside and out. She’d come to understand how thoughtful and caring he was—secretly romantic and adoring, too. He clearly adored her, at least.
She could only wish he’d love Jackie just as much. Okay, maybe she wanted to wish that, and she tried really, really hard to believe that’s what she wanted. Only it was exceedingly difficult to do when she had such deep feelings for Brent herself. Selfishly, the last thing she wanted was for Brent to look at Jackie the way he’d looked at her during their ceremony and so many times before that during their wonderful week in Maine.
This was such a messed-up situation.
They passed a donut shop on the main concourse, and Hope stopped walking. It was one of the landmarks she was supposed to look for, and she was to meet Jackie in the nearest ladies’ room, which was supposedly just a few yards away.
Brent frowned and glanced at his watch. “Do you want a coffee or something?”
“No, um… I…” Her gaze darted down the corridor, and she spotted the sign she was looking for. “Just think I need to stop in the restroom.”
“Yeah, of course. Probably a good idea to do before we go through security. The lines could be long.”
“Yes.”
She gazed up at him, her heart pounding. He had absolutely no clue that this was goodbye. If she could drag this out and spend five more minutes with him, she would, but that would probably only make things more painful. As it was, they’d gotten a late start in Blue Hill, and finding a free parking space at the airport had been next to impossible. They were already running behind. Jackie would probably already be waiting in the restroom.
“You can go ahead,” he said when he saw her hesitating. “I’ll wait here.”
Her pain must have been obvious on her face, because his dark eyes filled with worry. “Jackie?”
“Brent…” She pressed her lips together when they trembled. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby,” he said warmly. “You never need to worry about that.”
Heat prickled the backs of her eyes, and then—on impulse—she did it. Hope wrapped her arms around him and kissed him goodbye. It was a deep kiss, too. One filled with passion and longing and the heart-wrenching sorrow of letting go.
“Hey,” he said, teasing her. “Maybe you should take bathroom breaks more often.” He scanned her face when tears leaked from her eyes. “I was only kidding, honey. Hey,” he said when she turned away. “Is everything all right?”
Hope sniffed and wiped back her tears. “It will be. Soon.”
She started to drag her suitcase away, and Brent reached for its handle. “You can leave that with me if you want.”
“No. I…” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’d better take it.”
“O-kay.” He frowned. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“I’ll be back in a flash,” she promised, forcing a smile.
Then she spun around and dashed toward the ladies’ room.
…
Hope darted into the restroom. Before she got far enough to find a stall where she could break down in peace, Jackie sprang at her in the small anteroom with sinks and mirrors. “Hopie!” she cried, hugging her so tightly Hope could barely breathe. “You made it!” She released her and frowned at her undoubtedly shattered expression. “But…why are you crying?”
“This. Us.” Hope’s voice shook. “Everything.”
“Okay, fine. But let’s not have a guilt attack now. We don’t have time.” Other women crowded in, trying to use the sinks and hand dryers as they partially blocked the way. Jackie scooted her aside so people could step past them. “Look at you. You’re a wreck. What did those people do to you in Maine?”
“It’s not those people, Jackie.” She yanked out several paper towels from the dispenser and wiped her face. “They’re the Albrights, and each of them have names. Including Brent,” she said on a sob.
Jackie braced her by the shoulders. “We’re going to get through this. It’s almost done.” She considered Hope’s outfit and frowned. “Is that the best you could do for your honeymoon?”
“Jackie, come on.”
“I mean it.” She appeared aghast. “Flats?”
“You better wear them, too, if you know what’s good for you,” Hope insisted. “That’s all Brent’s seen you in all week.”
“Not at the wedding?”
“Not then. No, of course not.”
Jackie peered into the adjoining room and its row of individual stalls. “Let’s get two right next to each other, and we can switch outfits. We can pass them underneath.” Jackie sucked in a gasp, apparently noting that her carry-on was brown and Hope’s was blue. Not only that, she had a checked bag and Hope didn’t. “The suitcases. Do you think Brent will notice?”
“Depends on how observant he is. After all…” She leaned toward Jackie and whispered. “We’re counting on him to think of you as me.”
“I think you’ve got that mixed up,” she said annoyingly. “You’re the one who’s been playing me.”
“Yeah,” Hope muttered morosely. “Until I started playing myself.”
“What?”
“Never mind; doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t risk it,” Jackie said. “Let’s swap suitcases with me taking some of your clothes. You can take my checked bag back to Durham for now.” She heaved an exasperated sigh, evidently agitated that she’d have to downsize her wardrobe. “Did you seriously not wear heels?”
This entire episode was so surreal, Hope felt like she was functioning on autopilot. In a large way, she felt numb. Like she’d gone from experiencing excruciating pain to sensing absolutely nothing. Maybe this was depression, because she suddenly cared about very little except for getting home to her duplex in Durham and crawling under the covers.
If she was lucky, she’d get to stay there for days. Weeks, even. All alone in the total darkness. Moisture warmed her cheeks, and she realized she was crying again. The sooner they got this done, the better. The most horrible part was, it wasn’t only about her upended emotions—it was about what they were doing to Brent. Deceiving him in the most terrible, unforgivable way.
“Come on,” Jackie said, nudging her into the next part of the restroom. “Two stalls just opened up.”
“Fine, okay.” Hope pulled herself together and went through the motions of swapping outfits with Jackie. Fitting into Jackie’s skinny jeans was no small trick. “Don’t you have anything looser?” she asked, calling under the stall. “Something with an elastic waistband?” Brent wasn’t going to see Hope in it, anyway. She just needed something to wear for the trip home. Jackie shoved a pair of black leggings under the stall door.
“Try this.”
Hope wriggled into them.
“Better?”
“Yeah, thanks.” All at once, she felt like a teenager again—like she and Jackie were in on some stupid youthful scam. Yet they weren’t so youthful anymore. They were both grown women who should know better. She yanked Jackie’s top over her head and settled it around her hips, deciding the look was okay. She was not wearing Jackie’s high-heeled sandals, however. She reserved the right to keep at least one pair of her own shoes for more comfortable traveling.
“Do you have a belt?” Jackie asked, evidently finding Hope’s jeans too roomy.
“Here,” Hope said, thrusting one through the opening.
They exited the stalls, examining each other. Looking at Jackie was almost like staring at her reflection—only there were those subtle differences between them that only they and their mother knew about. “Not bad.” Jackie looked herself up and down, then stared at Hope. “This will probably do.”
“Cool.” A teenage girl with spiky black-and-purple hair and an eyebrow bar gawked at them. “Are you two twins? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any so old.”
“Uh…thanks,” Hope said to the double-sided compliment.
“Yep,” Jackie said smartly, tugging Hope along. “We’re ancient.” When they were near the restroom door, she screeched, “Eeep. The ring.”
She stared down at Hope’s finger, and Hope tugged off the wedding band, goggling at the engagement ring that Jackie wore. “You’d better remove that and hide it. Brent’s seen me without it all week. He thinks it’s at the jewelers getting resized.”
Jackie nodded and slipped the ring into a small zipper pouch inside her suitcase. “There,” she said, once she’d seated the wedding band on her hand. “That does it.” She shot a cautionary look at Hope. “You should probably stay in here another five minutes just to be safe. I’ll get Brent out of here and moving toward security ASAP.”
The restroom lights swirled around her. “Okay.” She leaned against a wall, afraid she might faint.
Jackie cast her a sidelong glance as she stepped toward the door. “You going to be all right?”
Hope nodded, her stomach churning.
“I’ll text you from Bermuda to let you know we made it.” She rushed back and gave Hope a quick hug. “Love you.”
“Yeah, I…” All around her, Hope saw sparkly silver st
ars. “…love you, too.” She blinked to clear her vision and then walked to a sink, where she splashed cold water on her face again and again and again. Finally, she realized it was also hitting her neck and the front of Jackie’s top. She’d pretty much soaked herself. But if it hadn’t been water, it might as well have been tears. Hope braced herself against the sink, then stared at her disheveled image in the mirror. Her hair was a wreck, and her eyes were bloodshot. The gold heart pendant dangled from a thin gold chain around her neck.
She recalled her conversation with Brent when he’d asked about the necklace. She’d told him the truth when she said she’d bought it as a gift for herself, because she wanted to believe herself loveable, even if nobody else could love her. The cold truth now was that, at this particular moment, Hope didn’t love herself. On the contrary, she loathed who she’d become and what she’d done to Brent. And not just to him. To his whole family.
And Meredith. Dear, sweet Meredith, who’d been so very kind and doggedly loyal. Hope had dragged her into this, along with their poor mom. Even if Ava had gotten to sing at the wedding, in retrospect, she probably didn’t believe the stress of it all worth it. Hope had made a mess of everything. But she hadn’t acted alone. Jackie had been complicit in this. She’d aided and abetted the entire operation, and today she was planning to benefit from it—without giving a thought to the potential devastation they’d caused.
While Hope was probably the worst culprit, Jackie wasn’t blameless. The two of them were bad news. Shameless. One just as recklessly unthinking and callous as the other. Neither one deserved a guy as amazing as Brent. What’s more, he certainly didn’t deserve either of them.
Hope’s pulse raced, and her head cleared when she understood what she had to do. She had to fix things. Set them right. Even if—by doing so—she risked blowing them apart.
She couldn’t let Brent blindly go to Bermuda with a woman he believed to be someone else—the person he’d bonded with and come to love in Blue Hill.