His words twist the cramp in my stomach, and I lean forward on my elbow, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s too late. I’ve lost her.”
“Do you believe in the love you shared?”
“Of course.” It was the happiest time of my life. Mariska healed my body, and she filled the emptiness in my chest—the same emptiness that aches for her now.
“Then it’s never too late.”
Somehow his words form the combination I need. My choices are mine. It’s never too late. Believe… Lifting my chin, I meet his leveled gaze.
He gives me a nod. “Man up and go get her.”
The pain slips as the faintest spark of possibility takes hold. I lower my elbow and sit straighter, knowing what I have to do.
“I’ll finish up the rest of the chores this week, then I’m going back to Princeton.”
Bill smiles and takes a bite of his jalapeño burger. “That sounds like a good plan.”
* * *
Mariska
My eyes are swollen and heavy the next morning. I roll onto my side, and cool air sweeps across my shoulders. I don’t want to look at what I’ve done. I stretch across my bed, grab my phone, and punch up Kenny’s number. She answers on the third ring.
“What’s up?” Her voice is thick with sleep, and I check the time.
“It’s after nine, did I wake you?”
She makes a loud noise like she’s stretching. “It’s Saturday. Why do I have to be awake by nine?”
“You’re not working today?” Hope rises in my chest. “I need your help.”
By ten, I’m at her apartment dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved black tee. “I tried to cut it myself, but I kind of butchered it.”
I leave off the part where I then had an emotional meltdown. My arms and legs feel weak like I did a strenuous workout, but at least my eyes are less puffy.
She frowns and holds up the ends of my hair. “It looks like you sawed it off with broken glass.”
“My scissors are dull.” Lowering my chin, I wish I’d left a few extra inches to cover my face.
Kenny drops onto the chair in front of me, her blue eyes drilling into mine. “When are you going to tell me what happened? I’ve been waiting and waiting, but my patience is up.”
Slayde is in Princeton, so it’s only the two of us in the apartment. With a deep breath, I decide I’m too tired to carry this burden any longer.
“I was pregnant.” The words squeeze at my heart, wringing out all the pain fresh and hot.
Her eyes widen, filling with tears. “Was? As in… past tense?”
I blink down, and a tear falls onto my cheek. I wipe it away quickly.
“Oh, god, Mariska.” In one swift move, we’re in a hug.
I press my forehead against her shoulder, and for a little while we inhale shaky breaths as tears coat our faces. My chest rises and falls, and I shudder as the pain drains out. She gives me a squeeze then sits back, wiping her cheeks with her hands.
“I don’t know what to say.” She reaches forward and holds my hands. “What happened? Why didn’t I know?”
As I recount those weeks at the ranch, she stands and goes behind me, using her shears to shape up my hair. I tell her about the doctor’s visits and the happy times, and then the horrible way it all ended.
“I don’t understand,” she says, setting down the scissors and picking up the blow drier. “Stuart didn’t say anything? He just let you leave?”
“I didn’t ask for permission. He was gone, so I packed my stuff and bought a plane ticket.”
“So you’re not broken up? You never talked about it?”
“I left my engagement ring behind.”
Our eyes meet, and she nods. Then she turns on the dryer, and for several minutes we don’t speak as she pulls the waves out of my hair with a round brush. When she’s finished, she hands me a mirror.
Gazing at my new look, I decide it feels right for who I am now. It’s straight and falls just below my chin. In my black tee and jeans, I don’t look like a lost boho-goth chick. I look like a focused career woman in control of her life. It’s not true, but it’s a first step.
My friend studies my reaction. “What now?”
“Now we go shopping,” I say with a nod. “I need new clothes.”
Her slim brows clutch, but she picks up the keys. “I’ll drive.”
We spend the rest of the day at the mall. I buy slim-cut khaki pants and a short-sleeved cotton blouse. I pick up another pair of jeans that are tapered at the ankles and tan heels. A few off-brand polos, a black cardigan, and a boxy purse complete the look. At my apartment are canvas sneakers and black ankle boots I can continue to wear.
“Everything else can be bagged up and donated to Goodwill,” I say, pulling floral tunics and handkerchief skirts off hangers and tossing them into a pile in the center of my bedroom floor.
“You’ve been through a lot.” Kenny sits on the bed eating my leftover Pad Thai. I didn’t eat another bite after last night’s painful discovery. “Maybe you should wait a month or so before you trash it all?”
“I don’t feel comfortable in these clothes anymore. They’re not who I am.”
“Are you still going to find that recipe for Matcha tea smoothies for me?” She picks up the brown journal I left on the floor and opens it.
I’m not paying attention to what she’s doing as I evaluate a black bodysuit. “I’ll keep this. I can wear it with jeans under a blazer.
“Mare?” My best friend’s voice is shaky. “What is this book?”
Realizing what she’s holding, I jump forward and snatch my grandmother’s journal out of her hand. “What are you DOING?”
She blinks fast, and the carton of food is placed on my dresser. “I’m sorry! I thought it was one of your recipe books! I didn’t mean to—”
“You had no right!” My hands tremble as I turn my back to her and throw the journal in that box as hard as I can.
“Is this why…” Her voice is tentative. “Is this why you wanted to cut your hair? Is this why you’re giving all your stuff away?”
“You need to leave. NOW!”
“Mariska!” A swirl of warmth, and she throws her arms around mine, holding me tight. “I’m your best friend. I’m not going anywhere! You’ve got to tell me what this is about!”
My shoulders collapse as my whole body shakes. Dropping down onto the bed, I put my forehead in my hands. “I don’t know,” I cry, breaking down.
I can’t shout at Kenny. I can’t throw her out. I need help.
“I don’t know anything,” I shudder, wiping my face, feeling more lost than ever. “I found that journal and a medical chart in Yaya’s things. I’ve never heard this story before.”
Kenny goes to the box and takes out the book, carrying it to the bed where she sits facing me. “You’ve never seen this?”
“It’s been here all the time, but I guess I never dug that deep.”
Her eyes move to the book again, and she hesitates several moments before continuing. “I’ve heard of things like this—viruses causing symptoms that mimic mental illness.”
“It doesn’t sound like there was any mimicking. It sounds like I had it. Or have it.”
The journal is between us on the bed. Her red lips press together, and she pushes both sides of her hair back at once, the classic Kenny sign of frustration. “Well, you don’t have it now!”
“Don’t I?”
“NO!” Blue fire is in her eyes, and she stares at me with such determination, I almost believe her.
Instead, I shake my head. I remember my dreams. “I have to find this Doctor Endicott and get the whole story. I don’t want a ticking time bomb in my head. I don’t want to go along thinking I’m fine when I’m not.” Inhaling a shaky breath, I speak the horrible truth that drifted through my mind as I sat on the floor with my butchered hair… “It’s probably best I lost the baby. If I’d had post-partum I might have done something. I might have… Oh, god—”
&nbs
p; “STOP!” She’s on her knees now, holding my hands. “You would not have done anything! You would have been the best mother.” Pulling me to her chest, we hug each other as my fear returns. “You’ve had a traumatic experience, and you’re grieving. This journal is scary, but it is not you. We’re starting grad school in a few weeks, and we’re going to do what we always said we would. We’re going to get our degrees, and we’re going to get teaching jobs at the same school.”
“Maybe,” I say softly. I can go back to school, and I can continue working. I can get my degree and my teaching certificate, but I can’t go back to how I was without answers. I can’t risk having a family. That part hurts me the most.
Her phone buzzes with a text, and she picks it up. “Slayde,” she says, touching the screen. “Do you want me to spend the night? We both have to work tomorrow.”
Shaking my head. “I’ve managed to hold it together this far. I’ll be okay. I don’t want Slayde mad at me.”
Her blue eyes narrow, and she stands. “No more haircuts. Call me first.”
“Okay,” I say, watching her pull on a black hoodie. “I’ll eat something, read a book, and go to bed. No haircuts.”
She nods and steps forward to hug me. “I’ll ask Slayde to track down this Doctor Endicott. If the guy was in Bayville, it shouldn’t be too hard to find him.”
“Just don’t… please don’t tell him what it’s about.”
Her blue eyes fill with emotion. “Oh, Mare.” Our hands are clasped, and she gives mine a squeeze. “You forget. I knew your grandmother. I know how much she loved you. She was certain you had a gift.” Releasing my hands, I follow her to the door as she continues. “And why not? You were right about Slayde. You were right about Stuart. You’re sensitive to people’s needs. Is that too much to believe?”
Stuart… Speaking from my heart, I say the thoughts that have been swirling in my head since I returned from Montana. “I’m not sure what I believe.”
Strength
Stuart
Nikki is behind the front desk when I arrive at the Princeton office Monday morning. Her eyes go wide, and she lets out a little shriek, hopping out of her chair and circling the reception desk. She stops in front of it, in front of me, wringing her hands as if she wants to give me a hug but is unsure whether it’s allowed.
“I didn’t think you’d be back!” Her voice is breathless, and I notice her usual too-tight wrap dress has been replaced with tight pants and a long sweater.
“Derek and I are discussing how long I’ll stay,” I say, noncommittal. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”
Nikki and I had a one-night stand years ago. It was a stupid mistake on my part at a time when I thought I was returning to Saudi for a very long time, possibly forever. Needless to say, it put a strain on our office relationship and caused some friction between her and me and Mariska. Supposedly it’s all behind us now.
“I’m here working with Slayde. He’s running the satellite office here.”
“Right,” I say with a nod.
Slayde Bennett is a young guy Derek hired to help with research and surveillance. He’s a good worker, from what I understand. Thorough. He’s also the boyfriend of Mariska’s best friend Kenny.
“Is Slayde here?” I look around the office, but Nikki shakes her platinum-blonde head.
“He’s out today, had a meeting with some doctor in Bayville.” My brow lines at the mention of that familiar location, but she quickly adds. “I don’t think it’s anything serious.” Motioning toward the back office, she leads the way. “Your things are still in Derek’s old office.”
“I’m not planning to stay long.” I follow her, looking away from her ass. I only want one ass… “I just stopped in to make a phone call then I’m headed to the condo.”
“I’ll leave you alone then.” She stops at the door and smiles. “It’s great to have you back.”
I only nod in response, and she closes the sleek wooden door. The entire office is dark wood, glass, and stainless steel accents. It’s all very masculine and professional. Going behind the enormous desk, I experience all the same sensations as the last time I stood here in an expensive suit looking out the window of this office. My shoulders are tense, and my thoughts fly to a place far from here.
The phone cuts through my discomfort, and I reach out to touch the button for speakerphone. “Stuart Knight,” I say.
“Let me guess, you’re already searching for a reason to leave.” Derek’s voice is a good, familiar sound, and he’s exactly right about how I feel.
I have to laugh. “You got me.”
“At least knowing your ass this long has some perks. I confess I was surprised when you said you were coming back. I thought Montana had won this time. What happened?”
Exhaling, I drop into the soft leather chair. “Too much to go into here, brother. I’ll have to tell you another day.”
“Over scotch at Mediterra. I’ll drive up tomorrow.”
Derek relocated to North Carolina when he and Melissa got married. So did my little brother with his wife Elaine, who was already living there.
“Anything pressing you need me to handle?”
“Not really. Slayde does a great job handling our business in Princeton. I’ll go through my files and see if there’s anything that might interest you. We can chat about it all tomorrow evening.”
“Sounds good.” I hit the button to end our call. I take a moment to look over the files sitting out on the desk.
Alexander-Knight LLC specializes in online security for several of the largest banks in the country. It’s all about keeping the hackers out and maintaining online security. We get notices of threats pretty regularly, which we do our best to follow in the hopes of arresting minor criminals before they commit major crimes. It’s good work, but to me, it’s as boring as hell.
I flip through a few documents, open a few windows on the computer. From what I can tell, nothing is outstanding. Shutting the computer down, I collect my keys and head out the door.
* * *
Mariska
Back a month with no sign of an engagement ring is all the encouragement Pete needs to start leaving me little gifts again. The first was a beaded hemp bracelet wrapped in purple tissue.
Kenny had pulled it out of my cubby and tried it on her wrist. “Here we go again,” she muttered under her breath.
My eyes flashed out to the gym where my constant admirer was working with a retiree. “Stop, he’ll hear you.”
“He’s fifty feet away!”
“He’ll know you’re talking about him if you’re holding his gift.” She rolled her eyes and stuffed my gift back in my cubby.
Now, following my new haircut and new clothes, the gifts are preppier. Kenny leans on the counter looking at the latest addition, a slim phone case. It’s white with gold stripes and has my initials in a circle on the back.
“Can I be Pete’s forever love next?” she teases. “I need a new phone case.”
I straighten when he walks up beside her. “Hey, Mare.” He puts his hands on the counter and leans forward, flexing his triceps. “Would you mind mixing up a cinnamon bun smoothie for me?”
Blinking away, I dump dark green powder in the mixer and reach for the canister of protein. “It’ll be a second. I’m making Kenny’s Matcha tea, and I’ll need to wash everything so it doesn’t taste weird.”
“You’re the best.” He smiles and steps back dropping his chin and grinning up through his eyebrows. “Sorry for the extra work.”
Kenny exhales a groan. “She has to wash the blender anyway.”
Cutting my eyes at her, I empty half a cup of ice and hit the button. The loud whirr prevents any more discussion, but Pete gives me a wink. His eyes are bright blue, and when he grins that way, a dimple shows on his cheek. He’s actually a great guy. My heart’s just never been in it.
Releasing the button, I grab Kenny’s insulated cup and dump it in, passing the drink to her.
“Cinnamo
n bun…” I say flipping through my notebook, quickly passing the sketch that always shreds my insides.
“Thanks,” he says, waiting. Kenny is still with us sipping and watching. I can’t tell if he’s waiting for her to leave. I’m silently praying she stays.
“So anyway,” he says with an exhale, looking from my best friend to me. “You know the Cay is still open. Tuesday is ladies’ night. Want to ride over with me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I…” My mind scrambles, and I look to Kenny for help. “I have to go to this… thing.”
“Come on,” Pete says, reaching across the counter and patting my hand. “It’s just a drink. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“But I promised Kenny—”
“It’s okay!” She straightens, smiling. “You can meet Slayde and me there.”
My mouth drops, but I close it fast. If she were on the other side of the bar, I would have kicked her hard.
Pete turns to her grinning. “You’re going to the Cay tonight? Awesome!” Looking at me, he does a little finger gun. “I’ll pick you up at eight. I know it’s a work night, so we don’t have to stay late.”
“Sounds like fun,” I say, jerking the glass mixer off its base and carrying it to the sink. With my back turned, I press my lips into a frown. I can’t believe Kenny tricked me like that. At least she and Slayde will be there.
The space is an upscale dance club in Bayville that’s all brass hardware and red vinyl everything. It still shines like a penny, and defying our initial predictions that it would close in a year, it’s actually buzzing with activity for a Tuesday night. I can’t believe I’m here.
Pete holds my arm as we enter. I’m pretty conservative in a black shift dress that stops mid-thigh. It has a skinny brown-leather belt at the waist, and I wore my matching booties. I almost just wore my khaki pants and a shirt, but ultimately I decided it is a dance club. I should wear a dress even if dancing is the last thing I feel like doing. I’m thankful for the switch, otherwise Pete and I would have looked like twins.
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