Holly. Oh, poor Holly. If Olivia is my child, then Megan had the daughter that Holly never could. This would just kill her. Jack made a promise to himself, to the sea, that he would never mention it to Holly. He loved her too much to ever want to cause her pain—and this could very well be the worst pain of all.
Jack walked down the beach. He walked until the sun began to lower itself toward the sea, and in the distance, the sky became bright orange and pink. When he was able, he looked up and focused ahead of him, instead of staring at the sand. He was lost in a web of memories. He hadn’t realized where he was headed. He found himself looking up at the towering lighthouse, the light just beginning to wink at the sea.
Jason peered out from behind the bushes, where he’d come to think about Olivia. Olivia. What a girl she was! So sad, but so nice—and talk about beautiful! She was prettier than anyone he thought he had ever seen in his life, even prettier than those girls in the magazines. And she was going to meet him at the beach! Who would have thought that someone like her would be interested in someone like him?
At first the guy coming toward the lighthouse looked like a typical tourist, walking the beach to enjoy the day, but when he was right in front of Jason, he remembered having seen his face before. He had been there that day with Olivia. What was his name again?
“Jack!” The word came out loud and fast, before Jason had time to stop it. Damn!
Jack turned at the sound of his name. He had told Holly he was on a business trip and was surprised to be recognized. His heart skipped as he looked around.
Jason climbed out of the bushes and walked toward Jack, forcing a smile on his face. “Hey. It was me—that said your name. It was me.” Jason extended his hand. “I’m Jason Forrester, remember? I met Olivia the other day.”
Jack eyed him cautiously. Surprised by the churning that ripped through his chest—a visceral feeling of protection, as a lion would protect its cub. He nodded and feigned a smile.
“I…I’m really sorry about Olivia’s mom,” Jason said. “Is she doing alright?”
Jack quelled the protective feeling that made him want to tell Jason to leave Olivia alone. “She’s doing as well as to be expected.”
“I was really sad when my parents died.” Jason sensed the tension in Jack’s voice and looked away. “It was kind of nice to talk to someone who was going through the same thing.”
Jack’s heart softened as he listened. Knowing his feelings were raw for Megan and Olivia, he quieted his thoughts and let them move to the boy who stood in front of him, the boy whose parents had died, the boy who found a friend in Olivia. Jack looked into Jason’s eyes and allowed himself to see youthful kindness instead of a teenage boy vying for his daughter’s attention. Is she my daughter?
“I’m sorry, Jason. I didn’t realize that your parents passed away. This has all been a little overwhelming.”
Jason nodded, “I know. I remember.”
Feeling silly for being such a grouch, Jack reached out to Jason with a softer, kinder voice, “Who do you live with now?”
“My granddad. We live there.” He pointed to the house on the hill. “I asked Olivia if she could come to the beach this weekend, but if you would rather she didn’t, that’s okay. I mean,” Jason looked Jack in the eye, as his dad had taught him to do with adults, to let them know he was being honest, “I know you don’t know me, and I don’t really know Olivia, but, I mean, I just wanted to meet her as a friend. I’m not trying to…well…you know.”
Jack remembered what it was like to be a nervous teen. A quiet laugh escaped his lips before he had a chance to stifle it. “I’m sure you aren’t. I think it would be fine, but since she’s been through so much lately, why don’t we all meet you this weekend. I would feel better if we were here, too. I’m not really ready to let her out of my sight completely yet.”
As the warm day turned to a gray, cool evening, Holly was unable to sit still. She felt like a caged tiger. Her old demons had come back to haunt her. The bringing of Olivia into her own home had dredged up her own secret that she had worked so hard to bury deep inside so many years ago. Now, fourteen years later, it nagged at the forefront of her mind.
She couldn’t settle her stomach which burned and immediately processed everything she put in her mouth, leaving her with a horrible case of the runs. Each time she saw Jack, she expected him to confront her, though she knew that was crazy, too. He couldn’t know. He wouldn’t have waited all these years to confront me.
Jack. She thought of all of the years they’d shared and of when they had first fallen in love. It wasn’t an urgent love, but a love of comfort, security, and friendship. It was as if they had been married forever and just hadn’t known that they were meant to be more than friends until Megan had gone away.
Usually, Holly took her Sunday run with Megan. But when Megan went to italy for three months, Peter was busy building his interior design business, and Jack was next on her list.
Holly had found herself worrying about things she had never even thought about before with Jack, Do I look okay? She had realized that in all of the years she’d known Jack, she had never been alone with him. Somehow, with Megan around, they were a group of friends. Holly found herself flustered, giddy maybe—an unfamiliar feeling amongst friends.
They had met at Cockel Cove, in Chatham, and had planned to run along the beach. They hadn’t run more than fifty yards, when Jack spotted a golden Retriever coming toward them, and he slowed to a walk as they neared it. Holly noticed the way Jack eyed the man, and the way his face cringed as he bent down to pet the dog, and the dog cowered. Jack cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow, Much like Goldens do, Holly thought. Once again, he bent down and tried to stroke the dog. Concern crept across his face as the dog cowered once again. Jack stood and spoke quietly yet firmly to the owner, gazing down at the dog before he walked away. Holly was taken with the way he protectively questioned the dog’s reaction to being touched.
Holly read concern on Jack’s face when he returned to her side. He wrung his hands and there was a quickness in his step. Holly had never seen Jack in anything but a jovial mood. “Is everything okay?” she asked pensively.
Jack stopped suddenly, took Holly’s arm, and turned her around. He watched the man with the dog, and Holly remembered his face—a mixture of anger and concern— scrutinizing the stranger. He flinched when the owner pulled roughly on the leash in an effort to rush the dog. The dog moved slightly quicker, but not before it cowered its head briefly toward the ground.
The owner said something sternly and moved around the dog, kicking it from behind.
“I knew it!” Jack said through clenched teeth. With anger in his eyes, he ran to the scene and placed himself between the dog and the owner. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Mind your own business, dude,” the young man said, yanking the dog’s leash again. The dog folded into itself, hunching its back and pulling its tail between its legs.
“This is my business. Do not kick that dog!” Jack raised his voice as his hands instinctively clenched and unclenched.
“Move it,” the owner said roughly. “It’s just a fucking dog.”
Jack’s fist connected with the stranger’s face before he had time to think.
“Jack!” Holly rushed to Jack’s side, her hand on his lower back as he stood over the man, whose nose was bleeding. “Jack, stop,” Holly said quietly.
Jack’s breaths came in loud huffs. “How does it feel to have something bigger than you push you around?” he said in a deep and serious voice.
“What the hell?” the man said in a quivering voice. “It’s a god damned dog! Take the damn worthless thing if you care so much. I don’t give a shit!” The man got up and threw the leash in Jack’s direction. “Fuck you!” he turned and quickly walked away.
Jack picked up the leash and moved to the dog’s side, stroking it protectively. “It’s okay, boy. It’s not your fault.” Holly was both intrigued and intimida
ted by Jack’s passion. “Jack?”
“I’m sorry. Animal activists, you can’t take us anywhere.” He smiled up at her, but his face quickly grew serious. He stood up quickly and put his hands on her shoulders, “I’m sorry, Holly. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just can’t let that happen to an animal.”
Holly smiled and silently wondered why the touch of his hands created a stir deep within her.
Holly remembered how she quickly had become aware of what a passionate man Jack was. It had taken her by surprise, the way they had melded together over the next three months, spending every moment together as if they had always been by each other’s sides.
There was a part of Holly that wanted to admit her guilt to Jack, rush into his arms and tell him every sordid detail, to lay it all out between them—to be dealt with, cried over, and screamed about. There was a part of her that wanted to take Olivia in her arms and gush: Olivia! My baby! You are my child, not Megan’s. You are finally home! Though she knew she could neither. At times she found she had to physically swallow the words before they escaped her mouth.
She went outside and paced the yard.
When Jack arrived home, he wrestled with keeping his day a secret, and yet, he couldn’t fathom trying to keep another secret from Holly. He confessed his lie of a business trip and explained that he had gone back to the beach to think things through. He told Holly about his encounter with Jason. His memory of his night with Megan, however, stayed tucked deep within the borders of his own mind, silenced by his guilt.
Holly remained silent, growing more angry by the second.
“I know I should have told you. It’s just…you are holding up so well, and I guess Megan’s death hit me harder than I imagined,” Jack said softly.
I’m tortured inside, and you’re walking on a beach? Holly thought to herself. She wanted to yell at him, to scream that he was selfish! How could he do that to her? Leave her alone to wallow in her misery. It was she who had lost her best friend! Her! And yet, she could not bring a single word to her lips.
The next day, Holly awoke with purpose. She drove to the cemetery. The morning was chilly, and she wore a thick, brown sweater. Her jeans were loose and comfortable. The brown mules she wore picked up sandy flecks across the toes as she walked across the cemetery toward the tiny headstone.
Holly set the flowers next to Alissa Mae’s grave. Will your mother ever forgive me? Are you with her now? Does she know the truth? She shuddered as she remembered the slick feel of the plastic iD bracelets as she had worked them off of the infants’ wrists. Swallowing the acidic bile that had risen in her throat, she buried her head in her hands and cried frustrated, angry tears.
Fear, anxiety, and internal disgust were her constant companions. If Megan knows, does she hate me? Did I do the right thing? Did I ruin Olivia’s life? Megan’s? My own? she wondered. Would Olivia have been better off with me, even if I hadn’t been ready to be a mother, even if she hadn’t been Jack’s child?
What would Olivia think of her now if she were to find out the truth? What would Jack think? Oh, Jack. I’m so sorry. Her body trembled as she thought of how her husband had supported her through Alissa Mae’s burial and the awkward and heart-wrenching aftermath of her death.
Peter’s gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts, “I thought I might find you here.”
“Peter,” she sighed as she wiped her tears and turned to face him.
The look in his eyes brought the guilt of their unspoken secret to the forefront of her mind. The turmoil from that confusing, steamy evening, fourteen years earlier, brewed inside her once again. All of her anxious and unsure feelings rose to the surface. She faced the same questions today, as she did back then.
What is with me? I love Jack. Why am I so scared?
She remembered that fateful day, so many years ago— packing their picnic carefully, adding each of Peter’s favorite things—brie and crackers, fruit salad, and Jack Daniel’s. As she had placed the bottle into the basket, she had thought of how ironic it was that she was bringing Jack with her in her mind. Exactly what I’m running from!
A picnic was just what she had needed—and Peter, of all people, would help her see that Jack was the right man for her, that she was doing the right thing and had no reason to fear their relationship. He would help her through her feelings of inadequacy. He would tell her to marry Jack! God how she had wished Megan were there. She was angry with Megan for leaving for italy so suddenly. She was angry with Megan for not taking her along. She was, in fact, jealous of Megan’s carefree existence, her self-made career. Though her love for Megan was stronger than her anger or her jealousy, for she knew that had Megan been in town, Megan would have stayed up all night talking with her, helping her to figure out if she was moving too fast with Jack, if she was really feeling love and not something else. Else? What else could it be? Her stomach was tied in knots. Her head hurt, and she could not wait to get out of the house and clear her mind.
Holly had taken solace in the warmth of her drink as it trickled down her throat. A blush had risen and settled on her cheeks. The afternoon drifted seamlessly into evening. As she looked at Peter, she saw him through new eyes. He was handsome with his smooth tanned skin and wavy hair that had laid haphazardly across his forehead. She watched his chest move up and down with each breath and had felt a familiar stirring that she recognized but didn’t understand. Chill, girl. He’s gay.
She lay next to him, resting the right side of her body against his left side, and had felt his body tense, for only a moment, and then relax. For years, she and Peter had been close. They and Megan had shared hotel rooms, slept in each other’s beds, and been like brother and sisters.
She hated to see him so sad, so tortured about his mother’s abandonment, and yet, selfishly, she needed him to be strong. It was she who needed help that night! But she knew that was selfish–Peter had been battling his own demons. She leaned toward him, and tasted the sweet smell of the liquor as it rose with his breath, and pulled her racing mind away from her own turmoil to try and soothe his. “I’m sure she loved you, Peter. Mothers love their children. She had her own shit to deal with, that’s all.”
A tear slid silently down his cheek, landing on the blanket and spreading into faint, thin lines.
Holly placed her hand on his chest, and her fingers had brushed the edge where his unbuttoned shirt met his soft tufts of chest hair. Warmth spread from her chest to her belly and had awakened her senses deep within her center— senses that she knew were wrong, yet only made the heat of the moment that much more enticing.
“Peter, things are moving so fast with Jack. I’m not sure I’m ready.” Holly watched his reaction. His eyes remained still and closed. He didn’t move. She leaned her chest on his and whispered, “Peter? I need some help here. Am I making a mistake? is it too fast?”
She felt a rise in Peter’s loins, as her hot breath had met his warm face. A look of confusion swept across his face. He remained still. Holly knew the sadness of his mother’s absence weighed heavily in his heart. She also knew the tears that fell from the corners of his eyes were born of years of pent-up hurt and anger. He reached up and pulled Holly close to him, hoping, she knew, to stifle the pain. Holly had the sense that the reason he clenched his eyes shut was to make what was happening not so real, as she’d done so many times in her own life. She knocked over the empty liquor bottle as she let Peter pull her closer, embrace her. Feeling his warm tears on her neck she bent her head back, and tried to both escape the heat that was growing and gather the strength to quell her desire for him. You smell so good.
He rolled her over as his mouth, sweet with alcohol and hot with passion, found hers. His tongue moved in hard, forceful strokes, drinking in the safety of her, and erasing his painful memories of his mother. Her anxiety about her relationship with Jack was set aside, as she gave in to Peter’s desires—and her own?—and safely lost herself to one of her closest friends.
“Holly?” Peter’s voice u
rged her mind back to the cemetery.
Holly looked at Peter as if she had forgotten he was there. “Peter?”
“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look really…I don’t know, but not okay.”
She smiled. “I’m okay. I was just thinking about the past.”
Peter’s voice shook just a bit, just enough for Holly to notice. “Yeah, me too,” he said quietly.
Chapter Eight
Holly had been putting off the inevitable—Megan’s final goodbye ceremony. She’d been telling herself that giving it time would be better for Olivia, but really, it would be better for her. Two months had passed since Megan’s death and she was nowhere near ready for a final goodbye, wasn’t sure what it would really mean, what it would do to her.
In the past few weeks, Holly had felt Megan’s presence several times. She felt her when she was with Olivia, and when she was alone, thinking of her. She felt her when she was out running errands—or was that just her mind missing her? Wishing she were there with her? Would that stop once they held their final goodbye ceremony? Most of her hoped it would not stop. She loved Megan. She needed Megan. She missed Megan. But a tiny, selfish piece of her hoped it would stop. There was a part of her that was afraid of what Megan thought of her. She was terribly worried that somehow Megan would appear, angry and upset, hurt beyond repair, and wanting to hold Holly responsible for her sin.
Then Holly would know; she would know that she was never to be forgiven by her very best friend—and that, she could not bear.
At times when her guilt consumed her, she looked for Megan around every corner; her secret worked its way from her mind to her gut and back again. Megan never appeared at those times. That, too, scared Holly. Is she staying away from me because she’s so mad?
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