Forever Friends

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Forever Friends Page 22

by Sarah Mackenzie


  Bree smiled weakly. “Yeah, sis. Of course.”

  “Are you sure you’re comfortable babysitting Lincoln for just a bit?” Sadie asked.

  Bree reached for the boy, taking him into her arms. She was a natural with children. She always had been. “Can you not be longer than a half hour? I just took a Xanax. I should be find but don’t want to risk anything being alone with a little one.”

  “Of course, I’ll go quicker than that,” she said, giving her sister’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

  “Love you too,” Bree whispered, making Renee almost cry with relief.

  Then Sadie tugged her hand. “Thank you, Bree. I owe you one—big time! Come on, Renee, let’s do this.”

  They sprinted down the front steps and leapt back into Dan’s car. Driving twenty miles over the speed limit, Dan kept his eyes on the road ahead while all of their ears were glued to the radio. The warnings were ominous, with phrases that sent goose bumps up Renee’s arms: “estimated time of impact”; “take shelter immediately”; “get off the roads now.”

  Renee found herself thinking about Ethan: no matter where he was at this moment, it couldn’t be good. Sadie was naturally thinking the same, as she began to babble. “He might be still in Boston, right?”

  “Totally.”

  “Oh my God, what if he’s gotten involved with drugs or some seedy pyramid scheme? Maybe he’s been swindled into investing all of our family’s savings, and he thought he could make it back twofold before I ever realized the money had been gone to begin with.”

  Renee swiveled in her seat and soothed, “Ethan? Oh, Sadie. He would never.”

  “Do you know what scares me the most?” Sadie’s bottom lip trembled. “Ethan could be in real danger right now.”

  Renee nodded silently. It was certainly the scariest scenario and it was certainly more likely than any pyramid-scheme fears.

  “What if he got to our cottage after we’d left and went out looking for Lincoln and me?”

  “We wrote a note, remember? And you texted him.” Renee didn’t admit it, but no matter where Ethan was, she had a sickening gut feeling that he wasn’t safe.

  By the time they arrived at the Old Red Mill, the wind was blowing so ferociously, it nearly knocked them to their knees.

  “Renee!” Dan shouted, his voice barely discernible through the sound of the thrashing trees. “Branches are going to start falling! This isn’t safe!”

  She thought of all the moments she’d cowered in the past, when she’d taken the backseat. When Russ left her, she’d quietly accepted her fate. When she read of fun and interesting career paths, she quickly turned the page, reminding herself how lucky she was to have such a stable and supportive job. When she sat in the audience for countless recitals and performances, when she stayed up late to help with homework despite her own tired eyes and woke up early the next morning despite a tension headache. When she smiled bravely and sent the biggest part of her heart off to California.

  Renee was always putting others before herself, always quick to conceal her own feelings and stay out of the limelight.

  She was not about to let this hurricane destroy her pie shop.

  “It took me too damn long to get to here! I am not losing this dream before it even starts!”

  Sadie looked at her in amazement. “You go girl!” she shouted through her laughter. “Like hell we’re letting this storm steal Hester’s from us!”

  “You’re crazy! You both are!” Dan yelled, but Renee knew he meant it as a compliment. “Start grabbing plywood!”

  Using all their strength, the women held the wood against the doors and windows of the Old Red Mill, as one by one, Dr. Dan secured each with his drill. They wouldn’t be able to secure the breathtaking glass wall in the back, not by a long shot, and they certainly couldn’t begin to protect the second or third stories. But they did manage to board up the historic leaded windows.

  The sirens started to blare and just like that they were out of time.

  “Come on! We have to go. Now!” Dan motioned toward his SUV, where Moe was barking.

  Sadie ran toward the car, but Renee felt locked in place.

  What if she lost her cottage and her dream of a pie shop all in one fell swoop? Maybe the universe was gearing up to play another cruel joke on her. Just as her life was finally coming together, here was this painful reminder that it could all so easily fall back apart.

  “We’ve done our best, and that’s all we can do. Now we just have to hope this place is going to be all right.” Dan grabbed Renee’s hand and pulled her to his chest reminding her that some of the things she cared about the most were right there with her. He hugged her tight. “Let’s go. We’ve got to take care of ourselves.”

  She whispered goodbye to the Old Red Mill and to her dream of a pie shop, just in case this was it. “Good luck, my friend.”

  The ride back to Bree’s was only seven minutes, though it felt like seven hours. The rain had started to come down hard, and the wind was rapidly gaining momentum. They watched in horror as debris flew through the air, narrowly missing the windshield more than once.

  Moe was continuing to pant and whine. Dan reached back and scratched him behind one ear. “Dogs can sense the weather. They know when something bad is about to happen.”

  Renee studied Sadie who was staring down at her phone instead of the trees that were practically bowing in the wind.

  When they arrived back at Bree’s, her sister was pale.

  “If you don’t mind, I might sit down for a second,” she said, the circles under her eyes a near match for the purple storm clouds outside.

  “Of course.” Renee immediately busied herself in the kitchen. It was either do or worry about everyone.

  “Want me to make us some coffee?” Dan asked, trying to be helpful as usual.

  “I was actually going to whip up a quick batch of sangria. Figured we needed something a little stronger.” Renee smiled at him. “Plus, I remember how you make coffee…”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? And how’s that?”

  “Not well,” she said, making him laugh.

  Dan had made them a fresh pot the morning after he’d spent the night at Renee’s house, and the man clearly was not well versed in the art of coffee-bean grinding. Renee had discreetly spit the gritty sediment into a napkin each time Dan hadn’t been looking.

  It was the thought that mattered, right?

  “Go and keep the others company. Have Moe do tricks,” she said, only half kidding. Anything would be better than watching the news reports. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  Renee stood at Bree’s kitchen counter, pouring a bottle of tempranillo into a pitcher followed by orange juice and brandy. She also attempted to tidy up. The sink had been full of dishes while the fridge had nothing but expired milk and some sad-looking carrots. There was a stack of unopened mail on the table. Plus, crumbs proliferated on seemingly every available surface.

  Bree wasn’t a neat freak by any means, but she wasn’t a slob either. She maybe went a little too long between regular dustings, and she hated to vacuum, but her house had always been inviting and pleasant.

  Renee stared at the photos peppering Bree’s fridge. There was one of Bree as maid of honor in Jill’s wedding, before her husband died in that terrible motorcycle accident. And one of her working at a booth for Castaway Yarn at the Farm, Fiber, and Craft Festival. And the two of them from a long-ago trip to San Francisco. They had their arms wrapped around one another’s necks and were standing cheek to cheek, the epitome of sisterly love.

  The photo wasn’t a facade, though. Renee and Bree were close. They loved each other like crazy. What is wrong with my sister? She spritzed the stove top with disinfectant spray, giving the surface a good rub. Since when had she ever popped Xanax or looked so unwell?

  “Mommy, too loud! No more.” Lincoln wailed in the living room. He sounded like he was leveling up into hysterical mode, starting to exhale into the sort of sob
s that make it hard for a child to breathe. “Want Daddy!”

  Renee tossed a handful of frozen berries and a few apple slices into the makeshift sangria and hurried into the living room, the pitcher in one hand and disposable plastic cups stacked in the other.

  “Thunderstorms are Ethan’s territory.” Sadie held Lincoln against her chest, rubbing the little boy’s back. “He’s the one who goes into Lincoln’s room when one rolls through in the middle of the night.”

  “Want him.”

  Sadie stared down helplessly. “I know, baby. Trust me, I know.”

  Renee could only imagine how badly her friend wanted to throw her own temper tantrum.

  “Do you know what my mom used to tell me?” Dan knelt beside them.

  Lincoln raised his head curiously, hiccupping for breath.

  “That scary-sounding thunder? It’s only the angels bowling.”

  “Hey now.” Sadie pushed aside his hair, gently wiping the tears below his eyes. “Do you remember what bowling is? It’s when we roll those heavy balls like we did at Devon’s birthday party while wearing funny shoes. Wasn’t that loud?”

  Recognition flashed across his red face. Lincoln nodded. “So loud!” He paused, sucking his bottom lip. “But why lightning?”

  The adults all stared at one another, each trying to piece together some sort of charming anecdote to explain the violent streaks of light.

  “That’s all the angels’ mommies taking pictures,” Renee finally blurted out. She imagined the scene in her head, of women with fluffy, white wings snapping photos on their iPhones. It made her smile. “It’s the flash of their cameras. Did your mommy take pictures when you went bowling?”

  “Yeah!” Lincoln was appeased.

  “That’s right.” Sadie hugged him. “I did.”

  Everyone sighed in a sort of happy, amused relief.

  “Now who’s up for a little liquid courage? Sorry, Sade. I brought you a sparkling water.” Renee began to distribute the cups, filling each with a generous pour.

  Bree shook her head.

  “Huh?” Renee paused, frowning. “You love sangria.”

  “Not in the mood.” Bree did a sort of one-shouldered shrug and turned away.

  That “something’s not right” feeling shuddered around her like a cold blanket. Trying and failing to catch her sister’s eyes, she sighed under her breath. “Well, okay then.”

  She’d get to the bottom of whatever was going on, but prodding in a roomful of neighbors wasn’t going to get Bree to open up.

  After a failed attempt at Chutes and Ladders, the group resigned themselves to staring forlornly at the screen, where newscasters stood in the driving rain and hollered updates for the camera. The wind howled like some sort of ravenous animal, and the five of them huddled near the center of Bree’s living room, away from all the windows should any debris come crashing through.

  “Is that a Hoosier?” Sadie asked during a commercial, nodding toward the antique cabinet in the corner. Bree had all sorts of family photos displayed on its surface, including a few taken at Renee’s cottage.

  “Uh-huh. I found it in Burlington.”

  “It’s lovely.”

  Bree only nodded blankly, so Renee added, “It needed quite a bit of refinishing, but Bree has the magic touch. Give this woman a sander and some chalk paint, and she’s unstoppable.”

  And then, with a sad sort of sigh, the power went off.

  Lincoln began to whimper all over again.

  “Surprised that didn’t happen sooner,” Dan said. “Bree, where did you put the candles? I’ll light them.”

  They all stared at their hostess, who didn’t seem to be quite with it.

  “Candles?” she repeated, shaking her head a few times. “Right. Candles. Um, there are some in the drawers of the china cabinet. The one in the dining room? You should find a few packs of matches in there, too.”

  Dan thanked her and disappeared through the arched doorway.

  Bree took a quick glance at her watch. “It’s getting late, and I’m not feeling great. If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to crash. There are guest rooms for everyone, and please feel free to use whatever you find in the bathrooms. Renee? You can have your old room. Also, um, can you make sure everyone gets settled?”

  Even though it was only eight o’clock, Renee watched as her sister tossed away the quilt she’d been wrapped in and headed for the stairs. Quickly, she followed after her. She took a shortcut through the kitchen’s back stairs—grabbing the stack of unopened mail en route—and caught Bree before she slipped into her bedroom.

  “Hey, wait.” Renee reached out, grabbing her arm. “Something’s wrong, and I know it. You can talk to me! You can tell me absolutely anything. This is and will forever be a zero judgment zone. You know that, right?”

  Bree flinched. “I’m fine, okay? I am completely fine! Would you stop worrying? It’s suffocating, Renee.”

  Renee shook her head and held her ground. Bree wasn’t turning the tables and playing the victim. Not now.

  Instead, she held up the stack of mail. “Every time I drop by, you seem like you just woke up from a nap. It’s like you’re in this eternal stupor, which isn’t you. Plus, your house is getting messy. All of this forgotten mail had piled up on the counter and was in danger of spilling into the sink. Are you on more than Xanax?”

  Bree swallowed. “I found a lump. In the shower.”

  “Oh my God. No. Shit. No.” Renee felt like she might throw up. Instead, she pulled Bree into her arms, holding her as tight as she could, breathing in the faint lilac of her shampoo. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I didn’t want to scare you.” Bree began to cry into Renee’s shoulder. “Jill said I should but…but…I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Are you going to the doctor?”

  “Yeah,” Bree said. “I have a mammogram next week. It was the soonest they could fit me in.”

  Neither had to ask what the other was thinking.

  Fuck cancer.

  Their dad had a pack-a-day smoking habit so it wasn’t such a shock when his chronic cough eventually got a stage four diagnosis. But when their mom went, it had started just like this—she’d gone in for a routine checkup when her doctor discovered a lump on her left breast. She’d been so brave, assuring her daughters it was probably benign, and yet it hadn’t been. And the cancer had already spread.

  “She didn’t even have a chance,” Bree whispered. “It was in her brain when they caught it. Her freaking brain.”

  Renee was crying now, too. “I still can’t wrap my head around it, how one day we were planning a trip to Vermont and then a week later, hospice. It wasn’t fair. This isn’t fair.”

  “I hate this so much.”

  “I know, honey. I do too.” Renee stroked her sister’s hair, the way she used to when they were little girls. “I swear I will be with you every step of this journey. I just wish you would have told me sooner. No one should shoulder that sort of worry alone.”

  “Jill knows,” Bree murmured. “She’s been the only one. Until you.”

  This time Bree’s reference to her best friend sunk in. Renee tried to ignore the pang of jealousy. Bree and Renee were close. But what Bree shared with her bestie Jill was something on another level. They finished each other’s sentences. They wandered between their two stores—Castaway Yarn and Chickadee Studios—during the day, each sipping chai tea from Morning Joe’s.

  Renee knew Bree would have sworn Jill to secrecy, but still…it hurt to be left out of something that could literally be life or death. It was also yet another painful reminder of Renee’s lack of a friend like Jill. God, she’d perfected the art of evasion, sticking to safe, surface-level friendships most of her adult life.

  “Guess my tiny boobs got sick of me complaining about them and decided to try and kill me.” Bree tried to joke.

  “Stop.” Renee wasn’t in the mood to smile, much less laugh. “This isn’t funny.”


  “Trust me, I know. But sometimes you have to laugh when all you want to do is cry.” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I didn’t tell you because your worry would have freaked me out even more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That mother hen instinct of yours. Sometimes it can be a little overwhelming. That’s all,” Bree said quietly. “It was easier to pretend this all wasn’t actually happening.”

  Renee nodded. She got it.

  “Listen. I’m going to try and sleep. All of this anxiety is exhausting.” She leaned against the oak doorframe. “I was thinking Sadie and Lincoln could sleep in the big room upstairs, the one with the adjoining bath?”

  “Good idea.” It was the room with mauve wallpaper and a four-poster bed. There was a big armchair in the corner perfect for Sadie to read to Lincoln by candlelight before the two went to bed. “And Dan?”

  “Forget your old room. You two could share the honeymoon suite?” Bree waggled her brows.

  The honeymoon suite was an inside joke between the sisters. One of the countless items left behind in their parents’ house had been the infamous waterbed, something the girls had always teased them about. Bree kept the bed in a guest room now, which they’d nicknamed the honeymoon suite.

  “Not too tired to have a dirty mind I see.” Renee swatted at her.

  After a final hug, Bree retired to her bedroom and Renee returned to the living room.

  When she returned to the living room, Lincoln’s eyes were dropping and both Sadie and Dan looked a little worse for wear.

  “I’d be happy to show you your rooms,” she told them. “There are plenty of fresh towels in the hall closet and lots of extra blankets. There’s some bottled water in the kitchen if you’d like to wash your faces and whatnot. We should all be very comfortable here tonight.”

  Dan and Sadie each grabbed a few bottled waters and followed Renee upstairs, Lincoln commenting “spooky” each time the steps creaked.

  Dan whispered in her ear, “I am hoping you’re with me.”

  “Shhhh,” Renee implored, trying not to blush. “Dan, you can use this restroom, Sadie follow me.”

 

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