Secrets from a Happy Marriage

by Maisey Yates

  She didn’t care.

  A bubble of laughter welled up in her chest.

  She didn’t care.

  She’d had whiskey in a teacup.

  She had done the absolute worst thing. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that people did think the worst of her. Her family loved her, anyway. Her mother might not have accepted her actions, but she hadn’t disowned her, either. Emma and Rachel loved her. Defended her. Accepted her.

  Who cared what anyone else thought? And they would think. A whole lot of things. Awful things. And she just didn’t care.

  She might as well park her car where she pleased.

  He couldn’t hate her any more than Hannah did. Hannah, she suspected, hated her more than Thomas did. In fact, she suspected a host of people did. But that was how this sort of thing went. It was so easy to inhabit someone else’s life and trauma. So easy to form pure, undiluted opinions when you didn’t know all the facts.

  Facts often clouded emotion.

  And people didn’t like that.

  Anna herself hadn’t liked it.

  It was difficult to judge after having the epiphany that she didn’t know how she would have behaved if she’d been on the other side of a situation like this.

  But she wasn’t. She was her. Standing in solidarity with herself. It was all she could do. She took one last look inside the mechanic shop. The guy wasn’t looking at her, so he must not be that bothered.

  And she found that whatever she told herself about freedom, she did care slightly. Because she could hardly cast off years of emotional training and just not care at all what people thought.

  But she could tell herself she didn’t care. And that at least offered moments of that feeling, whether it stuck around or not.

  She crossed the empty street quickly, and walked into the diner. It was mostly empty. Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch.

  There was one older couple sitting in the corner by the window, but otherwise there was no one.

  Adam wasn’t at the counter, but she assumed he was in the kitchen. She’d never been here when he wasn’t present. In fact, she was pretty sure he lived upstairs. Not that they’d ever discussed his living arrangements.

  She walked up to the counter, and no sooner had her palms pressed down on the mottled silver-and-white surface than the kitchen door opened, and Adam came out, a dishcloth slung over his shoulder.

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles in his forearms shifting, and not for the first time she thought he was a little incongruous in an old, dilapidated diner.

  “Anna,” he said. But he wasn’t looking right at her. His blue eyes were scanning behind her, and for a moment she wondered if he was looking for Emma, since Emma was his employee.

  But...no.

  No. It wouldn’t be Emma.

  He was looking for Rachel. She didn’t know why she knew that, only that she did.

  “Hi,” she said. “My sister mentioned that you have terrible pie.”

  “Okay,” he said. “As opening lines go, that’s a strange one.”

  “It’s on-topic.”

  “Is it?” he asked.

  “Yes. I would like to offer to make pie for you.”

  “Me personally?” He pressed his hand against his chest.

  “No. Although, we can start with that, if you want. I want to make pie for the diner. You don’t have a pastry chef. And I make a lot of pie, anyway. I do it for the lighthouse. It could be beneficial. For both of us. I can leave a card down here. If people like the food, maybe they’ll consider coming to the bed-and-breakfast.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, and I hate to disappoint you. But I don’t exactly get a lot of tourists in here. This is kind of a regular hangout.”

  “But what if people hear you have amazing pie? Then it might become a tourist hangout.”

  “See,” he said, “that mostly scares me.”

  “You’re a big guy. I don’t actually think anything scares you that much.”

  She didn’t know Adam well, but she could see the ripple of charged emotion that went through his body before he tipped up his lips into an overly casual smile. “I’ve never liked spiders.”

  “Well, my pies are not spiders. And tourists aren’t spiders, either. I just... I don’t have much to do right now. And I will literally make you pie at cost. Just...give it a chance. Give it a try. Nobody else is going to take my pie, Adam. And, honestly, if I were you I might hide who’s making it first.”

  “Why?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. No one’s going to want any of your whore pie.”

  “Is that a kind of pie...?” He grimaced. “Because, I have to admit, it doesn’t sound that appealing.”

  “No. You know... I’m not exactly well loved around here right now.”

  He let out a gruff sigh. “Look. I try to pretend that I don’t hear any of the gossip around here. Mostly because I don’t ever want to be asked to engage in it. Also, I don’t care what anyone says.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because people are jerks. And...it’s none of my business.”

  “Yeah. But...still.”

  “I don’t care.” He slung the dishcloth from one shoulder to the other. “And, yes, I will carry your pie. I’ll put your name on it. I don’t especially mind what anyone says.”

  “Well, people might say things. You do need to be aware of that.”

  “The people here? They all go to the community church, and they don’t like the big fancy one, anyway. They think your husband is too shiny. That he’s selling a bill of goods. They think anyone who can fill that many church seats can’t be a shade too far above a scam-artist televangelist.”

  For some reason, that made Anna bristle. “Well, I don’t think that’s true. He’s sincere in what he says, in what he believes. He’s not scamming anyone, believe me.”

  “That is probably a bit more generous than you need to be. But again. I don’t actually care. About gossip. I do care about pie. And you’re right. Mine is terrible. Luis makes a good hamburger but he makes a pretty damned awful crust. So...yeah. Let’s do it. I can get a pastry case and stick the whole ones out here, make a big deal out of it.”

  “Don’t do that. I don’t want charity pie.”

  “It’s mutual charity. Isn’t it?” He rubbed his chin. “Actually, we’re exchanging money, so it’s just mutual business.”

  “You’re all right, do you know that?”

  He smiled. “You only say that because you don’t talk to me very often.”

  “So...when. When should I bring the pie?”

  “Whenever. Whenever you have one done.”

  “I can bring them tomorrow.”

  “Great.” He turned and started to walk into the kitchen. Then he paused. “How’s Rachel?”

  “She’s...” She looked at his back for a moment. And while she paused, he turned to face her again and that fleeting thought she’d had earlier felt confirmed as she noticed the way the lines around his mouth deepened when he said her sister’s name.

  She cleared her throat. “I didn’t think you did gossip.”

  “I don’t.” He crossed his arms again, rocking back on his heels.

  “You could ask her how she is. I’m sure she would appreciate it.”

  “I actually don’t think she would. I think she likes it when I don’t ask.”

  “Well, it seems maybe not the best to ask me, then.”

  “Just because she doesn’t want me to ask doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.” He paused for a moment.

  “I didn’t realize you knew her quite so well,” Anna said.

  She didn’t mean to dig, but now she was a little curious.

  “She’s a customer. A regular. We talk sometimes.” Anna knew that wasn’t the whole tru
th. But as someone who’d sat comfortably in lies for a number of years, she didn’t want to go forcing anyone out into the open until they were good and ready.

  “I’m worried about her,” he said finally.

  “Me, too. But she... You know, I was going to say she’s strong. It’s true. But she’s just human, too. And maybe she kind of doesn’t want you to ask her how she is, but I still think you should. I think she would like knowing that you care, Adam.”

  She looked around the diner’s empty space. “Actually. On that subject of you caring about my family. Do you think that we can have Emma’s birthday party here? Don’t say anything to her. Rachel has been planning on making it a surprise, but she was going to have it up at the lighthouse. It’s just... I think that place is complicated for Emma right now. She and Rachel had a big fight, and she said something about it being kind of depressing there. Considering that’s where her dad died. But she likes it here. Her job here makes her happy.”

  He nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll shut the place down for her. Just tell me when.”

  “Her birthday is May 13. It’s a Wednesday night, so—”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Thank you. For everything. And I mean it. Ask Rachel how she is.”

  “I will,” he said.

  Anna turned and walked away, and she felt...more accomplished than she had in longer than she could remember.

  She stepped out of the diner and onto the street, and when she turned, she found herself walking right in the path of a man she recognized. It took her a second to place him.

  Xavier Ramos.

  She’d gone to high school with him and had seen him at church off and on over the years. He wasn’t totally regular, but he’d been around, and they’d chatted pleasantly whenever they’d seen each other.

  For a moment, she forgot. And she smiled at him.

  Then there was a beat. A terrified beat, where she wondered how he would respond. Would he smile back? Or would he be another Hannah. Ready to judge her and tear chunks off her.

  He smiled.

  “Anna,” he said. “Long time no see.”

  “Oh. Uh. Yeah. It has been.”

  His eyes dropped to her left hand and then back to her face. “How are things?”

  “Good,” she said. “Really good, actually.”

  Maybe really good was an exaggeration. But he’d looked at her hand. He’d looked for a ring. And she’d wanted to just make it clear she was more than okay with that vacant space on her finger. Whatever he’d heard or hadn’t heard.

  “Oh, and you?” she asked.

  He laughed and his smile lit up his face. It was a very handsome face. “Good. I fish, you know, so sometimes I’m here, sometimes I’m in Alaska. I’ve been back for a few weeks.”

  So back long enough to have heard rumors about her, that was for sure. But he didn’t have any weird energy about him.

  “Will you be here for a while?”

  He nodded. “I plan on it. I just bought a house and I’m fixing it up. I’m hoping to be more local now.”

  “Oh, right. Do you have a...fiancée or girlfriend or...”

  He grinned. “No.”

  And she tried to ignore the slight fluttering in her stomach.

  “Same,” she said. “Except...you know. Men. Not...women. Not that... You get what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I have an appointment with a contractor, but hopefully I’ll see you around?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m around.”

  When he left, she felt slightly breathless. Giddy.

  She had done something for Rachel. She had done something for Emma.

  And she had done something for herself.

  She had built three things today.

  And for someone who had felt like nothing but a destroyer for quite some time, that felt amazing.

  But that, she supposed, was the great truth of life.

  A hammer could demolish, and a hammer could build. It all depended on what you did with it.

  She was capable of both.

  She had been the one to destroy her life. And she was the only one who could build herself a new one.

  19

  Ron is so funny, you’d like him. Dad wouldn’t. He’s got a motorcycle.

  —FROM A LETTER WRITTEN BY SUSAN BRIGHT TO HER SISTER, AUGUST 1961

  EMMA

  Emma felt strange leaving things unresolved with her mother. She also couldn’t claim she was just a benevolent liar now.

  At this point, she was simply a liar.

  She saw Luke almost every night. And she always made up excuses. Picking up an extra shift, doing homework with Catherine. And her mom hadn’t pushed. Likely because she was waiting for Emma to say she was sorry, or was afraid they would have another big blowup.

  Emma was exploiting that. She knew she was. But as long as her mom didn’t know what was happening, Emma could luxuriate in it.

  She was going to Boston. She had accepted.

  Luke was her boyfriend.

  She could talk to him about anything. About everything. When they weren’t talking...there was a lot of kissing.

  She had no practical experience with guys. No kissing, and she’d certainly never wanted to have sex with one before.

  And she knew it was fast. Really fast.

  But she wanted to. With him.

  It felt big, but it was the distraction she needed from today. Her birthday.

  Today hurt.

  Her dad should be here, and he wasn’t. It felt wrong.

  There was something about being with Luke that helped. At first it had been that crush, that secret that she had that she could hold close when the world felt hard. Now it was the beauty of something new. The healing of it.

  Like renewing her heart. Layering something bright and brand-new over the old hurt. It didn’t make the pain go away.

  It was like a multifaceted gem. If she held it a certain way, the light caught the right edge and it glowed. Making it all she could see. Ignoring the dark spots, for just a little bit.

  Luke felt so special, so important.

  And she didn’t care if some people would think it was too fast, or that she was too young. She didn’t. She was going to see him sometime tonight. But there was going to be a family dinner first, and now Emma was helping her aunt Anna take pies to J’s. She didn’t mind that—it put her in proximity to Luke. Although, it would be difficult to figure out what to do with her face if she saw him, and she was with Anna.

  Not that she really needed to keep it a secret from Anna.

  But she didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. She couldn’t quite articulate why, not even to herself.

  She grabbed the pies out of the back of her aunt’s car and turned, looking toward the garage. She could see him through the window, and he lifted his head and his eyes met hers.

  She felt color mounting in her face, and she knew that Anna could see. He knew that she was keeping him a secret, even though he didn’t love it. She had explained at length that had nothing to do with being embarrassed of him—she wasn’t. She was insanely proud of him.

  She just didn’t want... She didn’t want to share him. She didn’t want to share these happy spots in her life with anyone. Because the minute that she let the rest of her life in... Well, everything else was sad and complicated. And this wasn’t.

  “Are you looking at that boy?” Anna asked as she grabbed the second box out of the car.

  “Maybe,” Emma said, turning away.

  “He’s cute.”

  “Yes,” Emma said.

  Denying that Luke was cute would be more suspicious than just agreeing. She worked across the street, after all. And going to J’s was how she’d seen him in the first place. So it stood to reason that she could acknowledge his attract
iveness.

  “I can’t believe you’re eighteen,” Anna said.

  “Why? Because I grew up so fast?”

  Her aunt’s face did something funny. “No. Because you’re still a kid. I know you might not realize it. I know I didn’t when I was eighteen. I was getting married. Ugh. Thank God you’re not doing that.”

  Given Emma’s recent thoughts about her feelings for Luke that felt pointed, even though her aunt didn’t intend for it to be.

  Emma truly didn’t feel young. She felt tired.

  But when she was with Luke it all felt so much brighter.

  “I’m proud of you, Em,” Anna said, pulling her in for a one-armed side hug.

  Then Anna turned and walked toward J’s and Emma trailed behind her.

  Guilt twisted Emma’s stomach. She had never put a toe out of line, not in all her life, and now she was doing it. But she was doing it in a deceptive, quiet way. And she wondered if that was actually what her entire life was made of.

  Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

  Pretending to be good, when she actually wanted to rebel.

  She hadn’t lied or been overly sneaky, because she had felt like it was wrong. But she also wasn’t being honest about what she was. And maybe that was what had led her down the path to being such a liar now. Because it had seemed more acceptable than telling everyone what she wanted. Because that was truly terrifying.

  Because it would seem random to them. This sudden desire to date an older mechanic, who had dropped out of high school. The need to spread her wings and separate herself from her family, to move across the country. It would be surprising to them because they didn’t know that she was resisting her desires all this time. That she was suppressing them.

  It would surprise them because she had never talked to her mom about boys, because it had seemed like such a strange and thorny subject.

  She had watched her mom love her dad in a deep, intense way. But she’d also seen how sharp and painful love could be. One time she’d told her mom that she had a crush on a boy, and her mom had looked at her with wild terror in her eyes and said, “You’re too young.”