From This Moment

by Melanie Harlow

  Everything she said was true, but I refused to give up. “We can’t just unlove each other, either.”

  “We might have to.”

  My chest ached. “No. I’ll figure it out, Hannah. I promise.”

  “Don’t.” She snatched her hand from me. “Don’t say that anymore. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “Goddammit, I don’t want to lose you.” I could have put my fist through the windshield. This was so fucking unfair.

  “I don’t want to lose you, either,” she said, fresh tears welling. “But I have to put my daughter first. Obviously, she feels like something is wrong or missing in her life since she doesn’t have a father, and that means I’m not doing a good enough job.”

  “Yes, you are. Maybe she just wants to see you happy. Maybe it’s not so much about filling the role of her father but about wanting her mom to smile more.”

  “Maybe.” She reached into her purse for a tissue and wiped her eyes and nose. “But I need a few days, okay? To think things through? Maybe we’re moving too fast. I feel like things are spinning out of control, and I need to get a handle on them, or I’m going to end up in a bad place.”

  I didn’t want to be apart from her, not even for a few days, but I understood. “Of course.”

  “Thanks.” She looked over at me with huge, sad eyes. “I do love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “You probably wish you didn’t.”

  I reached out and took her face in my hands. “I will never wish I didn’t love you.”

  “But you could have anybody. Somebody your mother would approve of.”

  “But I love you.” I kissed her softly. “Remember that.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath. “I should go pick up Abby now.”

  “Do you want me to be there?”

  “No. It’s okay. I have to be willing to look your mother in the eye, or else she’ll make the case that deep down, I don’t think this is right, either.”

  I nodded. Sometimes she surprised me with her strength. “Call me later?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. For whatever pain my feelings for you have caused you and Abby.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I never meant to drive a wedge between you and your mother.”

  “It’s her driving the wedge, not you.”

  “Still. I’m a mother, too. And yours has gone through something I can’t even imagine. I try to remember that when she gets to me.”

  “I’ll try as well.”

  She got out of my car and quickly jumped into hers. The rain still hadn’t let up. I watched her drive off and prayed my mother would go easy on her, or better yet, say nothing at all.

  She had such a big heart, and it had been broken so badly. I didn’t want to see it broken again.

  Eighteen

  HANNAH

  My stomach was in knots.

  It had been that way ever since Wes’s phone call, but now my head was pounding too. And this fucking rain—I felt like I was drowning in it, drowning in everything.

  I knew it. I knew this was too good to be true. How could we have been so careless? How could we have thought that everything would just go our way because we wanted it to? How had I ever believed Wes when he said things would be okay?

  But I hadn’t really, had I? Deep down, something in me had always refused to believe the universe would let us be happy together. Life just didn’t work that way.

  But what now? What, now that I loved him and wanted him and needed him? What was I going to do? There were no clear answers, no easy way out of these woods, and no one was coming to rescue me. It didn’t compare to the agony of losing Drew, but it reminded me of that time in my life, when I felt like I couldn’t see my way forward.

  And it scared me. I never wanted to feel that lost again, that pummeled by life, that powerless to help myself. Yet I’d put myself in this position. I’d tempted fate. I’d allowed myself to love again.

  You should have known better.

  When I made it to Lenore’s house, I turned off my car and ran for the door. Any other day I might have sat there for a minute and waited to see if the rain would slow down, but all I wanted was to get Abby, take her home, and hug her all day long. And who knew what Lenore was saying to her?

  I knocked on the door, and she answered it.

  “Hello, Lenore.”

  “Hannah.” Her eyes were bloodshot, her expression cool. “Come on in.”

  I stepped into the foyer. “I hear Abby isn’t feeling well.”

  “Well, of course not. She’s crushed.”

  “Where is she?” I asked, ignoring the comment.

  “She’s upstairs. But before you get her, could I speak to you in the kitchen please?”

  I wanted to say no, but I stood tall. “Okay.” Following her into the kitchen, I rubbed with the space on my finger where my ring used to be.

  “Have a seat.” She gestured toward the chairs at the island.

  “No, thanks. I’ll stand.”

  She sighed. “Hannah, I don’t want to argue about this. I tried to talk some sense into Wes, but he won’t listen.”

  “Say what you want to say, Lenore.”

  “You loved Drew. I know you did. And I know that it must be confusing for you to see Wes again.”

  “Of course I loved Drew. I’ll always love him. But I’m not confused.” Scared, yes. But not confused.

  She tried again. “I don’t blame you for wanting to be close to him. It must feel like you have your husband back.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “You don’t love Wes,” she said, as if the idea was preposterous. “You just think you do. You’re lonely and depressed. And he’s a caretaker. He can’t see anyone hurting and not want to heal them. He’s always been that way. Same as his brother.”

  She was implying that Wes—and possibly even Drew—didn’t really love me, and even though it made me sick to my stomach, I refused to take that bait. “I know how I feel.”

  She crossed her arms. “Well then, if you love him, you should realize that this tawdry affair you’re having could ruin his career. Who’s going to trust his judgment after word of this gets out? The whole practice could go under. And what about Abby?” she went on, without giving me a chance to get a word in. “I cannot believe that any mother would think it was okay to expose her child to the shame of such a thing. Not to mention the fact that she honestly harbored the illusion Wes could suddenly replace her father.”

  “Wes told her he cannot replace Drew,” I said firmly. “She knows who her father is.”

  “She’s going to forget him.” Lenore’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m worried she’s going to forget him. Like you have. Like Wes has. I feel like I’m the only one remembering him.”

  Her tears tugged at me a little, because I could tell that this was a legitimate fear she had—that her son would be forgotten. “We haven’t forgotten him. We talk about him all the time. He’d want us to be happy.”

  “That’s an easy thing to tell yourselves, isn’t it?”

  “This wasn’t easy for me at all. I fought it. Wes fought it. But it happened.”

  “Love doesn’t just happen,” she said irritably. “It happened because you two let it happen. Because you jumped into bed together without a single thought to the consequences, and they are many, including a little girl who hears her mother crying at night, probably because she feels so guilty about what she’s doing with her brother-in-law.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Please go get Abby so I can take her home.”

  When I tried to walk away, she grabbed my arm. “Hannah, wait. Just think about what you’re doing. That’s all I ask. Think about what you’re doing and what’s best for Abby. Think about what people will say and how embarrassing it will be for everybody. I don’t want to have to explain to people why my son is dating his brother’s wife.”

  I yanked my arm free. “This isn’t about you.”

&n
bsp; “Yes, it is,” she said. “It’s about family and loyalty, and I don’t understand why neither you nor Wes seems to get it.”

  But I was already striding out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs. Abby happened to be coming down them, her elephant tucked under her arm. “Mommy!” She hurried down the steps and ran over to me.

  I reached out and scooped her up, hugging her close. “Hi, pumpkin. Ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  I set her down. “Say thank you to Nana.” Mad as I was, I would not let it be said of me that I didn’t have manners.

  “Thank you, Nana.” She went over and gave Lenore a hug.

  “You’re welcome, darling.” Lenore’s eyes closed and she sniffed as she held Abby close. I wondered if she was scared I’d try to keep Abby from her. After what she just said to me, she should be.

  Doc came around the corner from his office, a newspaper in hand. “Hello there, Hannah. Thought I heard your voice.”

  “Hi, Doc.”

  “Come give Papa a hug, Abby,” he said, opening his arms.

  She walked into them, and he squeezed her tight. My throat lumped up. They really did love her. And they probably felt like she was all they had left of Drew. I didn’t want to prevent Abby from spending time with them. But I didn’t want her hearing me badmouthed all the time either. God, this was such a mess! How had we ever thought we could make this work?

  On the way home, we stopped at the store and bought some groceries. I let Abby choose what we’d have for dinner, and she chose hot dogs wrapped in crescent rolls, something she and Lenore had cooked up one time. I gritted my teeth but stuck the hot dogs and dough in the cart.

  “How about a vegetable?” I asked. “We need something healthy with that.”

  She thought for a second. “Green beans.”

  “Works for me.” I scooped some into a plastic bag.

  “What about dessert? Can we bake a pie?”

  “We sure can. What kind?”

  She tapped her chin with one finger. “Apple. Because apples are good for you.”

  I laughed. “Right.”

  At home, I made lunch and we ate together at the table. Then we put on our matching aprons, rolled out the pie crust, prepared the filling, assembled the pie, and put it in the oven. Abby was cheerful and talkative, and some of the worry in me eased. Maybe she was okay.

  “How’s that tummy ache?” I asked her as we cleaned up.

  “Better,” she said.

  While the pie was in the oven, Abby got out her crayons and colored at the kitchen table. I made a cup tea and sat across from her.

  “What are you coloring?”

  She looked up at me like I was crazy. “It’s a heart.”

  “Ah.” I looked at the picture. “So it is.”

  “Nana said any time I feel sad about my daddy or miss him, I can just touch my heart, because that’s where he is now.”

  My throat threatened to close, and I steadied myself with a deep breath. “That’s a nice idea.” Another deep breath. “Uncle Wes told me about this morning.”

  She kept coloring.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “He said he can’t sell his house. And Nana said it would be wrong for him to be my dad. And that you can’t marry him.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “It made me sad.”

  “Do you still feel sad?”

  “Yes,” she said. She touched her chest. “I love the daddy in my heart, but I would like a daddy in real life too.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. While I was thinking about it, she asked another question.

  “Is it true that you can’t marry Uncle Wes?”

  I thought carefully before I answered with the truth. “No. It isn’t.”

  Abby looked up at me with wide eyes. “But Nana said.”

  “Nana thinks it would be wrong. I don’t.”

  “I don’t understand. How can it be right and wrong at the same time?” She tilted her head. “Is she lying, or are you lying?”

  “No one is lying, Abby. Sometimes people just disagree. This is one of those times. But that doesn’t mean it will happen. Right now Uncle Wes and I are just good friends.”

  She appeared to think about that for a moment and then went back to coloring.

  Later, we ate hot dogs and green beans, followed by slices of apple pie. We did Abby’s homework, read a story and filled out her reading log, and got ready for bed. Then we cuddled on the couch in our pajamas, watching America’s Funniest Home Videos. Her little giggle made me feel good, like maybe I hadn’t done irreparable damage.

  Maybe things would be okay.

  After putting Abby to bed, I dug my phone out of my purse and sat on the couch again. Grimacing at the text messages that had upset me last night, I deleted them without replying. Same with the voicemail.

  Then I dialed Wes, but it went to voicemail. I left a message.

  “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know Abby is doing okay. We talked about it, and I think she understands better now. Anyway, hope you’re having a good night. I love you.”

  I turned off all the lights, locked up the house, and went upstairs. It was only eight o’clock, but I was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. I felt better about Abby, but that still didn’t change the fact that Wes and I had huge problems. As I slid between the sheets I’d shared with Wes last night, I tried to think it through.

  Mad as I was at Lenore, I had to admit, some of the things she said were true. For example, she was right about people talking—if my text messages were any indication, the gossip was already spreading. And even if we had skin thick enough to endure it, she would remain a problem. What if she didn’t come around? What if she refused to accept us? What if she made Wes choose?

  What if he didn’t choose me?

  The knots in my stomach that had unraveled somewhat over the course of the afternoon raveled right back up. If it came down to it and Wes had to make a choice, there was no guarantee he’d pick me. Why should he? I was a fucking mess.

  And what about the thing Lenore said about Wes being a caretaker, implying that he didn’t love me so much as he wanted to heal me? Was there any truth in that? Same as his brother, she’d said. But Drew had truly loved me, hadn’t he?

  Maybe. But he’s not here anymore.

  Because love wasn’t enough to save anyone.

  Why did I keep forgetting that?

  Nineteen

  WES

  After Hannah left to pick up Abby, I drove around for a while, cursing the rain, cursing my mother, cursing myself for not handling this situation better. But what could I have done differently?

  Hannah was right. We couldn’t go back and change the past. She’d been my brother’s wife. There was no getting around it. But if we weren’t bothered by that, what the fuck did anyone else care?

  And it was inevitable that people were going to find out, but it would have been nice to break the news to my parents on our own terms. To be there together presenting a united front. If my mother could see how much we loved each other, and that we weren’t doing this just for the forbidden kick of it, maybe she’d change her mind. I didn’t give a fuck about anyone else, but this would be hard if I couldn’t get her to come around. And Hannah was panicking.

  I had to try again.

  But I’d be more tactful this time. Less angry. I’d play the long game. I’d concede that this was unusual and agree that many people were going to find it distasteful, but I’d assure her that the only opinions that mattered to me were hers and my father’s. I’d assure her that my professional reputation would not suffer. I’d appeal to her romantic side, remind her that real love was rare—I’d never felt it for anyone else. And now that I’d found it, I couldn’t let it go. I’d tell her how inspired I was by her forty-year marriage, and how I wanted that for myself. I’d convince her that Abby and Hannah and I were meant to be a family, just like Abby wanted. I’d take care
of them, just like Drew would want me to.

  Once I had her listening to me with a more open mind, I could offer more hope to Hannah that everything would be okay. We would be happy together.

  I would keep my promise.

  Determined to sway my mother gently this time, I headed for home.

  I found her sitting on the couch with an old photo album in her lap.

  “Hey,” I said. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Taking a nap.”

  I sat down next to her. “What are you looking at?”

  She angled the album so I could see. It was open to a page of pictures showing Drew and I around age eight, dressed in our Halloween costumes. I was Batman and Drew was the Joker.

  I laughed. “Oh my God, I remember that year.”

  She flipped the page and there we were at the Thanksgiving table, wearing neckties that were probably clip-on, our haircuts painfully short. Then Christmas, with photos of us opening gifts, playing in the snow, sitting on the hearth dressed in matching red sweaters. She kept turning pages, without saying anything, without laughing or smiling. Easter. A trip to Florida. Last day of school. Riding jet skis on the lake. The final page was the two of us standing on the beach in our bathing suits, Drew’s arm around my shoulder, both of us tan and damp-haired and grinning.

  I felt a deep tug of longing for him, grief hitting me all over again, hollowing me out. I swallowed hard.

  My mother sniffed as she closed the album. “Your father is displeased with me.”

  “Is he?”

  “Yes. He thinks I’m being unfair.”

  So he did take a side. I was surprised and yet not. My father has always had a big heart.

  “But I just can’t stomach it, Wes. I’m sorry, but I can’t. Why does it have to be her?”

  “Because I love her.”

  She stared at her hands on the album.

  “Mom. Look at me.” When she met my eyes, I repeated myself. “I love her.”

  “But why?” Her chin jutted. “I don’t understand. You can have anybody. Why do you have to love the girl your brother chose?”