“Why?” I found myself asking.
His closed expression softened for a beat, and he did the smallest of face movements that I recalled equaled an all-out shrug with him.
“Time to come home.”
My whole body went warm as he said it and his eyes transported me back in time to a place that stabbed my heart and twisted.
“Ben, this is my granddaughter, Cassidy Lockwood,” my mother said, her voice breaking the moment. She frowned at my rudeness, and I stiffened and envisioned my chest cracking open at the mention of my daughter.
I smiled. “Yes, my—” My mouth dried up, and I licked my lips. “Cassidy, this is an old friend of mine, Ben Landry.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said with her dazzling smile, shaking his hand.
“Nice grip,” he said, making her laugh.
Ben excused himself to go look at a window, and I ran a hand over my face, feeling the nervous dampness.
“I don’t remember seeing him before,” Cass said, straddling a bar stool, looking so relaxed in her oversized sweater and crazy furry boots.
“He just got back in town,” I said, focusing on each word, making sure none of them wobbled or shook so that her keen sense of observation wouldn’t pick it up. “Been gone a long time.”
“Well, that’s cool that he’s helping Nana. When’s the last time you saw him?”
I shrugged and got up, feigning interest in the dishes in the sink. “Don’t know.”
But I gripped the sink discreetly and closed my eyes as the real answer burned across my brain like a firebrand.
The night we made you.
CHAPTER
3
I MANAGED TO EXTRICATE MYSELF FROM THE HOUSE WITH CASSIDY in tow, and she wasn’t happy about it. I didn’t care. My anxiety had rendered my feet and fingers numb, and her whining was the least of my concern.
“Mom, come on,” she said as I walked behind her to assure her exit. “What is your problem?”
“I need you to meet me at the store,” I said, pulling that out of thin air.
She stopped and turned to face me before I could barrel into her. “Meet you at the store?” She raised an eyebrow at me, and I suddenly longed for the days when we didn’t stand eye to eye and I could order her around. She laid a hand on my arm. “You like whole-grain bread and the ice cream in the big bucket, Mom. Are you okay?” She grimaced and backed up a step. “And why do you reek of Aunt Bernie?”
That explained it. “I’m fine. Where are you going, then?”
She huffed out a breath. “Well, I wasn’t going anywhere, I was gonna hang with Nana a little since I haven’t been over in a while, but that guy’s here, so . . .”
“Yeah, they’re busy,” I said, knowing I was jumping on it too fast.
She nodded, looking at me like maybe I’d had a seizure. “Yeah. So I’ll probably go grab a coffee and hang out with Josh a little before work.”
Before my irritation could go on automatic pilot at the mention of lackluster, non-ambitious, motorcycle-riding Josh, I weighed the options and picked the lesser of two evils.
“So, how is the car-wash business?”
A smirk lifted one corner of her mouth. “Now I know you’re not right.”
I held my palms up. “Hey, you’re always saying I don’t give him a chance, so I’m just trying to be nice. Was thinking of putting some Suds-It-Up cards in my client welcome packets.” Ugh—I wanted to slap myself.
“Uh-huh,” she said, laughing. “Okay, well, I’ll be sure to let him know.”
“So, are you on the river tonight, or at the café?” I asked. Cassidy had two waitressing jobs. One at the trendy Dock Hollidays restaurant on the boardwalk that flanked the Neches River and its new marina and dock. The other at a gritty café in the old section of town.
“I’m at Dock’s the next three days,” she said. “Stacking up some shifts for extra money.”
“Oh, wait,” I said as she headed to her car. “Your dad wanted to know if you’d done anything with those school applications.”
“No,” she said, continuing to walk.
“He’s been trying to call you,” I said to her retreating back.
“I know,” she said, waving two fingers.
I just smiled and watched her climb into her little white Volks-wagen Bug. “Slow down!” I yelled as she zipped out of her spot and sped around the corner like a roadrunner.
I closed my eyes as she disappeared from sight, and held both hands on either side of my head, wishing to somehow reverse the events of that morning so far. Ben was back. Mom was selling her house. I was having some kind of mental break.
Ben was back. It felt like karma had finally caught up with me.
I trudged to my car and leaned against it, knowing I only had one place to go.
• • •
HAVING A SISTER ONLY ONE YEAR OLDER PROVIDED SOME VERY sure realities growing up. We knew most of the same people. We knew most of the same gossip. And we nearly always had to share a car. While those things tied us together in some memorable moments we probably wouldn’t have shared otherwise, Holly and I never really hit that bonding level. We existed in that loop of sibling tolerance that I assumed would morph into something deeper when we grew up.
It didn’t. We’d had our moments of sisterhood, but they were easy to count. When our dad died, when our kids were born, and my twenty-first birthday.
I stood outside Holly’s door with my finger hovering over the button. She was the only one I could talk to about it. But would she be that Holly? Or the pissy know-it-all that had just huffed out of Mom’s house? I grimaced and poked the button, feeling my heartbeat speed up at just the thought of what I was about to say.
There was a dramatic exhalation as the door swung open, followed by the planting of hands on hips.
“Can you freaking believe she talked to us like that?” she said by way of greeting.
“I know,” I said, thinking it funny that I’d felt the same way, all self-righteous, less than an hour before. And yet right then I couldn’t have cared less.
She held the door open and stood aside so I could come in and commiserate on the audacity of our mother. I felt kind of guilty for not being pissed, as I folded a leg underneath myself in her oversized chair. And to be honest, my outrage had faded before the rest of the circus began, so it wasn’t just distraction.
Holly landed on the floor in front of me, pulling a tasseled pillow into her lap. “So, what happened afterward?”
I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Ben Landry came over.”
She stopped twisting the soft material in her hand. Her face registered confusion, like I’d pulled the wrong card in Trivial Pursuit and she had no answer.
“What?”
I opened my mouth to elaborate, but her husband, Greg, strolled downstairs on his way to the kitchen.
“Hey, Emily,” he said with a lift of his hand out of his pocket.
“Hi, Greg,” I said, forcing a smile. “I didn’t see his car,” I whispered through my teeth at Holly. You never wanted to show an ounce of troubled thought around him, as he tended to be on the job twenty-four-seven.
“It’s in the shop,” she whispered back.
“So, what do you think is up with your mother?” he asked.
I shook my head, keeping my happy face on. “Who knows?”
“Hmm,” he said, continuing on. He got a bottled water and headed back upstairs. “I’ll be on a conference call for the next hour, babe.”
“Okay,” she said with a warm smile. As soon as he was gone, her expression returned to normal. “He’s like a lost puppy, having to be here. I’ll be so damned glad when they get his car done and he’s back at the office.”
“So give him your car,” I said, thinking t
hat was logical.
She started. “Then I’d be stuck here.”
I had to shake my head clear of her crazy. “Okay, so anyway.”
“Now, what happened?” she asked.
“Mom hired a carpenter off a flyer she saw. And he came while I was there.”
She blinked a couple of times and I saw the dawning begin. “Ben?”
I wished for a pillow to mangle, myself. I needed something in my hands. “Yes.”
Holly gave a little shake of her head. “Okay, start over. Ben Landry—your Ben Landry?”
I shut my eyes, wanting to scream from that connotation. “That would be the one.”
“He’s back?”
“And living in his mom’s old house,” I said.
Holly narrowed her eyes. “I thought it was up for sale.”
“Evidently not anymore,” I said, getting up. “And now he’s working for Mom.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Holly said. “What about Cass?”
“They’ve met,” I said, turning around with a smile, but I felt the hysteria touching my skin. At her mouth drop, I continued. “She came over next. It was like a revolving door.”
“Oh my God,” Holly whispered, rising in one smooth move without the help of her hands. “Emily, what happened?”
I lifted my ponytail off my neck and fanned myself with it. “Nothing, really. Mom introduced them and they shook hands. I managed not to stroke out.”
“This isn’t good,” Holly said, her face solemn.
A laugh bubbled up from my core. “You think?” I headed around the big open bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, needing something cold. I briefly considered just putting my head on ice in the freezer, but settled on a green tea instead.
“So, what are you gonna do?” Holly asked.
I slugged back the cold tea, wishing it could cool off all the heat in my brain as well. I set down the nearly empty bottle on the counter and she immediately moved it to a nearby coaster.
“I don’t know. I—thought—after all this time, you know—” The fire burned my eyes, and I fought it, especially in front of Holly.
She laid a hand on my arm, a huge PDA for her. “I know, but remember there’s really no reason for anyone to question it.” She leaned against the perfectly polished granite. “He left. He doesn’t know why you got married. And Kevin’s never had reason to think otherwise, either.”
I covered my face, feeling tears come. Remembering the panic of finding out I was pregnant at twenty-one, with no man in the picture. Remembering how Holly urged me to forgive my then-ex-boyfriend’s indiscretions, on the chance it could be his, and start over. It could have been his. And my fear of doing everything alone drove me to let him believe that. But my heart knew it wasn’t. Even before she was born and I saw her eyes and read her blood type written on the paperwork, I knew. But Ben was gone.
“Kevin loves her so much, Holly,” I said into my hands. “She’s always been his little girl. This would kill him.”
Holly pulled my hands away and when I opened my eyes, the sister who’d been my rock all those years ago was there behind forty-three-year-old eyes.
“Then he won’t ever know,” she said. “He doesn’t need to. Now what about Mom?”
• • •
I ARRIVED BACK AT MY HOUSE WITH A MIXED SIGH OF RELIEF and irritation, leaning against the door as I clicked it shut. The distinct sound of nothing blanketed me. No questions, no griping, no complaining.
I’d left Holly’s house with a head shake after a couple of rounds of questioning Mom’s sanity. I knew I should be used to it, but I’d actually needed her for once, and still she flipped right back into Shallow Holly, able to leap tall subjects in a single second.
And Mom’s sanity was the least of my worries. Mine had a much bigger target on it. What the hell was that thing I saw? That whole cute little scene with my parents that easily went on for ten or fifteen minutes but yet not one minute had gone by when I snapped out of it. I couldn’t tell Holly; she’d sic Greg and his never-ending therapist theories on me. While I might end up on a shrink’s couch, it would never be his.
I couldn’t tell Cassidy—no child should ever witness their parents lose their marbles. It upsets the natural balance.
Cassidy. From where I stood, I could see the huge framed shadow box on the wall—my Cass shrine, she’d called it when I first got it done. It had pieces of everything from her infancy to high school graduation, photos, toys, bits of blankets, part of a homecoming corsage, a dried rose her dad had given her at her First Communion.
Her dad. My stomach tightened at that, and I wrapped my arms around my middle like that would keep it all in. All the fear, the worry, the secret that I thought was so long past I’d almost forgotten about it. It burned like it hadn’t in years. I dropped my head, marveling at how a day could go so wrong in just a few hours.
My doorbell singing right behind me pulled me out of my funk with a start, and I whirled around, hoping it wasn’t Kevin again. There was no way I could look him in the eye right then. But when I checked out the side window, I wished it was him.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, backing up and staring at the door like it had betrayed me.
Ben. What the hell. Why would he be standing on the other side of my door?
“Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit,” I mumbled as I held my head together with my hands and paced. Logically, if I waited him out, he’d just leave. And come back another day. When Cassidy might be there. I covered my face for a second. “Shit, damn, hell.”
Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, I opened the door just as he pushed the doorbell button again. “Hey.”
The crooked smile that had gotten him laid all through high school tugged at one side of his mouth, making me clasp my hands together for solidarity.
“Hey, back.”
I swallowed hard. “How did you know—”
“I asked your mother, and she gave me directions.”
A nervous laugh came out. “My mother. Of course she did.”
He looked unsure but still so calm. It was unnerving. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” He backed up a step and his whole expression changed, going cloudy. “In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t a great idea.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, waving a hand, thinking that none of it was fine. And Ben was wearing preppy clothes and using words like hindsight. Yeah, everything was on a big wiggle. “Sorry, I’m just having an off day. Found out from my ex-husband that my mother is selling her house, found out from her that she’s hitting the road like a hippie, and—” I paused, thinking about my little flashback moment.
“And then I show up?”
I smiled, feeling like such a fake. “How’ve you been?”
He nodded just slightly. “Good. You?”
“Good.”
He kept nodding, a hint of amusement in his eyes, and I wanted to crawl under my rug. I couldn’t shake the awkwardness, and I felt like a silly kid. It was the strangest sensation, looking at him now. Older, seasoned, but so much the same. Once upon a time, there wasn’t anything we couldn’t talk about. Standing there then, I couldn’t seem to make my mouth form words.
“Look, Emily, I just thought—” He stopped and held up his hands. “Actually, I shouldn’t have just dropped by like this; I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Old habits,” I said, and then blinked at my own words as they fell out of my mouth.
He gave a small chuckle before his expression went dark again. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess so. See you around,” he said as he turned around and walked to an old truck that didn’t match his clothes.
I watched his back retreat with a sudden urge to call him back. I didn’t, though. I wouldn’t have been able to explain i
t if I did. I just—suddenly wanted to see his face again. The eyes that had once cried for me. The mouth that had once told me he loved me, right before he climbed off the roof and disappeared for over twenty years. Maybe that’s what made me want him to turn around. Just to see what coming back looked like.
I shut the door and pressed my forehead against it, breathing deep and slow. When I finally turned around, my eyes landed on Cassidy’s shadow box. The huge, gaudy reminder of why Ben needed to keep going and not come back.
• • •
BECAUSE I’M NOT THE SELF-CONFIDENT WOMAN OF STEEL THAT I’d like everyone to believe I am, I found a reason to go to my mother’s house the next day. Not that there needed to be a concrete reason; I mean, I could just drop by for the heck of it. I just usually didn’t. Going to my mom’s house was never a quick cup of coffee. It was a guaranteed two pots of coffee and possibly dinner if the timing fell right. That wasn’t always a bad thing, but I did have to go armed with that knowledge.
And since I did already have the request to start going through my old room to help clean things out—well—there you go.
The only thing that really bothered me about my driving need to get myself over there was that I was freakishly concerned with my hair. And my face. And my outfit, which needed to look flattering and yet immensely casual in a boxing-up-crap sort of way.
I needed Ben to see me looking like I hoped I looked every day, and not like the drooling, sweating swamp thing he got right off the bat. And there again was the thing prodding under my skin like a hot poker. Why did I care? What I really needed to be doing was running in the other direction. Finding out when he’d be there and when he’d be gone, then show up the opposite time to do all this work. That would be the smart thing to do. That would be the mature, grown-up thing to do. Unfortunately, the fact that I spent all the previous night staring at the ceiling told me that when it came to Ben Landry I was still the twenty-one-year-old girl that sat on a roof all day, waiting for him to come back. That girl was not mature. Or grown-up. She was still living in her parents’ house because she kept blowing her paychecks on new shoes.
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