* * *
When I arrived at her apartment that day, I was ready to confess. The police had given up their search. The investigators had come up empty. I’d done everything I could to help Sylvie recover from her breakdown a few weeks before. But I couldn’t continue to pretend I didn’t know what happened to Jeremy while she suffered.
I couldn’t do that to her anymore. I was barely sleeping. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Between the guilt eating at me and the other stuff I was feeling, I was ready to crawl out of my skin. I couldn’t drink it away. The other women I was fucking didn’t help. When I knocked on the door to her shitty little apartment, I had every intention of telling her the truth.
“Hey,” she said, welcoming me with a warm smile. “I made your favorite!”
The excitement in her shining eyes made me smile. Everything about Sylvie made me smile. She took my hand and led me into the living area. I traced the shape of her new curves as I walked behind her.
The vomiting part of the pregnancy was over and she looked more beautiful every time I saw her. She was too skinny when we first met. I didn’t know if it was because she couldn’t keep any food down or because she was one of those women who just never ate; but she’d gained weight in all the right places in the few weeks since she’d been discharged from the hospital. Her loose tee shirt stretched taut over her ripe breasts and her hips had a little extra roundness to them. Even the little belly bump she was sporting flipped my switch. Rubbing the back of my neck, I tore my eyes from everything I knew I would never have and they landed on a small wooden table, set for two. Plates of meatloaf with mashed potatoes and asparagus waited along with a candle and some flowers.
“You don’t eat meat,” I teased.
“I do today! I got the recipe from your mother…” she placed a hand on my mouth to silence my next question, “…whose number I got from your assistant,” she finished.
She turned those sparkling eyes on me again and when her smile revealed those two matching dimples in her cheeks, I felt like someone was tearing out my insides. Her smile fell away as I tried to drink in every image and sensation of this last moment with her. Once I told her what I’d done, I knew she’d never speak to me again. But I’d fallen for her and I couldn’t keep the truth from her any longer.
“Why don’t you look pleased? I swear I followed your mother’s directions exactly.”
When she squeezed my arm I noticed the bandage on her hand.
“What happened?” I asked, taking her hand between both of mine and inspecting the damage.
“It’s nothing,” she said, pulling her hand away and shaking her head. “I was shaking while I was trying to cut up the onion and the knife slipped again.”
“What do I have to do to keep you out of the kitchen?”
She giggled and moved me toward the table. I sat down with guilt weighing heavily in my stomach. Sylvie had been so sweet to me from the moment we met, even knowing that I was sent here to pay her off. When I asked her about it, she shrugged and said I was just doing my job. I doubted she’d see it that way when I told her that while I was trying to protect the Bradfords, I had let the man she loved die on the side of the street.
The tinkling sound of her pouring Champagne into mismatched glasses drew my attention.
“Relax,” she chortled, before I could remind her that she wasn’t supposed to be drinking. “It’s non-alcoholic. I just wanted to do something special for you. I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me over the last couple of months.”
She placed a glass of fizzy grape juice in front of me and sat down. Her bandaged hand lifted the other glass in my direction.
“Thank you, Silas. You didn’t have to be so good to me. But I’m really glad that you’re here.”
Tonguing my molars I attempted a smile as she clinked her glass to mine and took a sip.
“Try it,” she beckoned, gesturing to the meatloaf in front of me.
When I looked down I noticed the yellow corn kernels mixed into the potatoes. My mother used to do that for me when I was feeling sick as a child and it was always one of my favorites. Sylvie had gone all out on the comfort food.
“Are you trying to butter me up for something?” I asked as I took a bite of the meatloaf.
The flavors burst in my mouth and I couldn’t believe that Sylvie had managed to make an old favorite better than my own mother. I closed my eyes to savor the taste of it and linger a little as the kindness and intention behind the lump of seasoned ground meat warmed my heart.
There were so many things I wanted in that moment. If I’d met Sylvie before that night on that backroad, I would have done everything I could have to return Jeremy to her. But I couldn’t go back. I didn’t do everything I could’ve done—I didn’t do anything. And because of my decision, the man she loved—the father of her child—was almost certainly dead.
“It didn’t turn out right, did it?” she asked.
When I opened my eyes, the disappointment etched into her visage brought on a wave of shame.
“Baby, it’s the best meatloaf I’ve ever had and it was so sweet of you to make it for me… but I have to tell you something.”
The relief that washed her face and emptied her lungs was almost as painful as the sadness she’d expressed a moment before.
“Sylvie, listen…”
“I need a favor…”
We spoke at the same time and our eyes widened simultaneously.
“Is something wrong?”
“What do you need?”
Our words jumbled together again and my concern for her won over my desire to cleanse my conscience.
“You start,” I offered.
She smiled and took a deep breath.
“The truth is that I did make all of this to thank you, but also because I have a favor to ask.”
She hesitated and I reached over the table to hold her hand. She looked down at our entwined fingers, and swallowed.
“Will you come to birthing class with me? I don’t know who else to ask and…”
“Yes.”
“Well, it doesn’t start for a couple more months, but I had to reserve a space now. So you have time to change your mind or…”
“Yes,” I repeated, squeezing her hand.
She exhaled and a tear rolled down the graceful plane of her face.
“Thanks,” she said. “I feel guilty about even asking you, but I don’t have anyone else and you’ve been… you seem to really care…”
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
The words spilled out before I could control myself and she looked down at the table. When I stroked her knuckles she returned her gaze to me.
“I just mean… I’m here for you.”
She searched my face, looking for the truth in my intentions. Her large eyes scanned my features for what felt like an eternity. Could she see the vulnerability that I was trying so hard to hide? Did the lines of my face express my dark secrets? Did she know then that I was in love with her?
“You can’t imagine how much that means to me,” she had whispered.
* * *
That’s when I decided I’d take my secrets to the grave. She didn't need my confession; she needed me. She needed me to be there for her and for the baby that was coming. My honesty wouldn’t have changed anything. As far as I knew Jeremy Bradford was dead; and without any real family or friends, Sylvie was alone.
Before that night, I thought I was taking advantage of her by spending so much time with her; but over my mother’s meatloaf recipe and mashed potatoes with corn, I realized that the cruelest thing I could do to this woman was abandon her. Telling her the truth would be exactly that.
So Noah and I worked up a plan. It was a good plan, but I never saw the critical flaw. I didn’t realize how much guilt had been eating away at Noah Bradford for the last four years. I had no idea that he’d buckle so completely and fall so hard.<
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As memories of my life flash through my mind, I know that the last two years have been by far the best. I remember every kindness and every sweet moment with my family. I see Sylvie playing with Levi in our garden. I remember our wedding and the love in my wife’s eyes as she pledged herself to me forever. I feel every touch. I hear laughter.
On that day, the day with the meatloaf, I wanted more than anything to go back in time and undo the wrong that I’d done. But if I hadn’t made that god-awful, fucked-up decision, then I wouldn’t have had the best years of my life. So as the world grows dim, I know I deserve to die for my selfishness, because I don’t have any regrets.
Chapter Thirty-five
A short squeal of feedback forces my attention back to Allison as she steps away from the microphone. She smiles at me and I swallow. It’s my turn. Charles reaches out and squeezes my hand as he nudges Levi off my lap onto his. I flash him a sincerely grateful smile and he nods in return.
Standing, I smooth over my black wool dress. My ankle threatens to give out when I take my first step. Pausing, I take a deep breath and start up the steps again. The barely healed joint holds. Halfway up, we pass each other and Allison squeezes my hand.
When I reach the microphone, I turn. There are so many people gathered. I would have expected nothing less for the funeral service of Silas Chambers, Esq. Levi sits between his Nanna and PopPop. Silas’ sister Gemma and her family sit beside them in the front row. I recognize so many faces: clients, friends, extended family.
Attendees stand in the back, because there aren’t enough seats. His will had stipulated that his service be held here in the Chapel where we were married two years ago. Silas’ social circle was large; he knew the Chapel would be too small, but he didn’t care. This is his last way to show me that our marriage, our life together was everything to him.
Wiping away a stray tear, I place the paper from my pocket on the podium and unfold it. I adjust the mic and clear my throat.
“Love is patient and kind,” I begin. “Love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”
Pausing, I look out at the crowd of mourners. I find Jeremy, in a pew toward the middle, sitting with Sharon and Bruce. Our eyes meet, but I look away.
“Silas and I didn’t want that reading at our wedding. We agreed that it was too trite. We’d both heard those words spoken at so many marriages and we thought they sounded… foolish.”
I was the fool then.
Clearing my throat again, I continue.
“But maybe we didn’t understand what love was then. That was when things were more simple. Silas and I were having a rough patch when he died. But he was patient and kind. He was never resentful. We were hopeful and we endured so much together. He was a loving and devoted husband, an exceptional father, a generous son and brother, and he was a friend to many.”
Looking to the coffin beside me, I exhale.
“Thank you all for coming today to celebrate my husband’s life. I pray that our love for him will keep him alive in our hearts.”
Walking over to the coffin, I fold myself over to kiss the closed casket. The smooth wood cools my face. When I rise, splashes of my tears remain.
* * *
The house is quiet when I wake the next morning. Levi had been unable to sleep in his room so I’d let him climb into bed with me. Untangling myself from his little arms, I slip out of bed. My fingers glance over the letter that Silas’ attorney had given me when he told me that Silas had left me everything. I haven’t read it yet. I can’t bring myself to open it today, Instead, I wander down the steps in my pajamas.
Paloma is in the kitchen, preparing the batter to make pancakes. She smiles at me as Oscar skitters up.
“I’ve already taken him for his walk, Mrs. Chambers, but I think he prefers to walk with you,” she laughs. “He kept looking back at the house as were walking away.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, pouring myself a glass of water from the pitcher.
Paloma hands me a steaming cup of tea.
“It’s lavender and chamomile, for your nerves.”
Smiling graciously, I take it, nod, and sit at the table. I’ve sipped half the cup when I hear Paloma’s voice again.
“I miss Mr. Chambers already,” she says. “He was such a good man, Mrs. Chambers. Did he tell you that he got my sister a green card? He stayed late at the office to meet with us because she couldn’t leave her work any earlier.”
I look up, remembering so many late nights in the last few months when I had grown suspicious. Guilt settles into the cracks in my heart when she continues.
“He never asked me for any money to do it, either. He just asked me to make sure I was taking good care of his family. And I promised him I would.”
Biting my lip, I manage to hold back the flood of tears that threaten.
“Thank you, Paloma. Thank you for sharing that with me and for everything you’ve done for us for the last couple years.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Chambers,” she says as Oscar comes trotting up with his leash. “But I think you have a job to do.”
We both chuckle and I head upstairs to change. Levi is still sleeping. He looks so small in my king-sized-bed. I remember all the nights when Levi was still waking up to breastfeed or fuss. Silas would bring him from his room and the three of us would snuggle in the large bed together until morning. A sad pang tugs at my heart as I watch my son sleeping alone.
I change quickly and just as I’m clipping the leash onto Oscar’s collar, the doorbell chimes. I know it’s him before I get to the door. I couldn’t mistake his outline in the cut-glass for anyone else. Hesitantly, I crack it open and those sparkling hazel eyes grip me every bit as fiercely as they have so many times before.
Chapter Thirty-six
Another man would have waited more than a day after her husband’s funeral to come and see her. Maybe I should give her space and time? But I’ve lost too much time already. I’ve waited too long to be with the woman I love to let another day pass without telling her how much I want my family together under one roof.
Standing at the front door of the house she shared with another man, I wish I were torn. I wish I could feel guilty, but all I feel is determination. My resolve surges with my every heartbeat. When I ring her doorbell, there’s not a single doubt in my mind that she needs to hear me, now.
When she opens the door, I smile. Then I look closer and I waver. Sad, bloodshot eyes glisten with tears shed and unshed. She swallows, so full of emotion that I forget everything I’d planned to say.
“Jeremy,” she says. “I didn’t expect you. Levi’s still sleeping but I’m sure he’d be really glad to see you. Do you want to have breakfast with us?”
Her voice is eerily calm, as if I’m any guest and today is any day.
“I’d love to stay for breakfast, but I didn’t come to see our son, I came to see you.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding. “I’m taking Oscar for a walk, you can come with if you like.”
Without waiting for my reply, she steps out the door and closes it behind her. I stay at her side as she makes her way to the sidewalk and Oscar scampers behind. She doesn’t ask me what I wanted to say. She doesn’t make small talk. We walk in silence for ten minutes before I speak first.
“How are you, sweetheart?”
“Sad,” she says, still not looking at me. “Angry. Confused…. How’s Noah?”
“In a rehab facility somewhere upstate. He’ll be there until his lawyer can work out a plea with the DA. Nobody wants a trial. He’ll end up with prison time, but I don’t know how much. I’ve told Sharon and Bruce and the new lawyer that I want to keep out of it, but I’m the only witness so…”
Sylvie nods, and for the fi
rst time in too long she reaches for my hand.
“I’m sorry about your brother, Jeremy,” she says.
“Thanks. I’m sorry about Silas.”
She stops and our eyes meet.
“Are you?” she asks.
I don’t know what she wants to hear, but the way she tilts her head suggests that my next words matter more than I can understand.
“I didn’t want him to die, if that’s what you’re asking.” Brushing a curl from her face, I cup her cheek. “I would never wish for anything that would hurt you this way. I know how much he meant to you. Your eulogy was really beautiful.”
Pulling away from my touch, she puffs air out of her nose and resumes her previous pace.
“I said what a wife is supposed to say when her husband dies. It was mostly for Allison and Charles. They’ve always been really great to me and to Levi. I didn’t want them to know how bad things were between us in the end.”
“It was more than that, Sylvie. I can tell when you’re lying, even when you’re lying to yourself. Just because you were mad…”
“I wasn’t mad, Jeremy,” she interrupts, turning to face me again. “I was livid. I was ready to call a divorce lawyer. I’ve never been so angry with anyone… well almost never.”
The corners of her mouth turn down and her chin quivers. I know she’s talking about me. She’s never said it in so many words, but I know she hated me when I disappeared. I know part of her didn’t care why I was gone only that I was one more person who abandoned her. Most of all, I know that she was more angry with me because she loved me more than she ever loved him. I don’t say any of that, though. Not today. Today, I listen.
“I actually wished that I’d yelled at him before he left,” she continues. “I wanted to scream at him, to tell him I never wanted to see him again. I wanted to tell him that he was dead to me.”
Her tears come, mixed with bitter laughter. Her head falls before she takes a deep breath and wipes her face.
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