by Iris Morland
Adam closed his eyes. “I never called you a slut.”
She smiled, bitter and sad. “You implied it. That I have no ethics or morals.” She stepped toward him, and looking up into his wretched, wonderful face, she asked, “You were waiting for this, weren’t you? For the moment you could justify thinking that journalists are only out to get you. You were waiting for the ax to fall this entire time, am I right?” She studied his face, her gaze roving over the beautiful lines of his jaw and nose and the stubble on his cheeks and how his hair was overgrown and needed a trim and how he had a tiny mole on his right ear. “Can you deny it?”
“I didn’t—I never wanted this. I wanted to think you were different. But I refuse to play the fool when it’s all right there in front of me.”
He sounded choked, and Joy knew she saw tears in his eyes. She wanted to simultaneously hug him and slap him, she was so frustrated. And hurt. And betrayed.
“So my word means nothing then.”
When he didn’t reply, she had her answer.
“You think you have it all figured out. I’m the bad guy. I’m the one who came here to seduce you and use you. Even though I told you that I love you, you throw it back into my face. Did you care about me at all? Or did you go home, disgusted, after you’d slept with me?”
That got him to move. He grabbed her by the arms: his fingers dug into her biceps, not enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention. “You never disgusted me. I wanted you the moment I first saw you. I still want you. I dream about you and Jesus Christ, Joy, don’t you know the goddamn truth? I love you so much it kills me, and it kills me that you did this and that I love you still.”
“Fuck you, Adam Danvers,” she whispered. “Fuck you and everything you think you stand for.”
He growled, and he covered her mouth with his. She wanted to resist, she wanted to slap him so hard he saw stars, but she only surrendered and kissed him back. She knew it would be the last time. So she kissed him with everything she had inside: with lips and tongue and teeth and groans and emotions spilling out from every crevice. It was the single most devastating kiss she’d ever had in her life.
They pulled away, breathing hard. Adam’s hands were still on her arms, but when he realized this, he let go. He stepped away. He wiped his mouth.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
The tears wouldn’t stop. They flowed down her cheeks and dripped down her chin. “You’re sorry? Oh, Adam. You’re so convinced that the world is out to get you that you’ll destroy yourself to prove that point.” She sobbed. “You break my heart.”
They stood silent, Joy crying, Adam wiping his eyes. She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay. She knew, with the knowledge that tore her apart, that it was over.
Over before it had really even begun.
“I need you to go,” she said finally. “Please, go. I know you think I wrote this article, but I didn’t. I hope someday you can believe that.”
He gazed at her, and he clenched his fists at his side. He looked like he wanted to touch her. Then he sighed.
“Bye, Joy.”
The image of his back, of his slumped shoulders, the sound of the door closing, would haunt Joy for weeks to come. After locking the door behind him, she collapsed against it, sobbing so hard it hurt her chest and throat. She cried so hard she made gasping, choking sounds, and she knew Mike could probably hear her downstairs. She didn’t care. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.
She then slumped down on the floor, arms around herself, and stared at the sudden emptiness of her apartment. And she knew that her time in Heron’s Landing was over.
16
“So, what, are you just going to hide for the next six months?”
Joy sighed. “Do you have a better idea?”
“I’m thinking you should get coffee with me and act like you did nothing wrong—which you did. Do nothing wrong, that is.”
Grace’s matter-of-fact voice bolstered Joy’s depressed spirits a little, but that didn’t stop the proverbial storm clouds from gathering over her still. In a town as small as Heron’s Landing, news traveled fast, and everyone and their dog had read the exposé about Carolyn. Since Adam had accused Joy of writing it, now everyone else in the town believed she’d written it, as well. The only person who thought she was innocent was Grace.
A week later, and things had only gotten worse. Joy barely left her apartment, afraid of the looks and whispers that accompanied her everywhere she went. She couldn’t even go into Mike’s downstairs without someone looking at her like she killed their firstborn.
“I don’t really want coffee,” she said to Grace. “I just want to sleep.”
“You need to get out of your apartment. Also, your hiding makes it look like you’re guilty. I know it’s not fair, but that’s just how it is.”
Joy looked down at her current outfit—pajama shorts, a ratty t-shirt, her hair unwashed—and she sighed again. “I guess I’ll put on a bra and see you in a bit.”
“Good. Maybe brush your teeth, too.”
“Haha. See you in a bit.”
Sniffing her breath, Joy realized that maybe she should swish with some Listerine just in case. She pulled on her comfiest bra, splashed her face with cold water, and slipped her feet into her beat-up flip-flops to walk the block down to Trudy’s.
It was a beautiful, albeit hot, August day. Humid and bright, Joy wished she’d remembered her sunglasses. She squinted, and it was so bright that she didn’t see the few townsfolk that were walking about staring at her. But as she got closer to Trudy’s, she saw the salon owner Dana frown in her direction. Joy gave a wave; Dana ignored it and walked in the opposite direction.
So that was going to be how it was from now on, was it? Joy McGuire, the woman who betrayed Saint Adam, and who wrote dirt about his angelic dead wife. It didn’t matter if she denied writing it: Adam believed it, and thus Heron’s Landing believed it.
The door chimed when she entered Trudy’s, and she ignored the stares from the four people already seated. One couple was Sadie and Robert, and Joy could hear Sadie whisper something under her breath, Robert grunting in some kind of agreement.
Joy slid into the booth opposite Grace. The girl had already ordered coffee for the both of them, and at the smell, Joy had to restrain herself from crying. Maybe she’d needed coffee more than she’d known.
“You look terrible,” Grace said. “Have you eaten at all this week? Taken a shower?”
“Nice to see you, too. I took a shower yesterday. I think I ate two days ago. Thanks for asking, though.”
Grace’s forehead creased in concern. “Have you talked to Adam?” she asked quietly.
Joy shook her head. She couldn’t think about him right now. Whenever she did, she wanted to scream, and then she wanted to cry, and then she wanted to go to his house and kick him the balls. But mostly it just hurt.
It hurt to have the man you loved believe that you were a liar.
“At first I kept calling him, because I just wanted him to believe me. I couldn’t let him think that I’d do something like that, you know? But when he kept ignoring me, I stopped.” Joy smiled, a sad, bitter smile. “I’m not going to beg. I know I’m innocent. That’ll have to be enough.” She sipped the coffee, and the warmth of it helped ease a little bit of the tension in her body.
“He’s being such a stupid asshole. I tried talking to him, but he kicked me out. I knew he was touchy about journalists, but this…” Grace stirred her coffee so vigorously some of it spilled onto the table. “This takes it to another level. If you want to push him off a cliff, I’ll gladly help you.”
“Thanks, hun.”
They sat and drank their coffee in silence, mostly undisturbed. One of the few benefits of living in the Midwest, Joy thought, was that everyone was trained to be so nice that they’d never say anything rude to your face. So although most everyone in Trudy’s at that moment were thinking bad things about her, no one h
ad the balls to tell her off.
Joy sipped her coffee. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.
That bliss, however, was shattered when Sadie and Robert walked passed them to the exit. To Joy’s surprise, Sadie stopped, Robert bumping into her with a grunt.
“You know,” Sadie said, her voice shaking with anger, “I can’t believe you’d do something so horrible. Hasn’t Adam—” Sadie gestured at Grace now “—and the entire family gone through enough? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Joy blinked. So much for thinking no one here would say something to her face. She gripped her coffee cup, her mind scrambling for a reply, but Grace beat her to it.
“You don’t know anything, Sadie. I’d recommend you keep your nose out of other people’s business, and maybe focus on your own issues. Weren’t you the one talking about ‘throwing the first stone’ at church earlier this month? Maybe you should take your own advice.” Grace had stood up in the booth, but now she sat back down, fists clenched.
Sadie made incredulous noises in the back of her throat. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, Robert said, “She’s right, Sade. Joy, Grace, sorry about that.” In a lower voice, he added, “Let’s go.”
Robert hustled his fiancée out the door, the chime ringing at their exit. The few people in the diner still said nothing, silence filling the restaurant.
Joy, though, could only feel one thing: exhaustion. And with that exhaustion came the realization that she couldn’t stay here.
Heron’s Landing was no longer her safe place to land.
It broke her heart, thinking that. After crying her eyes out when Adam had left her apartment, she thought she’d try to ride things out. But now she saw that had been naïve. She hated that leaving would seem like running away. How could she stay in a place that hated her guts? She wasn’t enough of a masochist to stay and be harassed like this.
And Adam… She squeezed her eyes shut. That was over. Staying wouldn’t change that.
“What the hell was that?” Jaime stepped up to their booth, looking like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Joy had seen him jogging past her apartment multiple times for his morning run; she assumed he’d just finished his run for today. “What did Sadie say to you guys?”
Grace looked up at him and turned a bright red. Joy almost laughed, but it hurt too much to laugh right now. “She thought she should tell me I’m a terrible person,” Joy replied. “Just another regular day around here.”
Jaime swore. “Is this happening a lot? I have to talk to him about this.”
“No, don’t. Please. It’s not worth it.” Joy looked up into Jaime’s face, and the concern in his expression made her chest constrict. “Besides, I’m leaving, anyway.”
Grace gasped. Her coffee cup tipped over, but luckily, it was already empty. “You can’t leave! Where will you go? Please don’t leave!”
“How can I stay here? You saw what just happened. I’m not welcome here.” Joy covered Grace’s hand with hers and squeezed. “That doesn’t mean we can’t stay in touch, though.”
Grace looked like she was about to start crying. She squeezed Joy’s hand back and then slumped back into her booth.
“Are you sure that’s the wisest decision?” Jaime asked. Suddenly realizing standing over them was rather awkward, he sat down next to Grace, who scurried as far away from him as she could. He didn’t notice. “I think this will blow over soon enough.”
“Do you really think so? I don’t. Small towns have long memories. I do appreciate your support, though. You don’t really know me, but, thank you.” Joy finished her coffee; it had already gone cold. “I’ll go back to Chicago for now. And figure out things after that.”
“Are you sure? Chicago?” Grace stared at her, and then she bit her lip.
Joy knew she was talking about Jeremy. But Joy refused to avoid an entire city just because her shitty ex happened to be lurking in it. Besides, she had unfinished business to attend to there.
“I have to go. But I’ll let you know what I end up deciding. Eat some pancakes for me, okay?”
“I’ll make sure she eats something,” Jaime replied. “What’ll you have, Grace?”
Grace only covered her face in her hands and sighed.
TWO WEEKS LATER, Joy stood outside in the late August heat and watched her things being moved again. Had it really only been two months she’d been here? It had felt like an eternity, and yet also like the blink of an eye.
Looking up and down Main Street, she had to admit, she’d miss this place. She could’ve seen herself staying here for good. But now she was running back to the place she’d run from. How was that for ironic?
“Joy!”
She stiffened. She’d know that voice anymore—it was the voice that haunted her dreams most nights. She turned, and she had to stifle the sob from crawling up her throat.
Adam walked up to her. He looked…tired. Thin. Pale. A part of her was upset by this, but another part felt vindicated. She was glad he’d been as miserable as she’d been.
“Are you really leaving?”
She stared at him. He’d refused to talk to her for weeks, and now he showed up acting brand new? She couldn’t help it: she laughed.
He reared back. “What…?”
“Now you’re going to act like you care? Go home, Adam. My movers are almost done and I have to get on the road.” She turned away, staring resolutely at the guys hauling her couch into the truck.
By the silence, she almost thought he’d left. But then he said, “Are we just going to end things like this?”
“You ended things, remember? You were convinced I wrote that story. So please, save me the sob story.” When she felt his hand on her arm, she wrenched herself away. Anger sparked in her gut. She whirled on him. “Leave. Me. Alone,” she hissed.
His mouth tightened. “Fine. Although I’m the one who should be mad, you know.”
“Of course! You’re always the victim! Go home and be sad. I’m busy.”
She knew it was mean, and petty, but she was done. She just wanted to get out of here. Get as far away from Adam Danvers as she could. Tears threatened, but she blinked them away. She wasn’t going to cry over him anymore.
“I meant what I said, you know,” he murmured. “I loved you. I still do. I hope you can be happy, Joy.”
Did he want to break her heart even more than he already had? She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. “You too, Adam,” she forced herself to say.
When she finally got onto the highway, the moving truck following her, she cried until she reached the Illinois border. But as she entered her home state again, she vowed to herself: she wouldn’t shed another tear over Adam Danvers.
And when she arrived in Chicago, she kept that vow.
AUGUST PASSED INTO SEPTEMBER, and Joy felt as though she were moving through a fog. Even in the hustle and bustle of Chicago, she couldn’t seem to find her center. She saw Adam everywhere: in the bright green trees near Lake Michigan; in the laugh of a man down the street; in the bottles of wine she looked at in the grocery store. She couldn’t escape him, no matter how much she wanted to.
Two weeks after Labor Day was when she got up the courage to call the person she needed to talk to most: her former best friend, Regina.
She and Regina had met when Joy had moved to Chicago as a young college graduate, and they’d been inseparable. Joy, Regina and then Jeremy had become a trio, going everywhere together. Joy had never thought her friend held the slightest interest in her boyfriend-turned-fiancé, but maybe she just hadn’t been paying attention.
Now that she was back in town, though, Joy needed to see her friend. It didn’t make sense, she knew, but Joy was lonely. She’d missed her friend, and now that Jeremy was out of the picture, maybe they could, at the very least, talk.
They decided to meet at a coffee shop they’d gone to many times before. When Joy arrived, Regina hadn’t gotten there yet, so she took a table in the back and ordered a latte with an extra shot. H
er heart pounding, she didn’t know what to expect when Regina arrived. But when she did walk into the shop, Joy had to stifle a gasp.
Regina had lost weight—so much that she seemed sickly. She’d also cut her hair short, and her clothes hung loosely about her frame. When she saw Joy, she smiled a little but then as if realizing everything that had happened, the smile faded. She awkwardly pulled out the chair at the table and sat down, clutching her purse.
Regina had always been a striking woman, with highlighted brown hair and blue eyes. Joy had never seen her without mascara or her hair brushed, but now she looked as if she’d just rolled out of bed. Despite herself, Joy’s heart contracted. What had happened since Jeremy had dumped her?
“Do you want anything?” Joy asked.
Regina looked up, startled. She looked like she was about to fiddle with her hair, but then realizing she’d cut it all off, she shrugged. “I’m okay.”
“Okay.” Joy got up to get her latte, her mind whirling.
The pair’s conversation was stilted at best, with both accidentally interrupting the other. Regina briefly mentioned that she was doing ad work for a local marketing agency, but otherwise, she offered little detail. Joy similarly hedged around what had happened in Heron’s Landing.
Now they were at a stalemate. Joy suddenly wished she hadn’t called Regina at all. What did it matter? They could never be like they used to.
“I went to that sushi place we used to go to all the time,” Regina blurted. She blushed a little, but added, “You know, the one with the hot waiter?”
Yes, Joy remembered. The place was known for its good-looking staff, and this waiter was so gorgeous that Regina and Joy had eaten sushi every other day for three whole months before Jeremy had come into the picture.
“Remember when you gave him your number, and he thought you were propositioning him?” Regina laughed, although it sounded rusty. “I’ll never forget the look on your face.”
“I was so embarrassed that I tried to leave without paying,” Joy said, a wry smile curving her lips. “And they called the cops on us. I said that we could never go back there again.”