His Best Friend's Wife

by Lee McKenzie

  A letter from Rose.

  No one had heard from her in weeks. Almost six weeks, Annie realized. In typical Rose fashion, she had abruptly left her job and high-tailed it out of town as soon as something bad happened. Rose had literally disappeared, but according to the return address she hadn’t gone far.

  Annie quickly folded the letter and stuffed it into her back pocket. She couldn’t read this here and risk someone walking in on her. This was the first time she had heard from her half sister since the accident and she had no idea what to expect.

  Upstairs, she closed her bedroom door, pulled out the letter and smoothed out the folds.

  Dear Annie,

  Rose here. I know you totally hate me right now and I don’t blame you one bit. What I did was irresponsible and dangerous and I am so, so, so very sorry that Isaac got hurt. He’s such a cool kid and he’s very, very lucky to have you for a mom.

  So here’s the thing. I screwed up, big-time, and I am so sorry. Did I already say that? I did. Well, that’s okay. I’ll probably say it again.

  The thing is, I’m in rehab. At first I didn’t want to be here but now I’ve been here for a whole month and I’m doing okay. Really good actually. I’m not allowed to have visitors or use the phone to talk to people because I’m supposed to be working on my own issues. And I have been, and I still am. God knows I’ve got a lot of issues.

  Dr. Woodward is the only person I see that I knew before I got here. After I got out of the hospital, he arranged for me to come to this place in Madison. He comes to see me twice a week, mostly because he’s my doctor but he’s kind of a friend now, too. He found this place and talked me into coming here and it’s been good. Anyway, I’m sure you already know this because he must have told you by now.

  Emily had speculated that Rose may have agreed to go into a treatment center. Annie assumed that if she had, the decision would have stemmed from being charged with DUI after the accident. She never would have guessed that Paul had set this up for her. And now he was making the trip to Madison twice a week to see her? Contrary to Rose’s assumption that Paul had provided her with any of these details, he hadn’t said a word. Annie hadn’t let him. And since he was Rose’s doctor, he probably couldn’t.

  I’m in a twelve-step program now. Some steps are easier than others. Writing this letter is one of the hard ones because I have to tell you I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt you. If you can’t forgive me—and I won’t blame you if you don’t—I will accept that. But the thing is, I should not have been drinking while I was looking after Isaac, and I should not have driven into town with him while I was drinking. When Paul told me he had a broken arm and a cast, I broke down and bawled my eyes out.

  Reading the confession brought tears to Annie’s eyes, too. Rose had been gone for weeks now. During that time, Annie had been clinging to her resentment around her half sister’s betrayal of her trust. She had also been nursing a grudge over what she perceived to be Paul’s deception. She had tried talking to her father about the way she was feeling but he had been uncharacteristically disinclined to listen to what she was trying to say. Instead he had reiterated his earlier suggestion that what she really needed was a little perspective.

  Her father was also preoccupied with Libby, and who could blame him? She was a remarkable woman, she clearly loved their father, and Annie, Emily and CJ adored her for it. Isaac was crazy about her, too, both as a teacher and as a future grandmother.

  As for perspective, Annie wasn’t sure what that meant, and her sisters were no help at all. Emily said she needed to sit down with Paul and give him a chance to explain himself. CJ told her that since she was busy blaming everyone else for what had happened to Isaac, she ought to take a good, long look in the mirror while she was at it. When Annie had indignantly asked what that was supposed to mean, CJ said she needed to figure that out for herself.

  Annie turned her attention to the letter.

  I’ll be here for two more weeks. For now it feels like the right place for me to be, but I’m not sure what I’ll do or where I’ll go after I’m discharged. Don’t worry, though. I won’t be coming back to Riverton. I’ve caused enough trouble for you and your family. I was hoping you all might be my family, too, but I don’t belong there. I thought about going to Chicago, but Paul doesn’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t have any support systems there, but there would be a lot of negative influences.

  If you want to keep in touch—and I hope you will but totally understand if you don’t—I can send you my new address as soon as I’m settled. Like I said, visitors and phone calls aren’t allowed but if you write to me at this address, I’ll get it.

  Your sister (sort of),

  Rose

  Annie reached for a tissue and dried her eyes. Her sort of sister was in rehab. Thanks to Paul. Rose would be released in two weeks, only days before Christmas, but if she wasn’t returning to Riverton, where would she go? Was she strong enough to be on her own, alone for the holidays? Paul was probably the only person who could answer that question. But she had been irrationally avoiding him since the morning he had dropped off her books and photograph.

  She let the pages fall to her lap and looked to where she had hung the framed photo of the afternoon-tea table for two in an apple orchard. She’d had doubts about hanging the photograph in her bedroom, afraid it might serve as a reminder of that wonderful, horrible day, but she felt oddly at peace every time she looked at it. The trees laden with bright red apples, the baskets brimming with more fruit, the table set with pretty china, succulent pastries and savory sandwiches. The scene represented a life filled with love and abundance. In many ways, it represented her life.

  Perspective.

  Her father’s word came to mind. She had been given every opportunity for a full life. Yes, there had been tragedy—her mother’s abandonment, her husband’s untimely death, Isaac’s injuries—but mostly there had been happiness and abundance.

  Rose’s life had been nothing like hers. After she had come to Riverton and revealed her true identity, Emily and CJ had been wary about her motivations. Annie had felt sorry for her and had arrogantly set out to fix things. But all she had really done was overlook Rose’s problems and make excuses for them. None of that had helped Rose, though, and Annie had most likely enabled her high-risk behavior.

  What Rose needed...

  Get over yourself. Annie had no idea what the young woman needed, but she knew someone who did. Paul had looked past the grunge clothing, dark makeup and broody attitude to see Rose’s real issues, and he had addressed them. Even after Annie had pushed him away, and he had reached out to help Rose anyway.

  Perspective.

  Annie folded the letter and slipped it into the drawer of the side table. Her father was a wise man. Had she finally found a glimmer of the perspective he’d been talking about? If she talked to him now, admitted that she had made mistakes with Rose, would he be forthcoming with some more advice? She sure didn’t have all the answers, very few, actually, but she was sure of one thing. Letting Rose check out of rehab and spend Christmas alone was not the right thing to do. Continuing to make Paul the fall guy wasn’t right, either. She just hoped it wasn’t too late to fix her mistakes.

  * * *

  THE “AFTER ANNIE” days—which was how Paul had come to think of them—had settled into a predictable monotony. Up early, breakfast with his father, work at the clinic, home in time to make dinner. Driven to keep busy, he worked every extra shift he could. Once or twice a week he and Jack met for lunch, and those get-togethers had become his only connection to Annie and the Finnegan family.

  What he learned was that life for Annie was business as usual. She had decided to reopen the bed-and-breakfast for the holidays. She baked and cooked and hosted family dinners. She volunteered at the school. She was helping her father and Libby plan a summer wedding. And she
continued to write her weekly Ask Annie column on Emily’s blog. She had posted the photographs she had taken at the deli on that fateful day in the city. He had looked at them at least a dozen times. Did that make him a stalker? He hoped not.

  Twice a week he drove to Madison to see Rose, and with every trip he was blown away by the transformation. The girl had put on weight, abandoned the excessively dark makeup and acquired what was best described as a healthy glow. On his most recent visit, she told him about the letter she had written to Annie. She hadn’t said she was anxiously awaiting a reply. She hadn’t had to. The anticipation in her eyes said it all. And when she had asked about Annie and Isaac, he had done his best to paint an evasively rosy picture. From his colleague, Alyssa, he knew Isaac’s arm was healing nicely so he told Rose that the little boy was looking forward to having the cast off. That was a no-brainer that didn’t require firsthand knowledge.

  On his last visit, he had had a lengthy consult with Rose’s counselor. In several weeks, Rose would be discharged and they needed to work out a reintegration plan for her. Unfortunately, Rose insisted there was no way she was returning to Riverton. In his opinion, going back was her only option for a successful transition from the sheltered environment of the rehab center to a normal day-to-day life that would be rife with temptation and countless opportunities to relapse. Rose needed a safety net. As Paul saw it, the Finnegans were the only people who could provide one. And he didn’t know who would be harder to convince—Rose or her family.

  * * *

  THE MORNING AFTER receiving Rose’s letter, Annie waited until Isaac had left on the school bus and CJ had set off for the stable to teach a riding lesson. Then, with the house quiet, she whipped up a batch of her father’s favorite muffins and invited him to join her in the kitchen for coffee.

  “Chocolate chips,” her father said as he sliced into the still-warm muffin. “This must be important.”

  It was long past time to keep beating around the bush.

  “I’ve heard from Rose.” She pulled the now well-read letter out of her back pocket and slid it across the table. She sat, sipping coffee and nervously nibbling the crispy bits from the edges of a muffin while he read it.

  He refolded the letter and set it on the table. “So.”

  So? She knew her father well enough to know that wasn’t all he had to say, but it was all he was going to say right now.

  “So,” she said. “Rose is in rehab. Emily thought she might have had to go to avoid serious penalties because she’d been drinking and driving, but I thought that kind of treatment was voluntary.”

  Her father took a generous bite of his muffin and drank some coffee. He tapped the letter with his forefinger. “Doesn’t say anywhere in here that she was forced into it.”

  True, but it didn’t say she hadn’t been. Unless...

  “Do you know something I don’t know?”

  “Probably.” Her father picked up his cup, smiled at her over the rim before he took another sip. “Not about Rose, though.”

  “Dad, I’m being serious.”

  “I did not know she’d gone into rehab. Good to hear, though. None of us could have given that kid the help she needed.”

  Annie sighed. “Not even me. I was arrogant enough to think that being her big sister was all the help she needed, and too naive to realize that her problems were bigger than I thought they were. And way too big for me to manage.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You did a whole lot more than anyone else. Emily and Cassie Jo and I...we all knew she had a drinking problem and none of us tried to intervene.”

  “Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

  “Only you can do that,” he reminded her. “What I’m saying is that you were a sister to Rose. She appreciated what you did for it, looked up to you, that much was obvious. I’d say it’s because of the things you did for her that she agreed to go into this rehab place when Paul made those arrangements for her. You gave her hope, and she didn’t want to let you down.”

  Tears stung Annie’s eyes. She swiped them away. “I truly wanted to help her, but I stupidly didn’t pick up on the drinking. That was her biggest problem and I didn’t see it.”

  “Like I said, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. For one thing, you don’t have any experience with that sort of thing.”

  “What if I overlooked it because I knew it was something I couldn’t fix? What if I only paid attention to the things I believed I could fix?”

  Her father covered her hand with his big, strong one and gave a gentle squeeze. “Then I guess that would make you human.”

  “I really did want to help her.”

  “And what about now? Do you want to help her get back on her feet again or do you still think she’s a write-off?”

  “I never thought that, and yes, of course I want to help her.”

  “Have you replied to the letter?”

  Annie shook her head. “No yet. It only came yesterday.”

  Her father slid the letter close to her cup. “I know you, Annie. You like to think things through, sometimes more than once.”

  “Are you saying I overthink things?”

  He laughed. “Do you think you do?”

  Truthfully, yes. “I tend to.”

  “So, this situation with Rose. Have you thought about it enough?”

  “I have.” She picked up the letter. “I’ll write to her tonight, invite her to come here when she’s discharged, spend Christmas with us.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “What do you think Emily and CJ will say?”

  “They’re good people, just like you. Rose is their sister, too. They’ll want to do the right thing.”

  He was right. She knew he was.

  “Have you shown the letter to them?”

  “No. I—I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “And now that you have my stamp of approval, it’s time to have a sit-down with them.” Her father polished off his muffin and reached for another. “I figured something was up the minute I saw the muffins. You usually try to make them...healthier.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He laughed. “Libby says chocolate is always a good idea.”

  “I love Libby. She’s so...” Annie sighed. “She’s perfect. For you and for our family. We all love her.”

  “So do I.” Thomas leaned back, crossed his arms, even looked a little smug. “And I’ll be honest. When you suggested coffee and I saw the chocolate chip muffins, I got my hopes up.”

  “Hope for what?”

  “I thought maybe you were finally ready to talk about Paul.”

  Paul. Of course. “I’ve already tried. You told me I needed perspective, remember?”

  “I remember.” He watched her closely as he slid his empty cup toward her. “Any more coffee in that pot?”

  Asking for more coffee was her father’s way of saying let’s talk. Finally. She wasn’t sure she would like everything he had to say, but after reading and rereading Rose’s letter, she was ready to listen. She refilled their cups and sat.

  “So.” He stirred milk into his coffee. “About that perspective. Do you still believe this whole mess was Paul’s fault?”

  One of the many things she most loved about her father was his directness. Except when it was her least favorite thing. Either way called for complete honesty on her part.

  “I never truly believed he was to blame.” There. She admitted it.

  “Have you told Paul?”

  She shook her head.

  “Interesting. If it wasn’t his fault, then whose was it?”

  “It was Rose’s fault for drinking and driving. It was my fault for giving her more responsibility than she was able to handle. I realize now that I was angry and
afraid and...and I felt guilty for moving on after Eric.”

  Her father said nothing, waited for her to continue.

  “That’s the thing about perspective,” she said. “Right after the accident, I was afraid for Isaac. What if...?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, so she pressed on. “I was furious with Rose, and I mean really, really angry. What she did was reckless and irresponsible.”

  “And Paul?” her father asked.

  Annie stared at her hands folded in her lap. “I’m not sure how I feel about Paul. All he did was invite me to spend the day with him in the city. We went to an amazing art gallery. He bought me a beautiful photograph. We went to a bookstore, we had lunch. We were having a great time. He made me feel...”

  That was the thing. He made her feel things she believed she had no right to be feeling.

  “I feel guilty.”

  “Ah ha.” He smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I like Paul. A lot. He’s wonderful with Isaac, he’s been a good friend to me, he’s fun to be with.”

  He kisses like a dream.

  “Nothing to feel guilty about, if you ask me. Unless...maybe there’s more to this than wanting to be his friend?”

  She felt her nose turn pink and hoped her father didn’t notice.

  “I...he... I think he might be in love with me.”

  His father tipped his head back and laughed. “You think he might be? Annie, that man is head over heels for you. If I wasn’t crazy mad in love with Libby, I’d have said I’ve never seen a man so smitten.”

  “But he’s...he was... Eric’s friend, too.”

  Her father reached for her hand. “They were the best of friends, no question about that. Did Paul ever say or do anything inappropriate while Eric was alive?”