She shook her head. “I know it makes no sense to you. I know that you think I’m just making excuses. So you think all you have to do is convince me to calm down and go back to the way I was. And then I’ll see that everything I’m feeling isn’t real. But there’s no calming down, Brian, from feeling this alone with who I am and what I’ve become. And there’s no going back to the life we had. You’re right. I’m out of control. We’re out of control. I think we have been for a long time. And those feelings don’t belong to the quiet, careful place we’ve built for ourselves here. So there is no us anymore to throw away. There’s just me, this way. And you, needing me to be something else.”
When he didn’t respond, when he had no idea what to say, her touch disappeared. The rush of emotion they’d both been riding drained away. In its wake, her expression became smooth as glass. Calm. Deadly serious. They’d been here before, too. This was the Sam he’d prayed he’d never see again. The woman she’d promised they’d seen the last of when they left New York behind.
“You’re quitting again,” he repeated. “Just like before, when you no longer wanted anything to do with what we’d made for ourselves in Manhattan.”
“I’m being honest.” She backed up. “And this is nothing like New York. For the first time in a long time, I’m dealing with my fears instead of shoving them aside. I’m thinking about them, the way my therapist couldn’t get me to. And I’m doing it so we can have a chance. I’m as responsible as you are for never really dealing with all of this. I asked you to help me become this person who can’t handle anything. And I’m still not sure what I’m doing at Julia’s or out here with Nate. But I need you to meet me halfway, Brian, if I’m going to figure any of it out. And that’s not happening. The Sam you thought I was is gone, and you don’t want the one who’s here instead.”
“That’s not true.” Panic shredded him at the sound of her losing hope. “I love you.”
“Not this way.”
She was scattering before him, shutting down again and reminding him that he was the one who was failing. He was the most broken of the two of them. Because nothing, neither 9/11 nor the shooting at Chandler, had happened to him. But he was falling apart, too, though he didn’t want her or the boys to see it. More each day without her, he was feeling the same lost, alone, alien things she was describing. And he hated them both for it, because he wasn’t the one suffering from PTSD and the traumas she’d endured.
I asked you to help me become this person who can’t handle anything…
I need you to meet me halfway…
“Sam, please. I’m sorry. Stay and talk with me…”
“What’s the point?” She shook her head. “I’m never going to be the Sam you want me to be again.”
And then she ran, just like Nate had, disappearing down the same dark street.
Chapter Six
Sam let herself through the white picket fence into the Davises’ backyard, and then into the house through the door that led off Julia and Walter’s immaculate deck.
Sam, please… stay and talk with me…
Brian was the only man she’d ever loved—would ever love—and she’d broken his heart. They’d been headed for this place for so long. Now she was driving her husband there at warp speed, shoving their marriage over a dangerous cliff with no idea where they’d land.
He was so angry. Her even-tempered Brian, always calm through every storm, steady and focused and dependable, had yelled at her for the first time in their marriage.
Shaken, she’d stopped by their house on the way to Julia’s, rushing inside to leave him a note and hoping he wouldn’t return until she was gone. Then as she’d slipped out the back door into her overgrown, neglected backyard, the disappointment that he hadn’t barged in to force her to keep talking had trampled on her faith that her marriage still had a chance.
She’d stared at her skeletal rose bushes as she’d left—not a bloom in sight—and had finally accepted the truth that maybe there was so much distance between her and Brian now, there was no way to heal it. And she’d been his partner in crime, loving her husband all these years for making it so easy for them to find themselves right back in this nowhere place, as soon as the next major crisis challenged them.
Whatever it takes, she’d promised herself the morning of the bake sale. She’d been determined to do whatever it took to move forward for her family. And she still was. Why couldn’t Brian see that, no matter how angry he was?
Tears still streaming down her face, she closed the Davises’ kitchen door behind her. She prayed Julia wasn’t waiting for her the way her friend often did in the mornings, when she and Sam would sometimes talk over a cup of tea before Julia left for her day of taking meetings with Chandlerville citizens, answering questions on behalf of the school board. Sam made a beeline for the downstairs guest room, only to skid to a halt halfway across the kitchen.
The rooster-shaped electric clock perched on the wall beyond the oak farm table said it was barely six o’clock. But as if it were the most normal thing in the world, curvy, nurturing Julia and exotically tall, pulled-together Kristen Hemmings sat at the table drinking coffee, dressed for the day, while beneath her coat Sam still had on her nightgown and slippers. And there Mallory was, standing next to them, looking concerned and determined and… ready for the kind of straightforward conversation Sam couldn’t handle at the moment.
She was already feeling lower than pond scum, after deciding not to make breakfast for her boys for the first time since she’d moved out. She was shaking so hard she could barely stand still. She didn’t want Cade and Joshua to see her this way. And whatever Mallory and Julia and Kristen were there for, she wasn’t up for that either. Mallory had become increasingly insistent that Sam deal with her husband, rather than retreating further and further away from what they were doing to each other. But this wasn’t the morning to get into something so troubling, and certainly not in front of Kristen.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at the corners of her eyes with both hands.
She’d promised herself this wasn’t who she was anymore—a woman who ran from her problems or hid away, allowing life to trample all over her. But damn it if she wasn’t again moving toward the guest bedroom.
“I’ll let you three talk.” She was passing the table at what could only be described as a walking sprint when Kristen put a hand on Sam’s arm.
Sam jerked away, appalled at her own rudeness. Kristen had befriended her the morning of the bake sale. There was absolutely no reason to be afraid of her now.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized again. She was feeling more pissed by the second, actually, as she glanced at Mallory. “It’s just that I’ve—”
“She’s still having a hard time,” Julia explained over her, “since the shooting.”
“I know,” Kristen said. “And I’m the one who should apologize for barging in at such a ridiculous hour. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important,” added the taller, more beautiful, more composed, more everything woman.
“This meeting isn’t about you,” Mallory added. “Though I for one wish it were. Please, Sam. Hear us out.”
This meeting?
Sam stared at her friend, who hadn’t been in favor of pretty much anything Sam had done since the few moments they’d shared in Mallory’s clinic the morning of the shooting. What had Mallory said back then?
Just get through lunch any way you have to, and you’ve won.
Feeling like more of a loser by the second, Sam melted into one of Julia’s cane-backed chairs and grabbed a napkin from her cat-shaped napkin holder.
The cute orange tabby was curled around itself, with flower-printed paper napkins sprouting from its hand-painted tummy. Everything in Julia and Walter’s house was either cute or homey, just like the couple themselves—idealistic and Middle America and maybe just a little too perfect for their own good. Especially since the shooting, which had taken an emotional toll on their family the same as it had everyone else
in town. Even in the Davis household, “idealistic” was getting harder for everyone to swallow.
Sam dabbed at her eyes and shucked off her jacket, the sleeves flipping over the back of the chair. She ignored her friends and smiled at Kristen with a look Sam hoped was more, How can I help you? than, Please go away; you terrify me.
Chandler Elementary’s AP had called her a hero that day at the school. And for just a moment Sam had felt like one as she absorbed Kristen’s admiration and story of how Sam’s Times interview had inspired her to dedicate her future to changing young lives for the better. But if Kristen was there thinking Sam was up for another go at challenging anyone to be better at anything, she’d wasted her morning.
“This is an awkward situation,” Kristen said. “And I’m sorry about that.”
She sounded uncertain and anxious and other things that didn’t suit her. Julia had been incensed last night, talking about how Kristen was taking the brunt of a lot of the local outrage and panic about the shooting, while Julia and others on the school board patiently tried to explain the AP’s heroic efforts that day, as she’d calmly run toward danger with Sam and had gotten as many people out of the cafeteria as she could.
“You and Brian both have made it clear,” Kristen continued, “that you want to be left out of the never-ending debate the community’s having about the Wilmington shooting. I can understand. Things are getting messy, and your family has been through enough. But I tried to send you a personal message through Cade and then your husband—”
“Brian and I are… having some communication issues.”
“Yes, I realized that after speaking with Mallory.” Kristen touched Sam’s shoulder in sympathy, casting a worried glance toward Julia. “I’ve been so wrapped up in dealing with the press over the shooting, and the counseling that our students and faculty have needed, and getting the school board and superintendent the answers they’ve requested… I just last night realized you were staying here instead of at your home.”
“Just last night?” Sam stared up at Mallory. “I see.”
Mallory and quite possibly Julia had spoken with Kristen about Sam and Brian and their situation. Yet neither woman had thought to mention this morning’s little impromptu party to Sam.
“I know Cade’s been upset.” Sam’s empty stomach twisted. She was transforming her napkin into a pile of lint, pulling it apart instead of screaming, Why are you doing this to me? at her friends. “His father and I have tried talking with him about how his grades have been slipping. But he’s not wanting to talk about much yet, and we’ve been advised not to push him unless things get worse. We were hoping the school would continue to understand.”
“Of course,” Kristen said. “We’ll support Cade any way we can. I’m not sure I agree with you about whether or not now’s the time to push him for some answers. I’m very worried about Cade, too. But he’s not why I’m here. There’s another, more pressing matter I needed to discuss with you…”
Sam sat straighter.
“Is Joshua okay?” Her youngest had seemed fine, though he was pretty much pretending that nothing had happened at all. Denial was a normal stage of recovery from a trauma like the shooting, Dr. Mueller had said. And for some people, for young children especially, that phase of the grieving process could last longer than for others.
“As far as I know, yes,” Kristen reassured her.
“This isn’t about your boys or your family.” Mallory slid into the remaining chair, close enough for Sam to reach out and take her hand if she wanted to. The four of them were grouped comfortably in Julia’s kitchen, as if they met like this all the time.
“Oh.” Sam’s relief felt petty and selfish, when clearly something was terribly wrong for someone else. “Then how can I possibly help?”
“I asked Mallory’s advice on how to approach you,” Kristen said, “since we don’t really know each other well. And you’ve had a difficult few months, and I hate to intrude on that, or on Julia’s morning, because I know she has a busy day ahead at city hall. But I have a feeling you might be my best shot, and I’m hearing rumors that made me wonder if you’re already involved, and…”
Kristen clasped the edges of her unbuttoned suit jacket and adjusted its tailored fit, as if tweaking her appearance would keep her focused. She always wore suits, Julia had mentioned, no matter how casual the rest of Chandler’s staff dressed or how pastel each of Kristen’s suits turned out to be. She seemed to veer toward the ice cream parlor side of the color wheel, whether it was high summer or the dead of winter. But regardless of that concession to femininity, Kristen and her formal work clothes perpetually exuded confidence and professionalism.
Except this morning she looked anything but certain about whatever she’d come there to say.
Sam remembered Kristen’s kind words and understanding that day in the school parking lot. Now the other woman seemed to be struggling for answers. Sam’s heart melted, along with the last of her resentment for being ganged up on. She reached to smooth away the wrinkles on the assistant principal’s bubblegum-pink sleeve, but instead pulled back and laid her palm on the table.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“I told her,” Julia said, “that you were talking with Nate a little.”
“What?” Sam stared across the table. Her best friend’s hands were clenched around her mug of steaming coffee.
“I’ve followed you a few times at night. I’m sorry…” Sweet, optimistic, take your time getting better, you can stay with Walter and me as long as you need Julia couldn’t have sounded less apologetic. “But I was worried. You kept wandering away at night for hours. I haven’t said anything to Beverly or James, because I know Nate isn’t talking to them at all, like Cade’s avoiding you and Brian. And the Turners are steamed about you and Brian not siding with them in their legal war against the school board. It looked like Nate was relaxing with you a little, and I didn’t want to interfere with that. I trust you, like I’m certain the Turners would if they were…”
Julia glanced at Kristen and then Mallory.
“If they were ever in town long enough,” Sam finished for her friend, “to do anything more than vent to the school board?”
The Turners’ fear for their son and explosive need to vent at all the wrong people was one Chandlerville story the national media hadn’t stayed long enough to cover. Because the day-to-day reality of a busy family still struggling months after a crisis didn’t sell advertising spots.
Sam and Julia had discussed how Nate’s parents were still traveling constantly for work, James especially, despite their concern for Nate. The couple was doing what they thought was best. But too many times their drive to get back to a normal life had left a silent and still-healing Nate in the care of the live-in housekeeper/nanny his parents had hired to homeschool him while he recovered from the shooting.
“Nate seemed to be opening up to you a little,” Julia said. “And then Kristen mentioned how worried she was about his coming back to school today, and that she’d visited the Turners about it over the weekend but they wouldn’t speak with her. And Mallory thinks it’s too soon, too…”
Julia, always upbeat, sounded fresh out of bright sides to look at. Kristen, always in control, had her hands clenched in front of her, practically wringing them. Mallory appeared to be as calm as ever, but she was meddling, something she typically loathed doing. And someone else besides Brian had been monitoring Sam’s solitary morning wanderings and innocent run-ins with Nate.
Sam slumped deeper in her chair. Did they really expect her to approach the Turners about how to deal with their son’s recovery?
Do his parents know…?
“I can’t talk with Beverly and James about Nate. He trusts me not to. But you have to believe me. I’d never do anything to cause that boy more pain and confusion.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Kristen said.
“I haven’t mentioned seeing him out so late,” Sam explained, “because he seems
to be struggling and…”
And she was struggling, too? Hadn’t she needed someone to understand how lost she felt, with her own memories and fears swirling through her mind, and her husband refusing to understand? No. There was more to it than that. There really was. There had to be.
How selfish can you be?
“His parents are pushing him too hard,” Mallory chimed in. “They want him better, whether he’s ready to be or not. And no matter how much they love him, they can’t accept that he’s not there yet.”
Sam inhaled sharply. Hearing someone else say what she’d been trying to get Brian to realize about her brought tears to her eyes, for herself and for Nate.
“Yes,” she said. “And that can be a very scary place. A lost, lonely place.”
Nate needed his parents to accept what he was going through, not rush him through it or help him run from it, not the way Sam had run all these years, relying on her husband to help her. It had become a lifestyle, her wanting to be better without actually doing the work her therapist had insisted was necessary.
You have to grieve the life you’ve lost, Sam. You can postpone that for as long as you want. Forever, if you want. But until you deal with the scary memories that feel like they’re taking everything away, they’ll always be there. There’s no shortcut, no matter how much support you have or how far away you move. There’s only what you’re running from, and what being stuck in that place can do to you and the people you love…
“What Nate’s dealing with is like”—she swallowed against the memories—“knowing you’re giving up and knowing you shouldn’t, but having absolutely no way to stop how much you want to quit no matter how hard you try not to.”
Kristen nodded again. Julia wiped at the corners of her own eyes. Mallory reached for Sam’s hand and squeezed. What had Mallory said in her clinic in January?
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