by Beth Andrews
And now she had to set things right.
* * *
THREE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN DAYS.
“I was humiliated,” Joan told Steve as she stood in their living room, her hands on her hips.
She still couldn’t believe it but one day had bled into the next then into the next. Day became night, night turned to day, life went on. All around her people kept living but it was all she could do to get out of bed each morning. She hadn’t lived, not truly, in almost a year.
Her husband wouldn’t even look at her, which only made her angrier. She was in the right here. The least he could do was acknowledge her anger, her resentment. He could take it, absorb it into his skin. Couldn’t he see that she had nothing left to give?
“Your humiliation is your own,” he said, sounding like some highly enlightened individual.
“I lied for you,” she said, her voice trembling with anger.
He sighed. Finally shut off the movie he’d been watching and stood, his expression serious, his eyes sad. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him happy but that was okay because she hadn’t been happy, not really, truly happy, since the day her son had been taken from her. Why should Steve have joy in his life?
As soon as the thought occurred to her she tried to dismiss it, wanted to feel ashamed for even thinking such a horrible thought in the first place, but she couldn’t. Which only made it that much worse.
“I didn’t ask you to lie for me,” he told her in his quiet voice. Steve never raised his voice, rarely got angry. It was those traits that had attracted her to him when they’d met all those years ago at a meeting about his son’s behavior in school. Of course, his ex-wife had been there, too, but later, after she’d gone, Steve had asked for Joan’s number, had been so sweet and polite, so obviously willing to do whatever he had to in order to help his son. He and his ex-wife got along well, parented together, which boded well for both of them and their children, and Joan had been attracted. Interested.
It hadn’t been easy as his kids weren’t thrilled with the idea of their father having a new woman in his life, especially the school’s psychologist, and Joan had been gun-shy herself. Beau had welcomed Steve into their lives because, even though he was young, he could see how happy Steve made his mom.
They’d gotten through, had taken it slow and had built a life together. And now it was all falling apart, and she didn’t have the strength to hold it together. She couldn’t make herself care, not when it was so much easier to be numb.
“You may not have asked me to lie,” she told him, “but you still forced me to. What was I supposed to say? That you couldn’t attend because you were home pouting? That you were angry with me and you not accompanying me to my daughter-in-law’s party was your way of punishing me?”
He flinched. “Is that what you really think? That I’m punishing you?”
“What else am I supposed to think? Just because I don’t want to drop everything to attend one of your children’s or grandchildren’s events or have lunch with Miranda every time she asks, doesn’t mean you have the right to treat me this way.”
“My children? My grandchildren? We’ve been married for over fifteen years and now, suddenly they’re my children and grandchildren? Do you even hear yourself?”
“I know what I’m saying. My child, my son is dead.”
“And that’s what it all boils down to. Beau is dead and you’re not just grieving, you’re angry and it’s not getting better. You resent me because my children are alive when Beau is dead.”
She wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. Not when it was true. She resented him and everyone who hadn’t suffered a loss like she did.
“Tell me, Joan,” he continued quietly, relentlessly, “what would make it better for you? Would you feel better if one of my children were killed? If something happened to one of my grandchildren?”
“No,” she breathed, appalled. “Of course not.”
“And yet in your mind, I haven’t suffered enough, is that it? I don’t understand what you’re going through, could never understand so it’s okay for you to withdraw inside yourself, to keep your thoughts and feelings hidden, to walk around the house like a zombie. It’s okay for you to throw away our marriage, the life we’ve built because you’re in pain.”
She started to shake, with fear and anger. She focused on the anger. It was easier to deal with, easier for her to embrace. Some days it felt as if all she had left was anger. “You have no idea what I’m going through,” she said. “I need you by my side, not fighting me every step of the way.”
“I’ve been on your side, but I refuse to stand by while you self-destruct. I won’t be a part of that. This is the life you’ve chosen for us, you living your life, me living mine.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means I will no longer go along with this charade you’ve been playing, this act that we’re happy. That you’re healing.”
Her eyes widened, tremors washed over her. “What will people think?”
She had to act strong, had to pretend that everything was all right. She had a position in this town. Her career, her sanity and self-esteem depended on everyone thinking she was in control.
But Steve, the man she’d loved for so long, the man she was losing, just shrugged. “I don’t really care what they think. You’re so upset that you lied for me but we both know you’ve been living a lie since Beau died. And I won’t go along with it anymore.”
He walked away, leaving her alone. He was wrong, so wrong. She wanted to fight for their marriage, for their life together.
She just didn’t know how.
* * *
SOMEONE KNOCKED ON the door.
Eddie glanced at the clock. The official time for trick-or-treaters didn’t start for another thirty minutes, plus he didn’t have his porch light on yet. Luckily, he’d bought candy. He usually just left it in a bowl on the porch for the kids to help themselves to since he and Max made the rounds of the neighborhood.
“I’ll get it,” Max called, racing to the front door.
“Better take this,” Eddie said, grabbing a bag of chocolate bars from the table. Max opened the door and there stood an angel.
Not a real angel but a pretty damn close facsimile.
Cass, dolled up in wings and a crooked halo, grinned. “Hi! I’m an angel.”
Eddie kept his eyes on Cass, who held out her bag, her expression clearly stating that no one would dare choose trick on such an adorable child. She was probably right.
“I see that,” Eddie said.
“I want candy.”
“Cass, that’s not what you say,” Harper said from where she stood behind her daughter. He didn’t even glance her way. “You say trick or treat.”
“Trick or treat,” Cass said, shoving the bag at him in case he’d forgotten she held it.
Max dropped a candy bar into it.
Cass’s eyes grew wide. “Look, Mama. Candy!”
Harper nodded. “Now what do you say?”
Cass turned back to Eddie. “Trick or treat.”
Harper stepped forward as if unsure of her welcome. Eddie wasn’t sure how he’d welcome her either so she might be smart to be cautious. “No, honey. After you get your candy you say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Max said. “I’m Captain America.”
“Pretty,” Cass said and made Max wince.
“She means you look very heroic,” Harper told him.
Eddie straightened. “It’s still thirty minutes until the official trick-or-treat time. What are you doing, casing the neighborhood to see who has the best candy?”
“Not exactly,” Harper said, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “Could we come in for a minute?”
He wondered how rude it’d be to shut the door in her face. He glanced down at Cass, who’d already ripped open her candy and taken a huge bite. She smiled up at him. He sighed. Pretty rude. More rude than he could be.
Damn his mother for drilling manners into him and making sure he acted like a gentleman.
A lot of good that’d done him over the years.
He stepped aside, moved back so that Harper didn’t brush against him as they entered.
“You’re pretty far from home for trick or treat,” he said, shutting the door.
He crossed his arms, told himself he didn’t care that she looked nervous and guilty and sorry. She should be sorry. But he didn’t want her apology, didn’t want or need anything from her. He and Max had done just fine before Harper and Cass had invaded their lives, and they’d do just fine without them. They’d lasted the four days since her football party, hadn’t they?
He’d wanted to call her at least a dozen times.
“We were actually hoping we could...that, maybe, if it’s all right with you and Max...Cass and I...”
“Harper,” he said quietly. He might tell himself he didn’t care that she was nervous but he didn’t like to see her stuttering or struggling so hard to say what was on her mind. “Spit it out.”
“Can we go trick-or-treat with you?” she asked in a rush.
And that was not what he was expecting. “What?”
“We want to go with you and Max. If that’s all right?”
“You want to go around our neighborhood? What? The candy in yours isn’t good?”
She met his eyes, held his gaze. “We want to go with you,” she repeated.
And it hit him. What she was doing, why she was there. She wanted to go with him and his son as they walked around their neighborhood, a neighborhood that would be filled with their friends and neighbors. She wanted to be with him.
She wanted people to see her with him.
And she looked so brave, as if asking him for something this simple had taken all her courage. How was he supposed to refuse her? Why would he want to?
But there was one small problem. “I don’t want you falling on your sword for me.”
“I’m not sure this qualifies,” she said with an eye roll. She glanced over, saw Max entertaining Cass. “Look, I want to spend the evening with you. If you don’t want that, too, just say so. Don’t try and turn it around as you saving me from myself or some other noble act.”
“That’s not what this is,” he insisted.
She crossed her arms, looked put out and stubborn. It was a good look on her. “No? Then what is it? Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to make a point here. Not sacrifice myself on some altar. I’m not being a martyr. I’m trying to prove that I am capable of moving forward.”
“You’re capable, yes,” he said. “But are you ready?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” she asked softly.
So she was. “I hope you wore comfortable shoes,” he said, “because Max likes to hit all the houses within a three-mile radius and seeing as how trick or treat is only two hours long, we tend to walk fast.”
She smiled, happy and, if he wasn’t mistaken, grateful. “Cass and I will do our best to keep up.”
He couldn’t refuse her even when self-preservation told him he should. “See that you do.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AN HOUR AND A HALF into trick-or-treating and Cass was still just as gung ho as when they’d hit the first house. Of course, it probably helped that she hopped in the stroller every few houses, letting Harper and then Eddie push her around the neighborhood like some angel queen.
It was a perfect night, though, Harper thought. Not too cool and no rain in sight. Kids and parents filled the sidewalks, the street and porch lights glowed. This was Cass’s first real time trick-or-treating. Last year, Harper and Beau had dressed her in her costume—Little Mermaid—and taken her to see their parents and a few close friends and family. They’d been back at their house in time to hand out candy to all the monsters, goblins and superheroes who’d roamed their own neighborhood.
But now, tonight, she was with Eddie. She wouldn’t think about Beau. It wouldn’t be right.
They’d made a huge circle and were heading back to Eddie’s house. At the walkway of a two-story brick home, Harper unbuckled Cassidy from her stroller, and her little girl tossed back her hair, adjusted her halo—which just became crooked again, must be someone up there trying to tell them something—and marched her little self up the walk next to Max. Max rang the bell, but it was Cass who stuck her bag out and yelled, “Trick or treat!”
“She has no fear,” Harper murmured, watching her daughter hold a conversation with the elderly gentleman who’d opened the door. “Seriously. What am I supposed to do with that? I’ll be nuts by the time she hits puberty.”
“She’s a firecracker,” Eddie agreed.
“Beau loved her spirit,” Harper said with a grin. “Even when she’d go on a crying jag he’d just say that she was expressing her mind and—” She snapped her lips shut. Shook her head. “Sorry.”
“If you tell me you’re apologizing for talking about Beau, you’re going to seriously piss me off.”
“I don’t want you to think—”
“You don’t want me to think what? That you were married to the man? That his daughter is, at this moment, heading toward us? That he wasn’t a part of your life for how many years? That you don’t miss him?”
“I don’t want you to think that when I’m with you I’m thinking of him or wishing you were him.”
“I don’t think that. I think that you loved him, that you’ll always love him. I don’t want you to pretend he didn’t exist, that he didn’t matter, because he did. He still does,” Eddie said, nodding at Cass as she ran down the sidewalk.
She fell and started crying. Before Harper could even blink, Eddie was there, scooping up her little angel, holding her close, rubbing her back and murmuring to her soothingly. “I think that about wraps it up,” he said to Max. “What do you think?”
Max yawned. “I’m tired.”
“Let’s head on home,” Eddie said.
Max put his and Cass’s candy in the stroller and pushed it, walking ahead of them as Harper walked next to Eddie. Cass laid her head on his shoulder, sang one of her made-up songs and twirled his hair around her finger like she did with Harper when Harper rocked her to sleep.
“I can carry her,” Harper said, feeling a pang seeing him with her daughter, seeing how caring he was. How sweet.
“I’ve got her.”
They were still two blocks from his house but people were already turning their porch lights off, the crowds thinning. She’d proved her point, she thought, as they crossed the street. They’d seen plenty of people, had stopped and chatted with more than a few either one or both of them knew. It wouldn’t take long before word spread that they were out together. Before people assumed they were together.
She slid a sidelong glance at Eddie’s strong profile. Were they together? She had no idea. She had no clue as to how to proceed or what came next. Were they dating? Going steady? Did anyone over the age of eighteen even go steady anymore?
Her future, the future she’d planned with Beau, had been taken away and she missed it. Mourned its loss. But she couldn’t deny that her feelings for Eddie were growing. That was what scared her.
“Beau wanted four kids,” she said after they passed a family of six, the two youngest kids screaming, the two older ones fighting.
If Eddie was surprised she’d brought up her husband, he didn’t show it. “That right?”
“I wanted two. He suggested we split the difference and go for three.”
“Odd number. Never a good idea. Plus, if you’re already outnumbered, you mig
ht as well get enough people out of it for a hockey team.”
“Good point. It was important to us that Cass have siblings. Probably because we were both only children.”
“He has stepbrothers, right?”
“A stepbrother and a stepsister, but his mom didn’t marry Steve until Beau was older, and they spent half their time with their mother, so it wasn’t quite the same as growing up with siblings.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
She laughed, lightly bumped him with her hip. “Come on. I’ve seen you and your brothers and sister together. You all are close.”
That was what she’d missed growing up but luckily, she’d been a friendly child, able to make and keep friends easily so she’d never been lonely. And her parents had given her plenty of attention without letting her get spoiled. She’d have to make sure she did the same with Cass.
“We all get along most of the time,” Eddie said, shifting Cass up higher. She lifted her head long enough to grin at him then put her face back down, moving on to a song about candy and angels and Cap’n ’Merica saving the world. “We have a few...disagreements now and then. Usually with Leo but that’s only because he’s an idiot.”
She snorted. “Leo? Please. Remember how crazy all the girls were about him in school?” Even though she and Eddie were two years ahead of Leo, there had been plenty of girls in their grade who’d crushed on the younger, handsome Leo.
“He’s pretty, I’ll give him that,” Eddie said.
Cassidy lifted her head again. “You pretty, too.”
And she kissed his cheek. He looked stunned but in a good way. He cleared his throat. “Not as pretty as you, angel.”
She nodded solemnly as if he spoke only the truth. “I the prettiest.”
“And so modest,” Harper said dryly, reminding herself to cut back on the compliments before her kid got an even bigger head to go along with that ego of hers.
“It must be hard,” Eddie said, his tone sympathetic, “letting go of that dream, of having that family with Beau.”
She hadn’t been sure talking about her husband was a good idea but maybe this was what she and Eddie needed. They couldn’t be together—in any capacity—by pretending the past didn’t exist, that they both hadn’t had relationships, children with other people.