Another text came through.
You holding up OK?
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, the messages unanswered. On the A428, traffic crawled by in little spurts. One of those big French lorries followed by a line of cars. A gap and then a moped. How many of those drivers had crossed the site of the crash, oblivious? He avoided that stretch of road in the same way he was avoiding returning to his house. Avoidance, he was brilliant at that. But he was, quite simply, done. Tonight, over supper, he would ask Marianne and Darius to fly home.
Her memories of the accident were missing; his were not. Normally he kept them locked away, but today they had broken free. Every word spoken in anger; every ripple those words caused. A ripple effect leading to a maelstrom of remorse.
The present had caught up with the past, a place he couldn’t revisit, and it was time for decisive action. Darius was a good man; Jade an amazing woman. Marianne needed to go home and love them. Be grateful that they were part of her life, and leave the past where it belonged—buried in Newton Rushford cemetery.
A shadow fell over him. “You left without me,” Hugh said.
Gabriel glanced up and then back at the empty crisp packet. One puff of wind from a speeding lorry, and that piece of rubbish would tumble out onto the High Street. Possibly end up littering someone’s garden. “Lots to think about.”
“You did a fine job.” Hugh sat next to him. “Lots of healing. Hard for you, though, I imagine.”
“And why would that be?”
“Unfinished business between you and Marianne, my friend. Love’s a tough old bird.”
“Hugh, I thought we’d moved beyond this assumption. I have feelings for Marianne, but I’m not in love with her. I find myself no longer capable of real passion. And I think that’s worse.”
The Saturday afternoon traffic became a constant stream, destroying the quiet of the village. The crisp packet stayed put, caught behind the wall. Hugh reached into his pocket, pulled out a roll of Polo mints, and peeled back the wrapping. He offered it to Gabriel, who shook his head.
Hugh popped a mint into his mouth. “I suppose we’ll be two old, crusty bachelors together, then. Think we can share a caregiver in our declining years?”
Gabriel gave a weak laugh. “I’m putting off going home. Jade reminded me they have loud makeup sex. I’m not sure my spare room has ever seen that kind of action.”
Hugh slapped his knees and stood. “Then you and I will turn around and walk to the Swan. I feel the need for a pint, a game of darts, and a bit of flirtation with that buxom barmaid.”
“She’s recently engaged.”
“Blast. There goes my fantasy. Might need two pints to drown my sorrows. Come on, we’ll discuss our new, exclusive club, Bachelors R Us. It’s going to come with a splendid rewards program and a cruise around the Greek islands—if we start saving now.”
Gabriel’s phone bleeped with another text. He pulled it out and opened the message, knowing that Jade’s phone would mark it as read.
Don’t ignore me, she’d typed.
He did.
FORTY-NINE
MARIANNE
Marianne’s body rose and fell as Darius continued to pant. She tucked her hand into the secret nook where his thigh disappeared into his groin, and stroked back and forth. Why couldn’t joy always be this simple?
Still holding her to his chest, Darius threw his right arm behind his head and gave a low, satisfied groan. “I orbited the moon. At least twice.”
“Me too.” She ran her hand up to his chest and sensed his heartbeat pumping through her fingertips, through her bloodstream, and into the chambers of her own heart.
He sucked in the smallest of breaths. “Now will you come home with me?”
She propped herself up on an elbow and stared into his eyes. “No.”
Wriggling free of her, he grabbed his briefs from the floor and tugged them back on. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, his back toward her, and rested his arms across his thighs. “Why?” he half laughed, his voice as feeble as if she’d beaten him to a pulp.
She pulled herself up and hugged her knees. “Darius, baby, you rock my world. You’re my soul mate. I know this the same way I know it’s day outside and not night. Why you have such faith in me is a constant wonder. But my psycho behavior this summer threatened to smash apart everything we’ve built. And I still haven’t figured out what the consequences will be. My mood might have stabilized for now, but coming back here has ripped open a can of vipers. I can’t duct-tape the lid back on and say, ‘Stay inside and hide your fangs, guys.’ Whatever I’ve disturbed has spilled over into all our lives: yours, mine, Jade’s, Gabriel’s. The day EmJ ran off, Dr. White told me he thought I have PTSD from the first crash.”
“Jade could have told you that.” With a glance over his naked shoulder, he stood. “Come home, Marianne. We’ll tackle this as a team, with Dr. White’s help. I’ve downloaded all kinds of shit about mindfulness and psychotherapy, CBT, and DBT. I’m not afraid to do the work, but please, can we figure this out together? I want our life back. I want you back. And it’s not fair to keep relying on Jade to hold our business together while we sort out our marriage.”
Why did he have to bite down on the word marriage as if it were something hard and ugly he no longer wanted? A cool breeze came through the open window and tickled her cheek. She shivered.
“I need to make sense of everything that happened thirty years ago. And so does Gabriel. I know I’m asking a lot, but I need you to trust me for a while longer.”
“Terrific. You’re telling me this is all about you and Gabriel? So you guys are, what, still in love, and I’m a dumbass for choosing to believe both of you when you tell me there’s nothing going on?”
“Yes to the first part and no to that last bit, although I got totally lost in the question because I’m sick of this petty jealousy over Gabriel.” She punched a pillow.
“You’re sick of it?” His voice rose. “How do you think I feel? We’re having this argument in your ex-boyfriend’s guest bedroom. Enough, Marianne. Enough.”
“Exactly. Look at what he’s done for us—yes, for you as well as me. And did you see how he avoided me after the service? He’s started running, too.”
“And you think I care about Gabriel’s angst, why?”
“Because you’re a decent person, and he’s in pain. Everything for Gabriel and me traces back to Simon’s death. But I can only remember disjointed images, and the one person who knows the truth about what happened isn’t sharing. He hasn’t dealt with events of that night any more than I have, and once I leave, he’s back to square one.”
“How altruistic of you.”
“I don’t like your tone. Are you accusing me of being selfish?”
“I’m warning you to be careful about mislabeling your obsession as someone else’s need. If he’s chosen to keep things hidden, that’s his prerogative. And I’ve been more than patient, but I’m done, Marianne.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Shit happens and it doesn’t always make sense. That’s life.”
“Oh, don’t you dare.” She leaped up. “You don’t get to say, ‘Get over it.’ You don’t know how hard this is. You don’t know the truth.”
“Then tell me. Isn’t supporting each other through the rough shit the whole point of marriage and not this?” He swung his arm out to gesture at the disheveled, now-empty twin beds shoved together, and she grabbed a T-shirt from the tumble of dirty laundry in the corner of the room. Arguing buck naked was plain wrong.
“I can only repeat myself so many times, Marianne: What don’t I know? Tell me.” He put his hands on his hips. “Because right now I’m considering packing up and heading to Heathrow. Yes, the sex is fantastic, always has been, but that’s not enough. I want more, I want the whole package. I want the truth about you and the Bonham brothers.”
In the plum tree a thrush warbled, and she remembered the weight of a dead mockingbird in her hand, its body still war
m.
She took a deep breath. “The CliffsNotes?”
“Stop stalling and tell me.”
“Stop yelling and sit down.”
“I’m not fucking yelling,” he yelled.
“Darius”—she swung around, turning her back to him—“I can’t do this if you don’t calm down.”
His arms wrapped around her and gentle kisses rained on the back of her neck. Then he lowered the T-shirt and kissed her tattoo. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m listening.”
“Please, sit down.”
He did. Kneeling in front of him, she inched between his legs and rested her cheek on his thigh. “It’s not a happy bedtime story, Darius. And I don’t know how you’ll feel about me when you’ve heard it.”
As he ran his fingers through her hair, she closed her eyes and began.
“When we were kids Gabriel and I were best buds till death do us part. I was tougher than most of the boys. Always getting into fights. A tomboy through and through with no interest in anything girly. But then I got boobs, Gabriel kissed me, and we decided we were in love. I guess it was fine for a year or so, but it got messy real fast. We’d always been heading in different directions, but neither of us could figure out how to leave the other one behind. One of us would retreat, then the other. Our friendship with limited benefits became an exhausting tug-of-war. Sex was the battleground: I wanted now, now, now; Gabriel wanted to wait for the picket fence. Simon tuned in to all that uncertainty. He asked for nothing, he offered nothing; he let me set the pace. The first time we slept together, it just sort of happened. Gabriel had gone off for the week, and I was mad at him. Simon was gorgeous and available. But then it kept happening. And it was secretive and exciting. Like mania, I guess. He was two years older, head boy, devilishly charming, and totally messed up. All the girls were in love with him. And I didn’t have to think about the future or where it was heading, because he didn’t care any more than I did. I was having fun. We both were, and then—” She sat up, and he cupped her face. She took a deep breath.
“Simon discovered I was pregnant, and he freaked out. The fun was gone.” She tried to turn her head away, but Darius wouldn’t let her.
“The next night Gabriel and I went to a party, and he kissed me while we were waiting for his mom to pick us up. Only she got sick and sent Simon. He saw the whole thing. That’s where the timeline gets fuzzy and my mind goes blank.”
“And the baby?” he said quietly.
“I fractured my pelvis in the crash, had a miscarriage, got an infection. Gabriel never really talked to me again, we lost contact, and boom. Here I am. Sterile as an old crone, which seems more than enough retribution for destroying a family. That second crash forced me to relive the worst of my past—with half the memories ripped away. So.” She watched his face. “There you have it.”
“I’m sorry. I know how much you’ve always wanted kids. But why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” There was no anger in his voice, just tired resignation. “Did you really think I’d stop loving you because of a teen pregnancy?”
“We made a deal to not rehash the past.” She sank back on her heels.
“Yeah, that was my mistake, and I’m ready to put it aside. Are you?”
“My past is a horror show. It’s not something I’m eager to share.”
He stood up. “You’re great at talking about trust when it suits your purpose.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She stood too.
“You can trust Gabriel with all this and not me?”
“That’s different. We lived it together.” She backed away from him and hit the bedroom wall, knocking the angel picture to the floor.
“I would too . . . if you would let me.”
“But you never wanted kids. You don’t understand that need.”
“And the vicar does? What, did you guys plan a family together?” His eyes darkened to black. “You did. Didn’t you?”
“Stop. You’re missing the point. I grew up wanting to be a mother, dreaming about being a mother. And not any old mother, but the best. I was going to have a huge family. So many kids, Darius. Happy and loved. And then I torpedoed my own dream.”
“No, you didn’t.” He sighed. “Think about Jade and Sasha, and all the girls you’ve helped through Girls In Motion. You still figured out how to be a mom. Let me guess?” His voice softened. “Your baby was a girl?”
She nodded. But she wouldn’t tell him the last grain of truth. That her baby was buried with Simon. That it had all been a terrible mistake. “I hate the word closure, but I need to untangle this huge knot that has Simon’s death at the center. Walking away is no longer an option.”
“And what if the knot can’t be unpicked?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
“Christ, Marianne, I—” He slapped a hand over his mouth.
“I love you,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to fight, and I’m sorry. Sorry for all of it—for ruining the perfect moment, for messing up our lives, for not being able to tell you what you want to hear. If you want out, I get it. I have a chronic disease, and it’s not going away, and . . . you didn’t sign up for this.”
“Unfortunately I did. You never lied to me about being crazy. I’ve just never seen you in action before.”
“And now that you have?”
“I worship you, Marianne, with an intensity I can’t handle most of the time. There is no one else for me, and I’m sorry about the baby. I get what that means to you, I do. But I’m cold out of patience. Jade tried to tell me, when all this started, that our mental health matters, and she was right. I need to get back to music, to the studio, to real life. I’m losing myself in all this. If I said, ‘Come home or our marriage is over,’ how would you answer?”
“I’m hoping you won’t do that. But if you did, I’d start packing. To lose you is my unimaginable.”
“And if I weren’t to give you an ultimatum?”
“I’d ask for one more week—to try to make sense of everything.”
He stood in front of her and spread his hands on the wall, on either side of her head. With a wicked little grin, he ground into her. She closed her eyes and fell back through time, to her forty-first birthday and this cute guy from AA who was asking her to have coffee.
“I have one question for you, the only one that matters.” He dipped forward and, brushing her hair aside, nuzzled behind her ear. “Are you done, for now, with going crazy?”
“Yes. I think this particular round of crazy is over. But no promises for the future. One more car crash, and I’ll probably be in a straitjacket.”
“Stay off the roads, then, because I have to go home and save our business. Jade’s turning away clients.” He nipped at her neck, and then his mouth moved lower.
“Does this mean I can stay?” she murmured.
“Take off the T-shirt.”
She tugged it over her head.
“Yes. On two conditions.”
“Uh-huh.” She was finding it hard to breathe and talk simultaneously. His right hand had found her breast.
“I’m going to start coming to your appointments with Dr. White.”
“Okay,” she whispered, even though a few months ago she’d thrown a shoe at him for asking, very nicely, if he could sit in on a psych session. “And?”
“And you promise that if I book the ticket”—he tweaked her nipple, and she gasped—“you’ll use it.”
She grabbed his head and forced it down to her breast. He sucked hard. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Cross my heart and hope to die together after a long and turbulent marriage.”
He stood up and clamped his hands on her ass. “In that case I’ll need a going-away gift. Something I can live off until you come home. You have one week.”
And she forced him backward onto the bed.
FIFTY
JADE
Sunday brunch at the Honeysuckle Tea House, an apothecary café, didn’t classify as a date. Right? The place was a bit new ag
ey, but it was out in the country and constructed like a tree house with open sides that let in a cross breeze. Everything was holistic and packaged with a full dose of om. Right now Jade would sell her soul for one-tenth of a dose.
She clambered out of Ernie, and an oak leaf spiraled down to her feet. In the trees behind the parking area, leaves were beginning to turn in small patches of brilliance glowing against the Carolina-blue sky. Back in town the dogwoods were already warming up for their annual crimson display.
While she’d been barricaded in her cave with lava lamps and strings of red holiday lights, summer slipped away and the gradual descent into the dreaded family season had begun. Marianne and Darius weren’t big on Christmas. Thanksgiving was their thing, with a huge spread for the studio family. Except for Zeke, none of them had anywhere else to go. The last two Christmases, Marianne and Darius went back to see his mom—going strong at ninety—and despite an open invitation, Jade spent the day in her apartment watching holiday movies and stuffing her face with chocolate-covered cherries from A Southern Season. What a difference nine months could make, because right now the thought of being alone at Christmas made her want to howl like the neighborhood coyote.
Swallowing a yawn, Jade walked up the wooden ramp into the café. Yesterday’s session had ended at two a.m., and she slept badly. Gabriel had done a disappearing act, and her texts remained unanswered. Darius, however, was nauseatingly happy, bugging her way more than necessary about his flight home the next day.
Looking past the glass containers filled with loose tea, she studied the chalkboard of specials and contemplated her order. An order for one, as usual. She settled on a smoothie and a muffin, not that she was hungry, but she had to eat something before heading to the studio for another late session. After Darius got home and settled, she’d catch up on sleep, clean the apartment, and check out the thrift stores and new releases at the library. By this time next week, life would have returned to normal. And it sucked.
Echoes of Family Page 29