by Jamie Beck
Had Alec alerted her, she might’ve confronted Mark, but ultimately she couldn’t say that it alone would’ve prevented what had happened. And even if Alec had forgiven Mark then, Mark might have eventually slipped into some other depression that ended the same way.
Truthfully, the only silence to blame for Mark’s suicide was her and Mark’s choice to hide the truth about his illness. To isolate themselves from the support of family and friends, whose help might’ve actually made a difference in his treatment and prognosis. Those decisions she and Mark made together made that horrible day inevitable.
Yet even as she recognized herself repeating those same patterns with Alec, she hadn’t spoken up—about the critic, about her life with Mark, about Alec shielding her from his dad. In her own way, she’d sabotaged their chance at happiness as much as Alec had.
She sat up, irked that she’d let him call the shots yesterday. Maybe they couldn’t work everything out, but she should’ve demanded more than thirty minutes to make life-changing decisions.
She grabbed her keys and raced through the house. “Mom, I’ve got to run. Sorry about dinner.”
When she arrived at Alec’s apartment, his car was nowhere in sight, so she decided to surprise him by waiting. She still had her key. He could ignore her calls, but he couldn’t ignore her if she was sitting at his table.
She parked at the curb, cursing the fact that the skies had opened up. After running through the downpour, she used her key to get inside, surprising the hell out of Julie Morgan.
“Colby?” Julie sat up on the sofa, where she’d been resting.
“Oh, I’m sorry to barge in.” She wiped her wet hair off her face, embarrassed that she’d trespassed. “Is Alec home?”
“No.” Julie froze, apparently stunned by the intrusion.
“Will he be back soon?”
“Let me get you something to dry off with.” Julie went into Alec’s bathroom and returned with a bath towel. It smelled similar to his clothes, thanks to his fabric softener, but was missing the essential element of him.
“Thank you.” Colby began drying her hair and then wrapped the towel around her shoulders. “So where’s Alec?”
“He went out.”
“Has he said anything to you about . . . things?”
“Just that things aren’t working out, and he might need to go to LA or New York to find work.”
“I didn’t ask him to go, Julie. He made all these decisions. I wish he wouldn’t have hidden his feelings about so much for so long.”
“Alec learned how to hide his feelings pretty young.” Her expression turned grim again. “His father can take the blame for that.”
Blame. Such a useless word. People flung it around when they were mad or hurt. Or they carried it like a cross until it destroyed any chance at redemption or happiness. Blame never solved one problem or changed a single outcome. A pointless, unproductive, ultimately destructive concept, really.
Looking around, she saw that destruction, too. Lives, marriages, businesses all laid to waste thanks to misplaced blame. Now she had to hope that they could pick up the pieces and start over.
Hope—another useless concept if not backed by a plan. Hoping for things never worked out well for her. It was time for action.
“You’re still coming to the gala, right?” she asked Julie.
“Yes.” Julie surprised Colby by giving her a quick hug goodbye. “Maybe things will sort themselves out before then, too.”
Colby left Alec’s, her thoughts turning as sharply as the winding road around the lake.
For months she’d told Alec she was finished looking back, but he’d been right. She couldn’t move forward until she confronted her past and laid her demons to rest. Doing so would require two more stops, neither of which would be easy.
Chapter Twenty-One
The gates to Queen of Heaven were just ahead, shrouded by mist now that the rain had slowed to a drizzle. For the first time, the sight of those iron gates didn’t cause her body to quake or nausea to churn. Purpose kept those things at bay.
She turned in to the cemetery and parked near Mark’s headstone, undeterred by the rain and mud. After grabbing a yellow windbreaker from her back seat, she crossed the soggy ground to where he lay buried. She laid her jacket down and sat, cross-legged, on his grave, staring at his name on the marker.
At twenty-nine, she’d been a young widow. It seemed as if she’d aged a decade since she’d buried him almost two years ago to the day. Now she sat, twisting her wedding band around and around.
Fears born from that unhealthy marriage contributed to the failure of her relationship with Alec. She’d told him she wanted easy. She wanted peace. He responded by telling half-truths and keeping secrets.
In their own ways, they’d both been running from the past—sacrificing open communication for peace. Only now did she recognize that peace couldn’t exist without honesty.
To find peace, she needed to forgive and be forgiven.
Drizzle continued to fall from the sky—fitting for the misty sort of sadness in her heart. She picked at the grass and started talking to her husband.
“Before you, I’d never met anyone whose energy and enthusiasm poured out of him like sunlight. Our love was wild abandon, partly because I hadn’t yet learned that when you throw your heart in the air, it hurts like hell when it lands.
“I’ve spent a few years telling myself that we were a mistake. But that isn’t fair. I wish I’d been better able to love you in spite of the problems your illness caused us both, and I’m sorry that our mistakes ended with me sitting on your grave.
“I know you loved me, even when you strayed, even when we fought, even when I no longer loved you the same way. And I’m so sorry for the way I hurt you. I think you understand what I mean, because I doubt you wanted to hurt me, either, even though you did.
“You’ll always be a part of me. In that way, you’ll live on as long as I do. I’ll honor the best parts of you with the Maverick Foundation. I’ll stop looking back with remorse and blame. When I will think of you, I’ll remember your bright blue eyes, hear your deep laugh, and even smile at the memories of some of your zanier bursts of ‘creativity.’
“I don’t regret loving you, Mark, because you taught me how deeply a person could love and be loved. I hope you’re in heaven, surrounded by love, and finally at peace. I forgive you for making me watch you leave this world. I know, in my heart, that it was the illness, not a choice, that made you jump. And I hope you forgive me for all my mistakes.”
She reached out to trace Mark’s name. Cold carved granite abraded her fingertips, but she traced his full name tenderly as if she were touching his face.
“I’ve found love again, with Alec. It’s not anything like it was with you. Maybe the fact that it snuck up on me in a quiet way—so different from you—is what made it possible for me to let him in when I was convinced I’d never let anyone in again. I thought I wanted something simple and instead chose the most complicated person in my life. I see now that simple isn’t what I want. Honesty is. Honesty you and I lost along the way with the choices we made. I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time and pain to understand that I can’t ‘manage’ other people. Alec and I may not be able to fix what we’ve broken, but I’m going to try.”
She took a flat rock and dug a six-inch-deep hole at the corner of the headstone. She could barely see what she was doing because of the tears clogging her eyes, but she removed her wedding band and placed it in the hole, then covered it with soil.
“Wish me well, Mark.”
She wiped the tears streaming from her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. She should have been shivering from the cold, but her body warmed from the surge of emotion. Hoisting herself off the ground, she shook out her jacket, glanced across the narrow road to Joe, and sent up a silent prayer.
I loved you, too, Joe, but you were far from perfect. I wish I would’ve been a better friend and helped you see what
an amazing brother you had. Maybe someday we’ll all be reunited, and we can laugh like we did as kids. Until then, watch out for Alec now. He still needs you.
She looked at her hands, now devoid of any trace of her life with Mark. A clean slate, she thought with a slight shiver. It was cold and dusky, but that wouldn’t keep her from making one more stop.
Mr. Morgan opened his door, nostrils flared, eyes wide, looking almost constipated. Then again, Colby probably also looked frightful, muddied and wet, standing in his doorway in the dark.
“What do you want?” he grumbled, no more polite than when they’d crossed paths in his driveway two months ago. Of course, everything that transpired recently had probably refueled his hatred of her.
“To speak with you.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” He waved her off.
“Please.” She fought the shiver tickling down her spine. She’d hoped for a more civil conversation, but given all the circumstances, she should’ve known better.
“Get off my porch, Colby.” He started to close the door, but she blocked it with her arm.
“If any part of the man who used to like me still exists, please give me five minutes.” She raised her chin. “Joe wouldn’t want you to treat me like this, would he?”
Narrowing his eyes, he opened the door to let her inside. He barred her from going farther than the entry by standing legs wide, arms crossed.
She hadn’t been in their house in years. The familiar scent sucker punched her, calling forth childhood memories. Video-game marathons with Joe on rainy days. Talking with Alec while he worked on a puzzle or cooked. Hide-and-seek in the old basement, with its spooky equipment rooms, storage area, and multitude of odds and ends no one knew where to put. She fought against the dizzying images and brought her focus back to the burly man in front of her, who now glared at her like she was a delinquent he might haul off to juvie.
On closer inspection, he looked exhausted. She reminded herself that Frank Morgan had been shattered by grief. That his wife had walked out on him, and his son had reopened old wounds and caused some new ones, too. She also tried to recall him as a younger man. The one who’d built that tree house. Who’d stepped in to help her family after her dad had left.
But the good in this man seemed to have been buried with his son.
“For chrissakes, Colby, haven’t you caused this family enough trouble?” He didn’t bark at her this time. In fact, he sounded resigned.
“For a long time I thought so. But I’ve had a change of heart.” It may have been too little, too late to stand up for Alec now, but better late than never. Her throat still ached from her graveside chat, but she dug deep for the energy needed to finish what she’d started. “I know Joe’s death devastated you. And now you feel betrayed by your wife and son because of their involvement with the foundation and me. If you need to be angry, keep directing it at me. I can take it.” She softened her voice now, hoping to appeal to his better nature. “But please don’t take it out on Alec or your wife.”
Mr. Morgan stared straight through her. She couldn’t tell if he’d tuned her out or had become lost in his own memories. He wasn’t screaming or kicking her out, so she continued. “If we’re all being as honest as Alec has been lately, we should each take ownership for our roles in how things stand today.”
Mr. Morgan’s menacing cop face surfaced. His voice turned low and lethal. “You have no right to stand there and judge me.”
Colby should’ve been afraid—alone with an angry ex-cop whose face looked like an overinflated balloon. But her purpose kept her going. “Maybe not. But tell me, what good is your judgment doing you or your family? Instead of lashing out and hurting each other, can’t we pull together? If you don’t want to be involved in the foundation, could you at least consider coming to the gala next week? Come see what your wife, son, and I have done for Joe. If you watch Alec at work, you finally might appreciate the talented, good, strong man he is.”
Instead of being persuaded by her plea, Mr. Morgan spat back. “I see Alec for exactly who he is. Do you? He’s hiding behind your skirt now, just like he hid behind his mother’s forever. I love him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like everything about him. And I don’t have to pretend he’s stronger than he is.”
“Alec doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t even know where he is. But I do know how much he wants to reunite your family. And, like it or not, he’s stronger than you because he understands how to manage his own disappointment without becoming a bully.”
Mr. Morgan crossed to the door and flung it open, sending it crashing against the wall. “I’m done listening to you. Out. NOW!”
Her insides quaked in the face of his outburst, but she managed to get her legs to cooperate without her knees buckling. She got in her car and parked in her mom’s driveway, chest heaving, tears stinging her eyes.
In hindsight, she wasn’t sure whether that was the bravest or dumbest thing she’d ever done. Alec might even be pissed at her for interfering. Hopefully he’d understand that she’d been trying to fight for him. Now she just prayed it would work.
The last card up her sleeve involved a favor from her dad. If his food-journalist friend, Rob Salvetti, could attend the gala, he might write something positive for one of those foodie magazines. Then A CertainTea and Alec would get the respect they deserved. She’d given Alec free rein over that evening’s menu, and he would be running the kitchen. He was already motivated to make the night perfect for Joe, so if she could surprise Alec with this coup, surely that could make a difference. She didn’t want to raise Alec’s hopes, but rather than manage his expectations, she’d simply inform him of the possibility. No more secrets.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Colby lugged a box of tea lights into the restaurant Tuesday morning. Yesterday she, Sara, and her mom had met here to decorate for tonight’s gala. Now A CertainTea shimmered with silver-and-navy accents. Hundreds of balloons with shiny streamers had arrived early this morning, and flowers would be delivered any minute.
The warm, dry weather meant she could throw the glass doors open and allow the party to wander onto the flagstone patio. A gorgeous sunset on the lake would provide a perfect backdrop for the event.
Guests would arrive at seven. She should be thrilled for having pulled it all together in such a short time. She would have been, too, if it didn’t also mark the last time she and Alec would work together.
All week she’d hoped Alec would change his mind, but he’d restricted their discussions to the gala. Neither he nor Julie had mentioned her confrontation with Mr. Morgan. Either the man hadn’t told them, or it simply hadn’t done any good.
Her Hail Mary didn’t pan out, either. Her dad had promised to contact his writer friend, but to no avail. Although disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to salvage Alec’s reputation, Alec didn’t seem surprised that Mr. Salvetti hadn’t committed to coming. Alec’s ennui suggested he’d given up on being a chef that drew any notice.
She set the tea lights on a dining table before going into her office and flicking on the light. When she draped her wrap over her chair and flung her purse on the desk, she noticed her empty bud vase. She lifted it to her chest, then laid it in her desk drawer.
A knock at the door caused her to look up, right into Alec’s cautious gaze. “We’re in good shape in the kitchen. Just checking to see if there are any last-minute items you need help with.”
“Nothing for you to worry about.” She sighed. “You must be thrilled to get tonight over with so you can leave this all behind.”
Chin tucked, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You know, reservations are up this week. Our TripAdvisor and Yelp ratings are fantastic. Real people love your food, no matter what Jeffers says. You could stay and save me the trouble of hiring someone new.” Stay and give us a chance to rebuild.
He tucked his hands in his pockets, like usual. “I appreciate the pep talk, but I can
’t stay here and work with you every day.”
“I don’t care about Mark’s note. You’re not the reason he’s dead. His illness is. And as far as honesty goes, you were right. We both made mistakes, but we can learn from them. They don’t have to mean the end of everything.”
All week she’d fantasized that a speech like that would end in a passionate kiss. When it didn’t, she simply hung her head.
“I’m not good for you.” He sounded so certain he almost convinced her. “Look around. My mother lives in my apartment. My family is in shambles. My career is in neutral. None of that makes me happy, or fun. I want you to be happy. I want you to have fun.”
“I’m not having fun now.”
“You will soon enough. And if we’re being completely honest, until I come to terms with my new reality, I can’t be a good partner for anyone. Not in any way. I don’t want you waiting around, or spending your time trying to fix me. You’ve spent enough of your life trying to fix people. You should be with someone who makes your stomach hurt from laughing, not from stress. But I can’t stick around and watch you fall in love with someone else, so I have to go.”
She thought to shove her right hand at his face and show him that she’d taken off Mark’s ring. To tell him how she’d gone to his dad on his behalf. How she’d missed him and would happily “wait” or help him get back on his feet. But looking at the resolve in his expression, she knew it wouldn’t matter. He’d made up his mind, and nothing she said now would change it.
“You say you love me, but apparently not enough.” She turned her back to him, chin to chest. “I accept your resignation.”