The Last Little Secret

by Zuri Day

  Shaking her head, as if the abrupt motion could dislodge her doubts, she eased her foot off the brake and guided her Nissan Rogue over the covered bridge. In seconds, she emerged from the dim shadows into the sunlight. Several feet in front of her, off to the side, stood a white sign with a scrolled top and dark green lettering.

  Welcome to Rose Bend, MA. Pop. 4, 815. “All are welcome where none are strangers.”

  Her heart thudded against her chest. Yes, she’d driven almost 800 miles in the last two days, but not until this moment, with the nose of her SUV nudging the town line, did her stomach plummet into free fall and her pulse short-circuit.

  “I’m doing this,” she blurted out, her voice rebounding in the interior like a blow horn. “I’m really doing this.”

  Was she reminding herself…or questioning her sanity? Yeah, she had no clue. But with her apartment lease canceled, all her belongings either packed away in storage or piled inside this vehicle, with her ties cut, she had no choice but to go forward. Literally and figuratively. As if to drive home that point, she pressed her foot harder on the accelerator.

  The peal of her cell phone ringing through the car speakers jolted her from her thoughts. Sydney glanced at the display screen and grinned at the name above the phone number with the 704 area code. She accepted the call, and a second later, her best friend’s smooth, bayou-rich voice filled the car’s interior.

  “Woman, are you there yet? You haven’t checked in since you hit the Massachusetts state line a few hours ago, and you know how I worry. And worry causes me to frown. And frowns cause lines in my forehead. And my next Botox appointment isn’t for another two weeks. So, in order to keep me worry- and wrinkle-free, I need you to call me on a regular basis to let me know you and little Arwen are safe and still Daffodil Corner-bound.”

  Sydney snickered. Stephanie Landry was—in a word—dramatic. And gorgeous, bold and a Lord of the Rings fangirl. Hence, her insistence that Sydney’s baby would be named Arwen, after the elf princess, if it was a girl, and Aragorn, the ranger and king, if a boy. Yeah, no way in hell was that happening.

  Like Sydney, Stephanie had been a transplant to the Queen City. Her work as a PR rep for the Hornets, the city’s professional basketball team, had brought her to Charlotte from New Orleans six years earlier. From the moment the two women had bumped into each other at The Unknown Brewing Co., a local brewery, they’d become best friends. Maybe the fact that they’d both been seeking a new start in a place far from home had made them kindred spirits. Maybe they’d bonded over raisin beer. Either way, they’d been inseparable. Until now.

  Swallowing past the thick knot of loneliness lodged in her throat, Sydney shook her head, even though Stephanie couldn’t see the gesture.

  “For the last time, it’s Rose Bend.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Woman, your passive aggressiveness is showing. You might want to clean that up,” Sydney drawled.

  Stephanie huffed, and Sydney could easily imagine the gorgeous redhead rolling her eyes. “I admit nothing,” Stephanie said. “And I definitely don’t admit that I might have a ragey vendetta against the supposed oasis of perfection that is stealing my best friend away from me.”

  “I never said it was perfection,” Sydney murmured. “Or an oasis.”

  Particularly not for her.

  Family. Acceptance. A sense of belonging. Those had never been hers to have in her hometown. Hell, there was a very good chance it still might not be hers now. But for her baby, it could be different. The burdens of Sydney’s childhood didn’t have to be her child’s. She wouldn’t let it be.

  “Hey,” Stephanie said, her voice softening. Sydney had zero doubts that if she were with Stephanie, her friend would already have her bundled up in one of her tight, Egyptian musk-scented hugs. “I give you shit, but you know I have your back. A hundred percent. Yes, I’m missing you, but you’re doing what’s best for you and baby Arwen. And yes, I might hate on Carnation City, but if you believe it’s where you belong right now, then it’s where you should be.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and Sydney blinked against them. Stupid hormones. She’d never been much of a crier—she’d learned at an early age that tears solved nothing—but since she’d been pregnant, they popped up like stray hairs on a chin.

  “Thanks, Steph. I swear, one minute I’m certain that I’m doing the right thing. And then the next…” She laughed, but it possessed too much of a sharp edge to be considered humorous. “The next I’m second-guessing every choice I’ve made for the last six months. Was I wrong to divorce Daniel? Should I have remarried him after I found out I was pregnant? Should I have stayed in Charlotte, the place that’s been a home to me for almost a decade? Am I being impulsive? Am I placing my own needs above the baby’s? Am I being—” she paused, then pushed out the last, damning word “—selfish?”

  Of all the questions and worries that plagued her, the last one tormented her the most. Her ex-husband Daniel had thrown that accusation at her when she’d rejected his proposal to remarry, and it’d dug beneath skin and bone, excavating old hurts and insecurities. For years, she’d been proud of how she’d matured. She wasn’t the rebellious girl she’d been when she’d left home all those years ago. But with one hurled insult, Daniel had relegated her back to being that teen. Still…

  His words wouldn’t have shaken her, if somewhere, in the darkest corner of her heart, she didn’t already question herself.

  “Hell no, you’re not selfish! How could you ever think that? Oh wait,” Stephanie snapped, the smooth molasses in her voice hardening to rock-hard toffee. “Lemme guess. Daniel. It sounds like something that would come straight out of his uptight mouth.”

  “Steph,” Sydney said, caution invading her tone. “Daniel’s not a bad guy. He’s just…” An image of her ex-husband solidified in her mind’s eye. Tall and lean, skin a beautiful mahogany, his strong, fit body clothed in one of his customary tailored suits with a tie. A handsome, distinguished, successful man who made the perfect dean of students at a prestigious private high school. “He’s just set in his ways,” she finished.

  “I love you, babe, but he has a stick lodged so far up his ass, he shits splinters.”

  I will not laugh. I will not laugh.

  “Oh, just go on and laugh. You know you want to,” Stephanie cajoled, the syrup returning to her voice. “Listen, Syd, Lord knows I’m not an expert on relationships. My idea of one is extending a hookup to a two-nighter. But I have learned this. Whenever anyone—a woman, especially—makes a decision that is beneficial to her but inconvenient to another person, she’s selfish.” She snorted. “Living for yourself, making your own decisions—that doesn’t make you selfish, it makes you strong. Bold. Independent. It’s you. And don’t you forget that. Or let anyone try and convince you differently.”

  “That’s just it, Steph,” Sydney protested on a whisper. “I’m not bold or strong. I’m—”

  “Scared shitless,” her friend finished softly. “Yeah, I get it. I do, babe. But being afraid doesn’t determine your strength or your courage. Acting in spite of that fear, persevering, pressing forward—that’s courage. It would’ve been easy, comfortable, safe for you to stay in your marriage.”

  Yes, it would’ve been, Sydney silently agreed. And all the while, she would’ve slowly suffocated, lost her ambition, her voice—lost herself—as the years passed. That had been the wake-up call for her to walk away from her marriage of almost five years.

  And now, she was returning to the place where she’d initially experienced that same sense of drowning. Returning to Rose Bend.

  “It takes balls to start over, Syd,” Stephanie continued. “Lady balls. And you, babe, got a brass set.”

  Sydney’s bark of laughter sounded a bit waterlogged from the damn tears that refused to go away. Good Lord, she had five more months of this emotional upheaval?

 
“Thanks… I think.” Clearing her throat, she switched the subject before she started bawling. “So, how’d the meeting with the new sponsor go…?”

  For the next ten minutes, they talked about the new client Stephanie was wooing, and Sydney laughed until her stomach hurt over the gossip her friend dished.

  “Listen, I have to go. These folks actually want me to work.” Stephanie heaved a dramatic sigh. “You roll up into Gardenia Downs with your head held high and take no shit off anyone. Be good to yourself and give Arwen a rub for me,” Stephanie said.

  “Rose. Bend. And you do know, Jesus could stream down here on a golden beam in a chariot pulled by cherubim and I still would never name my baby that,” Sydney drawled.

  “Aww,” Stephanie cooed. “It’s so adorable that you think so.”

  Before Sydney could reply, her friend hung up, and she chuckled. But the amusement faded as she coasted over a hill and started on the last leg of her long journey.

  The Southern Berkshires in mid-June were simply…breathtaking. As much as she resented the place she grew up, she couldn’t deny the beauty of it. Centuries-old trees seemed to preen with their vividly green, lush leaves. Wide fields rolled into hills that were only eclipsed by the majesty of mountains and endless blue sky. As a child, she’d stared up at those great sentinels, imagined they’d been stacked there by lightning-bolt-wielding gods and fierce Titans. And as a teen, she’d studied them, dreaming about what lay on the other side. They’d been her friends, her guardians. And they’d been the only thing she’d waved goodbye to as she’d left Rose Bend eight years ago.

  She flicked the A/C dial, switching cold air off, then jabbed the window button. The glass slid down, permitting the outside to blow into her car. Up here, the air didn’t contain the mugginess of the South. Though she’d lived almost a decade in Charlotte, North Carolina, she’d never quite become accustomed to the humidity that clung to her skin like a layer of clothing. Here, though, summer had truly arrived. A high seventies temperature with a fresh breeze that brushed over her skin like a loving caress.

  Minutes later, the first house appeared on her left, and soon after she entered a pristine, yet cozy neighborhood of elegant, proud homes. As she rolled to a stop at the intersection, she glanced out her window and gazed at the white, two-story Victorian at the corner. Gorgeous—with a steeply pitched roof, a lovely turreted tower, wide bay windows and a wraparound porch—it was breathtaking, yet still managed to appear homey, welcoming. Perfect for a loving family. A pang of longing echoed in her chest, and she rubbed her knuckles against the ache. She would’ve loved to raise her baby in a house meant to be filled with laughter, joy and affection. Maybe she couldn’t give her that house, but she could offer her baby the unconditional love of her mother, security and stability.

  Deliberately turning away from the house and putting her hand back to the steering wheel, she eased off the brake and continued driving. And as the residential area gave way to more commercial buildings, her guards started rising up. Because while she hoped—prayed—for a nurturing haven for her child, and truly believed she would find it here, she also wanted that for herself, for Sydney “That Girl” Collins. But on that latter point, she knew better. Nothing changed in Rose Bend. Not the houses. Not the town people. Not the opinions. Not the hearts.

  Oh God, she’d made a mistake. What the hell had she been thinking returning here? She should turn around right now. It wasn’t too late—

  “Stop it, dammit,” she hissed at herself. “Get a hold of yourself and woman-the-fuck-up.”

  On autopilot, she steered her SUV to the parking lot adjacent to the small pharmacy that had been a fixture in town for as long as she could remember. A little after five, and only a handful of cars filled the lot. But unlike the city, she didn’t have to worry about her vehicle being towed if she wasn’t a customer. The people of Rose Bend were too polite for any of that “big city” nonsense.

  Isn’t that why you’re here? she asked herself as she climbed out of the car. To raise your child in a warmer and safer environment? To give your baby a place where she’s not a passing strange face, but a part of a loving family and community? Yes and yes. While Sydney and her parents had a strained relationship that might be impossible to heal after years of too-cold politeness and stinging disapproval, she believed—had to believe—that they would accept their grandchild. Love their grandchild.

  But now that the idea was no longer theory but reality? Well, she would be a liar if she claimed her stomach wasn’t bolting for her throat. And it had absolutely nothing to do with morning sickness.

  Hitting the key fob and locking the vehicle, she started off down Main Street. Her parents weren’t expecting her, so she could afford to put off that reunion for a little while. Besides, she needed a minute to herself.

  More than a few people strolled the sidewalks in front of the quaint stores and businesses. This time of evening, only an hour or so remained to shop as everything except for the cafes, diners and restaurants closed about six, and customers pushed in and out of the storefronts, grabbing last-minute items. Instead of the sharp honking of horns, the rumble of engines and the cacophony of Charlotte nightlife pulsing on the night air, chatter and laughter filled the warm, June evening. While the city spoke of revelry, excitement and an almost frenetic gaiety, this… Rose Bend whispered of serenity, community…home.

  She exhaled hard, and as if of its own accord, her hand lifted and settled over the small curve of her belly. She hadn’t thought of this place as home in a long time, but as she looked around at the cheerful, picturesque town crowded at the base of Monument Mountain and Mount Everett, the word fluttered and snapped through her mind like the US and Massachusetts flags hoisted high in front of the city hall. Even now, several people did double takes, confused frowns marring their foreheads or their eyes flaring wide in recognition. But she didn’t stop to address anyone. Just kept walking. And moments later, she stood in front of the old, white church with its towering steeple and bell that stood guard at the end of Main.

  You could throw a stone and hit a church in Rose Bend. Different denominations and congregations served a religiously diverse community. But St. John’s Catholic Church had been the first in the town, and even though its doors had closed before she’d left, it still remained as a revered monument that dated back to the 1700s. It was an institution here. But she hadn’t approached the old church to kneel on its benches and inhale the faded scent of candle wax.

  Sydney strode past the black, waist-high iron gate that surrounded the building and climbed the pockmarked steps on the side. The stone path curved around the property and bypassed the ancient cemetery where those first congregation members lay under faded tombstones.

  Carlin was buried at the newer cemetery on the other side of town. Undoubtedly Sydney’s parents still visited her older sister’s resting place, while Sydney hadn’t been there since they lowered Carlin into the ground. Eighteen years. What kind of sister did it make her that she hadn’t visited Carlin in almost two decades?

  A shitty one.

  The answer popped into her mind, clear and adamant. And curiously, the voice sounded very similar to her mother’s.

  Sydney shook her head, and a whisper of movement out of her peripheral vision snagged her attention. Surprise crackled through her as she spotted a lone, tall figure standing in the newer section of the graveyard. The leaves of a soaring, ancient red oak cast shadows over him, concealing his identity at this distance. Not that she would’ve called out if she recognized him. He was obviously here for solitude just like her.

  With one last glance in the mourner’s direction, she continued climbing the rise, and when she reached the top, her breath puffed from between her lips, her heart tapping out a faster beat in her chest. The view before her stole any air left in her lungs. Clouds so fluffy and white they appeared like big cotton balls embraced the peaks of huge mountains. Lush,
green hills rolled like emerald waves in the distance, and houses played hide’n’ seek among them.

  Peace settled over her, like an old friend eagerly welcoming her back. As she’d known it would. The people here might not be the most receptive to her being back or ever accept her. But this place? It knew her heart. Closing her eyes, Sydney tipped her head back, allowing the fat sun sitting low in the sky to warm her skin with its last rays. This had been her special place after Carlin died. Here, she could be alone. Away from the censure and overwhelming grief she’d glimpsed in her parents’ eyes. Here, she could shed the I-don’t-give-a-fuck persona she’d adorned, because God…she gave so many fucks.

  Here, she could be Sydney and not sink in the shame of being alive.

  “Sydney?”

  Well, damn.

  Irritation flashed through her, but years of living in the South already had her lips curling into a polite smile. Until she turned her head and met a pair of stunning amber eyes. A very familiar pair of stunning amber eyes that she hadn’t forgotten in the eight years she’d been gone.

  Astonishment ricocheted through her, robbing her of coherent speech.

  “Cole?” The shallow rasp was all she could squeeze past her constricted lungs.

  A full, sensual mouth curved at the corners, that bottom lip heavy, and for a moment, his smile briefly banished the shadows lurking in his gaze. And it was that smile that confirmed the tall, wide-shouldered, powerfully built man standing before her was indeed Coltrane “Cole” Dennison. The man she’d hopelessly crushed on so many years ago stared down at her now, that jeweled gaze filled with confusion, surprise and delight.