The After Wife

by Summers, Melanie

  “Did you ever think about going anyway? On your own?”

  “I did. But I couldn’t give up Dennis,” Eunice sighs. “Besides, I never really was much of an actress.”

  We both laugh and she bumps her shoulder to mine. “Can’t sing worth a darn either.”

  “No, I’ve heard you at the pub. You’re very good.”

  “Good at pub music. Not Broadway tunes.”

  I stare at her for a second, trying to imagine her as a new graduate. “Do you ever wish you had tried?”

  “Some days, in my grouchy, ‘nobody appreciates me’ moments that we all have from time to time. For the most part, though, I’m happy. I’m surrounded by family and friends. We have a good life. We’re healthy. Plus, you know, I’ve managed to bring my own sense of flair to this little corner of the world, even if I’ve never lit up a stage in New York.”

  “You really have. If South Haven were a play, you’d definitely be one of the most memorable characters in the cast.”

  “Why, thank you, Abby. That’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s true.”

  She tilts her head and stares at me for a second. “I take it you’re not living the life you wanted?”

  I sigh. “Obviously if I could have my husband back, I would. But it’s more than that. I’m scared that maybe the choices I made when I was younger aren’t the ones I’d make again.”

  “You’re like most people, then.”

  “I suppose I am. But in my case, there’s no way to fix it. It’s too late.”

  “Is it?” She gives me a skeptical look. “Did you know, for the last three years, I’ve played Mrs. Cratchit in the local production of A Christmas Carol?”

  “Really?”

  She pats me on the leg, then stands. “It’s not Broadway, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  You get what you settle for.

  ~ Louise Sawyer, Thelma and Louise

  For the next week, I am completely unsettled. Isaac doesn’t come back to me in my sleep, and as batshit crazy as it sounds, I can’t help but wonder if he knows what I did and he’s so hurt, I’ll never see him again. When I go to bed, I’m desperate to find him so I can tell him how sorry I am. And it’s not just about the ring, and it’s not just about how angry I was with him. It’s about whatever it is I’m feeling for Liam.

  I don’t think I’m falling in love with him—at least I hope to hell and back I’m not. But there’s a relentless pull to Liam that gets harder to fight each day. I look forward to seeing him each morning. I want to know his opinions on nearly every topic under the sky. I rush to him when I’ve written an especially good chapter because I want to share my excitement with him. He high fives me when I need to celebrate, and he gives me a shot in the arm when I’m losing my gusto.

  But more than that, our friendship is the most honest one I’ve had, and I think it’s because I started out with nothing to lose. Other than a brief second of sucking in my gut, I don’t try to pretend I’m someone I’m not. I’m me—like it or leave it. And if I’m not mistaken, he seems to like me. Not me, as I present myself to the world, or me, as a woman trying to impress a man. Just me. Crying Abby. Angry Abby. Abby the Hermit.

  And all of that is scaring the shit out of me. The old me would say ‘we don’t flirt, we joke around,’ but the new, improved me can admit that we definitely flirt. A lot. And I like it. Which makes me feel absolutely fucking awful. Between the flirting and tossing my husband’s wedding ring into the sea, I’m pretty sure I’m the world’s worst wife.

  Which is why every morning this week, I set my alarm for five a.m. and hurry down to search the beach before Liam and Olive arrive for the day. Then, I walk home empty-handed, the bright sunshine and blue sky mocking me.

  Yesterday, I was so exhausted by the middle of the afternoon that I suggested Olive and I have a ‘movie afternoon.’ I turned on Freaky Friday, then promptly fell asleep on the couch, only to wake up to find her and Liam both staring at me. The movie had been over for a while, I guess, and it was already time for them to go home. I ended up telling Liam how I’d been spending the early morning hours and why. Even though he tried to sound supportive, I could tell by his expression he doesn’t think I have a prayer, and I’m sure he’s right.

  But this morning, my feet propel me along in my search anyway, and I return just as they arrive. I can hear the front door opening as soon as I walk in the back.

  “Walt? Where are you?” Olive calls. “There you are!”

  I find her on the living room floor. “Good morning, you,” I say, reaching down to ruffle her hair.

  “Morning! Can we make play dough again today?”

  “Sure thing. Give me a few minutes to make some coffee for the cranky old grown-ups first.”

  She grins up at me. “You’re never cranky.” Pointing to her dad, she says, “Him, though …”

  “Smart aleck,” Liam says, as we walk into the kitchen.

  “Any luck today?” he asks, even though I can see in his eyes he already knows.

  I shake my head. “Not yet, but it’s got to turn up eventually, right? It’ll get washed onto the shore sooner or later.”

  He gives me a doubtful look. “From the sound of where you said it went in, I’d say it’s not that likely.”

  “Thanks,” I say sarcastically.

  “I just don’t want you to kill yourself looking,” he answers. “Do you want some help? I have scuba gear, I could go for a dive.”

  I shake my head while I fill the carafe with water. “Thanks, but no.”

  “Penance?”

  “Something like that,” I say, turning to face him.

  “Abby, throwing that ring doesn’t make you a horrible wife.” His face is full of a kindness I don’t deserve.

  The sight of it scratches at me like a pair of wool socks on the driest day of winter. Turning back to the coffeemaker, I say, “Doesn’t exactly make me a good one, though.”

  “It makes you human.”

  I sigh and close my eyes. “I’m still going to find that ring.”

  “So long as you know that if you can’t, it just means the tide moved it, or maybe a crab picked it up. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love him.”

  I turn and lean against the counter. “I blamed him, and I mean I really blamed him—a dead man who isn’t here to defend himself,” I say, letting my words tumble out as fast as my tongue can carry them. “He doesn’t deserve that. It wasn’t his fault we didn’t have children. It was mine. If I wanted a different life, I needed to make that happen. I’ve been aiming my rage at him when really I should have turned the gun on myself.”

  Liam looks slightly shocked, so I hold up one hand. “I meant figuratively.”

  “I’m glad because that was quite the dark image.” He softens his voice and walks over to me, placing both hands on my upper arms. “So, you’re furious with a woman who was the ripe old age of twenty-two when she made a big decision. You know who else is roughly twenty-two?” he asks. “Colton Nickerson.”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “I know where you’re going with this analogy, but trust me, it’s not the same thing.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s a child, for God’s sake. His mom still drives him around and does his laundry.”

  Liam leans toward me. “Did you know that the frontal lobe of the human brain isn’t fully developed until the age of twenty-five?”

  “No, Bill Nye, I didn’t.”

  “Well, it’s true,” he says. “That means your higher-level decision-making wasn’t all there yet. So stop beating yourself up over a decision you made almost two decades ago. Give young Abby a break. She did the best she could, just like still-young-but-slightly-wiser Abby is doing today.”

  I stare at him for a full ten seconds before I say anything. “I’m still going to look for that ring.”

  “I’m sure you will. But what if you made it more of a casual search instead of forcing yourse
lf to get up at four in the morning every day?”

  “Because I wasn’t a casual wife.”

  “I know that. And I imagine so did Isaac.”

  * * *

  “He said that?” Lauren asks, sounding as though she might fall for Liam.

  “He did.”

  “Honestly, the bit about still-young-but-slightly-wiser Abby? Oh, wow,” she says with a dreamy sigh. “That’s like something out of one of your books.”

  I empty some salt and pepper chips into a salad bowl. “It’s better.”

  “Okay, it is, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  We both laugh, then I groan loudly. “It is better, and that’s the problem. I’m getting all confused and I don’t like it.”

  “You mean you’re falling for him and you’re terrified,” she says. “Oh, I forgot to tell you I’m your new emotions translator until you get used to being fully transparent.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I take my snack to the living room and settle myself onto the couch. “Okay, I might be kind of terrified. The chemistry is definitely there.”

  “Really?” she asks, a smile in her voice.

  “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that’s mutual.”

  “As chemistry should be,” she says. “That sounds promising, if you ask me.”

  “It’s not promising, it’s terrible. I’m still married to Isaac, to whom I promised to remain faithful ‘for all the days of my life.’ Not some, not most, not as long as he was around. All the days of my life. So where does that leave me now?”

  “Abby, come on. Of course you should find love again. Even Isaac, to whom you pledged your unending devotion, told you to find someone else.”

  “And I said I wouldn’t,” I snap. “So if I do, that means I was lying to him on his deathbed. And I know we’ve established I’m a total liar, but Jesus.”

  “He knew what you really meant, which was that you’d always love him. And you will. It’s not like you’ll forget about Isaac if you find a man who makes you happy again,” she says. “Besides, if you’d have gone first, do you think he’d have gone the rest of his life without seeing anyone? Most men last, like, six months, tops. Drew’s got someone picked out already if I go first.”

  My mouth drops open, then I say, “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, she’s a junior partner at his firm.”

  “Who?” I ask, suddenly furious on Lauren’s behalf. “Have I met her?”

  “Yes, at Drew’s fortieth. Audra, the blond one.”

  Raising my voice, I say, “You mean Pollyanna with huge boobs?”

  “That’s the one,” Lauren says, sounding like she couldn’t care less.

  “How are you still married?”

  “Because Drew’s got absolutely no game. There’s no way he could land her, even if I was dead,” she adds. “But my point is this—don’t take yourself permanently off the market just because you would’ve wanted Isaac to.”

  I sit quietly for a minute, letting myself process all of this.

  “Look, Isaac was a wonderful man and a loyal husband,” Lauren says. “And I’m not trying to upset you.”

  “To be honest, what you’re saying is kind of shitty. You’re making all men sound … shallow. Haven’t you read A Man Called Ove?”

  “Is that what you imagined Isaac would do if you died?” she asks, in a condescending tone. “Repeatedly attempt to off himself?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, hon, none of them do that. Nor should they. I mean, they should wait a respectable time, of course, not like Drew’s dad.” After nearly fifty years of marriage, Drew’s dad lasted three whole months without his wife before hooking up with the divorcée next door. “All I’m saying is there should be a happy medium between my father-in-law and Ove. For you, it’ll be two years soon.”

  “That’s nothing after eighteen years together.”

  “It’s not nothing. You’ve wept, Abby. You’ve grieved. Holy shit, did you grieve for him. In fact, if Isaac is somewhere looking down on you, he’s probably sick of seeing you like this. He’s probably up there saying, ‘For God’s sake, Abby, will you get laid already?’”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “Why?”

  “First of all, he never would have used the word ‘laid.’”

  “And second?”

  I think for a minute. “There is no second.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, so let’s say I could magically talk myself into not feeling guilty about it, there’s a bigger issue. Olive.”

  “I thought you liked her?”

  “And that’s why I can’t do anything with her dad. If Liam and I start knocking boots, but then something happens and we break up, it would devastate her. She is so attached to me, Lauren. I can’t put her through that kind of pain.”

  Lauren sighs heavily.

  “See how complicated this is?”

  “Is it? Or are you just making it complicated because you’re afraid?”

  “Can’t it be both?”

  “Sure, but they’re both crappy reasons not to try.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Don’t you ever let a soul in the world tell you that you can’t be exactly who you are.

  ~ Lady Gaga

  I’m babysitting Olive from early morning to late this evening. Liam has gone out on the water for the day with a friend who has secured a bluefin tuna license, but finds himself down a man at the moment. It’s been days since I admitted my feelings for Liam out loud, but since then I’ve done nothing other than to carefully observe them. Lauren’s words keep coming back to me about how I’m making it more complicated than it has to be. But the truth is, there’s no harm in waiting until I’m a thousand percent sure before I act. It’s not like we’re on a deadline or something. And when there’s an innocent child involved, caution is the best way to protect her.

  Waiting is also the smart move because he’s not done with my house yet, so if I’ve misread the entire situation and his answer is a resounding no, it would make for several cringe-worthy weeks of bumping into each other around my house while trying to avoid eye-contact or speaking. This would prove especially awkward in the hallway or on the staircase where space is limited. And I know Lauren will be disgusted by my cowardice when we next speak, but I don’t really care because it’s not her house being renovated, or her heart being served up on a platter. It’s mine. So while I’m not necessarily being honest with Liam about my feelings, I’ll at least be honest with Lauren about the fact that I’m not being honest with Liam.

  In the meantime, I’m going to wait and watch and think. And babysit Liam’s daughter, too, I suppose. Olive and I have spent a most wonderful day together in the early autumn sun, walking along the beach searching for sea glass, and winding up at the Seaside Pizzeria for supper. I’m drinking in every moment with her because school starts in less than a week, and I’m going to miss our long, lazy days together.

  Now we’re back on their yacht. She’s snuggled into her bed and I’m sitting on top of the covers, reading Anne of Green Gables to her. As I read, I think about how Olive can relate to Anne’s longing for a mother. It squeezes my heart and I have to concentrate on the words on the page to get through it. I reach the end of the chapter, and as she hands me a bookmark, she yawns.

  “Did you ever read this when you were a girl?”

  “Oh yes, it was one of my favorites.”

  “Wow, so they had this one already back in the olden days.”

  I laugh, pretending to be offended. “Oh, very funny, young lady.”

  She’s still giggling as I slide off her bed and replace the book on the shelf. I watch as she takes off her glasses, then carefully folds them and puts them into their case. She switches on a night light, then flips the switch on the wall to turn off the overhead light. Immediately the room is filled with the peaceful magic of thousands of stars glimmering against the walls and ceiling. We’
re transported to the world where she dreams of fairies fluttering over fields of tall grasses and mermaids twirling and leaping out of the sea.

  “Abby, if you were my mom, what would you say when you tucked me in?”

  The question guts me and I have to fight not to look emotional. I put off answering directly in hopes of getting myself together. “What do you mean, honey?”

  “Well, I always imagined that if my mom were here, she would say something really lovely to me when she put me to bed. Or maybe she’d tell me some secret things I need to know about boys and being a woman and stuff.”

  “Oh, well, yes, I suppose my mother did that from time to time.”

  “You would do it all the time if you were a mom, I just know it.” She looks up at me adoringly and I can’t help but run my palm over her soft cheek.

  She lays down and snuggles into her pillow while I tuck her quilt up around her neck.

  “Abby, what do you think my mom said when she tucked me in? When I was little, and she was alive?”

  I’m on the verge of tears and I pretend to be thinking as I look up at the low ceiling. “I bet she told you that you’re perfect just the way you are, and that there is nothing she would ever want to change about you,” I say, stopping just before my voice cracks.

  Olive stares at me expectantly, and I assume she wants me to go on.

  “And that she can’t believe her luck to get you for a daughter.”

  “She definitely said that.” Olive beams up at me. “I think I remember it, actually.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I smile and cup her cheek with my hand. “It’s late. Time to sleep.” Then, I lean down and give her a kiss on her forehead.

  When I straighten up, she grabs my hand before I can take it off her cheek. “Abby, can I tell you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re my best friend. I wish you were my mom.”

  I wish I were too.

  I tuck her hair behind her ear. “If I had a daughter, I would want her to be exactly like you.” I kiss her on the top of her head. “You better get some sleep now.”