I nod, still too choked up to speak.
“And hasn’t Liam been through enough? I can’t even imagine how he’s still standing after everything he’s had to deal with. He doesn’t deserve this,” she says, her voice shaking with anger. “He’s such a good man. A wonderful dad, and just so generous and thoughtful and full of life.” Her voice cracks and now we’re both crying.
“I know. I can’t even …”
She sighs heavily and her voice softens. “So this is why you came home.”
Nodding, I say, “I just had to get out of there.”
We’re both silent for a minute, then she says, “So you are in love with him, then.”
“What? No,” I say. I mean to shake my head, but it nods instead. “Yes,” I whisper. “But I can’t, Mom. I just can’t go through all of it again. The doctor’s appointments and holding a bucket for him while he pukes and watching him lose his hair and waste away to nothing and get so weak, he can barely stand on his own.” I suck in a shaky breath, and when I exhale, it comes out in stilted sobs. “And at the end, you’re just so fucking empty you can’t even breathe.”
My mom’s shoulders start shaking and now we’re both sobbing so hard, I’m sure the car is moving. “I should have been there,” she whispers. “I should have come. I could have helped. I could have propped you up when you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I didn’t want you to.”
“But I’m your mom. I should never have let you go through that alone.” She sniffles. “When I think about just leaving you to handle it all alone, I just … I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”
“It’s okay. Please don’t blame yourself. I never would have let you be there for me.”
“But then you just disappeared into this abyss. I was so scared I was going to lose you forever.”
I nod, my face twisting with emotion. “I almost didn’t make it. And that’s why I can’t …”
“You don’t have to explain. No one would blame you for not wanting to go through that hell again.”
Closing my eyes, I finally understand why people compare relief to being let off the hook. But my reprieve only lasts for a fraction of a second before Olive’s little face pops back into my mind. “I can’t, but when I think of Olive … fuck.”
She digs around in her purse and takes out a packet of tissues, holding one out for me and using one to blow her nose. “She’ll be okay. She must have grandparents or aunties and uncles who would take her in if the worst happens.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Not really. Her mom’s parents are going through their own tragedy—her grandpa has just been diagnosed with dementia.”
“What about Liam’s parents?”
“His dad’s dead and his mom sounds like the least patient, loving person in the world. His sister already has five kids, and she doesn’t sound much better than her mom.”
“Well, someone will step up, I’m sure of it,” my mom says, obviously needing to put it all out of her mind. “She’s a sweet little girl and there’s a village full of nice people there who would gladly take her in.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”
“And who knows? It seems like every week they come up with some new miracle drug. They might come up with something for him and he could be just fine.” She starts up the car again and backs out of the stall.
“Aren’t we going for coffee?”
“We need something much stronger than coffee. There’s a bottle of tequila in the liquor cabinet with our names on it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Love don't make things nice - it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die.
~ Ronny Cammareri, Moonstruck
I’m driving back from the Sydney airport, my knuckles as white as the snow that blankets the island. The highway has been cleared, leaving treacherous patches of black ice. Each one reminds me of my mom’s warning about the winter tires. CBC radio is providing the soundtrack to my drive, and the announcer informs me that we’ve had a record-breaking snowfall for November, and another big dump will arrive by midnight. In honor of that, he’s decided to play Michael Bublé’s “Winter Wonderland,” and he hopes I sing along.
I glance at the frost-covered trees that sparkle when they’re lit up by the headlights. It’s both dangerous and incredibly beautiful at the same time. It’s almost seven in the evening and even though I haven’t eaten since breakfast, I’m too nervous to feel hungry. I’ve been riding an emotional roller coaster since I left Portland. Why did my mom have to ask me the ‘what if’ questions? It was all so much simpler in my mind before that. Now I can’t help but wonder if I might be walking away from the most magical, beautiful thing life has ever offered me. Each passing mile wakes me up to what I’m really giving up if I leave.
A call from Lauren interrupts Michael Bublé, and I press the button on my steering wheel to answer it. We’ve spoken each week since I left. She’s done a very good job of remaining neutral, and I love her for it.
“Hi, Lauren.”
“Hey, just wanted to see if you made it home safely.”
“Not yet. I’m currently being initiated into Canadian winter driving,” I say, gripping the wheel tightly with my left hand as the tires swerve to the right. “Actually, it’s more like a hazing.”
“God, is it bad?”
“They’ve had about twenty-eight inches of snow today and this stupid cast isn’t exactly making it easier.”
“Good thing you’ll be getting out of there soon.” And I think I now know how Lauren really feels.
“Yup,” I answer, the knot in my stomach twisting up even more than it already was.
“I know how hard this is going to be for you. You all right?”
Tears spring to my eyes. “Don’t ask me that, okay?”
“I thought you might start second-guessing your decision.”
“I am,” I say, my voice wavering. “My mom said something this morning that really got to me.”
“Uh-oh, Helen strikes again?”
I know she’s being supportive, and she’s working on years of me complaining about my mom, but after everything that’s happened, it doesn’t sit right with me. “Yeah, I have to give her one thing, Lauren. She knows me.”
“What’d she say?”
“What if he beats it, and I’m walking away from a long and happy life with him?”
“Well, that’s a real mind fuck.” Lauren’s tone is instantly angry, but she pauses, sounding overly calm. “Sorry, it’s just that she didn’t see how things were for you after Isaac died.”
“No, I get it. You were there to see me fall apart. And this time, I wouldn’t have the luxury of falling apart. I’d have a child to see through it.” A semi-truck passes me, blowing snow across the windshield and blinding me for a second. My entire body tenses up in response. “I’m probably making the right decision. It’s the safe choice.”
“Does it feel like the right decision?”
“Logically, yes. It’s the smart call.”
“Forget logic. Does it feel like the right decision? Because you don’t sound sure.”
“Wait? Whose side are you on, because I thought you were sure I shouldn’t do this.”
“I’m on your side, Abby, and that means wanting you to be happy and healthy,” she says. “So in my mind, the real question is, what’s going to be best for you in the long run?”
“I guess the best thing for anyone in the long run is to live so they aren’t filled with regret at the end of it all.”
There’s a long pause on the line. I speak up before Lauren can. “Here’s the thing, Lauren. I could walk away and maybe years from now, I could convince myself none of this even happened. But I won’t just be leaving behind two
people who love me and need me. I’d be walking away from who I am when I’m with them.”
“And who is that?”
“I’m alive. Like really alive, you know? I dance and sing and I’m silly and funny. I’m someone I forgot I could be, and I don’t just love them. I love her. She’s kind of awesome, really.”
“You mean the person who disappeared when you lost Isaac?”
“No,” I say. “The person I lost when I met him.”
Lauren’s voice cracks. “Then you know what you have to do, I guess.”
Tears run down my cheeks as the Welcome to South Haven sign appears to my right, wet snow sticking to it.
“I guess I do.”
* * *
When I finally turn onto Shore Lane, there is no ‘for sale’ sign swinging in the wind and I chuckle at the fact that Eunice hasn’t done it yet. She knew. Cars are lined up in front of the B&B, and I can see it’s lit up with Christmas lights. I signal and turn into my driveway, seeing that Colton has cleared the snow and left the front porch lights on for me. I texted him yesterday to tell him I’d be back, and he wrote back saying he was going to miss Walt and having his independence.
As soon as I shut off the engine, I let my shoulders and neck relax, wanting a hot bath, but knowing I have something much more important to do than soothing my sore muscles. My heart thumps when I think about it. I don’t have the first clue what to say or how, and part of me is naïve enough to hope we won’t need words, but that a meaningful look between us will be enough.
I don’t bother with my luggage, but instead, hurry up the front steps and unlock the door. Walt is waiting on the floor in the hall. He meows loudly, complaining about me leaving.
Crouching, I reach out for him and lift him into my arms. “I’m sorry, Mr. Whitman. I shouldn’t have left you for so long.”
He immediately rubs his head against my neck, and I’m pretty sure he forgives me. I carry him through the house, turning on lights, and loving what I see. This is my home. Here in this little village. My cottage by the sea, which has been lovingly restored by the man I love. After a few minutes of snuggling Walt, I set him down on his favorite chair and I open the cupboard. I take a can of Fancy Feast out for him and give him some supper. “You eat. I have one more thing to do, okay?”
* * *
When I open the front door to the B&B, I’m greeted by the heat from the lobby fireplace. It crackles and spits and welcomes me as I stomp the snow off my boots. The smell of the wood burning blends with the strong pine scent of the garland swooping across the front of the desk. The sound of people talking draws me to the pub, and I take a deep breath, fear and hope and love all coursing through me. I hear Liam’s laugh and my entire body goes numb as our last conversation plays out in my mind.
Swallowing hard, I force my feet to keep moving even though my legs are heavy with fear. A large fresh-cut tree sits in the corner of the pub with white lights twinkling against the frost-covered window.
I stop at the entrance to the pub and search for him among the crowd, my heart leaping at the sight of his face before my brain reminds me of how I left things. He’s standing next to Peter at the bar, grinning over the beer in his hand. Oh God, please let him love me back. Or at the very least, not hate me.
Slowly, the conversation dies out as one by one, each of the sweater-clad people notices me. Liam stops and his smile fades as he stares at me. I stare back, hoping he already knows. But I can tell by the look in his eyes it’s not going to be that easy. An awkward silence fills the space, but I force myself to speak, hoping to hell that whatever comes out of my mouth will be the start of a new life.
“Hello, everyone,” I say, glancing around before fixing my gaze on the man I’m here to see. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Abigail Carson. Some people know me as the resident New Yorker in the village. To others, I’m the hermit of the sea rock.” I take one step into the room, then stop and clear my throat. “I’m glad you’re all here because I have a confession to make. Several actually. I know it’s been going around that I’m not interested in any type of romantic entanglement, but that’s a lie. I actually started that rumor because I’m a coward and I like to take the easy way out.”
Liam’s expression is unreadable to me, so I keep going, my heart thumping at record speed while I try to keep my voice strong and steady. “But the thing about taking the easy way out is that it turns out it’s the fastest way to a lonely, boring, horrible existence. And I don’t want that anymore because it’s not real. I want the magic and the mystery that comes with really living. I want to be with the one man who knows I’m crazy but might just love me anyway.”
No one moves. No one speaks. And for one horrible moment, I’m certain I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. I try to smile at Liam, but my face screws up with emotion instead. “I’m going to wait for you to say something because I’m so scared, my legs feel like they’re about to give out and I’m fresh out of confessions.”
Liam tilts his head and makes a little humph sound, then puts down his beer. “I thought once you made up your mind, you never changed it.”
“Also a lie.”
His eyes light up and he grins. “So are you saying you might be interested in a certain rugged, handsome Canadian?”
Relief washes over me. I shake my head and narrow my eyes at him. “I never should have called you that.”
“But you did and now they’ll all know you said it, so you can’t take it back.”
“Are you going to come over here and kiss me now?” I ask, holding back my tears. “Because I flew all this way and drove through a hell of a storm to tell you I’m in love with you.”
And finally, he’s moving toward me. I rush to him and he reaches out, pulling me to him with his strong, sure hands. I kiss him hard on the mouth and feel his lips on mine. Immediately I’m lifted to another world, bursting with love and passion, and I know he’s there with me. He feels it too.
Applause and some random cheers fill the room but we both ignore it. His hands move up to my cheeks, and he holds my face as he tilts my head and, oh my, now we’re really kissing. I had completely forgotten how this could feel. It’s heaven right here in the pub and I’m pretty sure my heart is going to burst with happiness. He wraps his arms around my waist now and holds me up, and it’s a good thing because my knees have turned to jelly.
Peter taps us both on the shoulders and clears his throat. “So, anyway, we should get back to the music now. If you’d like, the honeymoon suite is available. We’ll give you fifty percent off.”
Liam rests his forehead on mine and we both laugh. Then he says, “No thanks. We don’t need you all listening in.”
* * *
We make it into the house before Liam spins me to him and kisses me again. We strip off each other’s winter coats and wool hats. Grinning at him, I say, “Canadian strip tease.”
Liam laughs, then his smile fades, replaced by something much more serious we’ve been pretending isn’t there. “It’s going to be hard, Abby. So much harder than either of us can grasp right now.”
“I know. And I’m okay with that, Liam.” My eyes fill with tears, and I don’t care to fight them. Tears are appropriate right now. “I’m hopelessly in love with you and I want to be with you, no matter what that means.”
His eyes fill with tears too, and I kiss him again to let him know we’re in this together. The feeling of his lips against mine feeds a craving deep within me, the part that yearns for the touch of another human being. The part that craves only him. I look up into his eyes, and I see love there. I want to be looked at this way every day for the rest of my life, but I know I’ll have to settle for every day for the rest of his.
When we pull back, he says, “You’re not scared?”
“Oh, no, I’m fucking terrified, but let’s do it anyway.”
He smiles, then kisses me again. This time it’s slow and sweet and passionate. It’s everything I need right now. It calms my
fears and wakes parts of me that have been dormant for so long. The parts that let me know I am a woman. Our mouths move together, and it is utter perfection. We stay in this beautiful embrace so long I lose all track of time. And I forget about the future because I’m swept away by this perfect moment with this completely perfect man.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Going in one more round when you don’t think you can. That’s what makes all the difference in your life.
~ Rocky Balboa
Neither of us bring up Liam over the next week. Instead, we carefully avoid the topic, preferring to talk about old times rather than the future. I keep expecting my mom to come to me with a listing of condos for sale, but she doesn’t. Instead, she gives me the space I need, and I wonder if it’s because we feel so close now that space doesn’t hurt her anymore.
It’s after supper and I’m at my brother’s house. The kids have been teaching me to play Wii tennis and we’ve all been having a laugh at my pathetic attempts. I have to play left-handed which makes me less skilled and far more amusing to everyone. Somehow, the satisfaction of making my nephews and niece laugh is totally worth the humiliation. I’m sweaty and my face hurts from smiling, and I can’t remember when I was ever this silly.
Tammy comes to the rec room to find us when it’s time for Graham and Kaitlyn to go upstairs to get ready for bed. They groan and beg for another half hour with Auntie Abby. I know their antics are irritating their poor mom, but I can’t help secretly enjoying the fact that they want to be around me. They negotiate their way to an extra ten minutes, then the game resume.
When she returns, she’s taken on an ‘I mean business’ tone, and the children accept their fate. Christopher, my oldest nephew, has been informed that he must finish his homework now, so the TV has to be shut off. His shoulders drop and he looks at me.
The After Wife Page 28
