From This Moment

by Melanie Harlow

  “But I feel horrible.” She sniffed, touching at the inside corners of her eyes. “I feel ashamed and disloyal.”

  “You shouldn’t.” Anne, the oldest member of our group and surrogate mom to everyone, spoke firmly. “You know you shouldn’t.”

  I murmured agreement, but secretly I was with Tess. I felt disloyal when I even looked at another man and found him attractive. I couldn’t imagine the shame I’d feel if I acted on it.

  “But Chuck’s only been gone ten months. It’s too soon, isn’t it?” Tess asked.

  “Says who?” Anne grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and handed it to her. “The grief police?”

  There was a collective groan. All of us had experienced it, well-meaning friends or family—or even complete strangers—telling us exactly how we should grieve and for how long, as if there was one correct way to do it and we were screwing it up. It was especially bad in a small town, where everyone loved to gossip.

  “God, I fucking hate the grief police.” Grace made a face. “If one more person tells me it’s time for me to move on, I’m going to punch them.”

  “Or it’s too soon to move on,” Anne said.

  “Or they know how I feel, because they’re divorced and single too.” Tess took a big gulp of wine. “I wish I had a nickel for every time someone said that to me.”

  “Or he would want you to be happy, and you’re not getting any younger.” I shook my head. “Do they think I don’t know that? And why is it that they think he would want me to jump in bed with someone else? That’s not going to make me happy.”

  “Nobody gets it.” Grace shook her head. “My sister saw that I still had Mark’s cell phone number in my phone over the weekend and blew up at me. Told me I was crazy and that I didn’t want to get better.”

  Tess closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let’s talk about something else. Hannah, how are you doing this week?”

  I took a deep breath. “Drew’s identical twin brother Wes is home from Africa. I saw him today.”

  Grace gasped. “Where?”

  “Foley’s.” I swirled sauvignon blanc around in my glass, a rueful smile stretching my lips. “I thought he was a ghost.”

  “Fucking ghosts,” Tess grumbled.

  “Yeah, I could barely talk, and I escaped as fast as possible. I didn’t even buy any groceries.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Grace said. “No one would blame you. That’s a pretty huge trigger.”

  I sighed. “He wants to come by the house and see Abby. I’m sure he’ll want to be part of her life.”

  “That means part of your life, too,” Tess said. “Can you handle it?”

  “I don’t have much choice, do I? It would be cruel for me to keep him away from her. The whole reason I stayed here was so she could be close to her dad’s family. I don’t have family up here. But seeing him with her is going to be so hard.”

  Anne reached out and patted my arm. “Well, don’t pressure yourself. If he’s a good person, I’m sure he’ll understand how difficult it is for you to see him.”

  “He’s a good person.” I found myself almost smiling, at a memory. “I actually met him first. He introduced Drew and me.”

  “Really?” Tess cocked her head. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah. I had just gotten a job at this diner in Detroit and Wes came in all the time to study. He and Drew were finishing up medical school at Wayne State that year. I remember being really surprised at how different they were, because they were so identical.”

  “How were they different?” Grace asked.

  “Well, for one thing, Drew hit on me right away—he was such a big talker—but Wes had never even flirted with me. I even thought he might not be into girls, but later I realized he was just really shy, especially compared to Drew, who was always the life of the party.”

  “Has Wes ever been married?” Tess wondered.

  “No.” I tried to think back. “Drew told me once he had kind of a serious girlfriend in college, but that was over well before I met them. And he didn’t bring anyone to our wedding. I think he’s just been really dedicated to his career all this time. I mean, in the four years Drew and I were married, I can count on one hand the number of times Wes was around. Drew always missed him so much.”

  “I bet. Twins are usually so close.” Anne cocked her head. “Is there any chance talking to him might help you?”

  I thought about it. “I don’t know. I like Wes, but I’m scared, you know? I finally feel like I have a handle on things, and when I saw him today, I was so rattled. I nearly had a panic attack in my car.”

  “Then take your time,” Anne said. “A good guy will respect your boundaries. Maybe he can see Abby at your in-laws’ or something. Then, if and when you’re ready to be around him, you can reach out.”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for that.

  Two

  WES

  She still got to me.

  How many years had it been since I’d first seen her behind the counter of that diner? I’d walked in, she’d greeted me like an old friend, and I’d known without a doubt the most beautiful girl in the world had just smiled at me.

  I’d been instantly drawn to her.

  But I wasn’t great at talking to girls. I could never find the right words. And what if I said the wrong ones and got rejected? Drew, on the other hand, had a golden tongue. He never had any trouble talking to girls. He never had any trouble taking to anyone. He could convince a teacher to give him a higher grade, persuade our parents to un-ground him, or coax a cheerleader right out of her skirt and into his bed in no time flat.

  It never bothered me, though. When we were kids, he’d do all the talking for us. I liked it that way, because I was so shy. He was fiercely protective of me, as if he were four years older instead of four minutes. And if we got in trouble, he was quick to take the blame. He never wanted anyone to yell at me. In return, I gave him first choice of everything. The top bunk. The bigger cookie. The front seat. Sometimes I let him win a race, even though I was slightly faster. I passed the puck to him instead of taking the shot. I was quick to celebrate his victories and reluctant to draw attention to my own.

  But we were inseparable. Beyond best friends. Beyond brothers, really. People used to joke that we could read each other’s minds, but really I think it’s just that we knew each other so well. I’d have done anything for him, and he’d have done anything for me—including step aside if I’d told him I was interested in Hannah.

  And I was.

  I went to that diner almost every day for a month. I liked everything about her. The way she made talking to her so easy. The way she teased me about studying on a Saturday night. The way she made every customer smile. The way she sang along to Sarah Vaughn and knew all the words. The way she served me extra big slices of pie so good I could have licked the plate.

  Oh God, those pies. Apple and peach and pumpkin and pecan. Served heated with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side. She made the ice cream too, can you fucking beat that? She made the pie and the ice cream.

  I only found out because I asked if I could buy a pie and bring it home for my mother’s birthday. I’d never forget that night—the beginning of them.

  Hannah had beamed. “Which pie?”

  “Uh, the pecan one maybe?” From where I sat at the counter, I glanced over at the display case.

  “The Salted Caramel Pecan? Sure, I can make one of those for you.”

  “You make them?”

  Her cheeks colored and she dropped her eyes to her hands as she refilled my coffee cup, her lashes fanning over her cheeks. She had the longest, prettiest eyelashes I’d ever seen. “Yes. And the ice cream too.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Her grin was wide and a little sheepish, but I could tell she was proud. “Yes. And the muffins and cinnamon rolls and cake pops.”

  “You should have your own bakery or something.”

  She set the
cup down in front of me and shrugged. “I don’t have much of a head for business. I just like the baking part. The creative part.”

  “Well, my mother is going to go crazy. She’s from the South and claims you can’t find a decent pecan pie north of the Mason Dixon line.”

  Hannah’s smile faded fast. “She doesn’t bake her own, does she? Because if she does, you can’t bring my pie home. She’ll be insulted.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded solemnly, her eyes wide.

  “Huh. Okay. I guess I won’t then.”

  “Sorry. I’m just trying to protect you. My mother is that way about her meat sauce.” She brightened. “But I’d be happy to bake something at your request any time. How was everything tonight?”

  “Great.” I think you’re beautiful.

  “How’s the studying going?”

  “Fine.” Go out with me.

  “You’ll be done soon, huh?”

  “A few more weeks.” So we don’t have much time.

  “And then what?” She leaned on her elbows across the counter in front of me, and I tried not to stare at her mouth.

  “Then residency. I’m heading to Texas.” And if I leave without kissing you, I’ll always wonder.

  “Will you stay in Texas when you’re done?”

  “Probably not. I’d like to work for Doctors Without Borders.”

  “Wow.” She straightened, picking up my plate and setting it down behind the counter, and sighed. “I really admire that. If I was smart enough to become a doctor like you, I’d do something like that.”

  “You’re smart enough to do anything you want.”

  “You’re sweet to say that, but I’m really not book smart. I had to work really hard to get B’s in school, and I didn’t do very well in college. I didn’t even finish.”

  “But you’re…” Fuck, now what do I say? My heart was thumping so hard. What I wanted to say was, You’re people smart. You make everyone who comes in here feel good just by talking to them. And you have a beautiful voice. And you make the best pies known to man. Fuck book smarts. You’re amazing.

  But the words wouldn’t come.

  She was waiting for me to finish my sentence, and I swallowed. My throat was so dry. She was so beautiful. Say something. Say anything.

  What happened next changed everything.

  “Hannah, I—”

  “There you are!” The bell over the door of the place jangled, and the energy in the room spiked. I knew instantly it meant Drew had walked in. He had a presence like that. “I knew I’d find you in here. Thought you wanted to come with us tonight.”

  I looked up at Hannah, and saw the surprise on her face. “There are two of you?” She started to laugh. “Oh my God.”

  “Well, there’s only one me.” Drew’s voice radiated confidence as he swooped in. “But that’s probably all a little thing like you can handle.”

  I watched it happen.

  Watched him charm her, say all the things I wanted to and couldn’t. Watched her expression change from outrage at his cocky flirtation to blushing pleasure at being the object of his attention. Watched the chemistry between them spark and start to sizzle.

  “What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked her. “A bunch of us are going to the Wings game. Want to come?”

  “I’d love to.” She’d glanced at me. “Are you going too, Wes?”

  I hesitated, debating the choice. I could say yes, and when Drew and I left tonight, I could tell him I had feelings for her, and he’d back off. On the other hand, if she really liked Drew, and the look on her face told me she did, it would be wrong to stand in the way. What girl would ever choose me over him, anyway? Plus, Drew’s residency was here in Detroit. He’d be around here the next few years, and I’d be gone. What was the point? “Nah. I have to study.”

  “Come on, bro. Live a little. You’ve studied enough, you know this shit.” He dismissed my notes on Clinical Pharmacology with a wave of his hand. “You deserve a break.” To Hannah he said, “He’s always been like this. Way too hard on himself. Tell him not to be a hermit crab for once.”

  She giggled. “Don’t be a hermit crab for once, Wes.”

  I tried to smile. “You guys go.”

  “You sure?” Drew put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Yeah.” But you better be fucking good to her. More than once I’d had girls cry on my shoulder after Drew had moved on, but my loyalty had always been to him. This was the first time I was tempted to give him a warning—Hannah wasn’t just any girl.

  A week later, he said, “Dude, thanks for introducing me to Hannah. I’m really into her.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  And that was that.

  It wasn’t the first time—or the last—I gave up something up for my brother’s sake.

  But it’s the time I regret most.

  “I ran into Hannah at the store,” I told my mother, unpacking the bag of groceries I’d bought. On the drive home, I’d decided that it wasn’t Hannah herself who’d gotten to me; it was the visceral reminder of my brother. In Africa, I’d been able to throw myself into my work and disconnect from my grief. We’d been apart for so long, it was almost like I could pretend he was still alive, that he’d still be here when I got back. It had allowed me to cope. But seeing Hannah so visibly upset at the sight of me was a painful reminder that my brother was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  After the pain of missing my brother, I hated that the most. The helplessness. But a close third was the guilt I felt that he was gone and I was still here. He’d had a wife and daughter. It was hard not to lose myself to thoughts of it should have been me.

  I braced myself on the counter and took a few deep breaths.

  “Oh?” My mother was chopping vegetables and didn’t look up as I turned around. “Did you invite her for dinner?”

  “I did, but she said she had plans.” I stuck some cheese in the fridge and a box of crackers in a cupboard.

  “Plans? I wonder what kind of plans.”

  “She didn’t say.” I could practically see the wheels spinning beneath my mother’s shellacked blond bob, which I was pretty sure had been in place since her sorority days at Tulane. Was there tension between her and Hannah? Drew had sometimes complained to me that our mother was hard on his wife despite everything Hannah did to please her. Both of us agreed it wouldn’t have mattered who either of us brought home—no one was ever going to be good enough for her boys. Deep in my gut I felt a stab of loneliness for my brother. How was it possible we’d never have those conversations again? I’ll stick up for Hannah, I promised him silently. That was something I could do to feel less helpless. To honor him.

  “She’s been working way too much, bless her heart. The early hours she keeps are ridiculous, and I think she has a babysitter for Abby going on five days a week. You’d think she’d want some family time at night.” My mother never criticized anyone without blessing their heart. I think she felt like it smoothed the rough edges of whatever she was saying, but I could hear the disapproval in her tone.

  “She’s a single parent. She’s got to work, doesn’t she?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think they had decent money in the bank, and there was the insurance money, too.”

  “Well, then,” I said, taking an apple from a bowl on the counter. “She must really like her job. What’s she doing?”

  “She makes breakfast over at Valentini Farms Bed and Breakfast.”

  I bit into the apple. “I didn’t know the Valentinis had a bed and breakfast.”

  “The old Oliver place, right across from the farm. It’s been open a year or so. Pete and his wife Georgia run it.”

  “Oh yeah?” Drew and I had grown up hanging out with the Valentini brothers, and we’d graduated with Pete. Hadn’t seen him in years, though. “I’ll have to check it out.”

  “I didn’t see how they were going to turn that old mess of a house into anything,” said my mother, “b
ut it really is lovely. Jack’s wife Margot did a lot of the decorating, I think. She looks like she has the best taste of anyone there. And I think she comes from money.” She whispered this last part, as if someone else was in the room with us and might overhear her saying something crass.

  “So Jack remarried?” There was nothing my mother liked better than small town gossip, and I figured asking about everyone else in town would keep her off the subject of Hannah.

  “Yes, last year. They just had a baby in April, a little boy. I sent a casserole—the chicken with the mushroom and sage. Everyone was so happy for him after losing his first wife. I wrote you about that, right? I think you were already in Africa. It was right about the time Abby was born.”

  “I remember hearing about it.”

  “Anyway, that man was a mess for years. No one thought he’d ever get over it. So how did Hannah look?” My mother wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face me. “She’s lost way too much weight, but I can’t get her to eat much of anything I make.”

  “She looked fine.” She had looked a little pale to me, and definitely thinner, but I wouldn’t mention that. And for God’s sake, I was the spitting image of her dead husband. Who wouldn’t go a little pale?

  “I just hope she’s feeding Abby better than she feeds herself.”

  “I’m sure Abby is fine. I can’t wait to see her.”

  “Did y’all make plans to get together?” She went to the fridge and took out a stick of butter, eggs, and milk.

  “No.” I took another bite, weighing my next statement carefully. “I think it was hard for Hannah to see me. I don’t want to push her.”

  “She can’t keep you from Abby. You’re her uncle.”

  “She’s not, Mom. She said I could come by the house. I’m just saying I want to be sensitive to the fact that I’m probably a painful reminder of Drew for her. She looks at me and she sees him.”