From This Moment

by Melanie Harlow

  “Of course.”

  I slipped past him, scooping up my underwear and T-shirt from the floor, and slowly moving up the steps. My mind was reeling. What had I done?

  Lots of things. Here are the highlights: You had insanely good but unprotected sex with your brother-in-law in your front hall, followed by a panic attack when you realized you’re falling for him. And by the way, you’re still wearing your wedding band.

  A fresh wave of dizziness hit me at the top of the stairs, and for a moment I feared I’d embarrass myself further by tumbling backward down the stairs. I placed a hand the wall to steady myself and took a few more deep breaths. When the feeling subsided, I went into the bathroom and cleaned up. I could feel my emotions working themselves up inside me, gathering strength like a hurricane. Shock and guilt and shame and fear and confusion.

  How had I let this happen? Was I crazy? Was I so desperate to feel desired that I’d actually lost my mind?

  I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror. Flushed cheeks. Puffed-up lips. Some slight abrasions where his scruff had rubbed against my jaw. Tousled hair. Trembling hands. Finally, I met my eyes. If I couldn’t look myself in the eye after what we’d done, how could I look Wes in the eye? Or Abby? Or Lenore?

  Fuck. Don’t think about Lenore.

  If she ever found out what we’d done…

  The thought terrified me, and I tried to talk myself out of the terror with reason.

  She won’t. It was a one-time thing, a moment of insanity born out of confusion and grief. A desperate attempt to latch on to something life-affirming in the wake of so much sorrow. You’re lonely, that’s all. Both of you.

  Except I hadn’t felt lonely in his arms. Not at all. For the first time in eighteen months, I’d felt safe. Strong. Protected. I’d felt connected to him, like I wasn’t just a lost soul swimming through space alone. I’d felt loved again.

  But feelings lied. Because I wasn’t really safe or strong or protected, was I? Just because something felt real didn’t mean it was. Look at the way I’d just been convinced I was going to die in the hallway downstairs. Our perceptions of things were faulty. Our senses deceived us.

  He didn’t love me. And I didn’t want to love him. But I saw how easily it could happen if we weren’t careful.

  We can’t. We can’t let this happen. I can’t let this happen.

  Fighting off tears, I went back downstairs, where I found Wes standing in the hall with the light on. He’d pulled his shirt on and done up his pants, and the look on his face was worried. “Hey. You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I just look at you real quick?”

  “Sure.”

  He checked each eye and took my pulse again, and listened to me breathe for a moment. I felt small and childlike next to him, and I wished I didn’t like the feeling of being fussed over by him so much. As a single parent, it was always me doing the fussing.

  “Do you have panic attacks very often?” he asked.

  “Not anymore.”

  He frowned and stepped back from me. “I’m sorry, Hannah. This was all my fault.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “We both know that’s not true. I wanted this just as badly as you did tonight. Don’t make me a victim.”

  He swallowed and nodded.

  “But that doesn’t make it right.”

  “No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t.”

  “We need to forget this happened, Wes. And we can’t do it again.”

  “But—”

  “No! It’s wrong. I feel like I’ve dishonored Drew’s memory, and it’s the only thing I have left. Look, we were lonely, okay? We were lonely and we miss him and we just wanted to feel close to each other, so we could feel close to him.” I said it firmly, as if I believed it.

  “This wasn’t about Drew for me,” he said quietly.

  My heart squeezed. “Well, it was for me,” I lied.

  He came closer to me, nearly chest to chest. His eyes pinned mine. “I don’t believe you.”

  I was scared he was going to kiss me and I wouldn’t have the strength to resist, but he didn’t.

  Five seconds later, he was gone.

  I shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, exhaling in relief. I was safe.

  But relief was short-lived. Once I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my shoulders, the house seemed more empty than it had ever been, and I sobbed into my pillow.

  He was so good and sweet and beautiful. And maybe he really did want me.

  But I couldn’t fall for him. I just couldn’t. For so many reasons. Because he was Drew’s brother. Because it would be too confusing for Abby. Because no one would accept us.

  And because life had taught me no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, happily ever after was only an illusion. A beautiful distraction from the tragedy that was love, that was life.

  There was no eternity.

  Everything came to an end.

  Ten

  HANNAH

  I was a red-eyed zombie at work the next morning, where again I was glad it was Pete sharing my shift and not Georgia since I felt like a scarlet letter was branded on my forehead. The one thing I felt unadulterated joy about was that I got my period this afternoon. Thank God, I thought. Could I blame PMS for any of this craziness?

  For once, I was glad it was Lenore who answered my knock when I went to get Abby. But when she invited me in for iced tea, I hesitated. I couldn’t handle seeing Wes. Not yet.

  “If you’re too busy for tea, maybe another time.”

  “No, no. I’m not too busy. I just… I was just thinking.” About banging your son. No, the other one. I tried to shove the image out of my mind. “I’d like to come in for tea, thank you.” The last thing I wanted was to give Lenore any ammunition against me when things seemed to be going better between us. And Wes and I couldn’t avoid each other forever.

  Abby was in the great room playing Barbies on the coffee table. “Hi, Mommy!”

  “Hi, sweetie.” I went over and gave her a quick hug. “Did you have a good night?”

  “Mmhm. And we made the pancakes again this morning!”

  “We did,” Lenore said. “And she’s such a big help to her Nana in the kitchen!”

  “Good girl.” I ruffled her hair and followed Lenore into the kitchen, where she took a pitcher of homemade sweet tea from the fridge and poured us both a glass.

  “How’s business at the inn?” she asked, sticking the pitcher back in the fridge.

  “Good.” I took a seat at the island, glancing at the corner where Wes and I had shared crepes last weekend. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Hannah?” Lenore was looking at me quizzically, and I realized she’d asked me a question.

  “I’m sorry. I got distracted. What did you say?”

  “I wondered if you’ll take some time off now that summer is over.” She began pulling things from the pantry and fridge—flour, garlic powder, salt and pepper, eggs.

  “Probably not until closer to November. I think they’ll need me up until then.”

  “Who takes Abby to school in the mornings?”

  I’d already answered this question a hundred times. “I did this week, since it was her first, and I went into work a little later, but my sitter will take her from now on when I work. Then I’m off in time to pick her up, take her to her afternoon activities, do her reading and math homework.”

  “Homework!” Lenore squawked, cracking an egg into a bowl. “Who gives homework in kindergarten?”

  I shrugged and sipped the sugary tea. “I think all schools give at least some. It’s not too much. I think it’s good for her to start learning the routine now.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Lenore sniffed and dumped another egg into the bowl. “Kids her age don’t need homework or scheduled activities. They need fresh air and play time and good meals and sleep, that’s all.”

  I took another drink rather than reply. No sense arguing with Lenore. �
�Is Doc at work today?”

  “He and Wes went to the hospital for rounds this morning, and then he was taking Wes to get his car. Apparently the boy had a few too many beers last night in town and one of the Valentinis had to drive him home. Honestly.” She clucked her tongue as she beat the eggs with a little water. “You’d think he’d know better. But I suppose he deserves a good time, he’s worked so hard and been through so much. I’m really hoping he’ll settle here, get married, have a family. Otherwise, I’m a little worried he’ll get antsy and take off again.”

  I tried to imagine how I would feel when Wes began dating someone, and was surprised by the vicious punch of jealousy in my gut. I had no right to feel jealous of anyone he chose to date.

  But the thought of his hands on another woman’s body made me want to vomit.

  “I should go,” I said, quickly dumping the rest of my tea in the sink. Maybe I couldn’t avoid him forever, but I could avoid him today. In my current emotional state, it seemed wise.

  I was about to make my way into the great room to collect Abby when the side door opened and Wes stepped into the kitchen. We locked eyes. My stomach filled with butterflies. I couldn’t breathe.

  But it wasn’t the panic attack of last night. It was an airy, exhilarating feeling, a balloon of joy inside me at the mere sight of him. I wanted to see him, I realized. Of course I did.

  “Hey,” he said, dropping his keys on the counter. “How are you?”

  Miserable.

  “Fine,” I said, a little too loudly. I ran a hand over the hastily-done braid at the back of my head. He looked perfect in gray dress pants and a white button-down with the sleeves cuffed, and I felt totally unkempt with my messy hair and work jeans and flour-dusted red T-shirt. Not to mention my puffy eyes and sleep-deprived complexion. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” His eyes told me differently.

  Don’t look at me that way, Wes. It makes me weak.

  I broke the stare and mumbled something about getting Abby home, then left the kitchen on wobbly legs. Lenore invited us to come back for fried chicken later, but I made some excuse as to why we couldn’t, and Wes didn’t try to argue. Taking Abby by the hand, I slipped out the front door without looking back. Keep moving. Just keep moving.

  I buckled Abby in, shut the door, got in the driver’s seat, buckled myself in, and burst into tears.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” asked Abby from the back seat.

  Good God. Where would I even start?

  “Nothing, baby. Just having a bad day.” I pulled myself together and started the engine, meeting her eyes in the rearview so she wouldn’t be scared. “Tell me about your sleepover.”

  When we got home, I sent Abby outside to play and called Tess.

  “Hey. I need to talk. Got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I slept with Wes last night.”

  At first, silence. Then, “Define slept.”

  “We had sex.”

  She gasped. “Where?”

  “My front hallway. Abby was at his mother’s. And afterward I had a massive panic attack.”

  “Oh my God. Wait, I have to go into the laundry room so the kids can’t hear me.” A moment later, I heard a door shut. “Okay, tell me everything.”

  While I watched my innocent little daughter sing to herself and play on the swings, I filled Tess in on what I’d done. “I feel horrible about it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” I said loudly, because wasn’t it obvious? “Wes is Drew’s brother.”

  “That’s true,” she said gently, “but Drew is gone, Hannah. He’s not coming back.”

  “I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut, and voiced the more complicated, more shameful feeling. “But I also feel horrible because I liked it. And I can’t stop thinking about it. And I wish we could do it again.” There. I’d said it out loud.

  “Was it that good?”

  “It was amazing, Tess. He made me feel…” I closed my eyes as chills swept down my arms and legs. “Like a different person. But somehow still myself, only more myself. Like I’d recaptured something. It was effortless and liberating.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “But it’s so wrong.”

  “Hannah. I fucked the tree man, remember? A complete stranger.”

  “That still doesn’t seem as wrong as what I did. Or why I did it.”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “Because I wanted him. Him, not Drew.”

  “I suspected as much the other night when you were talking about him. Your face changes. You light up. You have feelings for him Hannah, and it’s okay.”

  I cringed. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “No. It isn’t.”

  “What about him?” she challenged. “How does he feel?”

  “He says it’s not about Drew for him. And then I lied and told him it was for me.”

  “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. You guys are two consenting adults who feel a connection to each other.”

  “But I feel like I dishonored Drew’s memory,” I said, resting my forehead on my fingertips.

  “A memory can’t keep you warm at night."

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the seductive thought of Wes keeping me warm on cold winter nights. “I don’t want this, Tess. I don’t.”

  “Don’t want what?”

  “These feelings for him. I have to get rid of them somehow.”

  “How the hell are you going to do that? You can’t put feelings out like a bonfire.”

  “No, but I can stay away from him until they die out on their own.” I remembered sitting in the grocery store parking lot, making that same plan. I should have stuck to it.

  “And if they don’t?”

  Straightening up, I turned around and looked for Abby out the window again. “They have to.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with moving on, Hannah. It’s healthy.”

  “I don’t want to move on,” I said stubbornly. Not with Wes, not with any man.”

  “It just seems a shame if both of you—”

  “No. It’s pointless to even think about.”

  She stayed silent.

  I sighed. “Thanks for listening, Tess. I had to get it off my chest, and this is just too personal to share with the group.”

  “Of course. I hope it made you feel better.”

  “It did,” I lied.

  The truth was, the more I thought about it, the worse I felt. Because as days of avoiding Wes stretched into weeks and my feelings for him didn’t subside, I grew more and more terrified that they never would. I tried everything I could to distract myself—I cleaned the house top to bottom, I baked a zillion pies, I dug out my old sewing machine and tackled the long-ignored pile of clothing that needed mending.

  But nothing worked. I thought of him constantly, missed him terribly. And I couldn’t hide from him forever—Abby’s sixth birthday dinner at Lenore and Doc’s house was scheduled for the last Saturday in September, and there was no getting out of it.

  I’d have to face him and act like I was okay, like what we’d done hadn’t wrecked me, like I still believed the lie I’d told him that night—that it had been about Drew for me.

  I don’t believe you, he’d said.

  Did he now? Did he think because I’d stayed away from him for two weeks I’d meant what I’d said? Was he hurt by that? I hated the thought that I’d caused him pain, but I was trying to protect us both.

  Pain was necessary.

  The Saturday of Abby’s birthday dinner was a sunny, cloudless day that didn’t match my dark, foreboding mood at all. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Maybe I’d have a meltdown at the dinner table and cry into my chicken and dumplings. Maybe Wes would be so mad he wouldn’t even talk to me and dinner would be a tense, silent affair. Maybe Lenore would somehow find new ways to cut away at my self-worth and I’d finally snap and flip a table.

  That last one was a
ctually kind of a satisfying thought.

  We weren’t too busy at work, and Georgia and I actually found time to sit down and have a cup of coffee during late morning.

  “Everything okay?” She lifted her cup to her lips with both hands.

  “Yeah,” I said, but then my shoulders slumped. “No.”

  She smiled. “Want to talk about it?”

  Did I? While I was thinking about it, Margot came into the kitchen.

  “Whew,” she said, taking a cup down and pouring coffee into it. “All gone. Kind of nice to have a slow day now and then.”

  I nodded, but the slow traffic made me kind of sad, too. It meant they wouldn’t need me as much, and the start of the cold, lonely season I was dreading.

  “Can I join you guys?” Margot asked.

  “Of course,” I said.

  She sat down and flipped her long blond braid over her shoulder. “Actually, Hannah, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Georgia and I have been talking about a Valentini Inn cookbook for a while, a series of them actually, and we think you’d be the perfect person to start with. Maybe a breakfast edition?”

  I found myself perking up a little at the thought of a creative project. “I’d love that. I mean, I don’t know anything about putting a book together, but I can supply the recipes.”

  “That’s all we need,” said Georgia. “Well, that and photos, but we’re going to hire someone for that.”

  “And I know someone who can take care of the design and layout for us.” Margot inhaled the aroma of her coffee before sipping it. “But I’d like you to work with her. And I’d also like you to start posting some recipes on our website.”

  “I’d love to. Thanks for asking me.”

  “It’s good to see you smiling,” said Georgia. “You’ve been a little down lately.”

  I sighed and picked up my coffee, hoping a little caffeine buzz would lift my mood. “Yeah.”

  “It’s the time of year, maybe,” Margot suggested. “It’s going to get chilly soon, and before you know it, winter is here.”