But it wouldn’t be like it was before. Now she would miss him. She would miss having somebody to curl up with on the couch and somebody to kiss good morning. Somebody to rub her shoulders when she was tense. She’d miss holding hands with him when they went for walks.
She stood, her chair scraping across the hardwood floor, and carried her plate to the sink. “I’ve got stuff to do.”
When she opened the back door, Cocoa came running, even though she wasn’t supposed to be in the kitchen during dinner. After shoving her feet into her shoes, Gretchen motioned for the dog and they went outside.
After breathing in a few gulps of fresh air to shove back the sensation of wanting to cry, Gretchen walked to the garage and flipped on the lights. Sitting on the stool in front of the workbench, she dumped a coffee can of assorted nuts and bolts and ran her hand over them. Cocoa walked around, sniffing at a few things, before going back out the door to explore the yard.
The sound of Alex’s voice a moment later wasn’t exactly welcome. She wanted to hide in the garage and figure out how to make herself believe she didn’t care if Alex left or not.
“Hey,” he said from the doorway. “Need some help?”
Once she was sure she could face him without tears, she swiveled on the stool to look at him. “Not really. I’m just looking for the extra cotter pins for the snowblower.”
“Of course you don’t need help.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “You don’t need anybody, do you?”
Anger sparked inside her. Was he actually disappointed that she wasn’t crying and wrapping her arms around him, begging him not to go?
That wasn’t going to happen. Her parents had walked away from her and she’d been fine with her grandparents. Gramps had passed away, and she and Gram had been fine with just each other. Alex could walk away and Gretchen would just keep on being fine.
Maybe she wouldn’t be as happy as she thought she’d been before, but she’d be okay.
“Cocoa, come on in here with me,” she heard Gram call, followed a few seconds later by the screen door banging.
Alex stepped into the garage and closed the door behind him. “I’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity, Gretchen.”
“And you’re not an idiot, so you won’t pass it up,” she said, keeping her voice as casual as possible. “You were about done with Stewart Mills, anyway.”
He winced. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Shouldn’t you be packing?” The words sounded cold, even to her, but she didn’t wince. She needed the distance between them.
“I don’t want to leave like this.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Gretchen, I can come back.”
She let herself believe that for a moment. She could almost hear Cocoa’s joyous barking at the sound of his Jeep coming up the driveway and feel Alex embrace her as she threw her arms around his neck.
But she wasn’t stupid. She knew how far off the beaten path Stewart Mills was. She saw how just the drive ate into the time Chase and Kelly had together, and they were doing it on a temporary basis. Long-term, it would be exhausting and inconvenient for Alex’s travel requirements, and over time he’d start complaining. Best-case scenario, he’d try unsuccessfully to get Gretchen to move farther south in New England. Worst case, he’d find reasons to be home less and less often, until he finally stopped coming home altogether.
And if it hurt like this every time he left, she wanted no part of that.
“We had a good time together,” she said in a quiet, calm voice. “We’ll miss having you around, of course. But we’ll probably have rented your room to somebody else by the time you’re done wherever it is you’re going.”
She watched her meaning sink in, and saw the instant he realized she was telling him not to bother coming back. The sadness dulled his eyes and he gave a quick, sharp shake of his head.
“If that’s how you want it,” he said quietly.
“Sometimes things just are a certain way, whether we want it to be or not.” Gretchen took a deep breath, determined not to break down until he’d gone back inside the house. “I’ll probably be out here for quite a while. I’ve let some stuff slide that I need to take care of.”
He stared at her for what felt like forever, and she wondered if he would push the issue. Push her and get her to admit to feelings that wouldn’t change anything. But he didn’t. “Okay. I’m going to go start packing, then. I’m leaving early in the morning.”
“How early?”
“I’ll see you before I go. But I won’t have time to eat breakfast with you. I’ll grab something on the road once I’m closer to Mass.”
She nodded, because she suddenly didn’t have any words to offer. After one last, sad glance, Alex left the garage, closing the door softly behind him just as the first tear rolled down her cheek.
Tomorrow morning she was going to see Alex just like she did every day. But tomorrow he was going to say good-bye and walk out the door. And he wasn’t coming back.
—
Alex turned onto Eagles Lane and drove slowly up the street to the McDonnells’ house. He parked in the driveway and was getting out when Coach stepped out onto the porch.
“You look wrung out, son, and the day’s barely begun.”
Alex climbed the stairs and took the mug of coffee Coach handed him before taking his place in one of the rockers. “It was tough, saying good-bye.”
That was an understatement. It had been wrenching, and he’d done the leaving as quickly as he could, like ripping off a bandage. Ida had hugged him tightly, tears glistening in her eyes. She’d made him promise to keep in touch, sniffling the entire time.
Even with her emotions shuttered behind that mask of indifference Gretchen clung to, he’d seen her sorrow. She’d kissed him and wished him luck before walking out the back door without looking back. Cocoa had watched him drive away, sitting at the top of the driveway until he couldn’t see her anymore.
Tough didn’t even begin to describe it. He took a huge gulp of coffee, hoping to scald away the lump in his throat.
“I hope it’s not another decade and a half before we see you again,” Coach said after a few minutes of companionable silence.
It was on the tip of his tongue to assure Coach that wasn’t going to happen, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “I hope not.”
“But no promises?”
Leave it to Coach McDonnell to back him into the corner. “I think it might be hard for a while. To come back, I mean.”
“But not so hard it would be easier to stay?”
“I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” Alex rocked back in the chair, staring out at the trees that lined Eagles Lane, and blew out a long breath. “I can’t pass up this opportunity. And she just . . . I don’t know how to explain it, Coach, but Gretchen already closed the door on me. She said good-bye and she meant it.”
“She’s a tough nut, that one.” Coach nodded. “She came to Stewart Mills pretty broken, and the man who taught her about family and love . . . well, I admired the hell out of him, but he wasn’t one for sharing emotions.”
“I told her I’d come back, but she made it clear she didn’t see a point.”
“If ever there was a person who believed actions speak louder than words, it’s Gretchen Walker.”
“I have to go,” Alex said, his voice sounding choked to his own ears. “I have a career and even if this was a story I could ignore, I’ve committed to it.”
Coach rocked back in his chair. “Of course you have to go. She’s gotta have a little bend in her, too. What time did you say your flight was?”
“Eleven. I would have been on the five thirty flight, but I’m getting too old for overnight drives.”
“I’m glad you got the later flight so you could stop by.”
> “Me, too.” He’d called the night before and Coach had insisted he and Mrs. McDonnell would be awake and wanting to see him at six in the morning. “I’m also glad I came back, even though . . . well, you know.”
When Coach chuckled, Alex glanced over to find the man grinning at him. “I had a conversation pretty similar to this with Chase Sanders not too long ago. He made it almost halfway back to New Jersey before he pulled his head out of his ass and turned around.”
“I don’t think the pilot or my fellow passengers will go along with that.”
“Probably not, but that’s not my point. You keep in mind that once the leaving is done, if you realize you’ve made a mistake, don’t wallow in it. Come back and try to make it right.”
“Shutters,” Alex muttered, almost to himself. “It’s literally like when she sees emotional upset coming, she closes the shutters so the storm can’t touch her.”
“But you’ve seen what’s inside, son. Maybe it’s worth prying them open.” Coach paused, rocking in silence for a few seconds. “I know you’ve gotta do this thing in Central America. Maybe it’ll give you both some time to think.”
In other words, maybe Gretchen would miss him as much as he knew he would miss her.
Alex drained the rest of his coffee and then stood. “I should say good-bye to Mrs. McDonnell. Is she in the kitchen?”
“Of course.” He stood, too, and they went in together.
Coach’s wife kissed his cheek. “I read your paper, and saw the pictures that go with it. It’s a wonderful story, Alex. You really did Stewart Mills proud.”
“Thank you. You know I have you and Coach to thank for that. Not just for encouraging my love of photography, but for loving me when I was pretty hard to love. And teaching me how to love myself.”
“You’ve never been hard to love.” She hugged him. “Keep in touch, Alex.”
He squeezed her. “I will.”
Once he was in the Jeep and headed back down Eagles Lane, Alex took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on the task ahead of him rather than the people he was leaving behind.
He was almost out of town when he saw the blue lights flashing in his rearview mirror. Cursing under his breath, he put on his blinker and pulled to the side of the road. Those damn stop signs.
As luck would have it, Kelly McDonnell got out of the cruiser and walked to his window. He hit the button to lower it as she approached, and gave her a friendly smile, which she returned.
“Going somewhere in a hurry?” she asked.
“Just how many new stop signs are there in this town?”
“We’ll never tell. How do you think we pay for gas and coffee?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I should remember them by now, but I don’t think I’ve come this way but a couple of times since I got here.”
“It’s early, too.” She rested her hand against the Jeep to lean on. “I saw your bags in the back. Leaving town?”
“Noticed those, did you?”
She shrugged. “It’s kind of my job.”
“Yeah, well my job beckons. I’ve got an eleven o’clock flight out of Boston and it’s not a fun drive from here, so it was an early morning.”
Kelly nodded, looking like she wanted to say more. Then she sighed. “So . . . after the job?”
“I’ll probably go back to Providence and take care of some business stuff I’ve neglected. Go into New York and have some meetings.”
“Okay.” He could see that she got his meaning. “I know you and Chase have been keeping in touch, so don’t be a stranger.”
She stood straight, but before she could walk away, he called her name. “Maybe you could give Gretchen a call later? Or stop by and see her? You know how she is. I can’t tell if she’s . . . Maybe you could just give her a call?”
“I’ll stop by when I get a chance. Maybe Jen and I will drag her off the farm for a girls’ night out.”
He nodded, unable to say more, and then returned her wave. After pulling back onto the road, he turned up the radio and—once he was out of the jurisdiction of the Stewart Mills Police Department—put more weight on the gas pedal.
—
“Men suck,” Kelly shouted vehemently. But then she paused, listing slowly to the left as she looked at the shiny engagement ring on that hand. “Wait. Most men suck. Not all of them. Just some. Okay, fine. Alex Murphy sucks.”
Even though hearing his name hurt, Gretchen laughed as she put out her hand to brace her friend, who’d left the neighborhood of sobriety about two glasses of wine ago. Gretchen and Jen weren’t feeling a lot of pain, either, but they were still managing to sit upright. Or so Gretchen assumed. Jen looked pretty straight.
When Kelly had shown up with a plan to wash Gretchen’s heartbreak away with as much wine as they could drink without throwing up, Gram had put her foot down. It had been a long time since she’d had all three girls under her roof for a sleepover, but if they were going to drink, they’d do it where she could keep an eye on them.
Before they’d uncorked the first bottle, Gram had stuffed them with her macaroni salad to ensure they weren’t drinking on an empty stomach, and then gone upstairs with her knitting and a book. But Gretchen knew if there was an exceptionally loud thump, a call for help, or she heard one of the big doors open and close, Gram would be down the stairs in a split second. She had hearing like a bat.
“He could have at least stayed until you harvested all those damn pumpkins,” Jen said. “Oh, that reminds me. I have a note on my desk reminding me to call you and beg for a bunch of free pumpkins. Like the little ugly ones nobody wants.”
Gretchen sipped her wine, pleasantly surprised when she realized it tasted better than it had when they first started drinking. She wasn’t much for wine, but the more she drank, the more she liked it. “Why do you want a bunch of ugly pumpkins? Is that the homecoming theme this year? Support the Eagles—get your ugly pumpkin here!”
They all giggled for a few minutes before Jen shook her head. “We need ugly pumpkin babies for health class.”
They both stared at her, trying to make sense of that, but Kelly spoke first. “We didn’t have ugly pumpkin babies. Maybe that’s why we don’t have men— Oh wait. I have one. Never mind.”
“I would call a cab to send you home, but Stewart Mills doesn’t have cabs,” Gretchen said. She knew her friend wasn’t being snarky and was simply having trouble remembering her current relationship status thanks to her intoxication, but Gretchen didn’t want to hear about Chase. “You’re not going to inject my pumpkins with STDs or anything, are you? They might just be pumpkins, but I raised them and I don’t want you to give them syphilis.”
Jen looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “What kind of monster do you think I am that I’d give ugly pumpkin babies a sexually transmitted disease on purpose? I’m so offended right now.”
Gretchen sighed and refilled their glasses, giving Kelly decidedly less. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Now, we can’t afford those fake robot babies and we’ve had many requests from parents to stop teaching the children how hard it is to be a parent by making them take care of eggs.”
“I dropped mine,” Kelly said, and Gretchen choked back a laugh when her friend’s eyes filled up with tears. “I named her Charlotte and made her a little flannel dress. Then I dropped her and my dad made a joke about scrambled eggs and I cried.”
“So anyway,” Jen continued. “Last year, one of the girls lost her infant egg. She tried to tell us the egg ran away because they were boring and didn’t have good Internet, but a substantial amount of time later, they discovered the egg baby had slipped between the seats of their minivan. When it broke, Mom threw up and she ended up paying two hundred dollars to have the minivan professionally cleaned. So we’re thinking we can have the kids paint faces on the pumpkins and care for them. They’re still
fragile, but not as fragile.”
“Do they get extra credit because their babies are ugly?” Kelly asked. “That seems kind of mean.”
Jen slid Kelly’s wineglass a little farther from her hand. “I want ugly ones so they’ll be free, dumb-ass.”
“Mean and cheap,” Kelly muttered, flopping back against the couch.
“You can have some little pumpkin babies,” Gretchen promised. “It sounds like a fun project.”
“Right? The little faces will be so cute. It’s too bad Alex won’t be around to take pic—” Jen stopped talking and covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
Gretchen started to laugh, intending to wave a careless hand and assure her friend it was no big deal. But, without being sure how it happened, she ended up with her head in Jen’s lap, sobbing.
She was vaguely aware of Jen leaning over to set both of their wineglasses on the table and Kelly asking Cocoa where Gram kept the extra boxes of tissues, but mostly she just felt the pain wash over her until she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
Jen stroked her hair, not trying to stop the tears with empty platitudes and stupid inspirational sayings she’d seen on the Internet. At some point, Kelly shoved a wad of tissues into her hand and then sat on the floor, resting her head on Gretchen’s side.
She wasn’t sure how long she cried, but eventually the tears slowed to a trickle and she mopped at her face with the tissues. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, if you can’t drain your sinuses on your friend’s favorite sweatpants, what’s the point of having friends?”
Gretchen managed a rough laugh, pushing herself back to a sitting position. “I love him. Alex. I love Alex.”
“It would be weird if you loved some other guy,” Kelly whispered.
“We are really bad at being drunk,” Jen said. “We’re supposed to be making you feel better. You don’t look like you feel better.”
Gretchen swiped at her nose again with the wad of tissues, and then dropped it on the table so she could pick up her wineglass. She probably shouldn’t have any more, but her mouth was dry. “I do feel better. I needed to cry. And you guys being here reminds me that my life isn’t over. I don’t have Alex, but I still have everybody else I love. Plus, I’m going to help enrich the lives of the next generation of Stewart Mills with my little ugly pumpkin rejects. I’m making a difference in the world.”
Defending Hearts Page 21
