But first she had to get over to Claire’s and find out just what he was referring to. She’d make Claire tell her why she hated him even if she had to drag it out of her. Without bothering to make herself more presentable, she marched off the deck and over to Claire’s. She walked around to the back door, knowing she’d find a messy kitchen and cartoons on the TV, sleepy children being trailed by sleepier parents. Maybe Claire and Rick would already be packing to go.
But when she peered into the glass on the back door she saw no evidence of breakfast, heard no canned animation noises coming from the TV. There were no signs of life at all, the kitchen and family area sitting still and undisturbed. She held her breath again as she scanned the rooms, wondering where they were. Wild scenarios raced through her mind—they’d ducked out in the middle of the night, the police had come for them, the angry homeowner had taken them hostage. Suddenly Sara appeared, her pensive face looking more pensive than usual as she opened the door for Emily.
The little girl held the door open only slightly as she informed Emily that no one was awake at their house yet. “We had a very late night,” she said in a voice that sounded very grown up. Emily imagined that Sara had grown up some last night. Growing up seemed to be a process of facing and surviving the hard things in life, each instance pushing you a little further forward down the path of maturity. Sara had witnessed that firework taking flight, then turning in the wrong direction and setting a nearby house on fire. No one could protect her from that reality anymore. Emily saw the burning house in her mind’s eye and said a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn’t her house, then felt guilty all over again for thinking that way. Just a shift in wind direction and it could’ve been her house. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t glad it hadn’t been. She glanced over at her still-standing house, her gift from Ryan, her consolation prize. With life came bad and good, and sometimes one came out of the other. She thought of Amber and her baby, a good and bad situation all wrapped up in one messy package.
“We’re having family time right now,” Sara continued, drawing Emily’s attention back to her as she used her body to block Emily’s entrance. “Just us,” she added. Emily knew Sara cared for her, had enjoyed her presence during the long, lazy days of summer they’d spent together. And yet it was clear that her welcome only went so far. Sara was protecting her family, circling the wagons after a confusing and unsettling night. She didn’t blame the child. And yet she felt left out. In so many ways she was just on the outside of things—Phil and Marta, Claire and Rick, even Amber wasn’t her family, much as the girl needed her right now. If Ryan had lived she’d have a family of her own by now. She would belong somewhere, with someone. She could have family time.
“I’ll just come back later,” Emily said, an unspoken apology in her voice. “You can tell your mother I came by. Okay?”
She heard Claire’s voice coming from the back of the house. “Sara? Who’s at the door?”
Without missing a beat, Sara called out, “No one,” and unceremoniously shut the door in Emily’s face. Emily stood blinking at the closed door for a moment before turning with a shrug and walking away, still holding Kyle’s letter and shell, her grip just a little tighter.
Twenty-Five
Marta and Phil had gotten away late after they realized that the weather was going to be too perfect to miss a day out on the beach. Even Amber had hesitantly agreed to come along with them, wearing a bikini that showed off, rather than hid, her growing stomach. “Can’t hide it anymore, huh?” the girl asked Marta and Emily as she rubbed the melon-sized mound under her skin. Though they tried to assure her she still looked great, the girl pushed away their compliments, insisting she was “a cow.” During the day Emily stole glances at her and thought she looked more beautiful than ever. Emily hoped the baby—whatever it was—would look just like its mother, with her shade of red hair and startling green eyes. And she prayed that someday Amber would know how truly beautiful she was. If Amber had a normal life one day, it would only be because of the grace of God.
When she left, Marta promised she would track down Emily’s mother, who’d been strangely unavailable by phone. Emily tried not to worry and resolved that though she couldn’t leave quite yet, she needed to get home and at least look in on her parents. Marta had hugged Amber and made her meet her eyes rather than looking away like she usually did. “We’re going to take care of you and your baby. Don’t you worry,” she’d assured her. Then Amber had looked away, down at her toes painted with metallic purple nail polish, and mumbled her thanks.
The two of them stood in the driveway and waved until Marta and Phil’s car disappeared. “They’re so nice,” Amber said, instinctively knowing that Emily needed a moment to compose herself. “I told Marta I want to come to their wedding.”
Emily looked over, surprised by this revelation. She found it strangely heartening to hear Amber talk of a future that included them. “I’m sure she would love to have you there,” she responded.
Amber blushed and nodded. “I’ll be even fatter then.”
Emily laughed. “You’re not fat now.” She wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder and ignored the stiffened reaction she got when she did. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Music to this fat girl’s ears,” Amber joked as she used an elbow to Emily’s ribs as an excuse to get out of her grasp.
At that moment she felt a stream of water hit her back, followed by an unmistakable laugh. She spun around to find Noah on the front porch of his house, armed with a Super Soaker water gun that was trained on her. “Ha, ha, I got you, Emily!” he called and, try as she might to get angry with him, she just couldn’t when she heard his laugh.
“Noah! You little scamp! I’m gonna get you for that!” she called back.
Undeterred by her threat, Noah turned the gun toward Amber. “Who goes there?” he called. “Identify yourself or meet your fate,” he said in an ominous voice.
“I’m Amber,” Amber said.
“I don’t believe you!” Noah called back and began shooting the water gun in her direction, the stream catching her right in the head.
Noah cracked up laughing again when he saw her shocked expression. “Ha, ha, ha, I got you too!” He was so busy laughing he didn’t see Claire coming up behind him, a finger pressed to her lips so Emily and Amber wouldn’t give her away. She reached out and grabbed him, lifting him up high in the air, his mouth forming a perfect O as he dropped the gun with a loud clatter.
She spun him into a cradle hold and began to tickle him. “That’ll teach you,” she was saying over his laughter. Emily and Amber watched for a moment, both of them smiling. Claire finished tickling him and told him to go inside for dinner, then turned to Emily. “I heard you came by earlier. Sara finally confessed that she sent you away.”
“She needed some family time. I understood.”
Amber pointed to her wet head. “I’m going to get a towel,” she said and went back inside, leaving Claire and Emily alone. Claire walked closer and Emily did the same, the two of them meeting in the middle.
“We’re going to take off tomorrow,” Claire said. “Rick thinks it would be best. Both kids are pretty upset about what happened. They feel like it was their fault. It’s been hard.”
“I’m sure. And I’m sorry.”
Claire shrugged and pointed at where Amber had been. “So she’s back?”
Emily nodded. “For now. I’m trying to figure out how to best help her.”
“You will,” Claire said. The certainty on her face as she spoke was its own kind of compliment. “So why did you come by this morning when my daughter the bouncer prevented your access?”
Emily laughed. “Actually, I had a question for you. I got this . . . note. From Kyle. And in it he alluded to why you hate him so much. He assumes I already know the story.” She smiled. “I guess Amber’s not the only one who’s not talking around here.”
Claire looked away for a second, then back again. “I try not t
o talk about it. It hurts too much.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if it were cold. But it was ninety-seven degrees outside. She sighed. “I guess you want to know?”
“It might help. Considering he thinks I already do.”
“And you’re seeing him? Even though he’s with that . . . star.” Claire said the word star as if it were the worst curse word ever spoken.
“I’m not with him. He just wants to talk tonight.”
Claire shook her head. “I wouldn’t go if I were you.”
“I can’t not go, Claire. The fact that you don’t want me to isn’t a good enough reason. If there’s really something awful about him then please tell me.”
Claire let out her breath in a huff. “He’s just a jerk, okay?”
“Did he dump you for her? Is that what it is? And you’re still hurt even after all these years?” Emily had guessed this was the case but she’d never had the courage to say it out loud.
Claire smirked at her. “You honestly think I’d be that petty? After all these years and even though I have Rick and the kids? That I’d still be nursing some old wound like that?”
When she put it that way, it did sound unlikely. “I’m not sure what to think. So tell me.”
Claire plopped down in the grass and motioned for Emily to do the same. She did, but not without thinking about how much grass made her legs itch. She’d have to shower again so she wasn’t scratching the whole time she was with Kyle.
“He was with my best friend when he got ‘discovered.’ We’d been together for as long as we could all remember, a big group of us hanging out every summer, all summer.” She smiled wistfully as she remembered. “We’d go to the beach, the pier, get summer jobs at the same restaurant so we could all be together even at work.”
“The restaurant where we met?” Emily asked.
Claire nodded grimly. She had a special connection to the town, as Emily had suspected. The fire they’d started meant the end of the bridge, and that end would hurt a lot of people. She reached out and squeezed her friend’s shoulder. No wonder she was leaving. She didn’t feel she deserved to stay.
“So,” Claire continued. “He wanted to go out to Hollywood and see what happened. I mean, of course we knew he was good looking but he was just Kyle, you know? We never expected anything to come of it. Lily—that was her name—thought it was funny. We took bets on how soon he’d come back.” She sighed. “And then he gets out there and starts these modeling jobs and he’s going on all these auditions and then there’s all this talk about this movie.” She cut her eyes over at Emily. “And then we find out he’s changed his name and he’s just . . . different. And of course Lily was like, ‘Come home. Now. Enough’s enough.’ And he’s all, ‘Just let me see how this movie thing goes. It could set us up for life.’ And Lily believed him. Of course she believed him. Because Kyle was a good guy.”
Claire continued, “But Brady Rutledge was someone else altogether. Someone none of us liked or even knew anymore. He would come home for visits and be this totally different person, all impressed with himself. So the last time he came home he was on a break from filming and he told Lily that she was going to hear some rumors about him and his costar but not to believe them. Lily told him she wasn’t feeling well and was going to the doctor but it was like he didn’t even care anymore. He just raced back to Hollywood and left her behind.”
“She was sick?” Emily asked, her voice shaky. She knew about sickness, about facing a terrible illness with someone you loved.
Claire nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “The day she got diagnosed was the day the news of his affair with Xandra hit the entertainment news. So she had to face his betrayal at the same time she had to deal with the fact that she might not live. And the worst part was, he was so busy filming and then doing all the promotion when the movie came out, he wasn’t there for Lily. At all.”
“But you were?”
Claire nodded again, swiping the tears away. “I was there for all of it. I was with her every minute. I even shaved my head when she lost her hair. We called ourselves the Bald Beauties.” Claire looked over at Emily. “The worst part is, I really believed she would live. I spent so much time focusing on how she was going to get Kyle back after she was better. Meanwhile I was finding Lily’s hidden fan magazines with his pictures, and back issues of People with gossip about him and Xandra. He just broke her heart and didn’t even care.” She leveled Emily with a look. “He came back one month after she died, talking about how sorry he was and it couldn’t be helped and yada, yada, yada. But it was too late and I was like, ‘I don’t want to hear it.’ ”
She rested her chin on her knee. “And I never did want to hear it. Not then. Not now. There’s nothing he could say that would explain why he treated my best friend like that. Why he let her die alone with a broken heart.” She sighed. “And I wouldn’t be a good friend to you if I didn’t warn you that he’s not who you think he is. Xandra being here is only proof of that. Don’t you see?”
Emily nodded, sobered by all that she’d just learned. She thought of the shared pain the two of them had experienced—both losing someone they loved so much, both the survivors who carried the memories of suffering. She wondered what Kyle could say that would possibly explain any of what she’d just learned about him. What did he have to say in his own defense like his note suggested? And what was his relationship with Xandra? None of it sounded very good. If she was smart she’d find a place for Amber, get her squared away, and then steer clear of this place for a while. Maybe once the bridge was gone, Kyle would go back to Hollywood and then she wouldn’t risk running into him. In the meantime she could just dodge him.
But would it be fair to not at least give him a chance like he’d asked for?
Rick knocked on the front window, alerting Claire that her few moments of reprieve were over. “Don’t go see him,” she said to Emily, her eyes imploring her. “I don’t think I could take another one of my friends getting hurt by him.” She stood up and then reached down to help Emily do the same. Claire smiled at her. “You know how much I love to match-make, but this isn’t a good match. Just take my word for it.”
Emily nodded her assent, because what else could she do? Claire had made a good point, one she couldn’t ignore. And yet as she waved good-bye to her friend and headed inside she couldn’t ignore Kyle’s plea either. He had asked for a chance to be heard. Didn’t everyone deserve that?
That afternoon while Amber napped, Emily snuck away to the end of the beach, to the place she had avoided all summer, the place where the house was falling into the sea. She wanted to see how much was left, and if the place still felt as special to her as it had that day on their honeymoon. Ryan had been alive and well and so near, close enough to touch, to kiss, to fall into step beside. And now he was gone and she was here without him, discovering feelings for someone else, as impossible as that felt, but realizing that someone wasn’t who she’d hoped he’d be. She carried Kyle’s shell in her pocket, her finger tracing the rough outline as she walked. What did it say about her that she was still tempted to go and hear Kyle out, even though she’d heard Claire’s very compelling side of things?
And yet Kyle said he had a side too. One that no one knew. One that it sounded like no one had ever given him a chance to tell. He’d come back here, left Hollywood, faced the music in a sense. Didn’t that count for something? What if Kyle missed Lily the way she missed Ryan? What if he was someone who could really understand the depth of her loss? Claire said that Kyle and Lily had been together their whole lives, practically. She knew that kind of loss had to have been substantial no matter what else—or who else—he had in his life.
She stood beside the house, her hand resting on the pilings stacked around it, someone’s effort to keep it from washing away even more. Loss, she thought, as she surveyed the house, was inevitable. Erosion and tides and the declining condition of the world would take its toll on all of us. Whether it was mistakes made long ago or jus
t last night, we would hurt ourselves and each other. She thought of one of the nights when Ryan had been in such agony, and instead of staying, she’d fled their house, leaving a hospice nurse to deal with him. She’d run away from their house, running as far and as fast as her legs would take her, reasoning as she ran how she could never set foot in that death house again. She’d run until she couldn’t run another step and then she’d sat down on the sidewalk, uncertain of where she even was, as she put her head between her knees, focusing on nothing else but catching her breath. The world—and all its pain—had fallen away as she focused on the pattern in the cement, a little line of ants traveling along it, the ant hill beyond.
A woman pushing a baby in a stroller had stopped and asked if she was okay. She’d looked up, surprised to see another human being. “I’m fine. I’m . . . just resting.” She gave the woman her bravest smile. “Leg cramp,” she explained. Satisfied, the woman had gone on and left her alone to sob in private, crying so hard she later vomited into the bushes before getting up and, because she had nowhere else to go, limping home, her pace slowed not by her legs but by the ache in her heart. It was in that moment that she’d finally admitted that she was losing Ryan and that there was no stopping the future that awaited her. One of loneliness and aching isolation.
The Bridge Tender Page 23
