The Love We Keep

by Toni Blake

  “Suzanne, am I imagining it, or...”

  “You’re moving your knee,” she said quietly.

  Just a little, and it took way more effort than the result looked like it should, but...

  “You’re moving your knee, Zack. You’re moving your knee!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ZACK’S LATEST MILESTONE had been celebrated with much yipping and howling with joy, and also with brownies, which had been deemed the next best thing behind sex. “Because, sorry, Suzie Q, but it’s too soon for me to do it again that fast.”

  “Don’t worry,” she’d told him on a laugh, “it’s too soon for me, too. I’ll go get the brownies and wine.” The two most wonderfully mismatched things she could think of for two wonderfully mismatched people to celebrate with.

  Now morning had come and they’d started a new day with breakfast and PT, during which he’d continued to succeed in moving his right leg. It clearly took tremendous effort, but Suzanne remained thrilled and amazed. As they sat down in the living room, Zack turned on the TV and Suzanne said, “I’m going to text Dahlia about your knee.”

  “Sounds good,” he replied. Most mornings Dahlia called, but not always and she hadn’t today. Suzanne supposed she and Zack had both started taking it in stride, considering Dahlia’s recent unpredictability a by-product of her travels.

  And Suzanne was also going to tell Meg. Because she should have before now. Despite the current complications in their friendship, Meg deserved to know he was making strides—and perhaps it would provide reassurance that Zack didn’t need her, thereby putting all that tension to rest. It would still leave the other big tension—the tension Meg didn’t even know about yet—but Suzanne would address that soon.

  She texted Dahlia: I have amazing news! Zack moved his knee a little last night!

  Then she texted Meg: Hey, ready for some great news? Zack has some feeling back in his leg, and he can even move his knee a little! He’s been making great progress.

  Dahlia texted back right away. Oh my, my, my! Best news I could possibly receive. He’s ecstatic, I’m sure.

  And before Suzanne could answer Dahlia, Meg replied, too. Really? That’s so great! I’m so happy for him! Do you think it will lead to a full recovery?

  To Dahlia, she said: Of course. We’re both thrilled. He moved it some during morning PT, too!

  And to Meg: Only time will tell. But I’ll be glad when he can get a real prognosis come spring.

  Even if, in a way, she was beginning to dread the coming of spring. She’d never dreamed such a feeling was possible. It was...attachment. And loving things just the way they were. Well, except for Zack’s injury, of course. And that was why, even while she dreaded spring, she also knew it brought with it hope, and answers.

  Dahlia texted again to say, That’s so wonderful! Give the boy a big kiss from his loving auntie. Which made Suzanne laugh a little, because she was pretty sure Dahlia knew any kiss from Suzanne wouldn’t be aunt-like.

  And Meg answered with, Please tell him I’m very happy for him. And thank you for letting me know, Suz. I miss you.

  Suzanne took all of that in. Meg still pushing for Zack to know she cared. But the fact that Meg still missed her tugged at her heart.

  She answered Dahlia first—it was so much easier, and she could be more honest. I will. And you’ll be happy to know we’re still getting along VERY well. She ended with a winking emoji.

  Only—crap—she hadn’t sent it to Dahlia; she’d sent it to Meg.

  She looked at her screen. How damning was it? Not...completely damning. But...well, at least the I will part made sense anyway.

  Her heart pounded as she stared at the phone, waiting for a reply. It took longer than the others. God, does she know? Did that one line completely spill the beans? Then a reply from Meg arrived. I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure it makes the situation easier.

  Suzanne read it a couple of times, trying to analyze it, feeling—as usual—all the maturity of a high schooler. Then she looked to Zack. “I’m going into my bedroom to call Dahlia.”

  He glanced absently from the TV to her. “Why do you have to go in the bedroom?”

  “Girl talk,” she said.

  This time he didn’t bother moving his eyes from the screen as he said, “I already know you told her we’re doing it if that’s your girl talk.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “How?”

  “She quit asking me. She wouldn’t have quit asking me if she didn’t already know. And actually—” now he shifted his eyes to her “—I guess you did me a favor since it saves me from having to deal with it.”

  She gave a nod. But then stood up. “I’m still going to the bedroom. Different girl talk.”

  He arched one brow, appearing amused. “You’re not having sex with anybody else, right? All these errands you go on. Hooking up with the butcher at Koester’s? One of the cooks at the Skipper’s Wheel?”

  But, amused or not, it sounded almost as if he actually considered them...well, an item. “No, it’s entirely different girl talk altogether. About other girls, actually. And I wouldn’t have the time or the energy to sleep with anyone else—you, Zack Sheppard, are a full-time job.” With that, she headed to the bedroom, closed the door, and called Dahlia.

  Her older friend didn’t bother with a hello, instead answering with, “If you’re calling to give me all the naughty details, I’m in.”

  “I’m not,” Suzanne firmly informed her. Instead, she explained what had just happened with Meg. “I’m worried I tipped her off.”

  She probably should have expected Dahlia’s airy response. “Does it matter? She’ll find out sooner or later.”

  Dahlia always handled everything with such a carefree attitude—which was probably something Suzanne should aspire to. As soon as she dealt with this sleeping-with-Meg’s-ex situation, which felt pretty dramatic to her even if it didn’t to Dahlia. Maybe nothing felt dramatic when you were a thousand miles away sipping rum runners in the sun. Maybe that explained Dahlia’s mysterious behavior altogether—perhaps she was so far away that everything happening here seemed like a fairy tale or, more accurately, a soap opera.

  “Guess I was hoping for later,” Suzanne said. “And definitely not over text. I want to be able to explain, make her understand.”

  “Don’t fret,” Dahlia replied. “You’ll find the right time to tell her, on your own terms.”

  * * *

  MEG AND LILA walked up Harbor Street, dusk leaving the snow almost tinted with gray. Both carried baskets of yarn and related tools.

  “I’m so excited about this it’s ridiculous,” Lila said, smiling. Indeed, her giddiness outshone the occasion—but it was her first winter here, and even in the glow of new love, February on Summer Island could begin to wear on a person.

  “It’s nice to get out,” Meg said in a more measured way—even as the lights of the Knitting Nook up the street beckoned warmly. She’d never knitted, but she crocheted a bit, and she’d started a multi-colored scarf at the last bee.

  “Then why do you seem so glum about it?” Lila asked.

  It irritated Meg that her mood showed—but she and Lila had grown closer lately, so despite that they didn’t always approach the world the same way, she decided to confide in her. “There’s something on my mind,” she said. “Do you think it’s possible...anything could be going on between Suzanne and Zack?”

  “Why?” Lila asked. Instead of just saying no. Hmm.

  Meg explained the weird text she’d gotten from Suzanne yesterday, ending with, “Don’t get me wrong—I’m thrilled about his progress. But the other part stuck in my head, about them getting along so well. And the wink. What did the wink mean? It just seemed like maybe...”

  “But if that’s what she meant, why would she be talking to you about it in a cryptic way, and like it was nothing?”

&nbs
p; Oh. Emotion had kept Meg from seeing that very sensible angle.

  “On the other hand,” Lila began, but then trailed off, peering back ahead.

  “On the other hand what?”

  “Well, Beck ran into Suzanne at the market one day and got a similar idea. He said she kept smiling as she talked about him. I thought he was jumping to silly conclusions. And maybe he was. Maybe you are, too. Because I’m sure she wouldn’t...you know, do that.”

  Meg tried to weigh it all. Beck’s observation gave her pause. But Lila was right. “I’m sure she wouldn’t, either. She could barely even tolerate Zack until recently. And even if he and I are history, friends just don’t get involved with each other’s exes.”

  “So then maybe the point of her text was—hey, I don’t hate him anymore,” Lila suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe so,” Meg said as they stepped up onto the low porch that lined the Knitting Nook and connected coffee shop, also open for the occasion.

  Allie opened the front door to greet them. “Come in, come in,” she said with a smile. “So good to see my new manager and her lovely sister.”

  As Meg and Lila followed the usual protocol of shedding their snow boots on a big mat by the door, Meg recognized Suzanne’s boots already there. Her stomach churned—despite the earlier invitation, she hadn’t expected Suzanne to come, and now she only prayed they could put the awkwardness behind them. And, of course, that both she and Beck had jumped to crazy conclusions and that Lila—not always seen as the levelheaded one—was correct on this particular subject.

  Audrey Fisher and the elderly Mrs. Bixby sat in easy chairs in one corner, knitting and chatting, coffee cups nearby. Another group that included Allie’s mother congregated in a different corner, and still a few more attendees perused the shelves that lined the walls, filled with every color of yarn. By herself in a small grouping of chairs near the back sat Suzanne.

  Suzanne didn’t knit, either, despite Lila having tried to teach her on a loom a couple of months ago, so she sat cupping a mug of cocoa in her hands and looking a little lonely. Lila asked quietly, “Do you want to sit with Suzanne?”

  “Yes,” Meg said without hesitation.

  Suzanne looked up as they approached. “It’s so good to see you both.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Meg told her.

  “Up to now,” she said, “it’s been hard to leave Zack. He fell once when I was away, and it became...an issue. But Trent came over tonight with some beer and stuff to make nachos, so I’m happy for a girls’ night out.”

  When Lila let out a laugh at what constituted a girls’ night on Summer Island in winter, Meg just smiled and said, “Get used to it.”

  As they settled in, starting on their projects, Lila again tried to interest Suzanne in working with looms, and Meg focused on her scarf, and things actually felt...normal. Normal when they discussed the weather. Normal when they shared who they’d seen where—a little island gossip was everything by the time February came. And normal even when they talked about Zack’s injury and progress in more detail. Meg didn’t think Suzanne seemed too smiley at all—she simply seemed pleased in the way any caregiver would. So I worried for nothing.

  The conversation spread across the room—Mrs. Bixby asked about Zack, and Suzanne replied with a more generic but upbeat progress report.

  “Trent was glad Zack wanted him to come over tonight,” Allie said. “He’s still getting used to our winters.”

  “Him and me both,” Lila announced. “Thank God for knitting bees.”

  “How is Dahlia’s vacation going?” Audrey Fisher asked.

  And Suzanne answered, “Fine. She seems to be enjoying the beach.”

  “She’s lucky you agreed to look after Zack,” Mrs. Bixby said.

  “Well...it’s convenient that I have a background in nursing.”

  “I heard that from Allie,” Mrs. Hobbs said. “I hadn’t realized you were a nurse.”

  “Don’t let it get around,” Suzanne said on a laugh. “It’s good for emergencies like this, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable going around unofficially treating every person on the island.”

  When the bigger conversation faded and people turned back to their smaller circles, relief washed over Suzanne. Every question had felt like a potential minefield to tiptoe through. And being face-to-face with Meg while a huge secret stood between them had her feeling guilty and on edge. So she resolved to tell Meg tonight. Later, when the crowd thinned. She’d find the right moment, pull her aside, or maybe even into the coffee shop. Regardless of where, though, she had to tell Meg before the evening ended.

  “Have you talked to Dahlia much?” Meg asked her now.

  Suzanne nodded. “Fairly often. Keeping her updated on Zack.”

  Meg sighed. “She’s called me a few times. But for some reason, I haven’t felt as comfortable calling her. I guess her leaving just still feels...off to me.”

  “I’ve mostly moved past it,” Suzanne said. “Even if I’ll never quite understand it.”

  “Where is she exactly?” Lila asked.

  Suzanne said, “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. She hasn’t said much about it. Or...maybe I haven’t really asked, first because I was mad and then later just busy with Zack. But somewhere on the Gulf Coast of Florida, I think. Originally they flew to Grand Cayman, but she recently told me Fort Myers when I asked.”

  Across a small table where their mugs all rested, Meg tilted her head and said, “She told me the Florida Keys, just last week. Islamorada to be exact.”

  The three of them exchanged looks, and Meg smirked lightly as Suzanne rolled her eyes. “That’s Dahlia for you. Lately anyway.”

  “Maybe they’re moving around a lot, not staying in one place,” Lila suggested.

  “And speaking of they,” Meg said, “did you ever find out any more about this Giselle person?”

  Suzanne shook her head. “I know she makes a mean mai tai, but that’s about it.” Then she let out a sigh, remembering a conversation from the last time she’d been here with Dahlia, in December. “I guess Dahlia won’t finish her blanket this winter after all.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Lila said. “She declared she was going to. Well, maybe next winter.”

  “Maybe,” Suzanne said. “Or not.” For some reason, she just didn’t feel as if Dahlia’s heart was in the same place as it had been before the holidays.

  “Could this all be about Mr. Desjardins?” Lila asked.

  And Suzanne sat up a little straighter. She’d been in the debonair gentleman’s corner the whole time he’d been smitten with Dahlia last fall.

  “You don’t think she’s really with Mr. Desjardins?” Meg asked. “That there is no Giselle?”

  Lila shook her head. “No, just that...well, maybe she regretted her decision. Maybe it put her in a funk.”

  Suzanne shrugged. “There was a time when I thought she’d really begun to care for him—right before she sent him packing and wouldn’t talk to me about it. So...maybe.”

  That was when Allie walked up with a smile and said, “I’m so glad you felt comfortable leaving Zack to come out tonight, Suzanne.”

  She nodded. “Me, too.” And left it at that. It had been nice to leave the minefield behind for safer ground and she didn’t particularly want to return.

  “When Trent and I saw you in the market, it just made our day to hear how well he’s doing. And it was clear to see how happy it makes you, too.”

  Okay, the minefield is getting more dangerous. She barely knew where to step. “Yeah, I never expected him to progress so much before spring.”

  “Well, it was obvious how much you care about him. You couldn’t stop smiling when you talked about him. We both think you’re exactly what Zack needs right now.”

  Kaboom.

  At some point, Suzanne’s eyes had glazed over—she ke
pt looking at Allie but couldn’t see her anymore. She could only feel...horror. Allie clearly didn’t understand what she was saying. Did she not know how much Meg used to love Zack? Did she not know about the tragic breakup just last summer? Maybe she didn’t—she was younger than them, only a casual friend despite being a lifelong islander. She obviously meant no malice, her tone pleasant and kind.

  When no one said another single word, however, Allie finally caught on. Way too late. “Oh—I hope I’m not speaking out of turn. Forget I said anything.” It came out playfully, though—like she’d just spilled the beans on a sweet secret that Meg and Lila would now gush over and congratulate Suzanne on.

  And as Allie flitted away, Suzanne couldn’t look at either Sloan sister. Now would be a good time to have some knitting to focus on. As it was, she stared into an empty hot chocolate mug at the little brown dregs in the bottom. And that was what she felt like. A dreg.

  When Meg’s voice came, it was low, strained, disbelieving. “You and Zack?”

  Suzanne began to sweat, her body heating up from the inside out, her face feeling as if it might melt right off. She tried to raise her gaze to Meg’s, but she didn’t make it, couldn’t force it, and stopped at the half-knitted scarf currently abandoned in her best friend’s lap. When she summoned the will to speak, it came out sounding mouse-like. “Kind of.”

  “Kind of?” Meg repeated accusingly.

  The two little words sucked all the air out of the space between them. Or at least Suzanne, for one, struggled to breathe. She kept trying to look at Meg, but still couldn’t—unable to face the hurt and betrayal glimmering in Meg’s eyes.

  “How could you?” Meg asked, her voice quiet but venomous. “How could you do that to me?”

  As if the act was a direct stab at her. As if it had anything to do with her at all. And even though Suzanne had completely expected this reaction, the words somehow offended her. “Well, it’s not like I waltzed up to him at a singles bar and asked what his sign is. I didn’t put the moves on him or anything. I didn’t even want him in my house. It just...happened.”