"When Lizzie, his wife, was really sick, I used to come by and visit. A lot of times, though, she would fall asleep and I would stay to keep Jesse company. It was hard for him, trying to look after his daughter. She was just a baby. I didn't realize at the time how hard that could be." She swallowed. "One night we sat outside, Jesse and me, and talked. He was so scared. So lonely. I don't think he'd admitted that to anyone before."
I could see that Jesse was slowly walking up the street toward the bakery. "Did something happen?" I asked, watching Jesse with one eye.
"It was stupid. One night we were having some wine and talking. Me about my bad marriage, him about his dying wife. I guess we both felt a little sorry for ourselves. He leaned over and kissed me," she said, blushing. "I let him because I was a little shocked, a little sorry for him. It wasn't a big deal, and that's all that happened, but to Jesse it was a huge betrayal. Whenever he saw me, he was ice-cold. He doesn't allow himself much in the way of failure."
"That's why he's mad at you--because you represent his failure to be a perfect husband."
"I guess." She leaned back. "He had also made me promise it wouldn't change my friendship with Liz, but it did. I felt uncomfortable, and I just stopped visiting her."
"And then he felt you had abandoned his wife."
"I guess, and if it made him feel better to be mad at me, then I was okay with it. Maybe I could have handled it better, for Lizzie's sake. But I didn't, and enough is enough. He's human too. He makes mistakes. And I'd tell him that if I saw him. I really would."
"You may have your chance, because he's walking up to the store right now."
Natalie's head spun around, just as Jesse reached the window. But he didn't stop. He just kept walking as if he didn't know we were there. Maybe he didn't. Or maybe I'd gotten on his bad side, just like Natalie, and now I was going to be ignored.
The whole way back to my grandmother's I replayed our conversation. I wanted to be angry at Jesse, but I just felt sorry for him. Not dead wife sorry, but sorry that he was so hard on himself, and by extension everyone else. Namely me. And that thought made me mad at him again. By the time I reached the front door, I was completely confused about everything, except that I was definitely not staying out of the investigation.
"Nell," Eleanor called out as I walked in the door. "Nell, is that you?"
I wanted to go upstairs, but I knew I couldn't. "Yes, I'm home."
"Come into the kitchen."
She was sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing the cast on her leg. "I can't wait to get this thing off," she said. She looked at me. "What's wrong?"
I shook my head. "Nothing."
"I know what it is," she said quietly. "Ryan called here. He's frantic. He said he called you half a dozen times today and you're not picking up your phone."
Ryan. I had forgotten about him. "I'll call him back right now." I took out my cell phone. There were five missed calls from Ryan and three from Amanda. Poor Amanda--he was enlisting her to bug me.
"Nell," my grandmother said softly. "This isn't any of my business, but if you're having doubts . . ."
"Are you telling me that no one has ever had doubts before they walked down the aisle?"
I sat next to her. She laid her hand on mine. "No."
"Did you have doubts when you married Grandpa?"
She smiled a little. "No. But it was a different time. He was heading to Korea. We wanted to have sex."
"Grandma!"
She shrugged. "So tell me about the help you've been giving Jesse."
"I don't want to talk about that."
"You think Ryan might have killed Marc, and you're trying to prove that he didn't."
I shook my head. "I don't know what I'm trying to prove anymore. I really don't. I just have to know the answer."
"Do you love Ryan?"
I looked into her gray-blue eyes. "Why are you asking me that?"
"You've been leaving your wedding invitations all over the place and following Jesse around."
"I left them one place, in Jesse's office. And I haven't been following Jesse around. I've been helping him."
"He doesn't seem to think so, at the moment, anyway."
"I admit we had a fight." I stopped and looked at her. "How do you know about that, anyway?" She smiled. I knew I was turning a little red. "Can I get anything past you?"
"I have spies," she laughed, waking up Barney, who had been sleeping in the corner.
"Barney?" I asked, only half kidding. I wasn't sure how she knew the things she knew anymore.
"Heavens, no. He's dumb as a post, poor handsome thing."
Upstairs I pushed my quilt off the bed and lay under a dark blue blanket. My cell phone rang. It was Ryan again. This time I picked up.
"Finally." His voice seemed far away. "Where have you been all day?"
"Why did you come up here the day Marc was killed?"
"What?"
"Just tell me?"
"I thought we should talk."
"You didn't come up here to get back together, then get spooked when you saw Marc? Because that's what I thought happened."
There was silence for a minute. "I meant what I said that day by the river. I realized what a stupid mistake I was making by letting you go."
"You told someone that at Moran's Pub."
"No, I didn't. What are you talking about?"
"You were on the phone at Moran's Pub the day of the murder. Who were you talking to?"
"How do you know that?" His voice was getting angry. I heard him take a breath. "I was talking to Amanda."
"What did she tell you?"
"She told me that I needed to decide what I wanted. And that once I knew I should go for it. So I decided to fight for you." He stopped. "Not like that. Not like that."
I stared at the ceiling, my mind blank. "You told Jesse that you went into the shop when I was there. That isn't true."
"I panicked. I knew it would look bad."
"Didn't you think Jesse would ask me the same question?"
"I knew you would back me up." I smiled a little at that. He was so sure of me. "It's not a big deal."
I sat up. "Why were you in the shop?"
"To talk to him. He kicked me out. I hit him," he said. "What does it matter? You need to put this behind you. We have to put the past behind us and just move on. You hear me?"
"Yes," I said, but my voice had gone dull.
"You love me, Nell."
"Can I call you tomorrow?"
"Jesus. Yeah, I guess. What's going on?"
"I'll call you tomorrow."
I clicked the end button on my cell phone and closed my eyes. Was he right? Should I just put the past behind me? And if I did, how much of the past should I let go of?
CHAPTER 55
The next morning I walked down to the river and sat on a rock near the spot where Ryan had reproposed to me. I looked out at the icy water. It was only early October, but the air was biting. My cheeks were numb and my eyes were starting to tear, but I couldn't leave that spot. I didn't spend fifty years with Ryan. I didn't have his children or watch his hair turn gray. And yet sitting here, I felt the loss of all of it. It had been hard when I felt he'd taken it away from me. Choosing to leave, which should have been easier, left me feeling sick.
I took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Ryan's number.
"Hey," came the voice on the other end. "What's wrong? Have you been crying?"
"I was thinking we should talk."
"About what? Us or the murder?" His voice had a hardness to it.
"Us."
"I'll get on the next train. I'll meet you at your grandmother's house," he said.
"You don't have to come up. I can come to the city. Amanda wants to get together for lunch, anyway."
"You can see her another time," he said softly. "I want to be alone with you."
It made me uncomfortable to hear the tenderness in his voice. As the morning wore on, my nerves got the better of me. I didn
't think sitting around my grandmother's kitchen table would make the conversation any easier, so I decided to meet him at the station.
The train was pulling up as I turned the corner. I could barely catch my breath, so I stopped and leaned against the station's small ticket booth. I knew I was doing the right thing, but I still hadn't found the right way to do it. Ryan would be off that train any minute. I swallowed hard as the train stopped. The doors opened and an older man got off at the door nearest me. Down the platform, I saw Ryan step off the train into the sunlight. I could see the cold air from his breath as he stood and put his gloves on. I didn't want to step out from behind the building. I wasn't ready for him to see me. I knew the minute he looked into my eyes, he would know it was over.
Then someone got off the train behind him. A woman. She was wearing a hat, scarf, long red coat, and tall black boots. There was almost no skin showing, but I knew who it was--Amanda. I didn't know if her presence would make things easier or harder, but this wasn't a conversation for three.
I stepped out from behind the building and started walking toward them when I saw Amanda grab Ryan's arm. He pulled away from her in an almost violent motion.
"Get away from me," he yelled. It stopped me in my tracks. "I'm not going to say it again."
"Ryan," she said meekly. She was crying.
"Hi," I said. They both turned to me and stared.
"I thought I was meeting you at your grandmother's," Ryan finally said.
"I decided to surprise you, but I guess you beat me to it." I could hear the flatness, the lack of emotion in my voice. I looked at Amanda, who was wiping the tears from her eyes. It was clear that she did not start crying as she stepped off the train. Her eyes were red and her face was swollen and flushed.
"I'm sorry," Amanda blurted out as though she had been holding it back with all her strength. Then she started crying again and walked down the platform toward the ticket booth.
"I was supposed to meet you at your grandmother's," Ryan said again.
I paused. I was watching Amanda sobbing and Ryan stammer. Then it hit me. "How long have you and Amanda . . ." I couldn't get the last word out.
"It's not like that."
"What's it like?"
Ryan looked at his feet and shook his head slowly. "I don't want to talk about this here."
"Is that why you postponed the wedding?" I tried to meet his eyes, but he avoided looking at me. "I knew you were lying to me about something. I guess it was easier to imagine you would kill someone, than . . . this. Isn't that sick?"
I smiled, but I felt like throwing up. I had spent the whole morning working on a speech explaining why I couldn't go through with the wedding--a speech that was both caring and clear. I hadn't even had a chance to say it and there was nothing else to say. I walked away.
"Nell," Amanda called out. "I know you hate me." She walked after me as I passed her by. "I didn't mean for it to happen. Ryan didn't either. It just did. We were both really torn about it. Really we were. He came up here to tell you and then that guy was killed and it seemed . . . I've felt just . . . you're my friend."
I wanted to be angry, but mostly I was numb. "Your friend?"
She started crying again. "I've always told you everything. And I've been hiding this away in some secret place, and it's felt so wrong. Not being able to talk to you."
"That's what felt wrong?" I walked away and she followed. I stopped. "You should be running after him. Not me." I turned away and walked as quickly as I could.
CHAPTER 56
I stopped twice on the way to the quilt shop to find some private place to cry. I kept thinking I would get sick, but it didn't happen. That was probably for the best, but it left a brick in my happen. That was probably for the best, but it left a brick in my stomach that I had to get rid of before I faced Eleanor and the rest of them. I stood on the sidewalk, closed my eyes, and took deep breaths.
"You okay? You look like you've been hit with a two-by-four."
I opened my eyes. Bernie was leaning into me, smiling worriedly the way people do around the insane.
"I'm fine." She reached out and touched my shoulder.
"Is it over?" she asked. I nodded. "Was it someone else?" I nodded again.
"How did you know?"
She shrugged. "I'd like to credit my psychic gifts, but I think I've just known too many men not to recognize a man with a secret when I see one."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Bernie smiled sadly. "I wanted to be wrong." We sat on the curb and watched Archers Rest at rush hour. Three cars drove by in five minutes.
"Why did you write Marc a note to see him later?"
Bernie looked a little confused, and then a smile took over her face. "Jesse asked me the same thing." She relaxed her shoulders. "Marc was going to fix some stuff at the house. I left him a key and a note."
"And he kept the note?"
"He kept the note and the key. I had to change the locks before that little bugger robbed me blind. He would have, you know. He's stolen from several people."
"So I've learned."
"Did you think Marc and I were having a torrid affair and I killed him in the heat of passion?"
I shrugged.
"Well, I hope you did. I like to think I still inspire that kind of gossip." She laughed to herself. "Are you going to the shop?"
"I'm on my way. Want to go together?"
She held up two deposit bags. "I have to go to the bank first, deposit one into my personal account and one into the business account. " She got up. "You have more than a few wonderful moments in your future, Nell."
"Psychic gifts tell you that?"
"No. I've just lived enough to know." Bernie hesitated, then crossed the street and headed for the bank. I watched her for a moment, trying to believe her, trying not to think about the scene at the train station.
As I watched her walk away, there was a feeling that came over me. What I was beginning to think about Marc's murder didn't make any sense, and I did my best to ignore it. It would have been possible, except I turned my head and saw Barney walking up the street, sniffing at every flower and fire hydrant he found. I was about to call out to him, but I knew he wouldn't hear, so I just waited for him to get close enough to see me. I admired dear old Barney. I wouldn't have taken the loss of something so important as easily as he had.
As Barney walked over to me wagging his tail, I felt my face turn hot. The brick in my stomach was jumping around. I wanted to pass out. I knew. I didn't know, and then a second later I did. And I didn't want to know. I took my cell phone from my pocket.
"Chief Dewalt," I heard Jesse say on the other end.
"Can you meet me at the shop?"
"Now?" I couldn't answer. "Is everything okay?" he asked.
The Lover's Knot: A Someday Quilts Mystery Page 27
