A Time for Us

by Amy Knupp

  From her spot in a large, rust-colored easy chair in the corner, Rachel watched for Mariah and sipped her juice. Mariah finally strode in and glanced around but didn’t notice Rachel before getting into the coffee line. Of course, she was likely looking for a blonde. Rachel’s uneasiness doubled.

  When Mariah eventually came around the corner, still searching, Rachel shyly waved to get her attention. She could hear and see Mariah’s gasp of shock when recognition dawned on her, even though Mariah was still halfway across the room.

  “Wow!” Mariah rushed over to her. “Rachel, you look amazing.”

  Rachel tried to convince herself Mariah meant it and smiled nervously. “I don’t know about amazing, but thanks.”

  “Still getting used to it?” Mariah nodded to Rachel’s hair as she took the adjacent chair and set her coffee on the table in the corner between them.

  Rachel nodded, her eyes wide with emphasis. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

  Mariah shook her head enthusiastically. “It looks really good. Really different but good. Has Cale seen it yet?”

  Rachel shook her head quickly, probably too quickly. She was all too aware of the fact that Cale hadn’t seen her new do. All too worried about what he would think. She’d spent too much time turning it over in her mind, recognizing that, though she hadn’t intended it as a test for him, she was scared to death of the prospect that he might not be nearly as interested in her now that her resemblance to Noelle was not so obvious.

  But the real question was, why had Mariah asked her that? Not that Rachel was going to voice the question aloud....

  An awkward silence fell between them as Mariah took a cautious sip of her steaming coffee.

  “What did you want to meet about today?” Rachel finally blurted out. “The benefit?”

  Mariah pulled her leg up into her own patterned easy chair. “Oh...no. Not at all. I just... I know we didn’t get off to the greatest start, what with my ‘great idea’ that I threw at you at that very first meeting. And I thought it’d be nice if we just got acquainted a little better outside of the publicity committee. I feel like I knew Noelle so much better than I know you. Cale seems to care about you, though. Quite a bit.”

  Alarm shot through Rachel. “We’re not—”

  “Maybe not yet but you never know. Anyway, I’ve felt bad about the way I pressured you when it so obviously made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry about that.”

  “You’re not going to try to talk me into it again today?” Rachel asked, forcing herself to smile in spite of the very real concern that that had been Mariah’s motivation.

  “No! I mean, don’t get me wrong. I still think it would be really powerful, but I’m not going to try to persuade you.”

  “Thanks.” Rachel breathed out and studied her juice. “I... It’s been really hard coming back to the island,” she said, her voice heavy with the sadness that seemed to be only a half layer below the surface lately. “I’ve had to face things I didn’t want to face....” Her voice cracked and she fought for control over her frayed emotions.

  “I understand.” Mariah reached out and touched her arm. “Really.”

  Rachel filled her lungs with air and felt a little steadier. “How long of a speech did you have in mind?”

  “Speech sounds so cold and impersonal...and long and intimidating,” Mariah said warmly. “I was thinking just a couple of minutes. Nothing major as far as time goes, though I know it would be major in other ways.”

  “Understatement.” Rachel bit her lip and again shook her head. “I walk around feeling like the littlest thing could set me off on a crying jag, you know? I’m not strong enough yet to think about talking about her in front of a large crowd.”

  “Fair enough. If you change your mind, though, it would require pretty much no advance notice to work you in. And it might, I don’t know, help you in some way as you process everything and try to get your equilibrium back. To be able to do that. Just...keep that in mind, okay?”

  Mariah’s words weren’t lost on Rachel. It would be a major step toward healing, to be able to do it. Rachel nodded, unable to commit.

  “I’m sorry,” Mariah said animatedly, sitting back in her chair. “I meant what I said...that isn’t why I invited you here. So, moving on...no more sad talk. Have you seen how hot Tim Bowman is these days? It’s become my goal in life to meet him before the concert.”

  Relieved at the subject change, Rachel laughed. “I’m thinking that shouldn’t be too hard to coordinate. We’ve got connections, you know.”

  The next hour flew by faster than Rachel would have imagined, especially after the rough start. It was tough not to like Cale’s sister...kind of like it was tough not to like Cale but without all the complications.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  RACHEL FINALLY GOT IT. She finally understood the saying “drowning in sorrow.” Thoroughly.

  As she sorted through Noelle’s DVDs in the living-room cabinet, the ones that had been untouched for so long they were coated with dust, her lungs had the sensation of being filled with something besides air. Her eyes...they were like a faucet that had been left on at a trickle for two weeks straight, and they were so red and swollen that blinking made them burn. And even though she’d done minimal physical activity for the past few weeks—kayaking was it—her body ached as if she’d been struggling against a riptide.

  She took another DVD box out and wiped it off with a dust rag. It was one of the Nicholas Sparks movies—Noelle had owned just about all of them and watched them over and over. Rachel had sat through one of them with her sister and had wanted to poke out her own eyeballs. She set it on the library-donation pile on the floor.

  Next, she hit Noelle’s Hugh Grant collection in full. Some of the movies Rachel liked, but most of them she hadn’t taken the time to watch. All of them were added to the donation pile because Noelle had been the only movie lover in the family. In fact, it would’ve been easier, both physically and emotionally, to just come in with a paper grocery sack and start stacking all of the movies in it without a glance, but Rachel was compelled to do this to herself, to face the memories. To show herself she could handle it.

  When she heard her mom come in the back door, she hurriedly used the filthy dust rag to wipe her eyes then swore at the stupid move as her eyes burned even more.

  “What’s wrong?” her mom asked as she entered the dimly lit living room.

  Rachel noticed her mom still looked taken aback and did a double take at her black hair even though she’d had days to get used to it. “Oooh.” Her mom’s concern turned to sympathy when she saw what Rachel was doing. “What made you decide to do that?”

  Rachel systematically transferred movies from the shelf to the pile, no longer torturing herself with memories specific to each individual title. Without looking up, she said, “I finished the bedroom. Figured this was next. We can probably get rid of this entire cabinet once I get Sawyer to take these to the library.”

  “You’re getting rid of all of them?”

  Rachel paused with her hand on top of the growing stack to glare at her mother. “We don’t watch movies, Mom. There’s no sense in keeping them.”

  “Oh, I want that one,” Jackie said, bending down to retrieve the chick flick on top. “Ah, and this.” She grabbed the next DVD, as well. When she realized Rachel was still eyeing her, she shrugged. “I watch movies now. She had some good ones.”

  “You might as well have a seat and help me if there are others you want.”

  Her mom kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged next to Rachel. “I didn’t realize you’d finished your bedroom.”

  Rachel inspected the next three cases and handed them over. “Just her side.”

  “Just the hard part,” her mom said. “I’m proud of you.”

  Rachel had nothing to say to that. Her mom probably wouldn’t be so proud if she had seen the way the task had practically defeated Rachel each time she’d worked on it. And she sure as hell wouldn�
�t be proud if she found out it’d resulted in her and Cale...

  There it was yet again—or maybe it never really stopped, just ebbed and flowed. The swirling, toxic, black guilt rushed into her chest. She was getting better at handling this, though. Her eyes didn’t even water anew. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that there was no moisture left in her tear ducts.

  “Damn,” her mom said as they continued to sort. When Rachel glanced up, Jackie was biting her lower lip and shaking her head morosely.

  “What?”

  Her mom seemed to fight for control for a few seconds. “I wish I’d taken the time then to watch some of these with her. So many nights, I came home from the office late and she’d be sitting there on the couch, wrapped up in a movie. And every time...” Her eyes closed and she pursed her lips together hard for several heartbeats. “Every time, she’d say, ‘Wanna join me, Mom?’ And every time, I’d say I was too tired, or too hungry, or had too much to do. So...damn...much...regret...” As she spoke, her voice went up in pitch till it was squeaky at the end of the sentence.

  So much for Rachel hanging on to her own composure. She threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut at the instant tears. Regret...God. She’d written the book on it.

  They both sat there mourning, crying silently, separately, for some time. After a while, her mom breathed in air as if her lungs had been completely empty. The next moment, her arms were around Rachel, and that, more than anything, absolutely killed her. Sobs racked Rachel’s shoulders. She was so absorbed in the pain it didn’t even occur to her to try to hide it—for once.

  “I can’t even tell you how much the regret hurts,” her mom said into her hair, and that made Rachel cry harder.

  When she could form words, Rachel said, “You...don’t...need...to.” She recognized she was on the verge of hyperventilating again and focused on calming herself down, counting slow, measured breaths. “I...have you...beat,” she eventually managed to say.

  Her mom squeezed her harder. “Shh. It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

  Rachel shook her head, keeping her face buried. “It’s not okay. It’s my fault.”

  Jackie loosened her grip and tried to make Rachel meet her eyes. “What’s your fault, Rachel?”

  It was time. She’d told Cale, but her mom deserved to know the truth about how Noelle had died. Why she’d died.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Th-that night,” she said, still breathing unevenly and fighting to get it under control. “Our f-fight.”

  “I know you and Noelle had a fight, sweetie. You told me that.” Her mom rubbed her hand back and forth over Rachel’s knee.

  “Not what it was about. It was about...Cale.”

  At her mom’s silence, Rachel dared to look at her. When she didn’t see the shock she expected in her mom’s eyes, she recited to her the main points of what had happened to send Noelle out of the house. And then she waited as her mother took it all in. Waited for an outburst, for the anger she deserved. Anticipated the blame.

  Her mom bit her lower lip again and held out her arms to Rachel. “Come here.”

  “What?” Rachel started shaking uncontrollably, stunned and relieved and horrified and overcome with guilt all at once.

  Jackie pulled her into a protective, loving mom-hug.

  “Why are you hugging me?” Rachel asked.

  “Ooh, sweetie.” Her mom hugged her intensely, squeezing the air out of her. Nodding. “I knew. Or suspected.”

  Rachel’s eyes popped open. “Suspected what?”

  “You and Noelle were so opposite in so many ways, but you always liked the same boys.”

  “Not always,” Rachel said defensively.

  “A lot.”

  “How would you even know that?”

  “I’m your mom.”

  “So?”

  “A mother knows things about her daughters. I knew that boy Noelle went to senior prom with was someone you had a crush on. And Jimmy Vargas. You both had a thing for him and we know how that ended.”

  Noelle had dated him the whole summer after their senior year.

  “Noelle never meant you any harm,” her mom continued. “I don’t think she was aware of it most of the time.”

  Rachel shook her head in agreement.

  “And you’ve spent all this time feeling guilty for finally letting her know.”

  Understatement of the century.

  “It killed her, Mom.”

  “No.” The fierceness of her mother’s reply startled her. It wasn’t just insistent; it was angry. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again, Rachel. What killed your sister was her own damn carelessness. Her self-centeredness. She was forced to pull her head out of everything Noelle, to face up to the way she’d inadvertently hurt you, and she couldn’t handle it.” Her mom stood, as if propelled by her outrage. “She ran away, Rachel. She left the house without the things that could have saved her life. She acted rashly, irresponsibly...”

  “Stupidly. Selfishly,” Rachel said, her mother’s rage catching. She jumped up from the floor, too, gritted her teeth, raised her fist in front of her as if she wanted to settle the score. Fire ignited within her and her control blew. “If she’d just stopped and picked up her purse, she’d probably be here with us today!”

  Her purse, which they’d later found, had contained both her inhaler and her cell phone. But Noelle had plucked only her keys off the table from where they’d sat right next to her purse.

  “It was just like her to waltz out of the house so carelessly,” Rachel said, venturing into angry-rant land. “I loved my sister with all my heart, but, God, why didn’t she use her head for one damn night?”

  Her mom stood staring at nothing, her arms crossed defiantly in front of her, the fingers of one hand pressed over her eyelids.

  “You’d think she could have grabbed her purse so she’d at least have her beloved lipstick! And her phone...God forbid she was ever isolated from all her friends. How could she leave without it the one night she absolutely needed it?” Rachel wandered over to the last family picture they’d had taken some seven years ago, a large, portait-size print on the wall, and stared up at Noelle. “Gaaah! I swear if you were here right now, I’d strangle you!” she screamed.

  She knew on some level she’d lost her damn mind, but she didn’t care. She wanted to rant and yell and let it be known that she was furious.

  She continued to pace the room and yell whatever came to mind for a couple more minutes before her mom came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her from the side. “It’s okay, sweetie. Get it out.”

  The semi-sane words in the face of Rachel’s insanity penetrated her dense haze of anger and ultimately made her fall apart. She clung to her mom and let the emotions pour out through her eyes in big, burning tears. They continued to hold on to each other as the night stretched out, eventually landing on the couch, side by side.

  “I wouldn’t really strangle her,” Rachel said at last in a hoarse whisper.

  “I know you wouldn’t. I know, Rachel.”

  “If I had had any idea she would get that upset, I never, ever would have said any of it, Mom. I’d do anything to have her back here.”

  “Me, too,” her mom said. “Anything in the world.”

  Rachel sank more deeply into the cushion behind her, letting her head fall on top of it, every muscle in her body spent. And yet...she felt as if she’d expelled some toxic air from inside of her, as if she was lighter somehow. In addition, for the first time since she’d moved back home, she felt close to her mother. Closer than they’d ever been in the past, even when they were so much alike. Back then, one of their similarities had been an avoidance of talking about anything too personal. Their conversations had centered on things like medical advances and test scores and her mother’s more challenging patients.

  Curling on her side to face her mom, Rachel leaned her head on her mom’s shoulder and clasped her upper arm. “I think I needed to do that, maybe.�
��

  “Needed to do what?”

  “Go on a psych-ward-worthy, crazy tirade.”

  “You’ve needed to do a lot of things, sweetie. And you’re doing them. Finally.”

  “I hate it. Hate. It.”

  Nodding in the near-dark, her mom said, “Pretty much sucks. We get so bowled over by grief and sadness, we forget to celebrate the wonderful, fun-loving girl Noelle was.”

  “That’s true.” Rachel had vague memories of talk at the meal after the funeral services about celebrating Noelle’s life, but she’d been so beyond comprehending the concept that day—and so set on avoiding thoughts of it ever since—that she’d never really considered what it would mean. “We should honor her somehow.”

  Jackie took Rachel’s hand in hers and squeezed. “I like that. Got any ideas?”

  “Actually...yeah. Something very Noelle. Come on.”

  Without a thought of her train-wreck appearance or what she was wearing, she led her mom out of the house and into the car.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  THE PUBLIC BEACH parking lot was deserted. Not surprising since it was after midnight. Even though it was a Friday night, beach traffic dwindled and tourists turned their attention to the bars and clubs after dark. Rachel pulled the car up in the space closest to the beach and hopped out.

  Her mom was slow to follow. By the time Jackie got out of the car, Rachel had impulsively grabbed the three oversize, mostly dry beach towels from her trunk. She had a bad habit of leaving them there after she went out in her kayak, but tonight they would come in handy.

  “What are we doing?” her mom asked, her light brown hair blowing in her face.

  “She loved the beach.”

  Her mom crossed her arms and looked out toward the water. “She adored the drama of the waves starting when you two were itty-bitty. I could barely keep her out of them from the time she could walk.” A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I remember the first time your dad took you two to the beach alone one weekend when I had to work. He came home and swore he’d never do that again. Trying to keep track of Noelle aged him five years in an afternoon.”