by Sheila Walsh
“I always found it kind of thrilling myself—fear and fascination rolled into one. Sort of like riding a roller coaster.”
“Except that with most roller coasters you have the reasonable expectation of finishing alive. Something about those narrow lanes and the way they shook when you drove over them, well . . . no thank you.” Ann shuddered at the memory. “This one’s amazing, though. Truly beautiful.”
“I think that’s particularly true right about now. Just as the sun is starting to fade. You want to walk across it? There’s a nice walking-biking path on the harbor side.”
“I think I’d love it.”
The two of them walked across, in no hurry, simply enjoying the view, the sunset, and each other. When they got to the first of the towers, Ann stopped and put her hands on one of the massive beams. “I can’t believe I haven’t driven out here to look at it before.”
“See, there’s more to Charleston than just the past. There’s the future too.”
“Perhaps, but I think this bridge proves my point, that the old is best demolished and forgotten.”
“Wrong again. If the engineers had tried to ignore past bridges rather than learn from their mistakes, well . . . we’d be standing on another narrow, bumpy bridge, now, wouldn’t we?”
“Do you always have an argument for everything?”
“Not always, only when I’m right—which, of course, I am most of the time. Someday you’ll come to appreciate my genius.”
“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you.” Even as she said it, Ann realized it was becoming less true with every passing minute.
Chapter 31
Sunday morning Ann found herself moping around the house. Ethan, her “friend,” had promised to come over after church, which was hours from now.
Well, there were plenty of things to be done around here. She knew she needed to sort through Sarah’s things, but she just wasn’t ready to do that yet. So she decided to spend the morning cleaning out the kitchen cabinets as a warm-up. There would be traces of her sister, but nothing too personal. She grabbed Ethan’s baseball cap—complete with pewter tankard stripe—and stuck it on her head. It would keep her hair out of her face while she worked.
Billy Joel sang on her iPod while she reorganized the silverware drawer and refolded the kitchen towels. Then, she sprinkled Comet in the kitchen sink, watched the porcelain turn a brighter shade of white as she scrubbed, and noted that the bleachy smell made her think of fresh starts. As she rinsed the last of the white paste down the drain, she looked out the kitchen window.
Odd. Tammy’s car was still in the driveway. Why wasn’t she at church?
Ann took a sip of water. A dark ache entered her core as she looked across the lawn. Something was wrong; she could sense it.
When she reached the door, she knocked softly. No response. She knocked harder. Then harder. Then an all-out pounding. “Tammy, Keith, Tammy—”
Tammy answered the door, still wearing a pale blue nightgown. There were dark circles under her eyes. “Hi, Ann.”
“Tammy, what’s wrong?”
She shrugged. “Keith’s not feeling very well. He was up a lot last night coughing and wheezing—he gets that way from time to time. Today I’m just letting him sleep in.”
“Oh, and you were resting too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just that I saw your car in the driveway and knew that something must be wrong.”
“No, it’s okay. I was up.”
“Do you need me to drive you to the doctor or anything? Go pick up some groceries?”
“You’re every bit as sweet as your sister.” She reached over and squeezed Ann’s hand. “We really don’t need anything.” She smiled so warmly that Ann felt tears forming behind her eyes. “I talked to the doctor. He said he’ll see us in his office first thing in the morning if Keith isn’t feeling better.”
Ann nodded. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help you?”
“Let me go see if he’s awake. I know he’ll want to see you if he is.” She returned a moment later. “He’s asleep, and the poor thing needs his rest. I’ll let him know you were here.”
Ann nodded and turned to leave. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
“Honey, you’ve done it already, just by being here.”
Ann walked out, thinking that she was completely unworthy of whatever it was that Tammy and Keith thought they saw in her.
Back at the house, Ann puzzled over the overwhelming sense of belonging she’d felt during this visit. The way these people all seemed to love her, in spite of the fact she knew she didn’t deserve any of it. It made her . . . homesick.
Her cell phone jangled from inside her purse. Maybe Ethan had decided to skip church and was calling to say he was on his way. She was smiling as she answered. “This is Ann.”
“Yes. It is. And aren’t I glad about that?” He paused just long enough for the reality to set in. “Since you’ve run out on me again, I thought I’d better call and make certain you’re still thinking of me.” Patrick Stinson’s voice sounded hard, threatening almost.
“Oh, you’ll just have to keep wondering about that.” She kept her tone light. “I will say that I have your project well under control. In fact, I’ve spent the last couple of days checking out paint samples.” Ann looked at the new colors on her wall. “Definitely making progress.”
“Good, I was hoping I wasn’t far from your mind. I like to know that your priorities are in the right place.”
The flatness of his tone, the undercurrent of threat—they were so far removed from the warmth she’d experienced at Tammy’s house just moments ago. Still, warm fuzzies did nothing to move her toward her goal, toward fulfilling her promise to Sarah and Nana. “I’d say my priorities are exactly where they should be.”
“Perfect. I’ve been thinking about us and our future partnership, and it seems to me that with all your recent travels, we have not properly cemented our relationship.”
“That’s right. We still haven’t signed a contract, have we? That is something we definitely need to do.” She’d deliberately misunderstood him, hoping to buy herself some more time and to remove from the table the threat of losing this job altogether.
He paused just a second. “No. I was thinking more about our personal relationship. It’s important to me to have a strong bond before I start doing business with someone. Your frequent absences seem to have prevented us from connecting the way I’d like for us to.”
Ann was not naive enough to have any doubt about his meaning. This was an ultimatum—not even stated in a false romantic light. Still, if she remained vague in her answers, she might be able to keep her options open. “It won’t be much longer. My house is almost ready to go on the market.”
“That’s great news. When are you coming back to New York?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“How about this, then? Tomorrow night we’ll have dinner, go to a show, maybe even a little dancing. You like to dance, don’t you, Ann? After a nice evening of celebrating our partnership, we’ll all meet at the office on Tuesday morning and sign the contracts.”
“Doesn’t the celebration usually happen after the contracts are signed?”
“I prefer to mix things up a little.” He said the words with humor in his voice, but Ann didn’t miss the implications. If she was going to work with him, there would no longer be the option of playing coy.
How high of a price was she willing to pay for her dream job? She knew that she couldn’t stay at Marston without his contract. She thought of Margaret’s order for $220,000 worth of furniture, of Beka and Gracie’s hope in a very expensive medication, and of the layoffs that had been in the works even before the company had been affected by a slow real estate market. Now there was nothing between unemployment for the entire staff and Patrick Stinson.
She thought about Ethan and Tammy and Keith and the unrestrained way that they loved her . . . No, not her. Just like Lorelei, they loved Sarah, not Ann. Tammy seem
ed to think Ann was like Sarah, but she wasn’t . . . Ethan had assumed she had the same faith as Nana and Sarah, but she didn’t . . .
In truth, it all was an illusion. There was nothing here for her. All that she had was her life in New York. It was the only thing that mattered because it was the only thing that was real.
Ann took a deep breath and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”
“Perfect. I look forward to it.”
Less than an hour later, a deliveryman brought a large bouquet of flowers to her door. The card said simply, “Anticipating.” It wasn’t signed. It didn’t have to be. Ann picked up her cell and began the process of bringing this part of her life to an end.
“Are you sure you want to put this up now? We can wait a few weeks, until you’ve got the place ready to show.” Eleanor’s red curls danced in the light breeze.
Ann nodded. “Don’t show it yet. Don’t advertise or put it on multiple listings until we’re ready, but I need this here right now. It’s my declaration of intent, I guess you might say.”
“This all seems a little sudden to me. I wish you’d slow down, think this through, make certain you’re not acting on impulse.”
“My decision is made.”
“All right.” Eleanor Light reached out to shake Ann’s hand. “Whatever makes you happy. I can see you’ve got some company, so I’ll get moving. I’ll be in touch next week.”
Ann turned around to see Ethan’s truck pulling into the driveway. Eleanor waved at him as she walked the length of the drive and climbed into the blue Mazda parked on the curb.
Ethan climbed slowly out of his truck and walked toward Ann, an accusation in every step he took. He put his hand on the sign and asked calmly, “What is this?”
Ann shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. “It’s a For Sale sign. What does it look like?”
“I thought that . . . well, I guess I hoped that . . .”
“You hoped that what, Ethan? I would stay here and pretend to be some southern belle who cares about what her neighbors are having for dinner or likes to live in old houses with floral curtains? That I would want to stay in this crummy old city because you’ve got a shiny new bridge? Well, I can tell you right now that’s not going to happen. I’ve got to finish up this work and get out of here. I’ve wanted out of here for as long as I can remember, which is why I live in New York now. That’s my home; it’s where I belong.”
He nodded, and Ann could see him swallow hard. The anger in her voice obviously hurt him, but that’s what she’d intended it to do. She needed to hurt him enough that he wouldn’t try to persuade her to change her mind. She needed to chase him off for good. “All right then. I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how strongly you felt about it.”
“Well, now you do. You said yourself it was easier for you with some distance between us. Guess what? New York’s a long way away.”
He nodded. “Well, I said I’d come over and help this afternoon, so let’s get started.” The pain in his voice almost brought her to her knees, but she held on.
“You know what, I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks for all you’ve done, but I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”
She turned around and walked into the house without looking back. After she closed the door, she leaned against it, then slid to a sitting position. But she did not allow herself to cry. After she heard the roar of his truck pulling away, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stood up. She had work to do. The first order of business was to return to the paint store and buy several gallons of white paint. There would be no warmth here. Not while Ann had anything to do with it.
Chapter 32
After Ann left, Tammy had eaten a quick breakfast then grabbed another hour or so of sleep. Now she stood at the sink, washing dishes from yesterday and today. Keith hadn’t wakened yet. She prayed that his day would be better after such a trying night.
“Annie, Annie!”
Tammy dropped the dish back into the sink and ran toward Keith’s room, following the sound of his shrieking. “Keith? What’s wrong?”
He was thrashing in the sheets: legs, arms, head, all moving in the asymmetrical dance of panic. “Annie!”
“Keith, Keith, wake up.” Tammy gently reached down and shook her son’s shoulders. “Wake up, darlin’. It’s only a dream. Only a bad, bad dream.”
Keith’s body went still and his head fell back onto the pillow. When his eyes finally opened, they were wide with fright. “Where’s Annie?”
“She’s at her house. Everything is fine.”
“Something’s wrong, Mama. Something’s real wrong.”
“Did you have a bad dream about Annie?”
“No. It wasn’t a dream. Something’s wrong.” His arms struggled up from beneath the sheets, and he grabbed her hand. “Something’s wrong with Annie.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I feel it.”
“Sweetie, I’m sure she’s fine. She came over to see you just a couple of hours ago. You were asleep, but maybe you heard her voice, hmm? That’s what happened. You heard her and somehow your sleeping mind thought that something was wrong with her.”
“No.” His face began to turn red. “No!” He started coughing.
“You’ve got to calm down.” She put another pillow beneath his shoulders and handed him a glass of water.
“Annie needs me.” He took a sip of the water, but the coughs didn’t altogether subside.
“Sweetie, you need to stay in bed right now and rest. Doctor said so.” She looked at her son and knew she had to think of something to calm him down. “Do you want me to see if she can come over for a minute? Would that make you feel better?”
“Yes.” His voice calmed and the redness began to drain from his face. “Get her, please.”
Tammy looked out the window toward Annie’s house. She didn’t want to leave Keith alone, but she knew that if Annie was painting, she would have her earbuds in and wouldn’t hear the phone.
“Sorry, Mama. Didn’t mean to yell.”
Tammy rubbed his forehead. “It’s okay. I’ll get Annie, but you stay real still, okay?”
“Okay.”
Tammy rushed across the lawn, not wanting to leave him alone for too long. He was sufficiently calmed now, but what if something else happened? She was almost to Ann’s kitchen door when she saw the For Sale sign. She simply looked at it, not moving, not breathing, not even able to think. Finally, she stumbled numbly forward and knocked at the door.
Ann jerked it open, her face set hard. “I’m painting. What do you need?” Everything about Ann seemed different from just a few hours ago. Her voice sounded so hollow; her eyes were flat.
“I . . . Keith wants to see you. He woke from a bad dream, and he just won’t be comforted until he sees that you’re okay.”
Ann rubbed her cheek with her shoulder. “Tell him I’m just fine, but that I’m right in the middle of a wall and I really need to get it finished. Tell him maybe I’ll see him later.”
Tammy nodded toward the sign. “You’re leaving?”
“Of course. That’s been the plan all along, right? I’ve got to sell this place and get on with my life.” Ann sounded so angry. Something must have happened, something terrible. Keith had been right.
“Annie, are you all right?”
“My name is Ann, and I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Tammy turned and took a step toward her house, but she couldn’t stand the thought of facing her son alone.
“Please, Ann, would you at least come talk to Keith? He’s so upset and worried about you.”
“I’m really busy trying to get things buttoned up before I leave. I just can’t spare the time right now. Will you tell him that I’m all right, and will you tell him good-bye for me?”
Tammy looked at her, uncertain if she should force her way inside and find out what had happened, or if she should just walk away. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
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“I’m sure.” Ann closed the door in Tammy’s face. Tammy stood still, unable to even breathe. What had happened since she’d seen Annie only a couple of hours ago? Worse yet, how was Keith going to make it through yet another major blow? This would rip him apart.
She rushed back home, scared of what kind of state she might find him in. Once inside, she heard only the tat tat tat of the cuckoo clock in the hallway. She tiptoed into Keith’s room, hoping he was asleep. He wasn’t.
He simply looked up and said, “Where’s Annie?”
Tammy swallowed hard. “She’s really busy right now, honey. She’s in the middle of painting, and it just wasn’t a good time for her to come over. She told me to tell you hello.” The word substitution in place of good-bye was one Tammy could live with.
“She’s leaving, isn’t she?” He said it in such a calm, resigned voice, it surprised Tammy.
“Yes, darlin’, I think she is.”
He nodded his head and closed his eyes. Quiet tears began to run down his cheeks. “It’s not right. She’s supposed to be here.”
Sometime later, after Tammy had comforted him and fixed him a bite to eat, he fell asleep. Only then did Tammy’s tears begin to fall.
By Monday morning, Ann had had very little sleep, but the walls were now a stark shade of snowy white. She walked through the house and gathered every single floral pillow and stuffed them inside a black, thirty-gallon trash bag. The sides bulged in places, stretching the plastic into a shade of gray. Next on the agenda—the photos under the glass on the coffee table.
She pulled an empty shoe box out of Sarah’s closet and stood in front of the table. She carefully lifted the glass and leaned it against the sofa, then removed the pictures, careful not to look at any of them. When the last one dropped into the box, Ann closed the lid and sealed it with two rows of duct tape. She tucked the box under her arm and tossed the bag over the other shoulder, then schlepped it all out to the detached garage.
As she walked back to the house, she couldn’t help but look at the white sign planted in her front yard—her public and irrevocable declaration that she was leaving this place for good. She never did belong here, and anyone who thought otherwise needed to see the hard truth for what it was.
