CHAPTER 8
“YOU LOOK LIKE CRAP. Are you going to tell me what is going on?” Cole asked me as he handed me a glass of red wine and sat down next to me in the den. Ever since I tucked the kids into bed, my mind has been racing. My hair was standing on end and I feared my nails were one bite away from falling off. The television was on but I had no idea what was playing. I couldn’t focus. My cat was curled up in my lap, sleeping. I absently petted her.
I leaned over and grabbed the remote control and turned the television off. “Bea came for a visit today.” I answered, solemnly.
He smiled. “Well, all the pieces fall into place now. What did the queen demand now?”
“Nothing. It was something completely different.” I started picking my cuticle, drawing blood. My voice barely a whisper, “She was at our wedding.”
“Excuse me?”
As he stroked my hair, I repeated what Beatrice had told me. When I was done he asked, “Are you okay with knowing she was there?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I took a sip of wine. “I think in a way I’m relieved she knows what we did. Keeping the secret all these years was exhausting. I no longer have to worry about the truth slipping out. I just can’t imagine what she must have felt like being on the sidelines the way she was, watching us from a far. What if Violet…”
Cole gently squeezed my knee. “Don’t even go there, Anna. It will never happen. You are nothing like your mother. You would never treat Violet or Harley the way she treated you.”
I stared into his eyes, urging him to continue, and he did. “Sweetheart, yes in retrospect, we didn’t handle everything perfectly, but we didn’t have much choice now did we? Don’t forget it was your mother who started it. She caused this, not you. You simply reacted.”
“In my head, I know you're right, but I still feel bad.” I took a large sip of Pinot Noir, “She brought up Michelle too.”
I couldn’t tell if it was real or if I imagined it, but darkness passed over Cole’s eyes at the mention of her name.
“Why did you kill our friendship with her?”
He took a sip of wine. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Come on Cole. I’m not stupid. Something happened, and I just don’t know what. We used to hang out with her all the time. When we first got engaged we’d have dinner with her at least once a week. At first I thought you didn’t like her boyfriend.”
“You mean Bobby? I didn’t. He was a pompous idiot.”
I smiled. “Yeah, he sure was. But there was something else. There had to be. After all, she broke up with him right before we went to St. Kitts. And almost every time I made plans you found a reason why we should cancel. It was months after the wedding before we spent time with her.”
“We had a lot going on, Anna. And we were at different places in our lives. You and I didn’t have much free time, and the time we had I wanted to spend with you.” He leaned over and kissed me for emphasis. I wasn’t buying it.
“Come on Cole. We had plenty of time to spend with other people. But every single time I mentioned getting together with Michelle you always nixed the idea. You’d either,” I made air quotes with my fingers, “remember you made other plans for us with someone else or you’d convince me that we needed some alone time.”
He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Isn’t it true?” I demanded.
After a moment softly he said, “Yes.”
“Why? My mother said…” I paused. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I knew I needed answers but I was petrified of what they would be. Fear and repulsion had been haunting me ever since Bea left the house.
“What did your mother say, Anna?” His tone was impatient.
I took a deep breath. “She told me something about Michelle. Something awful.” I swallowed hard. “She said she slept with all my boyfriends. Cole, did you and her ever…”
His eyes bulged, “How can you even ask me that question, Anna?”
“Cole. I—”
He banged his fist on the coffee table. “Damn it, Anna, don’t.” He stared straight ahead, and breathed deeply for a moment before he turned to face me.
“You know, I really don’t understand you sometimes. Have I not shown you day in and day out how much I love you? Have I not always been right at your side, no matter what? Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?”
I started to cry. “No,” I whispered.
“So how could you think I would sleep with your best friend behind your back?”
I sniffed. “I didn’t think you did.”
“Really, Anna? If you didn’t think it why did you ask me?” He picked up his glass of wine and took a sip.
“I don’t know, Cole. My mom came over and told me all these things about her. Then I remembered how strange you acted back then. I couldn’t help but wonder why.”
“But asking me if I slept with her, Anna? Really. I haven’t been with another woman since the day I met you. Do you know how hurtful your question is?”
I squeezed his thigh. “Yes. And I’m sorry, Cole. I know you’d never hurt me. But there has to be something more.” I stared at him. “Please, I need to know. What did you really have against her? What aren’t you telling me?”
He got up and walked to the window. I didn’t move. He stared at the backyard for a few minutes before he sat down next to me. He took another sip of wine. He bit his lower lip. “You’re right, Anna. There is more. And I probably should have told you years ago.”
My stomach cramped. “Told me what?”
“She tried to sleep with me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You know, she always was a flirt. But I never paid any attention to it, especially since she did it right in front of you.”
“She didn’t flirt with you.” I had no idea why I was defending her, but I felt like I had to.
“Yes, Anna, she did. A lot, but in a very laid back joking way. And, since you didn’t seem to mind, I figured it was harmless. After all, some girls are just that way.”
I took a sip of wine. “So what happened to have changed your mind?”
“The little bachelorette party she threw for you happened and she took things too far.”
I thought back to how she arranged for all of our college friends, most of whom I hadn’t seen since graduation, to get together about a month before our wedding.
“What happened?”
“Do you remember anything about the night?”
I scrunched my face. “Not really.”
“I’m not surprised. You were so trashed when she brought you home. I’ve never seen you so drunk, ever. It was bad; I was worried about you. I got you into bed. I thought she left, but she didn’t. When I came out of our room to get you some water to leave by the bed, I found her sitting on the couch. I asked her what she was still doing here and she said she wanted to talk to me about the wedding. I sat down next to her. She started asking me some lame questions about the trip. I realized, unlike you, she was stone cold sober.”
Cole reached over and picked up the bottle of Pinot Noir, which was sitting on the coffee table and topped off our glasses. He took a big gulp before continuing. “So one minute she was asking about airline shuttles and the next she was practically sitting on my lap. She kissed me. It happened so fast. I pushed her away.”
My mouth hung open, but I didn’t speak.
“I was shocked and repulsed. She was your best friend and she didn’t take the hint.” Cole started to shake his head from side to side, “She tried to straddle me. I literally pushed her onto the floor. I screamed at her. I asked her what she was doing. And she told me she was tired of waiting.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He sighed. “She said she knew I wanted her from the day we first met. I told her she was crazy. She laughed, but the laugh sounded evil. It was then I understood why you were so drunk and she wasn’t. She planned everything, seducing me was her
main goal for that night.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it. She was cocky and so sure of herself. In fact, she patted me on my chest and said my head was fighting but deep down my heart knew what it wanted. If that wasn’t bad enough, she also said I’m going to change your mind just like I have done with all the other guys. Then she left.”
Tears streamed down my face. “Why didn’t you tell me this? How could you have kept this from me all these years? I should have known what she was really like a long time ago. If I did, I never would have brought her to St. Kitts with us.”
Cole walked across the room where there was a tissue box. He handed me one and I dried my eyes and blew my nose.
“Anna, I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you. You were already hurting. Practically hanging on by a thread. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle any more. We were so close to the wedding. I didn’t want to have to tell you what your best friend was really like. I wanted you to have a little happiness. You deserved it.”
He ran his hands over his face. “I planned to tell you, really I did. But since I was able to get you to spend less time with her, I didn’t know what telling the truth would accomplish. The friendship died a natural death and you didn’t get your heart broken. I’m so sorry.” He leaned over and wiped a tear away from my check before he gave me a small kiss.
“I’m so angry,” I answered as I got up and paced the room. “And I'm so confused. I wish I'd known the truth, but you’re right. I don’t know if I could have handled knowing it then. Does anyone else know? Did you tell Connie?”
Cole chuckled as I sat back down. “What do you think? Do you think I would’ve been able to come up with this plan on my own? I’m not that bright, baby.”
I smiled, my first real smile of the night. “Well, yeah. That’s true.” I snuggled against him and we were both quiet for a few minutes. “Should I call Michelle? Confront her?”
“What’s the point?” Cole asked as he gently caressed my back. “The past is the past. Why cause stress in the present and add aggravation to the future? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“I don’t know,” I said as my voice cracked. “I’m so angry, and hurt. I thought she was my friend. How she could have done this to me?”
“I don’t know, Anna. I doubt we’ll ever know. She isn’t going to come clean and explain now after all these years. Look at it this way you learned a lesson. But addressing this now, so many years later…” he paused, “I just don’t know how it helps you. For all you know she thinks I told you the truth years ago. She’s the one with this on her conscience, not you. Besides, you have already gotten even with her.”
“How?” I asked, confused.
“By being happy. By having me love you. She always was, and will be, a sad little girl searching for love. That is why she did the things she did. She was jealous of you. You had what she longed for in so many ways.”
CHAPTER 9
“DAMN IT!” I MUTTERED to myself as I pulled into the circular driveway of my mother’s house and glanced at the clock on my dashboard. Eleven-fifteen. I was late and I knew from experience my mother didn’t tolerate tardiness well. We bicker enough as it is without me adding fuel to the fire.
I could just picture the scene inside. I would bet my favorite pair of shoes she was sitting on the couch in the living room, with her purse on her lap, glancing at her Rolex every ten seconds while muttering about how disrespectful I was to Walter. Then for the rest of the afternoon there would be an added undercurrent to every word out of her mouth, reminding me how I had derailed her perfect day by not being on time.
I exited the car and walked quickly to the front door. It was unseasonably warm outside and I was enjoying every second of the heat. We’ve had a very long, cold winter, and the sun felt beyond amazing on my face. As I approached the front door, I noticed it was open, so I walked inside. “Hello! I’m here,” I called out from the center hallway.
Walter’s robust voice greeted me back, “Hey there, Anna! Come on in! I’m in the living room.”
Do I know my mother or what?
Apparently not!
Instead of walking in on an impatient and upset Beatrice, I found a sweaty Walter, clutching a water bottle staring out the window. My mom was nowhere in sight.
“Hey Walter.”
He turned and when he saw me he flashed me his big boyish grin. “I’d give you a hug, but I think you are better off passing.” He joked.
“I’m not afraid of some sweat, I’m a mom, remember?” I replied as I gave him a quick hug. I glanced at my watch. “I know I am late. I’m sure my mother has been chewing your ear off about me for the past fifteen minutes.”
“Nope. She is running late too,” he said with a chuckle.
“Is she okay?” I asked, concerned. “I don’t think my mother has ever been late for anything, in her life.”
“Don’t worry, she is perfectly fine. We decided to take advantage of this delightful weather and went for a really long bike ride, and we sort of lost track of the time. She is showering now.”
“My mother, on a bike? Are you sure we are talking about the same person here? My mother is Beatrice Buchanan,” I joked. “I don’t think she even knows how to ride a bike.” My mind flashed back to my childhood. Rosie, our housekeeper and babysitter, taught Brody and me how to ride our bikes. She was the one who would accompany us on bike rides. I never saw my mom even so much as sit on a bicycle let alone ride one, unless you count the stationary ones at her country club’s gym.
Walter took a swig of his water. “There is a lot about that lady you probably don’t know, Anna. There is even more she’s slowly learning about herself as well. Here, look at this picture I took of her today.”
Walter pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his shorts and scrolled through a few photographs before handing me the device. “Look closely at it,” he said as he beamed.
I gazed at the picture and then made it larger. My mother was standing next to a bright red bike. She was wearing a pair of ratty sweatpants? I didn’t think she owned anything that wasn’t a designer brand. In one hand she held a helmet almost the exact shade of her bike. In the other hand there was a water bottle that she was drinking from. Her hair was not in its usual chignon; instead it was loose and blowing in the wind. Her eyes were twinkling with delight and she was glowing. But something definitely seemed off. Could it be?
Walter had his eyes on me as I surveyed the picture. Walter chuckled. “I guess you spotted it,” Walter stated as he sat down on the sofa.
I sat down next to him. I really need to work on my poker face. “Am I seeing this correctly?” I asked him. “Is she really not wearing any makeup?” I asked in disbelief. “I don’t think I have ever seen her without makeup in my entire life. Even when I was little, I remember waking up in the middle of the night, feeling sick, going into her room. I swear she had mascara and lipstick on!”
“I know, but naturally she's something else, isn’t she?” He didn’t wait for me to reply. He continued, “It took a lot of work on my part but slowly she is coming around and going bare. In fact lately when we are home alone, she doesn’t have a lick of makeup on. Now I haven’t been able to get her to go out of the house without it, but I am not giving up.” He winked at me. “When we first started dating I called her makeup her war paint. At first I thought it was just a joke, but I soon realized that was exactly what it was to her. It was a self-preservation method. She keeps her real self and emotions hidden under the mask she has created.”
Before I could say anything my mother appeared in the room, dressed in a black Channel pantsuit and fully made up. Walter and I exchanged silent grins. “I’m dreadfully sorry I’m late, Annabel. I know it was quite inconsiderate of me, but time just got away.” She glanced at her Rolex, “Oh my. We need to get going. Come on, I’ll drive.”
Neither one of us said much as we drove the short distance to the local florist. Instead we
just listened to the classical music that played on the car radio, both of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts. Beatrice found a parking spot right in front of the florist. As soon as we entered the mid-sized store I turned to the right and smiled. They still had the huge wall of photographs of all the baseball teams they had sponsored.
Since the florist was in business for over thirty years the wall was crammed full of pictures. Despite the quantity of pictures displayed I immediately spotted the one I was looking for. I traced my fingers along the face that belonged to my six-year-old brother. Brody was so excited the year he played baseball, and he looked so precious in his uniform. He was far from the best player, but he loved the game. I turned around and my mom was standing behind me looking at the same picture.
“He was so adorable, wasn’t he?” Without letting her reply I continued, smiling. “Do you remember the time he hit the ball way out into the park? His hit probably could have been a home run, but he ran the bases so slowly.” I smiled as the memory came flooding back. “When he finally got back to the dugout the coach asked him why he was running so slow and he replied his shoes were super fast but his legs weren’t?” I laughed as I finished.
My mom didn’t even smile. Instead she pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s not take a trip down memory lane. Please, we don’t have time for it. We have floral arrangements to pick out and we are already late for our appointment. Come on. Let’s get to work. Suzanne is waiting on us.” She marched to the back of the store. I lingered a few moments longer and stared at my brother’s face. I was always amazed how much Harley resembled him.
After ten minutes with Suzanne I felt like I was back at the stationery store picking out invitations. Suzanne showed us every possible type of centerpiece style. The possibilities seemed endless and we didn’t even discuss flower types yet. I feared this was going to be a very, very long day.
“There seems to be so many options. Don’t you think it would be better if we just tell you what we are looking for and go from there?” I asked in hope of speeding up the process. I really did want to spend some time with my kids today. Walter got me in the mood to go for a bike ride.
Plan Bea Page 7
