by Tijan
This day couldn’t get any better. The only ones missing were Erica and Aunt Kathryn. Hell. Throw in the crazy grandmother, too.
She turned to her sister. “Excuse me?”
She tried not to study the other woman, who stood a little too close to Boone. All-white clothing molded to the slim redhead, with white pearls circling her neck and wrist.
“I called you a thief.” She said to Jake, “Arrest her.”
“For?”
Jake was frowning.
Julia’s eyes flashed. “I want Mom’s photograph back.”
Dani kept looking at Boone, and the hand that was resting on his arm. A part of her wanted to snatch it off him, but that wasn’t her place anymore. Feeling jealousy that she had no right to be feeling, she shoved it all down and concentrated. Her sister was trying to get her arrested—what a shocker.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Julia stepped toward her.
Jake hauled her back. “Whoa!” He clamped a hand on her arm. “You don’t take a threatening stance here. That’s not how anything’s going to get resolved.”
“There’s nothing to resolve. She stole a picture of my mother—”
“My mother.”
“Excuse me?” Julia’s eyes narrowed, her entire body went unnaturally still.
“My mother.” Dani didn’t move from behind the bar, but she wanted to. Letting go of the washcloth, her hands flattened on the counter. Her head lowered. Her eyes narrowed, mirroring her sister’s. “She’s mine, too. Maybe whatever was taken belonged to me as much as it did to you?”
“She did it.” Julia pointed at her, turning to Jake again. “You can arrest her. That was a confession.”
Jake tugged on his collar. His eyebrows bunched together. “That wasn’t a confession of anything, and this is a picture. You two are fighting over a photograph.”
“It’s something that’s priceless. It’s mine, and I want it back.”
It was more than priceless. It was a memory. It was a time capsule. It was the last item Dani had of her mother’s, and it was going to remain in her possession until she could pass it along to her children.
Jake let out an aggravated sigh. He raked a hand through his hair, looking at Dani. “Did you take it?”
A look of familiarity passed between them. He was remembering the times when they snuck into the creamery and stole candy, or when they sold candy at the football concession stands and pocketed a few items they shouldn’t have. He might’ve been a cop now, but he hadn’t always been above the law. Most those times were with her.
“Dani, come on. I’m not going to charge you. It’s your mom, too. I get it, but Julia has a right to know if you took the picture or not.”
She felt Boone observing the entire exchange. Her fingers curled into the counter, her nails pressed down. She couldn’t have taken away the way Jake just talked to her, how it spoke volumes of unsaid history between them. If it were her, she’d be hurting, but she didn’t dare sneak a peek at Boone.
She didn’t want to see what was there.
“Yeah.” Her tone cooled. She straightened up, her hands falling back to her side. “I took it.” Her eyes met her sister’s. “I’m not giving it back.”
“What?!”
Dani shrugged. “Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”
Julia’s reaction was immediate. She sucked in her breath. Her eyes widened, looking like they were going to pop out, and her cheeks reddened. She started forward again, saying, “You did not just say that!”
“He—hey!” Jake tried to haul her back. Julia kept coming. He jumped in front, holding both of his fiancé’s arms. He braced himself, holding her in place. “Stop! Julia. You can’t assault your own sister.”
“Watch me.” She lunged again, but he caught her in half of a hug/half of a hold. “Okay. We’re leaving.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Dani, stop pushing your sister’s buttons. We’re going, but I’d strongly advise you to give that picture back.”
She pressed her lips together. Fat chance of that happening.
Julia continued to protest, but Jake carried/dragged her out of the bar, leaving behind another awkward ex-couple. Dani pressed a hand to her forehead. She couldn’t imagine what Boone was thinking, and glancing to him, under lidded eyes, a wind swept through her. It took all her fight in one blast.
He was looking at her like she was a stranger. His top lip lifted in a small sneer. She was a stranger he didn’t like.
“Mitch, honey,” his friend started, patting his shoulder. “Maybe we—”
“Jenny.” He interrupted smoothly. His hand caught hers, holding it against him. “Why don’t you go see if your friend is okay? I’ll be right out.”
Surprise lined her eyes. She looked at Dani, then Boone, then the door. “Uh. Okay.” Her hand slid out from under his and she reluctantly walked for the door. She looked back twice before finally slipping outside.
“Boone.” Her eyes fell back to the counter. She didn’t know if she could bear looking at him again, see the disapproval or even the distaste in eyes that she once thought she loved. “I—”
“Don’t.” He gentled his tone. “Please, don’t.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I came to see you, and it’s been two days.”
“What?” She looked up now.
He was hurting. A vein stuck out from his neck. “I thought you would’ve found me, so that we could’ve done this in private.”
She hadn’t.
His voice was so quiet. “You never did.”
Oh. She laid her hand on the counter again, and spread it out. Her palm rested flat. She needed it for balance. It was like an anchor for her. “I—”
“You should give the money back.”
“What?”
“The award my family’s company gave you. You should give it back.”
Her eyebrows pulled in together. She was given that because she tried to save a house full of orphans. Her mind was buzzing. “I didn’t know that came from your family’s business. You used a different last name. I didn’t know you were a Quandry until you showed up in my cabin the other night.”
But maybe he was right? She’d been hailed a hero, even though so many children died. She had no doubt the money came to her because of him.
“You have money. I thought you didn’t have anything.”
“What?” She had money? Well, she did now. “I have money because of the award. I didn’t at the time.” He was right, but that didn’t matter. She’d get a job. The money wasn’t important.
“No. The settlement. Jenny’s become friends with your sister. She told her. You led me to believe you left home with nothing. That’s not true.” He tilted his head to the side. “Right?”
“What settlement?”
“Oh, hell.”
She twisted around. Mae was in the doorway behind her, another box in her hands. She had the door propped open with her leg, like she caught the tail end of their conversation and stopped abruptly. Blinking a couple times, her shoulders lifted up and she dragged in a deep breath of air. “Okay. Um.” She came out, placing the box on the bar beside Dani. The door swung shut behind her. She raked a hand through her hair. “Hello, I’m Mae O’Hara. I’m the owner of this place.” She waved a distracted hand around the bar, then resting on Dani’s arm. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to have a word with my niece.”
Boone nodded, giving both of them a second appraisal before leaving.
Both waited until the door closed behind him. They spoke at the same time.
Dani: “What settlement?”
Mae: “You and that man have history.”
Dani pressed her hands to her forehead. A migraine was coming, but she couldn’t ignore Mae’s words. “What?”
“You and that man.” Mae waved a finger in her face. “I came around before, but it looked too intense. I snuck off to the side to watch.”
“You were watching?” Da
ni had to laugh. Of course her aunt would watch. Why wouldn’t she? “Did you have a snack? Popcorn, perhaps?”
Mae ignored that. “Who is he?”
Dani had another retort to deliver, but swallowed it. She closed her mouth. “He’s no one.”
“Danielle O’Hara.”
“He’s…no one important.”
Mae spoke again, her voice patient and calm, “Who is he, Dani?” There was a grave expression in her eyes. “You need to tell me.”
“He—” It was painful to say these words. It was different with Jonah. He listened. He didn’t judge. He didn’t have questions afterwards. She knew there’d be questions now, and answers she didn’t want to give. They would be pulled from the depths of her, and she would feel split open when she gave them.
“Dani.” Another low warning.
“He was my fiancé.”
She closed her eyes. She waited. The barrage was about to happen.
Nothing.
She opened her eyes again. Mae was staring at her. There was no judgment, no anger. She lifted her chin up, slightly. “Did you love him?” There was nothing in her voice that Dani expected. It was kindness, and compassion.
Tears pricked at her eyes. Dani swore under her breath. Why would she start crying now? She flicked a hand over her eyes. “I did, but the timing was wrong. And…” She’d been a mess. An absolute, complete mess, and she still was.
“When did this happen?”
“Before I came here.”
“That’s why you came back.” There was new understanding in her aunt’s voice. “You came back to heal. Didn’t you?”
There was no holding the tears now. They fell, but she kept her eyes closed. She could try and slow them down.
“Oh, honey.” Mae drew her into her arms. She tucked her head into the crook of Dani’s neck and shoulder. Her voice came out muffled. “If I’d known, I—” She let out a shaky laugh. “I have no idea. We would’ve gotten drunk more often?”
Dani laughed. It split through some of her pain. She felt the pressure behind her forehead lessening, and she stepped back. “I’m fine, Aunt Mae. I am.” She used both palms to wipe the rest of her tears away. Mae knew part of the reason she came back. She didn’t know about the storm, or the children. Dani wasn’t ready to share those ghosts, not yet. “What settlement was he talking about?”
“Oh.” Mae cursed to herself. “Erica won a big settlement with the hospital a long time ago.”
“What settlement?” Her voice hitched on a high note. How many times did she have to ask?
Mae bit down on her lip, looking around the room. She was looking anywhere, but at Dani, then she stopped. Her eyes found Dani’s again. She dropped the bomb. “The hospital screwed up some of her lab results. They told her she was pregnant, and Erica stopped the chemotherapy. It was a mistake. She found out later there was no baby.”
The ground shifted under her.
Dani asked, her voice a hoarse rasp, “How much later?”
“She was sick a lot. She thought she lost the baby. Julia asked them to retest the blood from before. It wasn’t until after…”
She knew, but Dani wanted to hear the words. “After what?”
“After she was already gone. She never was pregnant.”
Her stomach dropped. It was her sister, hearing about an unborn child she never had, but Dani was back in that building. The first child died. The second. They just kept dying. She couldn’t stop them.
Mae continued, her voice sounding from a distance, “Julia pushed for the lawsuit. I think if Erica had chemo during that time, she’d be alive.” Mae paused a beat. “They settled for two million.”
Julia was rich. Good for her.
Erica thought she’d been pregnant…Dani ached inside. There were no words. It was her child’s life, or her own. She chose her child, and in the end it’d been for nothing, but Dani knew that Erica would’ve made the same choice if the same lie had been told to her. She knew, because it was the same choice Dani would’ve made, as well.
Dani left Mae’s Grill, went to the lake cabin, wrapped herself in a blanket and sat on the porch until it got dark. She cried that night. She didn’t know if she could stop, but it wasn’t just for her sister. She cried for all of them.
Her mother.
Her grandmother.
Mae.
Even Kathryn.
She cried for Erica. For Julia. For herself.
She cried for everyone. And when she stopped, she was raw and scraped hollow inside, but she cried even more.
Jonah found her like that. Her face was streaked with dried and fresh tears. Her blanket was a sopping mess. She had a Kleenex box beside her, half emptied because she used them all. He took one look at her, tucked his phone into his pocket, and he carried her to bed. She told him a little of what had transpired that day. He knew about Boone, but he hadn’t known about the settlement.
She lifted her head from his chest. “You didn’t know?”
He shook his head. His hand rubbed another tear from her eyelid. “I didn’t. I’m surprised, small town and everything. It must’ve happened before I came back.”
She rested her head to him again. It was time to talk to Julia. She didn’t care about the money, but finding out the reason, she hurt for her sister. Julia must’ve been there. She must’ve held Erica, maybe how Jonah was holding her, as Erica made her choice. Maybe not. It was probably Jake who held her, but did it even matter anymore?
For the first time since she left, Dani regretted leaving. She hadn’t been there for her family when she should’ve been.
She woke the next day with the same decision. It was time to face her ghosts, but she wanted more answers. A second trip to see her grandmother was in order.
The drive didn’t seem as long as her prior visit. Marge was at the front desk, and after one swift glance, she produced the same blank nametag and black marker with a smile. Dani filled it out.
Phyliss stood when she got to the second floor. She regarded her with reluctance “I don’t know if she’s up for a visit. Unfortunately.”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
“She’s pretty weak and down right now. She’s been bedridden for the last three days.”
“Is she sick?”
“She’s not physically sick. It’s part of her mental illness.”
“What does she have?”
Phyliss smiled. “You wouldn’t understand if I just gave you the clinical term, but I can talk in laymen’s terms since she gave us permission to talk with you. Your grandmother gets real sad at times and real happy at other times. You got her on a downward cycle last time, but now she’s fully at the bottom. It might take a while for her to come out of it.”
“I thought there were meds for this stuff.”
“There are.” Phyliss nodded. “But sometimes the meds aren’t enough.”
“What about therapy?”
“Your grandmother won’t do therapy. She says it’s hogwash. Truthfully, I just think your grandmother doesn’t want to talk about stuff that happened in her past.”
Dani accepted it, but she asked anyway, “Can I see her? Just for a little bit?”
“I wouldn’t want to see my grandmother as yours is,” Phyliss advised her. “But, if you’d really like, I could see if she wants to see you.”
Anything. She just wanted to see her again. “That’s fine with me.”
