Follow Me Always

by HELEN HARDT

  I nod. “I have another copy from the lit course I took in college.”

  “I just started it. Since you love it so much, I figured it was time I gave it a read.”

  “What do you think so far?”

  “It’s a little slow.”

  “At first, yeah. But don’t give up on it. It’s a fantastic story. What are you reading, Dad?”

  He holds up his magazine. “Agriculture Weekly.”

  I smile. Dad really loves what he does. He always has. Those several months away from the farm must have been hell for him, and not just because he knew his wife was sleeping with someone else.

  Anger rears its ugly head.

  I take in a breath. Then another. Seventeen years ago, Skye. Seventeen fucking years. Just because it seems like yesterday to you doesn’t mean it was.

  “Guess what?” Dad says.

  “What?”

  “Mom and I just opened up Instagram accounts. It’s time for us to get on board with your new career. You look gorgeous in all those posts, sweetie.”

  I smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Have you eaten lunch yet?” Mom asks.

  “Not yet.”

  She puts her book down. “I’ll make you something.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll get something for myself.”

  Dad stands then. “I should be getting back to work. See you at dinner, sweetie.”

  “Actually…” I begin.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve decided to fly back to Boston tonight.”

  “But you just got here,” Dad says.

  “I know. And I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can, but I’m under contract, and I need to get back to work.”

  “Then why did you plan to stay the week?” Mom asks.

  Good question. I let out a breath as I decide to be honest. “I came back to figure some things out about myself.”

  “And have you?”

  I nod. “Not all of it, but I’ve got a good start. I appreciate our talk, Mom. And between Rosa Brooke and Braden, I think I’m on the right track.”

  “What are you talking about, sweetie?” Dad asks.

  “Didn’t you tell him?” I ask Mom.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Oh, Skye…”

  “Sorry, Mom, but he has a right to know.” I turn to Dad. “I asked Mom about why the two of you separated all those years ago, and she finally told me the truth.”

  Dad clears his throat. “Maggie…”

  “I made you look good,” Mom says. “It was my fault.”

  “It was both our faults,” he says. “Your mother wasn’t getting what she needed from me.”

  “Dad, I—”

  “That’s all I’ll say on the matter, Skye. Some things are between a husband and wife and aren’t anyone else’s business, especially their daughter’s.”

  “But I had to know,” I say. “It explains so much about me.”

  “She’s right, Steve.” Mom nods. “I should have talked to you first, but she’s right.”

  Dad heaves a sigh. “What’s done is done. Your mother and I got past it, and you need to as well.”

  “I will. Try to understand, though. This happened a long time ago, but because I didn’t remember, it seems like yesterday to me.”

  “Is this why you’re leaving early?” Mom asks.

  “No. Okay, maybe partially. I just need to let it sink in and give myself time to get over it. Also to get over my part in it. But I also have to get back to work. Susanne Cosmetics is naming a new nail color for me.”

  “Pink Skye?” My mom smiles.

  “Not after me. After some copy I wrote,” I explain. “It’s going to be called The Power of Pink.”

  “That’s wonderful, sweetie,” Dad says, “but I’m concerned about your feeling that you had a part in what happened between Mom and me. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “Thank you for saying that,” I say.

  “It’s true.”

  Yes, it’s true. For him. Not so much for me, but I don’t want to argue with my father. He and I have always been close, and with all those memories rushing back, I also remember how much I missed him during those months. He came for me every weekend, and we spent the whole day together, but it wasn’t enough.

  But if my parents could get over it, so can I.

  I head to the kitchen and fix a light lunch for myself.

  Then it dawns on me.

  I haven’t returned Braden’s call.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Sorry I missed your call,” I say to him. “I was…”

  “You were what?”

  I inhale deeply. No need to be nervous. “In a session. A therapy session.”

  “Why didn’t you want to tell me that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s personal, I guess.”

  “You mean you were ashamed.”

  “No, not really. I know I have no reason to be ashamed.”

  “But it’s kind of a stigma, right? The great Skye Manning should be able to fix everything herself.”

  I can’t help a chuckle. “It’s scary sometimes, how well you know me.”

  “I see a lot of myself in you.”

  “Except, as you told me the other day, I’m not actually a master of control. Not like you are, anyway.”

  “No, you’re not,” he says. “But that doesn’t make your need to be in charge any less valid.”

  “I know.”

  “Would it surprise you to know I’ve been to therapy?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Uh…yeah, actually. It would.”

  “I have. In fact, I have a standing monthly appointment with my therapist, just to check in.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t run a billion-dollar company if I’m not mentally healthy.”

  I let out a short laugh. “When you put it that way, it makes all sorts of sense.”

  “When I put it that way? What other way is there to put it?”

  “No other way,” I say. “Absolutely no other way. You’re right.”

  “As usual.” He smirks.

  Yeah, I can’t see him, but I know he’s smirking.

  “Did your session help you figure things out?” he continues.

  “It helped a lot, actually. I can’t say I have all the answers, but at least now I’m asking the right questions.”

  “Good. That’s good, Skye. I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m flying back to Boston tonight,” I tell him.

  “Why?”

  Why indeed? The lie I told my parents won’t fly with Braden. “I need a little distance from my parents. I found something out that has me disturbed.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Not over the phone, but I can tell you that I think it has something to do with why I am the way I am.”

  “Something related to the cornfield?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be home in a few days. We can talk then. Or whenever you’re ready.”

  “Okay.”

  “Goodbye, Skye.”

  “Bye, Braden.”

  Only after I end the call do I realize something profound.

  Braden didn’t pester me to tell him. Not the way I pester him about his childhood, his mother, and mostly about his relationship with Addison.

  Whenever you’re ready.

  I could attribute his words to any number of things. Maybe he’s busy right now, needs to get back to a meeting. Or maybe he’s at a late lunch and his food arrived. Maybe another call came in that he had to take right away.

  But in my heart, I know it’s none of those things.

  It’s Braden
giving me time to work stuff out, to be ready to talk about certain stuff.

  A luxury I never afforded him.

  I will now. I’ll see Apple, but only to find out why Addie’s stalking me. I won’t ask her about Addie and Braden, and I won’t ask Braden about his mother or about Addie no matter how much I want to know.

  He deserves the same respect he’s granting me.

  …

  I recognize Apple at once. Of course, because she’s Addie’s identical twin. At the same time, she also looks nothing like her.

  Their facial features are identical, but that’s where the resemblance ends. Apple’s hair is jet black now, obviously a dye job, as she and Addie are naturally blond. Her dark tresses are wound into a French braid that drapes over her left shoulder a la Katniss Everdeen. Apple has two nose rings and a lip ring, and black stars are tattooed around her left eye. She dresses similarly to Betsy except for the colors. Her peasant blouse and boho skirt are dark gray and black, respectively. Her fingernails and toenails are painted black as well, but her Birkenstocks are dark brown.

  She’s the anti-Addie, and it makes me want to chuckle.

  She approaches as I stand at the carousel waiting for my suitcase. “Skye?”

  “That’s me.” I hold out my hand. “How are you, Apple?”

  “Hanging.” She takes my hand and gives it a hard shake.

  I spy my black bag and grab it.

  “Come on,” Apple says. “I’m parked in the economy lot. You want me to take the bag?”

  “No valet?” I can’t help asking.

  She scoffs. “That’s Addie, not me. I don’t believe in spending money just because I can.”

  I smile. Definitely the anti-Addie. “I can handle the bag, but thanks.” I follow her to the parking lot where we take a long walk to her—I kid you not—VW Beetle. Lime green VW Beetle, at that. Not black.

  I’m beginning to really like Apple Ames.

  She unlocks the trunk and opens it, and I place my suitcase inside.

  “I thought we’d hit a bar and have a quick drink,” she says. “Somewhere public.”

  Man, she really is worried about Addie’s ears. “Okay. It’s early yet.”

  Somehow we end up at a small pub on the edge of Swampscott, the suburb where Bobby Black lives. I don’t mention that. Apple probably knows anyway.

  The bar is kind of a dive, but it’s quiet. We snag a small table in the back, and after a server takes our order, Apple starts talking.

  “I know Addie’s been warning you away from Braden Black,” she says.

  “Oh?”

  “Are you kidding? I know her MO. She’s been obsessed with him for over ten years.”

  “Is it true she stalked him?”

  Apple laughs. “Stalked? That’s a pretty tame word for what she did.”

  “What word would you use then?”

  “Ambush is more like it.”

  My heart nearly stops. “What do you mean?”

  “After he dumped her—”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I say. Curiosity is killing me, but I can’t hear anymore. “I get that she was shaken and all, but I really don’t want to—”

  “Shaken?” Apple fiddles with one of the many rings she’s wearing on her fingers. “Addie wasn’t shaken. Unless you mean shaken to the core by his rebuff.”

  “O…kay. That’s not how I heard it.”

  The server brings our drinks, and Apple takes a sip of her club soda. “Not surprising. There are only three people in the world who know what really happened. Addie, Braden, and me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I was there, Skye. I was there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I take a sip of my bourbon. It stings more than usual.

  Or is the sting from Apple’s words?

  If she’s telling me the truth—if she was actually there—then she knows what went on between Addie and Braden.

  She knows what I’ve been trying to get out of Braden for weeks now.

  She fucking knows.

  And then my own thoughts haunt me.

  Didn’t I just promise myself, after talking to Braden this afternoon, that I’d give him the space he seems to need to tell me everything?

  On his terms?

  In his own time?

  If I get the story from Apple, I’m breaking my silent promise to Braden.

  Damn, though. She’s here. Now. Ready to tell me what I’m dying to know.

  Ready to tell me…

  I almost lost Braden after Betsy told me what she knew. Then I did lose him because I couldn’t tell him why the neck binding was so important to me. But he loves me. He made love to me. And I love him more than anything.

  I still haven’t quite figured myself out, but I’m on my way. It has to do with punishment. Dire punishment that I feel I deserve. Rosa is right.

  Braden is right.

  Braden means everything to me, and if he finds out I got his story from someone else, he may never forgive me.

  Right now, he and I have a chance. I’m well on the way to being able to answer his question, and he’s not pushing me for information.

  That’s why I promised not to push him, either.

  If I let Apple give me her scoop, I’m betraying him.

  “You were there,” I echo her words.

  “I was.” She takes another sip and winces. “Soda water tastes like shit, but it’s color and preservative free.”

  “You don’t drink?”

  She shakes her head. “Not since I was a kid. I’m sure you’ve heard all about the parties Addie and I used to throw.”

  “Not really.” Just the one where Braden and Ben showed up, and Addie became obsessed with Braden.

  “Yeah, they were legendary. Once I got into Zen Buddhism, I stopped all the alcohol and drugs and began treating my body like the temple it is.”

  “I see.” Except treating the body like a temple apparently doesn’t negate ink and piercings. But hey, all God’s children…

  “Anyway,” she says, “the whole thing with Addie and Braden started at one of our parties. The folks were out of town, and Add and I had just finished high school.”

  He deserves the same respect he’s granting you, says the little angel on my shoulder.

  She’s willing to spill everything, chants the devil on the other side. You want to know. You know you want to know. It’s been killing you.

  “Anyway, that’s how it started. I’m not sure how, but Braden and Ben Black ended up at one of our parties.”

  I hold up my hand. I can’t do this to Braden. “Stop. Please.”

  “Why? You want to know, right? Of course you already know how incredible looking they both are, so they were a big hit.”

  “A couple guys from South Boston?”

  “Yeah, weird, right? But somehow they found out about our shindig, and they showed up. Addie and I were barely eighteen, and we were intent on slumming it a little that summer. Braden and Ben Black were the perfect candidates.”

  “How did she and—”

  He deserves the same respect he’s granting you, says the little angel on my shoulder.

  She’s willing to spill everything, chants the devil. Everything.

  I take another sip of bourbon. “ “I can’t listen to any more.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I wish I were, but I made a promise to myself that I’d let Braden tell me this stuff when he was ready.”

  “He won’t be ready,” Apple says. “Ever.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She doesn’t reply. Just takes another sip of the soda water she hates. Then, “I’m trying to help you.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. I really do.”

  “Tell y
ou what.” She finishes her soda water. “I’ll take you home. You have my number. If you change your mind, I’m here.”

  “Why do you care about telling me this stuff?”

  “I already told you. The enemy of my enemy, sweetheart.”

  “Addie and I aren’t enemies.”

  “You may not think so. She does.”

  “Why? I’ll never have her following.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You have something else she wants. Something she’s always wanted and could never have.”

  “Braden?”

  “Partially, yes.”

  “Braden and I aren’t even together right now, so I no longer have him.”

  “He’s really into you, though,” Apple says. “And Addie knows it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next morning I awake from thrashing dreams all night.

  The cornfield. Running. The praying mantis. But I’m also running from the image of my mother and Mario in bed together. Naked.

  The scarecrow. The pole.

  The fear and pain when I hit it…

  How could I have buried that memory?

  How?

  But the how doesn’t matter so much. I’m aware of it now, and though it hurts, it has a purpose to serve. I rise and start a pot of coffee. I have a phone call with Rosa at three—two her time. Before then, I need to do a Susie post…and I need to call Tessa. She hasn’t returned my call, and it’s time to work this out. I need her.

  I scoff at myself. I need her.

  I’m not wrong. I do need her, but maybe I should be focusing on her needs and not my own. This controlling part of my nature… Is it rooted in selfishness? In self-absorption? Man, something else to ask Rosa this afternoon.

  I made a promise to myself yesterday that I’d let Braden have the space he requires concerning his past. That I’ll no longer ask.

  Oh, yeah, it will be difficult, but I’m determined. He deserves the same respect he’s giving me.

  And so does Tessa.

  Yes, I need her, but this isn’t about me. It’s about her. And I know what to do.

  I grab my phone and call her.

  It goes to her voicemail, of course.

  I exhale. “Hi, Tess, it’s me. Skye. I’m back home now, and I want you to know I’m here for you if you need me. I really want to work things out, but if you need space right now, I hear you. Feel free to call me. Or not. It’s up to you. But I’m here and I love you.”