Summer of Two Wishes (13 page)

He was starting to wonder if he’d done something to piss God off. One day everything was great and the next, his whole world had exploded. “You’ve made your decision for now, I guess. I need to go. Shut the door, would you?”

“Wyatt…I am so sorry—”

He reached across the car and pulled the passenger door shut. He had to get out of there before he did or said something he would regret.

Sorry.
The word clanged like a death knell in his head. He revved the engine and spun his tires on the gravel drive. As he barreled up to the main road, he got out his cell phone and flipped it open, dialed a number. His pulse was pounding.

The phone rang. “Caroline?” he said when she answered. “How about that drink?”

Macy went from feeling awful to feeling as helpless as a pig in quicksand, as her father used to say.

She’d never seen Wyatt look so angry, so distraught, so hurt, and she couldn’t bear that she was the cause of it. Her guilt—a new and faithful companion to rival Milo, who was sprawled on the end of her bed—made for a sleepless night. She was awake at six, lying on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Wyatt…he’d given her so much, had adored her so completely. Was she being too hasty, rushing toward a decision? Had she really thought everything through? Could she imagine life without Wyatt?

About three months ago, Wyatt had seen Macy at the daycare where her cousin Chloe took her toddlers, which was just around the corner from his office. Macy liked to stop there from time to time when she saw them outside playing. Wyatt had come into the yard and sat on a bench, watching as Macy helped the boys swing, then down the slide, catching them when they came down.

Finally, exhausted from chasing two eighteen-month-olds, she’d fallen onto the bench beside Wyatt and put her hand on her knee.

“It might be a good thing you lost your job,” he’d said.

Macy didn’t think so. A statewide shortfall had led to cutting the staff back to bare bones. The last ones in were the first ones out, and Macy had gotten her pink slip on a Friday afternoon with instructions to hand over her caseload. She’d been trying to get on with a nonprofit since then. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I think we need to have our own kids,” he’d said, covering her hand with his.

She must have looked uncertain because he twisted toward her and said, “Macy, let’s have babies. Let’s do a nursery and all of that. Let’s bring little Macys and Wyatts into this world.”

“I can still work and have kids.”

“It’s a thankless job. And being a mother is a fulltime job.”

He’d talked her into it, maybe because Finn had said essentially the same things at one time. “Can’t save them all, baby,” he’d said.

So Macy had stopped looking for work and started thinking about having babies.

And now, she had to stop thinking of the past and get her life moving again.

She made herself get up. She’d missed the last two or three weekly weaving classes. Not today. She showered and put on a silky floral skirt, a linen top, and a little bit of makeup. She had just slipped on her sandals when her cell phone rang.

“Hello, Macy?” a woman’s voice asked pleasantly when Macy answered it. “It’s Lucy Simms.”

Uncomfortable with her mother’s legal advice or that of any of her mother’s friends, Macy had contacted Lucy Simms about her unique marital situation. “Hi, Lucy,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m great! Sorry to call so early, but I’ve been doing some research and found something I thought I should pass on. Have you decided which paperwork you want to file?”

“I, ah…I’m still weighing things.”

“Sure, sure,” Lucy said, sounding like she was in a rush. “Here’s a little wrinkle for you to think about. Your first husband’s estate must be restored to him, and I remember you said it was on the block. Have you sold it?”

“No,” Macy said. “It was scheduled to close, but my hus—Wyatt has cancelled the sale.”

“Good! Because if it had sold, you’d have to pay your first husband the value of the real property, but unfortunately, he’d not get the real property returned to him. I remember you said you wanted him to have the land. This all has to do with the buyer being held harmless. Following?”

“Yes,” Macy said.

“That’s it. Just let me know which way you want to go at your earliest convenience and we’ll get it going.”

“I’ll call you soon,” Macy said, hoping that much was true.

She hung up and stared at the wall. If Finn had escaped just two weeks later, there wouldn’t have been a ranch for him to come home to. He would have lost it all. That was too close for comfort.

Macy shook her head and called Sam. “I was thinking, maybe we could have lunch before weaving class? I could really use someone to talk to. It’s been complete craziness since Finn came home,” she said.

“Craziness. Why?” Sam asked.

“Why? Well it goes like this: I have to divorce Finn to make my marriage to Wyatt legal, or declare my marriage to Wyatt void so that my first marriage stands.”

“Uh-huh?” Sam said.

Uh-huh
? What was up with Sam? “Okay, well, this decision is sort of a life-altering event, and I could use a friendly ear.”

That was met with silence. Macy waited. “Hello?” she said softly.

“I really can’t, Macy. It’s my only day off this week and I have a ton of errands to run.”

Macy blinked. “Okay,” she said carefully. “But I’ll see you in class?”

“Sure,” Sam said. “See you.” She hung up, leaving Macy feeling confused and wondering what was wrong with her friend.

Samantha was already seated at their table when Macy walked into the Hill Country Weavers in Austin. Samantha thought Macy looked very fresh and put together with her cute skirt and top and sandals for a woman with two husbands.

It was a rude thought, and that bothered Samantha, because she’d had several of them lately. Macy was her best friend. Maybe her
only
friend. Samantha hadn’t been very social since Tyler died.

But since the news about Finn broke, Samantha hadn’t been able to look at Macy the same way. She kept finding things wrong with Macy, and that bothered her, too, because she really wasn’t a fault-finding person. Samantha liked to believe she was a good and loyal friend. And Macy had been so kind to her the first time she met her at the survivors group. Samantha had not wanted to go, really, because it seemed impossible to share that kind of grief. But at the same time, she felt like she was drowning in it.

Macy seemed to sense just how dejected Samantha was feeling that day—she’d walked up to her at the break and said, “Do you like bagels?”

Samantha had shaken her head.

“Me either,” Macy said. “I wish people would be less health conscious and bring some good old Round Rock doughnuts. Seriously—a
doughnut.
We lost our husbands! We don’t need bagels, we need doughnuts!”

It was the first time Samantha had heard someone joke about it. She must have looked at Macy strangely, because Macy said, “Hey, you can’t cry
all
the time.” She smiled. “I’m Macy Lockhart, widow.”

Samantha remembered how odd it had felt when she’d tried to smile back. “Samantha Delaney, widow.”

“What was his name?” Macy asked.

“Tyler,” Samantha had responded, almost choking on the word.

“Do you have any pictures?”

Samantha had pictures and stories—and Macy had listened to every single one of them.

It was Macy’s idea to take art classes together to get their minds off their losses. They’d begun with photography, but that hadn’t worked—they were only reminded of how many photos would be taken without Finn and Tyler. They’d gone on to ceramics, which had been a little better, except that the instructor, Pat, had two sons in Iraq and loved to talk about the phone calls and letters she got from them. She acted like they were on vacation over there, just chilling in Basra. Neither Macy nor Samantha could focus on working with clay, and they’d ended the class with a pair of misshapen wine goblets.

After ceramics, Macy had met Wyatt, and Macy and Samantha’s foray into art had taken a small detour. Macy suggested boot camp. “We need something to kick our butts and get us back into life, right?” she’d said, and had pulled a reluctant Samantha along. Macy was right about one thing—it kicked their butts. After they’d finished boot camp, Macy’s relationship with Wyatt had turned serious, and Samantha didn’t see her as often. But Macy had called her at the beginning of the year to see if she wanted to take the weaving class, and Samantha…Samantha had been so desperate for something to do and for a true friend that she’d leapt at the chance.

When they’d seen the looms, they’d both agreed—their projects would be something easy. Samantha wanted to make a wall hanging for her mother. Macy had done a lot of research on the Lockhart family name and wanted to a weave a lap rug of the Lockhart clan plaid. Both projects were basic squares with some color in them, and that seemed doable to the two of them.

Unfortunately, Samantha had done something wrong, and her perfect square of a project was beginning to resemble a triangle. It seemed to be a symbol of her life, going off in a direction she did not want.

“Hey,” Macy said as she took up her seat next to Samantha. “Wow, I love that shade of red on you, Sam.”

Self-conscious, Samantha looked down at her blouse. No one ever complimented her. “Thanks. So how goes it?”

Macy sighed. “Let’s just say I’ve had better weeks.” She put her purse down, looked at Samantha, and tried to smile. “It’s good to see you, Sam. I’ve missed you. What have you been up to?”

“The usual,” Samantha said, meaning absolutely nothing. “Work. Project Lifeline.”

“Yeah, thanks for covering for me,” Macy said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get much done. Just too much on my mind,” she said, making a fluttering motion at her head. “But at least I got the envelopes stuffed.”

“Great,” Samantha said, and began to fidget with her weaving frame.

“Wyatt said you and he had coffee,” Macy said.

Samantha concentrated on her frame. “He showed up when I was closing.” When he’d come in, Samantha had been reminded of how she and Macy would meet at the end of the day and Wyatt would come in to get Macy.

“So tell me the truth, Sam. How did he seem to you?” Macy asked.

Samantha’s hand stilled on the frame. Was she kidding? “He was upset,” Samantha said coolly, shifting her gaze to Macy. “He really needed a friend.”

Macy’s face fell and she looked down. “Yeah.” She suddenly sagged, braced her elbows on the table, and covered her face with her hands for a moment. “Honestly, Sam—I feel like I am drowning.” She lowered her hands and looked at Samantha.

Samantha could see that Macy was tortured, but instead of feeling empathy, she was annoyed.

“It is the cruelest, hardest thing to make this choice,” Macy said.

“Personally, I don’t see the problem,” Samantha said bluntly. “There is only one answer.”

Macy looked at Samantha. “Only one answer? There are two men involved, remember?”

“How could I forget? Not everyone seems to think your situation is as big a drama as you do.”

Macy gasped. “Hey! I’m talking to you because you are my best friend!”

“And I thought you were mine, Macy,” Samantha said curtly, feeling the simmering anger begin to boil. “But you seem to have forgotten that I’ve lost my husband and he’s not coming back!”

“Are you
kidding?
” Macy said hotly. “You’re going to make this about Tyler, just like you make everything about him?”

“Ladies, excuse me.”

The voice startled Samantha and Macy both. They looked up into the smiling face of their instructor, Eliza. “We’re going to be reviewing fibers today before you get started on your projects. We’ll be starting in about five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Macy said, and waited until Eliza had moved to the next table before turning to look at Samantha again.

She seemed almost sorry for Samantha, and that made Samantha even angrier. “Look, I’m sorry, Sam,” she said, putting her hand on Samantha’s arm. “I didn’t mean that. I would give anything if you could have Tyler back—”

“No, don’t do that,” Samantha said, jerking her arm free of Macy’s touch. “Don’t you become one of those people who tells me
sorry, sorry for your loss,
because you know sorry doesn’t cut it.
Sorry
is a stupid, empty word!”

“Yes, I know, I know, but it’s true—”

“Oh for God’s sake, would you stop?” Samantha snapped.

Macy’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on with you?” she whispered hotly. “Why are you talking to me like this, like I’m your enemy? Do you think you’re the only one who needs a friend?”

The anger inside Samantha surged to a new and dangerous height. “What’s going on,
Macy,
is that I can’t sit here and listen to you whine about your dilemma. You
have
no dilemma! Finn came home, end of story! You ought to be on your knees thanking God that he’s alive, and welcome him home and never let him out of your sight again!
That’s
the only right answer!”

Macy blanched. “I
do
thank God he’s alive! But what about Wyatt?”

“What about Wyatt? Yes, I feel sorry for him because you are putting him through hell. But here’s the big difference between you and me—I wouldn’t have a second husband to worry about. I would have never,” she said, her voice shaking, “let go of Tyler like you let go of Finn. Haven’t you noticed? I
never
go out. I never date; I haven’t thrown out any of his stuff or even packed it away. I don’t because I still love Tyler and I still miss him so much that I don’t even want to get up every morning.” Tears were running down her face now, and Samantha swiped at them.

But instead of humbling Macy as she’d fully intended to do, Macy’s eyes shone with fury. “So I guess you think you’re honoring Tyler’s memory by living in your own little hell, huh? How dare you judge me like that, Sam, just because I didn’t grieve the way you did. Excuse
me
if I chose to live my life for me instead of Finn.”

“You never should have married Wyatt,” Samantha said in a low voice.

“Yes, Sam, you’ve made your opinion of that perfectly clear at every opportunity. But I’m not
you
.”

“Oh, come on, Macy. You can’t tell me you ever loved Wyatt like you loved Finn,” Samantha challenged her.

Macy gaped at her. “No, I never did. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love Wyatt; I still do. And I can’t deny it just to satisfy the rules you’ve created in your sad little world.” She angrily grabbed her purse. “I’m suddenly starting to wonder why I ever told you anything at all,” she said, and stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the door.