Sweet Waters (33 page)

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Authors: Julie Carobini

BOOK: Sweet Waters
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I shake my head. “What news?” A sickening thought slithers through my stomach as I recall the scene of Beth and her ex-husband at the wedding.
“It's awful. Your friend Norma called right after we hung up. I didn't want to call you with this news.”
“Whatever is it, my dear?” Nigel's face registers alarm, rare for him.
“She's in the hospital, and it's bad. Apparently she slit her wrists.”
Silence enshrouds our table, the image too terrible to allow for in my mind. Nigel looks stricken, as if physically ill.
Mel's voice continues, low. “She'll pull through, Norma says, but she could have died from this.”
It makes no sense. “How can this be?” I ask her. “And her child?”
“Beth's father has him.”
The enormity of Beth's pain, deep and raw enough to drive her to such drastic lengths slams into me, constricting my breath. I wonder too about Billy. How is he taking all this?
Mel peers into my face, her eyes stricken. “Let me drive you.”
Stunned, all I can do is nod my head in agreement.
THE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR jammed. People of varying ages mill about, talking, carrying teddy bears and flower baskets. Have I somehow landed on the maternity floor?
“Tara!” Norma throws her arms about me and squeezes.
“I just heard.”
Norma's nodding and fighting tears. “I know. I know.” She looks around. “Everyone is here to let Beth know how much we care. If only we'd recognized the signs . . .”
Behind a glass partition marked “Waiting Room,” Billy sits alone. I tap Mel's arm. “Norma, this is my sister, Mel.”
Norma hugs her as if she's known her all her life.
Both sets of eyes look to me. “I'm going to talk with Billy.”
They nod and wave me on. Billy sits so still, his arms against his knees, his hair in disarray, his eyes focused on the scuffed linoleum. The very first time I saw him, I thought Billy was huge, yet gentle and funny. Now, sitting there in the corner of the waiting room, he appears small.
And scared.
“Billy?” I sit two chairs down from him. “I'm so sorry.”
He quirks the corner of his mouth. “Guess I wasn't enough for her.”
“Stop.”
“Did you know she'd done this before? This cutting thing? She's been hiding it.”
“No.” I pause, taking in the depths of this news. “I hadn't heard that, but in the short time I've known Beth, I have heard about some of her trials. Billy, you can't be expected to be the antidote for someone's complicated issues.”
He purses his lips and shakes his head. “She could have told me anything. I would have found her some help.”
“Why would she do such a thing? Hurt herself like that?”
Billy straightens. “We've been trained to work with people who do these things. Usually it's people who have a difficult time expressing their emotions. Some even feel they've been forbidden to do so.”
His tone was flat, emotionless, and I had the sense reciting cold facts helped him maintain control.
“People who hurt themselves are often hiding their deepest problems. Instead of dealing with issues and traumas, they inflict pain on themselves in a variety of ways. Including cutting.”
Though his voice remains neutral, his face wears so much pain my heart constricts. “Billy, now that Beth's secret is out, you can still be there for her. You can still find her some help.”
“I don't know, I mean, I'd help her in a second. But she's going to have to want it—I can't force myself on her.” He stares off into nowhere. “Her father'll get her therapy, but it's gonna be a long haul for the two of us.” He sighs, loudly, before standing abruptly to acknowledge someone else's presence. “Josh.”
Billy throws himself into Josh's arms and they grip each other. Billy's face crumbles and red splotches spread and fill his cheeks. Choked sobs break through and he buries his face in Josh's shoulder.
I back out of the room to give them their space, but Josh halts me with imploring eyes, turning my legs to quivering jellyfish. How insensitive of me to feel such magnetic attraction during such a tragic time. But no matter how hard I try, I can't stop the visceral reactions I have to this man. My hard heart toward him softens, just a bit, as he unabashedly hugs his big bear of a friend.
I attempt to step back again, but this time, Josh reaches out and grasps my hand. He pulls me closer. We almost look like we're having a group hug. “Don't go,” he mouths.
I'm caught in the middle, between the tragic circumstances of this day and the wavering feelings I have for Josh. Billy lets him go and blows his nose on a napkin that's been overused. Josh continues to hold my hand, stroking it with his fingers, as I try to make sense of the tragedy that brought us here—and why I can't easily turn away from him.
“Tara?” Mel steps into the waiting area. “The word is that no one but family is allowed to see her until tomorrow. Do you need a ride home?” She eyes Josh as she asks the question.
I don't wait for him to answer, which he surely tries. “Yes. Absolutely. Let's go.”
Josh carefully releases my hand, yet every part of me prickles at his nearness. One turn. That's all it would take and I'd say “adios” to my sister, even though there is too much uncertainty with Josh. He brushes my right shoulder and I can't help but hesitate.
“Life's too short for you to not allow me to apologize. I hope some day you can forgive me.” His breath tickles my ear and I close my eyes. It's true. Life can be short and grudges only fill it with bitterness. And yet I wonder at Josh's words.
If you can't receive forgiveness without giving it, then what good will it do for me to forgive Josh . . . when he's never forgiven his father?
Chapter Thirty-two
Mind if we make a stop before going home?”
“Nope.” Mel could gun it into the woods and I wouldn't protest. I'm too distracted and muddled to care what route we take.
She turns off the highway and onto a winding, unpaved road. Silence grows like thick kelp. Finally Mel exhales. “Well, I, for one, would love to know what happened between you and lover boy—within reason, that is. I know you haven't been talking, but I'm still reeling from the heat back there.”
“Stop it.”
She looks at me. “Are my eyebrows singed?”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. We're driving toward the west along some back road that's lined with horse rail fences and drooping willows and even a few vineyards growing syrah and cabernet sauvignon, among other grapes. “Where
are
we going?”
“Just back to Otter Bay. I discovered this road one day when I took a wrong turn and I like it. It's different.” She pauses. “So, you going to tell me what happened between you two?”
I shrug. “Josh has a lot of layers to him. Some more attractive than others.”
“Ouch. Hm. But you wouldn't be so indefinite about your feelings for him if those attractive qualities weren't outweighing the others so much.”
My mouth falls open.
“Right?”
I close my mouth and glance out over a ridge that disappears into the sky. A red-tailed hawk soars effortlessly after giving itself three measured wing beats. “He scares me.”
Mel laughs. “Yeah, well, the best kind always do.” She turns left up and over a bump of a hill and we coast down a recognizable street. “Here we are.”
“There's . . . Simka's. How fun—we came down the back side of Alabaster Lane.” I turn to her. “You're quite
the adventurer, Mel-Mel.”
“There aren't a whole lot of other ways to fight boredom in this town, you know . . .”
“Stop it right now.”
She laughs and parks the car. Something is different at Simka's. I run my eyes over the grounds and side to side, but can't figure out what has changed.
“You like the fence?”
I blink. “That's what's different. There's a fence out here now and it's such a pretty one. I like the arbor and the pink roses too.”
“Those will grow up and over that arbor. We also muted the color of the house—that other pink was obnoxious. This one's more appetizing, like a nice sherbet.”
“We?”
She's halfway up the stairs. “Don't you remember? Simka's been consulting with me.”
I rub my lips together tightly. I do remember, but just barely.
Where've I been?
“The place looks spectacular. It's a real showstopper now.”
Mel's hand rests on the doorknob. “Tell me about it.” She opens the door and the front gallery swarms with shoppers. The place is alive with female chatter, a set of twins whining in a double stroller, and several old men getting their patience tested as they recline on an upholstered church pew up against the back wall.
“My idea,” Mel whispers. “I told Simka that she needed a place for the guys to sit so they won't rush the women out.”
We both laugh and head into Gallery Two or, as I've always thought of it, the dining room. Beneath the window, a sofa table holds an array of brightly colored beanies, similar to the one Camille showed me the other night. Mel picks one up. “So what do you think?”
“About what?”
She plops the beanie onto her head and pulls it down until it's snug. Her long dark hair flows casually down to her shoulders. “About Camille and Holly's wares. Simka's giving them a try here.”
“You are kidding! They made all these?”
“Yup.”
“Darlings!” Simka nearly dances into the room, her peacock-inspired wrap swishing gracefully about her. “Business has never been better. Never at all. What do you think about these amazing head accessories from HollyCam designs?”
HollyCam?
“I'm amazed. I had no idea they had accomplished so much. They're . . . they're beautiful.”
Simka takes my arm and leans in toward my ear, as if telling me a cherished secret. “The most fabulous news is that surfers have found them already. Just yesterday, two came in here right off the beach—I had to sweep the sand right out of the store once they left. They bought four total, one for each of themselves and the others for their girlfriends. Isn't that divine?”
I pat her hand, which rests on my forearm. “That's terrific news, Simka. And the store is beautiful too. I truly love that fence.”
“Your sister has an amazing gift. Did you know that she spoke with the gentleman who owns the antique shop down the block? He agreed to allow me to place a small, elegant sign pointing the way to Simka's!”
I smile at my sister, who's trying very hard to look nonchalant amidst so much praise. “Good job, you.”
A woman approaches Simka. “Excuse me, but may I try this on?”
“Of course you may, my dear. Come, come.” Simka turns to us. “Ta-ta, ladies.”
My cell rings as we climb back into the car after perusing Simka's place a while longer.
Mel starts up and heads for home and I debate over whether to answer it.
“If you won't, I will,” she calls out.
With a sigh, I answer. “Hello.”
“Tara, it's me.”
A beat passes. “I know.”
“There's something I want to tell you . . . something I haven't told anyone. You don't have to meet me—that's your decision. But I'm asking you to anyway. I'm at the cove. Meet me here?”
What would Josh have to say to me that is so private he wouldn't have told anyone before? As he said earlier, though, life's short. Besides, I never turn down a chance to sit by the waters in the cove. “Okay, I guess. I'm almost there now.”

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