“I never meant for this to happen,” she said. “It all got away from me. I swear.”
It had all gotten away from him, too. He kissed her then, because he believed her and because he thought that the kiss might make a difference. He forgot all about Bryte back at home. Bryte, who thought he was asleep in his hotel room. Bryte, whom he planned to propose to when he got home. Bryte, who didn’t deserve to come in second but knew she was.
Jencey pulled away, her hand on the car door. “I should go,” she said. On the radio, Death Cab for Cutie sang about peeling freckles from summer skin. He wanted to stop her from leaving, but he sat motionless, listening to the song on the radio and the gentle hiss of the heat from the vents of the rented car. Neither of them said a word. He could feel her wanting him to stop her, to pull her toward him, away from the door. If he asked, she would go with him to his hotel, and he could have her just once more.
“It was good to see you,” he made himself say instead.
“You, too,” she said, her voice gone stiff.
“I’m going to ask Bryte to marry me,” he told her. Because that was what he had come there to say.
She nodded and blinked away tears. “Congratulations,” she said.
“So I should?” he asked her. He wanted her permission. He wanted her to stop him.
She turned to him and gave him a resigned, sad smile. “Yes,” she said.
He could not recall how the night ended beyond that, beyond her yes that freed him to marry Bryte, to make this life he was living now. If Jencey had said anything different, he would not have come back to Bryte, he would never have proposed. It would’ve been the worst mistake he’d ever made, but he would’ve made it willingly if it meant he got another chance with the girl he loved first. In the end, it was Bryte who loved him best. It was Bryte he was meant for. It had taken him far too long to come to terms with that, and he’d made so many mistakes along the way. He saw how his mistakes had led to hers. She’d tried so hard to make their life perfect, to make him happy. And he’d taken it all for granted.
He walked into Christopher’s room, thinking of what she’d done, and what he’d done, and finding it hard to distinguish what was worse. He looked down at the boy he could not give her and thought of all the other things he had not given her. He had not loved her the way she deserved, but he could start to. He would not tell her what he’d done in New York; it would be too much for her. But he could forgive her, and maybe in doing so, it would be like she was also forgiving him. He wanted to take her in his arms and absolve all their secrets. He would do anything to make it right with his wife who was, it turned out, the only one for him.
BRYTE
Myrtle Honeycutt was confused when Bryte showed up so late asking for the dog, but thankfully the old woman turned over the leash without too many questions. Rigby gave her an excuse to walk, to move instead of sit, to feel the blood rush through her veins for a reason other than shame and fear. Rigby pranced along beside her, seeming to enjoy the fact that she didn’t have the leash so tight today. She didn’t care how far he wandered tonight.
Her jaw continued to quiver no matter how much she tried to steel it. She refused to give in to tears and gave herself a good scolding instead, her feet beating out a rhythm in time with the steady stream of harsh words she had for herself. She’d made this mess. She deserved everything that was happening. She’d been a liar and a manipulator. She’d hurt the people she loved most. She had to face the music. She would lose everything, and that was what she deserved. She was a horrible person who’d done a terrible thing.
She reached Zell’s house and stopped, looking in at the warm lights glowing in the gathering darkness, the house like a beacon. She moved up the driveway toward it, tugging Rigby along with her, thinking that perhaps Zell would open her door and welcome her in. She might even make her hot chocolate; that seemed like something Zell would do. Bryte could go to the door with the pretense that she was just passing by and wanted to tell her she was sorry she hadn’t seen her at the pool recently. When Cutter had nearly drowned, Zell had soothed Cailey when everyone else was too afraid to speak. She’d been the one who knew what to do.
That day felt like a lifetime ago. She’d been a different person then, still believing she could hide the truth forever, and run from it if she had to. She thought of Zell and Cailey, of Jencey and Lance. Not one of them who’d gathered around that crying girl as the ambulance wailed its way out of the pool parking lot were the same people they were then.
She walked slowly toward the door and took a deep breath before raising her hand to knock, tempted in that second to turn around. She thought about what Lance had told her about Ty, how Zell was too ashamed to show her face. She felt a kinship with the older woman. She exhaled and knocked anyway. Rigby watched with a curious look.
It was Cailey who opened the door, her eyes widening when she saw who was there. She peered past Bryte. “Is Christopher with you?” She knelt down and petted Rigby.
Bryte smiled and shook her head. “No, he’s at home in bed. But I’ll bring him by another time.”
Cailey gave a despondent shrug and said, “I’ll be gone by then.” She dropped her hand from Rigby’s head.
“Well, you’ll still be in the neighborhood.” Bryte gave her a smile that she hoped looked encouraging. She looked past Cailey to see if she could spot Zell.
Cailey noticed her looking and waved her in. Rigby trotted on in with no hesitation, partly because the house smelled so delicious, Bryte guessed. “I’ll go get Zell.” Bryte watched the girl disappear up the steps, her shoulders stooped and her head down. Bryte took a seat at the kitchen table to wait, wondering idly as she did why Cailey didn’t seem happy about going home. Most children, she would guess, would want to go back home. She’d often wondered as Cailey’s brief stay stretched into a long one why it had been that way. But looking around at Zell’s home, she understood better why she wouldn’t want to leave. Rigby flopped at her feet and closed his eyes.
She heard the uneven gait of Zell limping into the room. Zell paused as their eyes met, then proceeded to the table. She pulled out the chair across from Bryte and sat down.
Cailey tromped loudly into the kitchen and retrieved a mason jar from underneath the sink. She held it aloft. “I’m going outside to catch lightning bugs with Lilah and Alec,” she informed Zell. She hustled out the door without waiting for the OK from Zell. The two of them watched her go, grateful, Bryte thought, for the distraction.
“So she’s really going home?” Bryte asked.
Zell nodded, looking bereft. “Tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry for interrupting your last night together,” Bryte said.
Zell waved her words away. “I cooked her favorite meal. Later we’re going to watch a movie, stay up late.” Zell shrugged. “To be honest, I’m glad for the distraction. It was feeling a little maudlin around here.” Her grin was just a flash before she narrowed her eyes at Bryte. “So what can I do for you?”
“I was just walking Rigby and saw your lights on and . . . I wanted to say that I’ve missed seeing you up at the pool. And . . . I hope everything’s OK.”
“It will be,” Zell said. She folded her hands and studied Bryte. “It always is.”
“You really believe that?” Bryte asked, hearing the waver in her voice.
“I do. You don’t?”
“Not tonight,” Bryte said. The two women looked at each other, an understanding passing between them.
“I’m all ears,” Zell said, then stood up. “But first I’m going to pour us some wine. And you better start talking.” Bryte cleared her throat and began her story, watching her neighbor stump over to the refrigerator to get the wine. She began to speak, letting her words flow like the golden liquid that poured into the glasses, words that had been bottled up for far too long.
CAILEY