He gave a short bark of bitter laughter. “Don’t you?”
Vicky shook her head. “No, I don’t! You have to understand…” She hesitated, weighing her words. “Cathy was under tremendous pressure. She had a sick, possibly a dying, child. She was broke. She couldn’t give up her job to be with Chloe full-time. On top of all of that, she had to be strong, strong all of the time.”
“For her daughter. Yeah, I get that,” he snapped. He plunged his chilled hands into his coat pockets. He was furious, both with Winter and with himself. He should have pressed her. He should have found out why she needed the money. He should have cared more. And damn it, she should have trusted him more!
“Not just for Chloe! For everyone!”
Michael was startled out of his raging reverie by the vehement tone. He watched as Vicky viciously threw the thermos into the car. It thumped and bounced on the floor.
“Everyone who felt sorry for her, including me, who couldn’t see her without oozing sympathy and pity. Everyone who avoided her because they didn’t know what to say. Everyone who tiptoed around her or stopped talking when she walked into the room or who left the room because they were afraid that somehow her bad luck would rub off on them, or—” Vicky abruptly stopped, pressing her lips tight into a thin line.
Michael had turned fully toward her during the spilling tirade. His frowning gaze never left her face, and he listened intently to everything she said, everything that she didn’t say.
Vicky shook her head, still visibly upset. A smile flickered briefly across her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”
“It’s all right.”
“How did you and Cathy meet?”
Michael hesitated. He didn’t want to reveal anything that might hurt Winter. No, her name was Cathy, he corrected himself. The name felt strange to him, but that wasn’t important. He carefully chose to tell her friend only the bare minimum of the actual truth. “We exchanged e-mails a few times and then met over coffee.”
“Yes, I can see it happening that way.” Her expression was thoughtful. “And I can understand why she never told you about—about any of it. And why she wanted you to call her Winter. That’s her middle name, did you know?”
“No, I didn’t know.” Michael felt his facial muscles tighten, the twitch of a tick in his jaw. “I didn’t know anything about her that really mattered.”
“Michael, don’t judge her, please. Try to understand. She was compartmentalizing, disconnecting, in order to cope.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He was suddenly furious again. “If I’d known, I could have offered her sympathy. I could have helped her more financially. I could have been there for her!”
“You still don’t get it! Cathy needed someone, badly. Someone she could be her normal self with. Someone who wouldn’t look at her with pity or treat her like she was some sort of pariah. You did that!” Vicky’s voice gentled. She touched his sleeve. “You may not believe it right now. But you did help her, in a way no one else could have done. She didn’t have to be strong around you. That took the pressure off her. She could be herself with you.”
Michael stared down at her, but he was no longer listening. Memories swirled through his head, mingling with things that Vicky had said. Be herself… be normal…He remembered her face lit up by laughter, her passion… He’d helped her…Cold reality dashed him then. He had used her as a casual convenience. Gorge rose in his throat. He thought he was going to be sick. He could still hear the drone of Vicky’s voice and, slowly, what she was saying came together in his head.
“…when she’d come in to work looking more rested. She’d smile to herself sometimes. I thought there might be someone. She messed up once and dropped your name. But she never said anything else, and I didn’t ask.”