“I told her to be honest.”
“Yeah, that’s always a wide-open door you’re sorry you walked through, isn’t it? And before that Miles didn’t seem surprised when you mentioned those other girls?”
“No, but it was before that comment, just when Shay was avoiding them at the mall.”
“Maybe it’s really just none of your business.”
“How is it none of my business? I’m here. I saw what happened. First at Fat Chance Café and then at the mall. How can I ignore that?”
“Maybe you have to. They invited you to the wedding, not into their family problems.”
“No, they asked me to take pictures at their wedding, which I’m doing because of our history. Because of Celia and because of Shay. The same reason someone should tell me what’s going on.” I rolled an ice cube around in my mouth and spit it back into my glass.
“Well, it’s pretty hard to keep a secret around here. You know what they say! Someone in Chance always knows.”
“I knew you were going to say that. You know what? That’s not true. People around here have a disproportionate number of secrets. They just pretend they don’t. And then they leave. Or die. With their secrets intact.”
Josie scrunched her eyebrows together as if rummaging through her own secrets—or those of others.
“I think that when it comes to kids, things aren’t so much secret as just private. Parents aren’t always willing to discuss what’s going on. Even if everyone knows.”
“I’m not everyone. I love Shay, and I care about Miles. And I owe it to Celia. If something is going on, I want to help. I think it’s a defense mechanism. She’s such a sweet kid; if they’re doing something to bother her, of course she’s going to put up a wall…”
“Now you’re a therapist?”
“No, but…”
“Maybe they don’t want your help. Maybe your help is taking pictures. And taking Shay to the mall.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’m just being honest. Kid stuff is hard and—”
“And what? I don’t understand because I don’t have kids. You’re right. I don’t understand any of it. But I want to. I want to help her. I want to be there for her. How can I do that if nobody will talk to me?”
“Get Shay to tell you herself what’s going on.”
“I tried that. I’m no good at it. I’m good at the fun stuff.”
“Today wasn’t all fun, though, was it? And you did it. We end up doing a lot of things we never thought we’d do for the kids we love. Just give it time.”
“I don’t have time. The wedding is Sunday. I leave Monday. It’s not just that I want to know, I know I can help her. Whatever it is.”
“Well, since you’re not a therapist, I know one in town you can talk to.”
“You want me to go to therapy?”
“No, I want you to talk to someone who can help you talk to Shay, so both of you are okay when you leave again. I’m thinking about you too, Teddi. She really helped with Jonathan. Well, really, she helped us.”
I thought of Josie’s musician and wondered what had happened. According to Josie, even if I’d lived here, or been better at keeping in touch, Shay still might not have shared her struggles with me.
“I don’t think I could talk to a counselor. I’m not really comfortable telling a stranger my personal problems.”
“But you want Shay and Miles to tell you theirs.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
Josie cocked her head. She waited. I could wait her out. I crossed my arms. She wavered and I won. Although, not really.
“Deny it all you want, but once you left Ohio, you stepped onto the outside of Shay’s real life.”
I relaxed back into the chaise. “How do I get to the inside before Sunday?”
“I’ll give you the counselor’s card. Or just talk through the whole thing with someone who knows you really well.”
“That’s what I thought we were doing.”
“We don’t know each other like we used to.”
My throat tightened. What was I doing here then? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you with all this. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
Josie sat on the edge of the chaise. I moved my legs and she scooted toward me. “Knock it off, you’re not bothering me. I like it that we’re friends again. Real-life friends. We’re connected. I feel it too. I’m trying to help you. If it were me, I’d go to my husband. And I did. But Evan didn’t know what to do either. So we got some help. Just think of who knows your heart, Teddi, who knows how you think. Start there.”
I felt a stab in my side and my breath quickened, as if I’d been running. “I couldn’t do that!”
“Is Simon really too busy to talk to you about something this important?”
I wasn’t thinking about Simon.
Chapter 14
“PICTURES BEFORE OR AFTER pizza?” Miles asked. He fiddled with the knot in his tie.
“Before.” I unpacked my camera and an extra flash onto the kitchen table. “Unless you’re sure you won’t get any sauce on your shirt.”
“I’m going to work on my art project,” Shay said.
I wanted Shay nearby so I could watch her with my newfound perspective. Problem was, she knew it. “You’re not going to help?”
Shay cackled. It sounded more sinister than sweet. “You can handle Daddy on your own!” She headed for the stairs. “I’ll come down when the pizza’s here.”
I said nothing to change her mind, fearful of what she might say, what Miles might hear. The right words were needed at a time like this, and I didn’t possess them.
Or I was a coward.
“Where would you like the pictures taken, Mi?” I spun around as if I’d never been there before, as if I didn’t know which room had the best natural light, the warmest wood, was least likely to allow my voice to travel up the stairs.
“Isn’t it your job to tell me?”
I shook my head, but walked toward the living room, and Miles followed. I pointed to the piano bench, so Miles sat.
I felt accused by every syllable Miles spoke. I motioned to the piano keys. “Does Shay play?”
“No. She says she’s an artist, not a musician.”
I laid my hands on Miles’s shoulders and rotated them a few degrees toward me. Then I opened a worn piece of sheet music on the piano. The theme to Somewhere in Time. I shuddered. Celia and I had discovered this 1980 Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour movie more than ten years after it had come out, during a rainy Friday-night excursion to the Video-Rama during the summer between our freshman and sophomore years in college. It became Celia’s all-time favorite movie, and then, her favorite piece of music to play. It wasn’t until years later that I embraced the notion of the film—that a simple keepsake could keep someone tethered to the past, whether real or imaginary. I tapped my pocket to feel the stone I knew was there.
“You still have this?”