Page 87 of Second Chances

Melanie’s breath whistled. “Somehow, I think it will take more than a brief family gathering for Joshua to forgive me, if he ever does. And I doubt anyone, except for your father, will welcome me with open arms.”

Henry turned. “It’ll take Josh time to work through his feelings. He can be a bit stubborn. Not sure where he gets that…?”

In the early morning, with the soft orange and yellow rays of sunlight flickering in the east, Melanie chuckled softly, making her resemble the girl he had loved so long ago. “Me, neither.”

In companionable silence, they walked back to the hotel. “You’re probably right that it’s too soon to face everyone. I know eventually Josh will let you back in. But it may take some time.”

She nodded. “I won’t stop trying.” At the entrance to the hotel, she opened her purse and pulled out an envelope. “I wrote Joshua a letter, tried to explain things so he’d understand. Or at least not hate me. Gave him my phone number, address. Sophie knows where he’s staying, and I’m going to drop it off there in the morning. I’ll give him time to process everything, but if I don’t hear from him, I’ll try again.” Melanie held his gaze, and for the briefest moment, Henry was back in Arizona, that boy on the bench outside the ice cream shop. “I’ll see you around, Henry.” Then she was gone, but at least she’d said goodbye this time.

Although Amy had been invited to the wedding of the year, she couldn’t attend Josh and Effie’s ceremony because of a scheduling conflict at the hospital. She was, however, on her way to Beverley for the rest of the wedding festivities. Or she would be once she got breakfast. Desperately needing sustenance to make the two-hour drive, Amy was waiting in the Hardee’s drive-thru when the first text from Lottie came in:

Heartbroken.

Heartbroken? Not once during her divorce had her best friend referred to herself as heartbroken. What could be wrong?

I messed up with Henry.

Amy was clueless what Lottie could mean by “messed up with Henry”. Every report from her friend about her blossoming relationship with Henry was so promising, romantic, and, more importantly, sexy. Amy had suspected for years that Lottie was hiding a temptress underneath her upbeat demeanor—she had just needed the right man to inspire her, and that man was clearly Henry.

I need my friend!

“Call Lottie,” Amy ordered, panicked and hands-free in her car. As the call rang, the teenager in the window extended a skinny arm holding her bag that contained her life-saving Frisco sausage melt and tater rounds. Why wasn’t Lottie answering? Pulling away from Hardee’s, Amy yelled, “Dammit! Cancel call!” She wished she was actually holding her phone so she could throw it onto the passenger seat. She voice-texted:

I’m on my way!

Lottie’s move to Beverley had been the most impulsive thing her friend had done in the history of their friendship, and Amy was still proud as hell of her for making such a monumental change in her life. As teenagers, while holding Lottie’s hand in a gas station bathroom, she watched in terror as the line on the pregnancy test confirmed their worst fears. It had been Amy, not Lottie’s mom, who had warned her repeatedly about using birth control, only to be dismissed that she and Brady were being careful, which Amy had known it for the bullshit it was. Hormonal teenagers, especially ones with overly permissive parents, weren’t known for taking preventative measures. Since Amy had to read the pregnancy test results before Lottie, she’d been the one to vomit first at the pregnancy news, knowing that every plan the two of them had made went down the toilet with her morning bowl of cereal.

When Lottie and Brady finally pulled their heads out of their asses and got divorced, Amy gleefully lifted a glass of champagne, if only privately. Just as Lottie was her sister, she loved Brady as a brother, but those two had been white-knuckling that marriage since exchanging their vows, going from horny teenagers to old married couple in the blink of an eye. Both had been seemingly uninterested in their own love lives…until Brady met Harmony. Courtesy of Amy.

A year before their divorce, Amy had shown up at Brady and Lottie’s house to return a book she had borrowed. Only Brady was home, slapping a joystick around in the living room. “Brady, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon—what are you doing?”

“I’m on vacation,” he responded, surprising her, because Lottie hadn’t mentioned it.

“Does your wife know about this?”

Brady shrugged, his eyes not leaving the television screen. “I suggested taking a trip, but she said she couldn’t get away. Typical, I guess…”

His scathing tone burned, but Amy understood. The idea that Lottie “couldn’t get away” was preposterous—the school was on summer break, making Amy wonder if Lottie was avoiding her husband while they both had time off from work. Had Lottie finally realized that the marriage had outlasted itself by at least two decades? Would she ever admit it?

Brady threw his gaming tool onto the sofa next to him. “I’m just so bored all the time, Ames. So…unfulfilled. Char never wants to go out or do anything, and I can’t…I can’t seem to make her happy anymore. I hear Isobel talking about her dating life, and part of me is thankful to have missed the drama as a teenager, but now…sorry, you don’t want to hear the ramblings of your best friend’s husband, I’m sure.”

“Hey, my best friend’s husband has been my friend for longer than either of us wants to admit. I mean, I was the one who had to stand on the sidelines at our eighth-grade graduation dance, watching the two of you make moon-eyes at each other, remember?”

Leaning back, Brady rubbed his hand across his face. “I remember. I thought I would love her until the end of time.”

“And?” Amy already knew the answer, which had been glaringly obvious once Isobel had gone to college. Even Amy had been biding her time, as her advice over the years to Lottie had fallen on deaf ears: wait to marry Brady; go to college the semester after Isobel was born; live your own life. And something she’d said only once to her friend: find true love with a true partner, something Amy had struggled with in both of her own marriages.

“She never wants to talk about how unhappy we both are, which is ironic because for so many years that’s all she wanted to talk about. Wait—is that ironic? Or is it just frustrating?”

“Both, I imagine, but we need our English teacher here. Where is she, anyway?”

Brady shrugged. “No idea. She was gone when I got up.”

“Brady, you need some daylight on that handsome face of yours,” she nudged. “There’s a Lakota exhibit at the Art Center that I haven’t had a chance to see yet. Why don’t you come with me?”

Begrudgingly, he accompanied her, and after viewing the exhibit, featuring both breathtaking and heartbreaking paintings, stunning sculptures, and colorful, intricate beadwork by modern Native artists, Amy drifted to another area, leaving Brady on his own. Later, hoping to suggest a bite to eat at the nearby Culver’s, she found him, to her amazement, in deep conversation with Harmony, the museum director. Amy had met Harmony a few years before after her father suffered a stroke and became a patient of Amy’s at the hospital. Thanks to the many hours Harmony spent with her widowed father, the two became friendly. Observing Brady and Harmony at the museum that day, their interest in each other was clearly evident. On the ride back to his house, Brady was more withdrawn than previously, unlike the upbeat man she had witnessed at the museum with Harmony. Unsure of what to do, whether she should talk to Brady or give Lottie a heads-up about what she had seen, she decided to stay silent, letting nature run its course. A few weeks after that museum visit, Brady admitted to Amy that he couldn’t get Harmony out of his head, and Amy advised him to be honest with Lottie and himself about the state of their marriage. A week later, Brady asked for a separation.

Passing the state line into South Dakota, Amy attempted to call her friend again, but still got no answer. Wondering what could have gone wrong with Henry and Lottie during a weekend filled with a wedding and romance, she thought back to the first time her friend had seen Henry outside the auto shop, and how palpable her hunger for him had been. Undeniably handsome, Henry also exuded an element of…sadness, maybe, or melancholy, that spoke to Lottie’s own unhappiness. From that first moment, Amy considered that what her lifelong friend needed after her divorce wasn’t the “freedom” Lottie claimed she had always yearned for, but someone who matched her in spirit, fire, and depth of soul.