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“You don’t really mean that.”
“You don’t know what I mean.”
“At this point, I know you well enough to be able to make some guesses. I also know better than to tell you what they are because I don’t want you to bite my hand off.”
There was so much she wanted to say to him. But she also just didn’t want to deal, so she made the decision not to. So she just walked away from him. Went into the house and let the screen door slam behind her. An angry, therapeutic sound.
But only the slammed door felt like therapy. The rest was just the same.
Her bottling it up.
Her not dealing.
She stood in the quiet of the farmhouse and let out a long, slow breath. She looked at all the pictures on the wall, extending down the hall. Her wedding picture. Pictures of them when she had been pregnant with Riley. Baby pictures of them with Hazel.
Her and Mac. Together for what was supposed to be forever. Except she’d been intent on shattering that...
Mac never knew.
She felt furious about that, sometimes late at night. Her head and heart and throat crowded with all the things she’d never gotten to say. Angry things about years spent in unhappiness. About all that he’d done wrong.
She’d said the nice things. Every one. That was what you did when someone was dying.
She’d said he was a good father. He was, when he was around.
She’d said she was glad for their time together.
In truth, she was just glad they had the kids.
But she’d swallowed it all down. Her truth, her pain.
But these pictures stayed up on the wall, not because of the husband he’d been, but because of the husband she wanted everyone to believe he was.
“You were kind of a terrible husband,” she said, right to the picture. “And I loved you. And I still do, really. Just not like that. Not for a long time. So. Just so you know.”
The little speech hadn’t done anything to make her feel better, because nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
And she was going to have to get herself together so that she could have dinner tonight.
One thing was certain, she was not going to hide in the house. She was not going to let Chase know that he got to her.
So she took a deep breath. She had eggs to collect.
9
I hate this town. I want to go away and write for a big newspaper. I want to go to London, or New York. I just want something bigger.
MARIANNE MCKEE’S DIARY, AGE 14
MARIANNE
“How about we go to the toy section, you guys?”
Ruby looked down at Riley and Hazel and extended her hands, smiling brightly. Marianne glanced over at Lydia, who was looking around the brightly lit, large store appearing slightly dazed. She hadn’t thought about it, but she wondered if this was the first time Lydia had ventured away from Pear Blossom since Mac’s death. They had talked about a lot of things, but whether or not she had gone into Medford to go to one of the big box stores was not one of the things.
“Lydia?” Ruby addressed her sister.
“Yeah,” Lydia said, blinking. “Sure. Don’t ask your aunt Ruby for anything.”
