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“You could have gone and not made it in time. You were just a kid and it wasn’t even your medicine and you weren’t even supposed to be getting another prescription pickup, so maybe you wouldn’t have even been able to get the right medicine or the right dosage. You should have been able to call an ambulance or at least count on your mother, and without that, you had a situation with no right answer. You could have tried to save her until you were blue in the face and—”
“And at least then I’d go on knowing Itried.It’s just… I wish…” She looked down, squeezing her eyes shut. “I wish I had. Tried. Something. Anything.”
I paused. “Out of curiosity, how many times did you already have to take part in taking care of her and keeping her well before this?”
She turned to the window, shrugging.
“I’m going to imagine that means it was a lot. You were just a kid. You’d make a mistake eventually.”
“You’re awfully stubborn,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. “I let an innocent girl die. You were supposed to…”
“Hate you?”
She didn’t say anything. I sat up straighter as the waiter’s footsteps came back from behind me, stepping around the corner and setting down our food. I chatted enough for the both of us—he’d attended the First International Paisley Foosball Tournament I’d put on last month, which was a reliefsomebodycame because for being an international tournament it sure only had one small town participating—and I got to chatter and ask him about his DJing career he was still trying to get to take off.
More importantly, Harper needed a break. And she looked like the memory of it was needling at her brain a little less once the waiter left, our food set down in front of us, a tall Sapporo beer for each of us. Harper’s favorite. Because she deserved that.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” I said, and she sighed.
“I shouldn’t have dumped all of that… please don’t tell anybody.”
“Of course I won’t. But I’m glad you told me. And…”
And what? What was I supposed to say? Tell her that no amount of running herself ragged trying to do more, more,morewas ever going to bring Lindsay back? That she didn’t owe the universe a blood debt she had to pay back by working herself to death? That she still deserved to be loved even with her bruised parts?
Of course I could have said all of that. But what difference would it have made just saying that?
Besides, it wasn’t very Paisley. And being with Harper made me realize I kind of liked Paisley as I was her—a lot.
“And by the way, now that I have you trapped with some food, do you want me to tell you what the letter was?” I said lightly. “Because it’s actually addressed to you. Annabel just told me to find a time to read it for you when you can’t run away.”
“Son of a—” She raked her fingers back through her hair. “Oh, that’s just like her. Just like you, too.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, because I want you to compliment me. In case that wasn’t already established.”
“I think it may have been…” She sighed, dropping her arms by her sides. “I never was able to win against you, Pais. Fine. Let’s hear it.”
Chapter 27
Harper
Annabel had always been able to run circles around me. Seemed the more Bayview changed, the more it stayed the same.
Even without me there.
Paisley pulled the letter out from her bra—because really, where else would she keep a letter—and unfolded the paper, looking up at me from across the table with that soft warmth in her eyes.
She was getting some color back. Here in the low glow of the restaurant lights, by the ambiance of the rain streaking over the window and pattering on the garden, looking up at me over the roses thatof courseMrs. Park would surprise us with—she looked as if nothing had ever happened. As if she’d never worked herself straight into the hospital. As if I’d never left.
And wasn’t that a happy dream?
Hell, she’d even jumped out a second-story window and climbed a fence. In a dress. She was clearly feeling better.
Hadn’t that been my signal to go back to New York?
“Hi, Harper,” Paisley said, her eyes going between me and the letter as she read. “I’m going to be honest, it’s a little surreal that you’re here. It feels like you’ve been gone a lifetime.Annabel’s handwriting sucks.”
“Always has,” I said, picking at my food. It wasn’t like it wasn’t appetizing—Hinomoto did good food—but maybe I’d just also been losing my appetite recently. The past six months, maybe.
