Mrs Inbetween

Chapter 7 - Echo

Sunshine swirled the ruby-red liquid in her glass, the ice cubes clinking a counterpoint to the low hum of conversation in the bustling bar. "So, spill it, Patrick," she said, her voice a husky purr that cut through the background noise. "What's this big news you've been teasing all week?"

I took a long sip of my wine, savoring the smooth cabernet that momentarily took the edge off the day's anxieties. Sia's guarded smile and haunted eyes still lingered in my mind, an unwelcome distraction from the night's intended purpose – a night of relaxation with Sunshine, my best friend and confidante.

"Alright, alright," I chuckled, setting my glass down. "Drumroll, please..." I paused for dramatic effect, earning an eyeroll from Sunshine. "We landed the spot! 'Emerald Bay Uncovered' is officially a go!"

Sunshine's eyes widened, a genuine smile replacing her playful skepticism. "That's amazing, Jake! I knew you could do it. This whole investigative journalism thing - it's perfect for you." She raised her glass in a toast. "To unearthing the hidden stories of Emerald Bay!"

I clinked my glass against hers, a wave of relief washing over me. This show – the culmination of months of research and pitching – was my ticket to a fresh start. A chance to leave behind the ghosts of the past that had haunted me for far too long.

"Thanks, Sunshine," I said, a genuine smile gracing my lips for the first time that day. "Here's to new beginnings."

We spent the next hour lost in conversation, dissecting the show's potential, brainstorming episode ideas, and reminiscing about our wild college days in bustling Chicago. Sunshine, with her infectious laughter and unwavering support, had a way of making the world's problems melt away. For a brief moment, at least, I was able to push aside the unsettling thoughts surrounding Sia.

But as the night wore on, and the bottle emptied out, a nagging feeling crept back in. Sunshine's genuine excitement about the show couldn't completely erase the image of Sia's wary gaze. There was a story there, a story that resonated with something deep within me.

"Hey, you okay?" Sunshine's voice, laced with concern, cut through my thoughts.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just a little jet-lagged, I guess. All that back-and-forth between here and Chicago for meetings..." It wasn't a complete lie. The constant travel had been draining, but it wasn't the only reason for my fatigue.

Sunshine studied me for a beat, her brow furrowed. "There's something more, isn't there?" she finally asked.

I hesitated, torn between wanting to confide in her and the need to keep my investigation under wraps. Sunshine wouldn't judge, but revealing my suspicions about Sia felt like jeopardizing the fragile trust I'd started to build with her.

With a sigh, I decided on a partial truth. "There's a new tenant next door. Seems like she's going through something rough. Just makes you want to help, you know?"

Sunshine's gaze softened. "Of course," she said, placing a comforting hand on mine. "But remember, Jake, you can't save everyone. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is focus on your own journey."

Her words struck a chord. Sunshine was right. I couldn't get entangled in every sob story that crossed my path. Especially not when I had my own demons to chase and a new show to launch. Taking another sip of wine, I forced a smile.

"You're right," I agreed, raising my glass. "To new beginnings, and keeping a healthy distance."

Sunshine clinked her glass against mine, her eyes holding a hint of skepticism. But for now, it would have to do. Perhaps Sia should disappear completely from my life. Tonight, I would focus on friendship, wine, and the exciting future of 'Emerald Bay Uncovered'. Hopefully, a future that wouldn't be derailed by my unsettling feelings towards Sia.

However, Sunshine wasn’t so much focused on the conversation with me. She behaved strangely as if she lost something.

SUNSHINE’S POINT OF VIEW

A triumphant grin stretched across my face as the offending envelope tumbled into the chaotic abyss of the junk drawer. Like a spy slipping a stolen document into a hidden compartment, I slammed the drawer shut with a satisfying thud. No more sterile white rectangle to taunt me from the countertop, no more stark reminder of Sia which might have made Jake start over again. The baby would be like an anchor that could handcuff Jake forever.

Jake hadn't even noticed when I mentioned tackling the junk drawer – blissfully oblivious, his nose buried in his phone as he finalized details for his new show. Thank the stars for his tunnel vision when it came to anything but the immediate chaos of his surroundings.

As I straightened up, a wave of relief washed over me, as refreshing as the ocean breeze that always seemed to be whispering just outside our window. It wasn't just the hidden letter; it was the shift in Jake's focus. For the past few days, his mind had been consumed only by Sia. The divorce should be the end of this topic but after its completion the whole thing engaged him even more.

He might have realized he had lost something precious.

But tonight, as he scrolled through his phone, a barely audible excitement crackling in his voice as he spoke about interview schedules and filming locations, there was no mention of Sia. It was as if a veil had lifted, his attention fully devoted to the launch of his show, "Cape Rey Uncovered."

I watched him, a silent observer, a secret smile playing on my lips. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his eyes lit up with each new idea – it was the Jake I knew and loved, the passionate journalist with a hunger for truth. I needed him to stay like this. I could share him with work but no one more.

A pang of guilt flickered within me, a tiny ember quickly extinguished by the warmth of relief. Maybe I was being selfish, maybe Sia’s child would need a father but she had her chance. And she failed. I wanted the old Jake back, the Jake who found solace in the thrill of the chase, the one whose world didn't revolve around his passion and me.

"Sounds amazing, babe," I said, my voice laced with genuine enthusiasm. "This show is going to be huge."

He glanced up, a grateful smile lighting up his face. In that moment, under the soft glow of the kitchen lamp, the weight of the hidden letter seemed insignificant. Tonight, we were celebrating new beginnings, the promise of a future filled with Jake's passion and our shared dreams. The fertility clinic letter must vanish not only from the drawer but from our lives for good.

The amber glow of the wine lamp cast long shadows across the cluttered living room. My gaze flicked from Jake's animated face to the phone screen he held, the image reflected a surreal echo of our conversation.

"It was five years ago," Jake recounted, tracing the summary of the woman on the screen with his finger. "A woman named Sarah vanished from Cape Rey. No trace, no leads, just a single cryptic note left behind."

A shiver ran down my spine, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room and the comfort of Jake's presence. His story, chilling on its

own, resonated with an unsettling familiarity. My breath caught in my throat.

"That's..." I started, my voice barely above a whisper, searching for words that wouldn't betray the growing unease in my gut. "That's awful. Did they ever find anything?"

Jake shook his head, a shadow flickering across his features. "Never a complete trace," he muttered. "The police investigation stalled, and the town slowly forgot. But it always bothered me."

The silence that followed held the weight of the unspoken, a heavy presence in the familiar surroundings of our apartment. I reached across the coffee table, a hesitant hand hovering over Jake's. Finally, I placed it over his, a silent reassurance in the face of the unsettling story.

"That's why this show is so important to you, isn't it?" I asked softly. "A chance to find answers, for Sarah and for others like her."

A flicker of gratitude softened Jake's gaze. He squeezed my hand briefly before picking up his phone again. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the soft click-clack of his thumbs typing on the screen.

Suddenly, the phone buzzed, the shrill notification cutting through the tension. My heart lurched, a tremor premonitory of something terrible. Jake frowned, reading the message that flashed on the screen. Then, he froze with his mouth open. I snapped the phone out of his hands.

The picture that greeted me sent a jolt through my system. It was a woman, her smile bright and carefree, framed by a mess of fair curls. The woman's eyes, a deep cerulean blue, held a hint of sadness that mirrored something buried deep within. But it was the unmistakable curve of the nose and the exact shade of blond hair that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Jake," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "That's..."

The word died on my lips as Jake's phone buzzed again. This time, the message wasn't silent – a news alert blared in bold red letters: "Missing person case reopened in Cape Rey. New leads emerge."

My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence. I didn’t know how to explain it.

"I don't understand," I managed, my voice trembling. "Is that...?"

Before I could finish the question, the realization dawned on me like a horrifying sunrise. "Sia?" The name tumbled from my lips, a whisper laced with disbelief. "The woman in the photo... that's Sia?"

“No…” he answered. “ That is supposed to be Sarah. Sarah from Cape Rey. Last seen in Emerald Bay.”

My eyes couldn’t move away from the picture. Even so far away from here, Sia wouldn’t let go.