Secrets

Chapter Two

I spent most of my free time over the next two weeks with Adaline. Though she insisted she was fine, I couldn’t shake the feeling something more was going on. I had tried to bring up the topic of her seizure, the cryptic message she had given me, and the fog, but she shut me down each time.

For two weeks, that message had been on the forefront of my mind. It frustrated me. I knew I had to try to get her to talk about it.

Adaline and I sat outside on the small patio that was open to the residents. The day was warm with a mild breeze that kept us cool. Adaline reclined in one of the well-cushioned lounge chairs, her eyes closed and face turned upward toward the sun. She had spent most of the morning telling me about her girlhood. Her stories always left me fascinated—her life was like something out of a fairy tale.

“You really swam the English Channel?” I asked, unable to hide the disbelief from my voice.

Her eyes still closed heavenward, she smiled. “I sure did. Everyone made a big fuss about it too. Gave me all sorts of ribbons and a medal to boot. Still got it somewhere.”

“Wow. Your life is so amazing! I can only hope to do half of the things you’ve done.”

At that, Adaline looked at me. “You’ve got to keep your eyes open, Juliet. You never know when the adventure of your life could happen.”

I smiled at her, but I didn’t believe her words. Given all the truly amazing things she had told me, I just didn’t have it in me to believe anything like that could ever happen to me. I had kept my eyes—and my heart—open, and what had I gained?

A lot of tears and about five extra pounds.

Drumming up my courage, I leaned toward her, keeping my voice light and casual.

“Adaline, I wanted to ask you about–"

“What ever happened with you and that boy?" Adaline interrupted. "Didn’t he propose?”

She couldn’t have hit on a better subject to derail me. Dropping my gaze to my hands, I fell quiet as I tried to find the words to respond.

“Well ... yes. But ... it didn’t work out. We, um, broke up.”

Adaline narrowed her eyes at me as I finally looked back to her. She remained like that long enough to make me feel self-conscious. Just when I was beginning to think she wasn’t going to say anything, Adaline scoffed and brushed at the knee of her lime green pants.

“i***t,” she grumbled.

I blinked in shock at her statement, making a mask of my face and once more banking down on the hurt. “What?”

“That boy.” She turned her eyes to me once more, hitting me with that oddly penetrating gaze. I noticed her eyes didn’t seem as pale as they had before. “It would take a pretty big fool not to see what a treasure you are. You’re better off. Nothing good ever came out of tying yourself to someone so blind.”

I smiled softly, touched by her words. Curiosity swirled within me. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Adaline cackled, slapping her hand against my knee with enough force to make me wince. “Haven’t you been listening to my stories? I sure am speaking from experience!” She winked at me and gave another laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Tabitha’s father was the only one I ever married.”

The shift in her tone as she spoke her last thought caught my interest; I leaned toward her. “How come? I mean, why was he the only one you married?”

Adaline sat in silence for a time, appearing distant as she gazed across the lawn with the breeze ruffling her hair. She gave a small shrug, her eyes narrowing. “Well, I suppose you could say he captured a part of me no one else had.”

I smiled gently at her. I couldn’t help it—it sounded so romantic. After all of the amazing stories she had told me, she had always been very vague when it came to her husband.

“How romantic,” I sighed dreamily.

Adaline turned her gaze to me. It seemed to take her a moment to focus on me before she gave a small smile. “Sounds that way, eh? Well, it was something. Anyway,” she said, her tone changing, seeming forced, "I think I hear a nap calling my name.” She once again thumped her hand on my knee and rose from the lounge chair.

“Want me to walk you to your room?” I asked. I felt bad questioning her, but it was apparent that his loss still affected her.

“I am perfectly capable of walking to my room, Juliet," she chided. "Next, you’ll be asking to wipe my butt.”

Adaline cackled at her own joke and walked off, leaving me staring after her in a mix of amusement and shock. I never could keep up with her moods, and there was no telling what was going to come out of her mouth from one moment to the next.

Shaking my head, I rose from my chair and tidied up the patio. That didn’t take me long, and I still had an hour before I had to clock out. With a soft sigh, I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to tackle the paperwork I’d been neglecting for the past week.

Stacey gave me a sickly-sweet smile as I entered the office and she passed over the large stack of files requiring my attention. I tossed a fake smile her way and cradled the files, slipping off to the break room and nabbing a space at the circular table.

By the time I finished, my neck was stiff and I was more than ready to be going home.

“Goodnight, Stacey.” I smiled, clocking out and making my way out of the building.

My life became so monotonous, I could set my watch by it. Get up, go to work, go home and call for takeout, or zap any leftovers. I was becoming the boring homebody no one wanted to hang out with. The only thing missing from my life was a cat.

I could get a cat …

With a rough shake of my head, I shoved the thought from my mind. The times I spent with Adaline listening to her tales were the highlights of my days. That thought gave me pause. My best friend was a seventy-six year-old woman.

I unlocked the door of my apartment, dropping my keys in the bowl by the door and hung my purse on the peg. An insane urge to yell, “I’m home!” came over me, but I didn’t do it.

Heaving a sigh, I strode into the kitchen and yanked open the drawer where I housed an alarming amount of takeout menus.

Maybe Beatrice is right. I need to stop sulking and move on. Stop thinking about Tommy and what he is doing. If he is all right, if he is thinking about me…

“No,” I told myself sternly, giving a sharp shake of my head and focusing on my menus. “The only thing you need to think about is Indian or pizza .... Pizza it is!”

I grabbed up my phone and placed my order. Pizza would ensure me lunch tomorrow, and maybe even dinner. It would also allow me to put off going to the grocery store for another day.

Trudging toward the fridge, I pulled open the door and looked over the meager contents.

Maybe I’d better do some shopping first thing in the morning, I thought, grabbing my last bottle of wine. Prepared to wait for my food, I popped in the movie I’d rented before dropping onto the couch and opening the wine.

“Thank God for twist offs, huh?” I asked the TV as I took a grateful sip.

Forty-five minutes later, I was halfway through Much Ado About Nothing and had made a decent dent on both the pizza and the wine. My head was buzzing nicely and the movie was suddenly much funnier than it had been. I giggled as the characters traipsed and tripped along through their comical tale.

“Oh, Benedict, you’re so funny.” I brought the bottle to my lips and glugged down some of the sweet nectar. As I lowered it, my gaze landed on my phone. Beatrice would love this movie. I should call her. Without a second thought, I swiped it off the arm of the couch and opened my contacts list.

I giggled, attempting to blink away the bleariness plaguing my eyes, and stabbed randomly at my contacts until the device began to ring.

And ring. And ring.

My wine filled brain was easily distracted and I became consumed by the movie, the ringing becoming oddly soothing.

“Hello?” a harried voice sounded in my ear, jerking me roughly to attention. Cold dread lined my stomach. I knew that voice.

My world stopped. Mouth hanging open, I ripped my phone away from my ear and stared at the call screen.

Tommy Donovan.

Oh no.

With the force of a speeding train hitting my chest, time resumed its normal speed, rocketing my pulse into orbit.

“Hello? Juliet, I know it’s you.” A heavy sigh followed, causing me to bring the phone back to my ear so fast I cracked myself in the head with it. Wincing, I sat up straighter and cleared my throat.

"Oh hi, Tom. Thomas. Tommy. Hi. Hellooo. How, uh, how are you?"

Smooth, I chided myself, sinking down into the cushions and wishing the call would drop. Or that I would be hit by lightning. Either option would have been acceptable. Silence filled the void before Tommy took another deep breath.

“I’m fine. Juliet, listen, you have to stop doing this.”

“Doing? I, uh, I don’t–I was trying to call Beatrice and–"

“And the last time it was the pizza shop and the time before that your mother. I don’t want to have to pursue this legally, so please, just ... remove my number and-"

His voice trailed off as a female purr sounded in the background, but he didn’t need to say anything else. In my mind’s eye, I watched my heart swell up like a balloon before shattering into a million pieces.

“You–You’re right," I stammered. "I –I’m sor ... I’ll do that right now.” My voice was strained, my throat tight with tears.

“I have to go. Don’t call me again.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as feminine laughter echoed down the phone line and reverberated in my ears. Three dull beeps signified the call had ended, but I didn’t move, frozen by what had just happened. The movie played on, but I was no longer watching.

It was over. Really and truly over. He had obviously moved on and I …

I was broken.

I woke to darkness. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and looked around for the source of what had woken me. My yawn turned into a wince as I rubbed at a crick in my neck, making a mental note to never sleep on my couch again. My head ached from the wine. The pain was so bad, it was buzzing.

I moaned, covering my face with my hands. The buzzing seemed to get worse the more awake I became that I could even feel it in my feet.

My brow furrowed before I realized the buzzing was not in my head, but my phone. I fumbled around the cushions as I searched, frowning as I came up empty handed.

“Where is it?” I scrubbed at my eyes with the heels of my palms, willing my headache to abate. Sliding to the floor, I folded into a sitting position and looked blindly around, my fingertips searching.

The buzzing stopped.

“Oh, no. Come on. Where are you?” Getting up and turning on the light was too much effort just to find my phone. Added to that, I was pretty sure anything as bright as the lights would make my head explode. With a grunt, I flopped onto my stomach and stretched out my arm, still searching. “Come on, come on.”

The buzzing started again. And the phone lit up.

“Ah ha!” I shoved my hand beneath the ottoman and grabbed up the buzzing device with a triumphant grin, sliding my thumb over the surface to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God! Juliet! Do you know how many times I’ve called? I was about to send Bill over if you hadn’t answered! Are you okay? Should I send Bill anyway?”

I winced at the loudness of her voice, then again when she screamed for her husband. Sighing, I pressed my face into the carpet, allowing it to muffle the sounds of my grumbling. Of course it was my sister. Who else would it have been?

Tommy, a tiny, hopeful voice whispered before I squashed it down.

“Hello, Bea. I’m fine, no, there’s no need to send Bill. I was asleep.”

Rolling over onto my back I stared at the ceiling as Beatrice continued to rant on about how worried she had been. Her voice only succeeded in making my headache worse.

“Bea! I said I was fine! I’m not dead, I was just asleep. Stop worrying about me before you give yourself an ulcer.”

“I will not stop worrying about you, Juliet. You’re not in a good place right now and you need someone to worry about you!”

“And what would you know about it, Beatrice? I don’t remember you ever being dumped by your fiancé,” I snapped, jerking into a sitting position and groaning in pain for my effort. “Ow,” I whimpered, placing my hand to my head again.

“That’s not fair,” Beatrice said in a soft, tinny voice that instantly made me feel horrible.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry ... Just ... back off a bit, okay? You’re my sister, not my mother.” I forced my tone to be light and joking in hopes of fending off an emotional conversation and bringing her around to the reason she had actually called for.

“I’ll try. I was actually calling to see if you had plans this weekend.”

I groaned softly and stared up at my ceiling. Beatrice was nothing if she wasn’t tenacious. I knew from past experience she would keep asking until I gave in.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I rubbed my brow and bit the bullet. “Ah, No. I don’t have any plans this weekend. Did you have something in mind?”

I could almost hear her smile through the phone line and couldn’t help but chuckle as she squealed. “I did, yes! Bill has the week off so we’re packing up and going to Cannon Beach. I was hoping you would come out to the beach house with us.”

“The beach house? For a week? I don’t know, Bea-”

“Jules, the girls would love it.”

She went there. She was pulling the niece card. How the heck was I supposed to refuse when she used my nieces against me? I sighed, because I knew I couldn’t.

“All right. I’ll go.”

“Really? Oh, Jules! That’s great. That’s just ... Okay, okay, we’ll pick you up at nine-thirty, so be ready. I’ll see you in the morning! I’m so excited! I have to go. Go pack. I love you!”

“Bea-Beatrice. No. I’ll just-” I sighed as the connection ended. "Drive," I finished and dropped my phone to the floor, looking around my dark living room. It was only ten, but it felt like an eternity had passed since I had stupidly dialed Tommy. Biting my lip, my gaze drifted slowly toward my discarded phone.

“No! Don’t you dare! That path is gone and burned,” I told myself firmly, shoving myself to my feet. I stumbled into my bedroom, stopping short as I spotted the full-length mirror. Without a thought, I shucked off my clothes and stood there, examining myself.

I wasn't an unattractive woman. My hair was a glossy, natural red, and long, well past my shoulders now. My skin was pale; I couldn't hold a tan, but I could burn with the best of them. My eyes were a pretty green. My grandfather had always said they were like emeralds.

I guessed I was about average height for a woman, about 5"5’, and slender. Not model slender. The last few months of takeout certainly hadn't helped my waistline, but I wasn't obese.

Sighing dishearteningly, I kicked my crumpled clothes aside and flopped onto the bed, still no closer to understanding why Tommy had lost interest in me. I punched my pillow and shoved away the thought. I really needed to stop wallowing. I needed to push aside any fresh bouts of pain and hold my head up high.

I had a beach trip to pack for.