Chapter Seven #2
“Hi.” Marin offered a smile that seemed slightly brittle. Her movements were stiff, and obviously this nerve pain was worse than she was letting on.
“The stretches didn’t help, huh?” She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.
“Sometimes they don’t.” Marin rubbed at her right thigh. “Breakfast smells delicious, though.”
“It really does.” Charlotte walked to the breakfast table. “What’s more comfortable for you? Sitting? Standing? Breakfast in bed?”
Marin’s surprise at the question was obvious, although she had probably tried to hide her reaction.
She seemed somewhat hesitant to share her pain with Charlotte, and she hoped that was just Marin’s nature and not a result of how her ex-husband had treated her.
“Standing, probably. Then I may lie down after breakfast. Sorry.”
“What in the world are you apologizing for? Pain happens. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Breakfast definitely helps.” Marin’s expression softened. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. So have you heard back from any of the women you messaged last night?” Charlotte pushed a breakfast sandwich and a donut in front of Marin and went to pour two mugs of coffee, eager to make herself useful.
“I had two messages waiting this morning, actually.”
“Yeah?” Charlotte grinned as she placed a mug of coffee in front of Marin. “Good ones?”
“Yeah, they both sound nice. It’s exciting. Thanks for helping me get started.”
“You bet. I’m glad you’re off to such a good start. You’ll be on your first date with a woman before you know it.”
“I sure hope so.” Marin’s face held a look of such raw, intense longing, it took Charlotte’s breath away.
She blinked, and it was gone, but Charlotte felt her whole perspective shift in that moment.
She had no idea what it was like to be in Marin’s shoes, to be forty-seven and never have dated someone she was physically attracted to.
No wonder she seemed nearly overcome by the anticipation.
“This is a big deal for you,” Charlotte murmured as she wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “I think I just realized how big of a deal.”
“The biggest. I’m overwhelmed just thinking about it.” Her face transformed with a brilliant smile. “The best kind of overwhelmed.”
“I can’t wait to hear every detail.” And yet, Charlotte felt a strange little ping of discomfort at the thought of Marin treating another woman to that beautiful smile.
“Every detail?” Marin’s eyebrows rose, laughter sparkling in her eyes.
“I want to know everything about your journey,” Charlotte clarified. “Anything you feel comfortable sharing . . . maybe not every detail when you finally have sex with a woman.” She laughed, somewhat awkwardly.
“I’m not really one to share details about my sex life.” Marin looked embarrassed now. “Not that I’ve ever had much excitement to share in that department.”
“Soon you’ll have all the excitement you can handle.” Honestly, Charlotte couldn’t even imagine what it would be like, having sex with someone she was attracted to for the first time at Marin’s age.
“Hopefully.” Marin took a big bite of her breakfast sandwich and moaned. “Okay, this is amazing. Just what I needed this morning.”
“They’re great, right? It’s from Betty’s Bakery in town.”
Marin chewed and swallowed. “Noted.”
Conversation became sparse as they ate. Charlotte was mostly enjoying her food, but she couldn’t help noticing the pain tightening Marin’s features. She was obviously trying to put on a brave face, but the pain seemed to be getting worse.
When they finished eating, Charlotte offered, “Why don’t you let me clean up the kitchen while you lie down for a bit?”
“I should take a shower, but . . .” She winced, again rubbing at her right thigh. “Maybe I’ll lie down first. You don’t need to clean up, though.”
“I got this. Go rest. Are you sure there’s not anything else I can do to help?”
Marin shook her head. “I’ve already taken my medication. Sometimes there are bad days, and there’s not a lot I can do about it. Such is life with chronic pain.”
“I’m sorry.” Charlotte pulled her in for an impulsive hug, loving the way Marin leaned into her and exhaled as if the hug had brought her some comfort.
Charlotte never discounted the benefits of a good hug, or of comfort in general.
Medicine wasn’t the only way to help someone feel better.
Care and compassion went a long way too.
“Thank you,” Marin whispered before she pulled back. She opened the freezer and removed an ice pack, then headed toward her bedroom, walking slowly and with a limp.
It was another harsh reminder of what she’d been through. Yes, she’d survived, but there had obviously been a physical toll to pay. Not for the first time, Charlotte was so grateful that she’d lived.
And that fate had brought them back together.
She cleaned up the remnants of their breakfast, then spent a few minutes tidying Marin’s kitchen.
They’d left their pizza plates and wineglasses on the counter last night, both of them exhausted and more than a little bit drunk by the time they’d gone to bed.
She took care of it now, then wiped down the counters.
Once she’d started the dishwasher, she went down the hall and peeked into Marin’s room.
She was lying on her left side, her right leg extended straight.
The ice pack—one of those cloth-covered gel packs—was draped over her thigh.
Her face was tight with pain, her fists clenched in the sheets.
Charlotte’s stomach dropped. It hurt to see her in such visible distress.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Marin’s face softened. “Hi. I really didn’t mean for you to clean up my kitchen.”
“I know you didn’t, but I was glad to. What else can I do?”
Marin shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just going to lie here for a bit until it eases.”
“Want company, or would you rather be alone?”
Marin lifted her head, staring at Charlotte in surprise. “You . . . you’d stay?”
“Of course,” Charlotte said. “I’ve got another hour or so before I need to get ready for my first appointment of the day.
I’d love to stay and distract you from the pain if you think that would be helpful.
Now that I’ve reinstalled the app, I could even read your horoscope for you!
But if you’d rather be alone and nap or whatever, just tell me to get lost.”
“I’d really like some company, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Marin spoke softly, hesitantly, as if she wasn’t accustomed to this kind of care. “And a horoscope sounds . . . fun.”
“Awesome. Let’s see what the stars have in store for you today.”
On Sunday, Charlotte met her dad for lunch, as had become their routine.
After decades of barely speaking, they’d taken the first tentative steps toward rebuilding their relationship since her return to Vermont.
Today, though, she was semidreading their meeting since she’d have to ask him about Allan Svenson.
What if he didn’t know and she ruined his memories of his wife by revealing her affair?
By the time she reached the restaurant, she was a nervous mess.
Her dad was already seated at a table by the front window, and she made her way over to him. “Hi, Dad.”
He inclined his head toward her. “Charlotte.”
She shrugged out of her coat and hung it up before she sat.
Her dad had on khaki pants and a blue blazer over a crisp white shirt and tie, as if he’d just come from the classroom, although he’d actually come from church.
This was his forever uniform, though. She’d never seen him truly dressed down.
In fact, she wasn’t even sure he owned jeans.
“Been keeping busy?” he asked. “I can’t imagine many people are looking for houses this time of year.”
“You’d be surprised, actually. It’s been busier than I was expecting.” She’d been a Realtor for almost twenty years, but this was her first time working in Vermont. Also, she was stalling. She fidgeted with her menu, unsure how to even broach the subject.
Luckily or unluckily, the waiter chose that moment to approach their table. Her dad asked for a bottle of sparkling water for the table and ordered a chicken club. Flustered, Charlotte said she’d take the same.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, you seem like you have something on your mind,” her dad observed.
“I got a copy of the report from the sheriff’s department about Mom’s disappearance.”
“Oh.” He sipped from his water, then gave her a piercing look. “Any surprises?”
“Yes.” She gulped from her own water, her throat gone dry. “Dad . . . do you know Allan Svenson? He teaches at the university.”
Her dad flinched almost imperceptibly. “I know him.”
“Do you know . . . ?”
“Yes.” His voice held no inflection, and suddenly, she didn’t know how to read his face either. “I know about his relationship with your mother.”
“Did you know before she disappeared?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Our marriage wasn’t perfect, Charlotte. We both had our . . . indiscretions, but we were committed to raising you together as a family.”
What? Charlotte’s face burned at the implications. “You both . . .” She coughed. Oh god, what was she supposed to say to that? What was she supposed to think?
“Maybe we should have made better choices, but we were doing the best we could. And the sheriff’s department assured me that Allan had a rock-solid alibi for the day of her disappearance, so ultimately, I don’t think he’s relevant.”
“But you? Who were you sleeping with?” This time, her voice came out sharp and biting.
“No one at the time of her disappearance. I’d been trying to convince Terri to give us another chance. I thought . . . well, it seemed like she was willing to try.”
“I don’t know what to think. You were both sleeping with other people? That’s . . .” She mimed her head exploding.
He looked pained. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
He fiddled with his water glass, although she wasn’t sure if he was thinking or stalling.
“There was a duffel bag missing, a small bag your mother sometimes packed for weekend trips. I didn’t notice right away that it was missing, and by the time I did, well, I was starting to second-guess myself.
” He shook his head. “I can’t be sure when I last saw that bag.
She might have lost it or thrown it away.
It might have no relevance at all. I just don’t know. ”
“A duffel bag.” Charlotte didn’t know what to say, what to think.
But suddenly, it felt horrifyingly obvious what she’d be thinking if this was anyone but her dad.
She’d be thinking the jilted husband killed his wife.
It was always the husband. Everyone knew that.
But she just . . . she couldn’t believe it.
Couldn’t picture him ever being violent.
She also knew people made this mistake all the time. No one wanted to believe their family member was guilty of a crime. He seemed like such a nice guy. Wasn’t that what people always said when they discovered that someone they knew had done something horrible?
She’d never imagined either of her parents capable of having an affair, and she’d been wrong about that.
What if she was wrong about everything? What if neither of her parents had been who she thought they were?
Was she about to lose her dad, too, like ripping off a mask and revealing someone she didn’t want to know?
Charlotte had come to Vermont looking for answers, but if she discovered that her dad had murdered her mom . . . it might ruin her. Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because her dad’s eyes flashed with pain.
“I didn’t hurt her. She headed out to meet her friends for book club, and she never arrived.
That’s all I know.” He looked devastated, and for the first time, she wondered what it had been like for him, living under a shadow of suspicion after his wife disappeared.
If she’d heard the rumors that he killed her, surely he had too. That must have been terrible for him.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You promise there’s nothing else you’re not telling me?”
He held her gaze, his expression earnest and unflinching. “I promise.”
She exhaled. “Okay.”
She believed him. She had to. What choice did she have? He was her father.