Chapter 18
Mary stood in the shower, letting the hot water stream down her back. She moved in slow motion, trying to wash her melancholy away. Usually the scent of her coconut lime soap made her happy, but tonight even that couldn’t cheer her up. Kimberly’s story had been much better than hers. Somehow, Kimberly had managed to cover the rescue of a surfer who had foolishly tried to ride the waves at the height of the storm. Matt, her cameraman, had filmed the entire incident, from the moment the surfer went under to when he’d been pulled safely out of the raging ocean. Incredibly, after being rescued once, the surfer went right back out in the stormy sea. He rode a wave to the shore and then agreed to an interview. He was surprisingly well spoken, too, for someone who’d done something so foolish not once, but twice, talking about the importance of riding the waves that come at you in life and being resilient.
The highlight of Mary’s story had been James’s singing. She couldn’t shake the image of him wearing that tight-fitting postal uniform. He had seemed so downtrodden, and somehow she was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in this version of his life. He was so happy when he sang for the crowd in that bar, and they’d loved him. Why hadn’t he been able to pursue a career in music without her?
She turned the knob to shut off the faucet and stepped out of the shower into the steamy bathroom. The foggy mirror showed a cloudy image of herself, reflective of her internal confusion. How had erasing thirty years from her life had such a devastating impact on Liz’s and James’s lives?
She settled on the sofa with soup and a box of crackers. “Hey, little guy,” she said to Belli. Brady hadn’t asked for the fish back, and she had no intention of returning him. Her apartment was lonely without anyone else puttering around. Belli was the best company she had in her new life. Watching the fish swim in circles, she wondered who took care of it in her real life. If she hadn’t been in this alternate universe the night of Brady’s party, the poor little thing might not have survived. Oh no. Back in her real life, Belli was probably dead. If her being here had changed Belli’s life, it must have also caused changes to other people’s besides hers. The soup she’d just swallowed came back up to her mouth, and she raced to the bathroom to spit it out. Was James a postman in her real life too? Would she turn on the nightly news and see that Nora O’Donnell person behind the anchor desk instead of Liz? And what about Dean? What if, when she got back to her real life, he was married to someone else? Kendra wouldn’t ... no. No. No.
She raced back to the living room and called Darbi. Darbi didn’t pick up, so Mary left a desperate message: “I need to talk to you. Call me right away.”
Outside, the storm raged on, with rain battering the roof and wind rattling the shutters. She turned on the six o’clock news, hoping the sound of voices would stop her mind from spiraling deeper down the black hole. The television and lights flickered. Great. The last thing she needed was for the electricity to go out. In case it did, she searched the apartment for a flashlight. She couldn’t find one, but she did find candles and matches in the kitchen drawers. She lit the candles and placed them in the living room on the coffee table next to Belli.
The doorbell rang, startling her. Maybe it was Darbi. She rushed to the door and pulled it open. Of course it wasn’t Darbi. She wouldn’t venture out on such a stormy evening. It was Brady. He stood on the landing holding a dish, the hood of his gray sweatshirt pulled over his head. He stepped inside, bringing the delicious smell of barbecue sauce with him. “I came here for two things,” he said.
She backed away from him, not wanting to think about what he might want, and then she froze. The most unsettling question popped into her head. Had she and Brady used protection? Her face heated up. She hadn’t seen any birth control pills in the apartment. What if ... no, no. No.
“The first thing is I made you dinner.” He thrust the dish at her. “Ribs.”
She hadn’t had her period since waking up young.
“Nice pajamas.” He placed his hand on her sleeve, rubbing the fabric. “Soft.”
She jerked her arm away. How long had she been here? It seemed like a lifetime, but little more than a week had passed. No need to worry, yet.
Brady stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his wet sweatshirt, then hung it on the doorknob.
Why was he undressing? Oh boy, he’d said he’d come up for two things. If he removed his T-shirt, she’d ask him to leave.
“Everything okay?” he asked. “You seem wound up. Must have been a tough day.” He pointed to the television, where on-screen Mary stood outside the pub in Scituate in the driving rain and howling wind.
“With the weather outside nasty ...,” the TV version of herself began. The camera zoomed in on the hood of her bright-blue raincoat flapping over her shoulder and her soaking-wet hair blowing across her face. “Many in the town of Scituate spent the day eating, drinking, and laughing with friends inside one of the town’s oldest taverns, the Hungry Shark. Hidden among the crowd was James Morisette, the Singing Mailman, who filled the place with a whole lot of sunshine on this stormy day.”
The image on the television changed to the warm, dry inside of the pub, where James did his best Rod Stewart impersonation and the crowd gave him a raucous ovation.
“The ‘Singing Mailman’ has a nice ring to it.” Brady had wandered into the living room and made himself at home. He reclined on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table, precariously close to Belli’s bowl.
Mary stayed where she was, by the door. “Where’s RaeLynn tonight?” she blurted out, feeling the need to remind him about his girlfriend.
“She’ll be here any second.”
Mary blew out a long breath and sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
“Why didn’t you film your part inside?” Brady asked.
“My cameraman insisted that viewers love to see reporters getting smacked down by the weather.”
“Want me to give him a smackdown?” Brady flexed his arm, showing off his biceps.
She knew he was kidding, but the thought of him wanting to protect her warmed her insides. If she didn’t feel so uncomfortable around him, he could have been a good friend to her while she was here. If she hadn’t known he’d cheated on his girlfriend, she would have thought he was a good guy.
Brady picked up her bowl of soup and made a face. “You’re lucky I brought you a real dinner.”
Yes, he definitely would be a good friend to have.
His phone buzzed. He looked down at it and smiled. “RaeLynn’s here.” He jumped up from the sofa. “See you soon.”
“What was the second thing you were here for?” He had just pulled the door open when Mary worked up the nerve to ask.
He turned and pointed toward the coffee table, where the candles were glowing. “Wanted to make sure you were prepared if the lights went out. Should have known you would be.”
She watched him descend the stairway, reassured by his words. Surely no version of herself would sleep with him without protection, and he seemed responsible too.
Just in case, she’d pick up a pregnancy test in the morning.