51. Bedrock
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
BEDROCK
Claire
When I step inside Lucy and Jensen’s, a soft glow spills from the windows, and laughter drifts from the kitchen, followed by the clatter of pots.
Lucy stands at the island, chopping vegetables in a steady rhythm. Sloane occupies her usual stool with a glass of wine in hand, and no intention of helping with anything productive. Both women look up as I enter, and judging by their expressions, they know something is bothering me.
Lucy sets down her knife, the blade reflecting the overhead light. “What happened?”
I hang my jacket on the hook by the door and let the breath I’d been holding escape slowly. “Why does everyone always assume something happened?”
“Because we know you.”
I already know there’s no point in trying to avoid this conversation. If I don’t tell them, Marisol eventually will. I slide onto a stool across from Sloane. “I saw Ethan today. He’s been doing repairs at Juniper House in secret. Well, it’s only been a secret to me.”
Sloane straightens in her seat, lowering her glass of wine without taking another sip.
Confusion replaces concern on both their faces.
“What repairs?” Lucy asks.
“Apparently, all of them. The greenhouse fence. The bookshelf in the community room. Lighting. Cabinets. Drywall. Benches. Ceiling tiles. Everything.”
Lucy lowers herself onto a stool. “How long?”
“Since before Thanksgiving.”
“Before… Thanksgiving?” she repeats.
I nod. “According to Marisol.”
Sloane sips her wine. “Well, that’s inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?”
“Yes. I’ve invested a significant amount of energy into disliking him on your behalf, and now I find out he’s been secretly repairing a group home for vulnerable teenagers.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
“I’m serious,” Sloane continues. “If he were going to have an affair, the least he could have done afterward was commit to being awful.”
Lucy remains thoughtful, tracing the rim of her mug with a finger. “Did he tell you why he was doing it?”
“He said the building needed repairs, and it’s important to him because it’s important to me.”
Lucy leans back in her chair, the springs creaking. “Maybe that’s why it matters.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he wanted credit, he would have made sure you knew.”
Sloane swirls her wine thoughtfully, the ruby liquid catching the light. “Did he ask for anything?”
“He asked me to go to counseling with him.”
Lucy places her palms on the granite countertop. “What did you say?”
“I told him ‘no.’”
Sloane nods approvingly. “Excellent.”
I grimace, the corners of my mouth turning down. “Then I told him I would think about it.”
Her approval vanishes instantly. “Claire.”
“What?”
“We were making progress.”
Lucy ignores us both, her gaze fixed on me. “Are you considering it?”
I stare down at the counter. “I honestly don’t know.”
The admission surprises me; it speaks the truth. Quietly I say, “He isn’t asking me to forgive him or to come home. He told me he wants me to listen, not to make any choices regarding our marriage.”
Later that evening, after dinner and Ellie’s disappearance upstairs, I find my father in the barn, checking on a horse.
I stand near the stall and watch him work.
He notices me but says nothing. My father has always been good at recognizing when someone isn’t ready to talk.
Eventually, he closes the stall door with a gentle click and turns toward me.
“Something’s bothering you.”
I smile faintly. “Am I that obvious?”
“You’ve been staring at that horse for five minutes.”
I lean against the rough wooden railing. “Ethan has been doing repairs at Juniper House.”
His eyebrows rise. “What repairs?”
“Apparently every repair they’ve needed for months.”
That earns a surprised laugh.
I tell him everything, the words tumbling out in a rush. When I finish, he is unusually silent. My father forms opinions quickly, but this time he seems to be lost in thought. A deep crease forms between his brows.
Finally, he nods. “That sounds like him.”
He brushes dust from his hands and leans against the stall, his gaze steady on mine.
“I remember Ethan’s father complaining once,” he says.
“Said he’d grounded him for sneaking out, and the kid spent the whole weekend fixing their neighbor’s porch steps instead of sulking in his room.
Never even asked for thanks. The old woman had mentioned they were unsteady in passing—Ethan just... filed it away.”
He grins. “Didn’t ask. Just showed up with lumber and tools. Nearly gave the poor woman a heart attack before she realized what he was doing.”
“He also asked me to go to counseling.”
“And?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t owe him reconciliation.”
“I know.”
“You don’t owe him forgiveness either.”
“I know.”
He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “But after almost two and a half decades, I think you owe yourself clarity.”
“What if I’m not ready to make any major decisions yet?”
“Then gather all the information before you decide.”