43. Henry
Reeling as he left Charlotte’s house, Henry blindly drove the streets of the town he had loved for a quarter of a century while his tears ran unchecked.
Her words had stung, but what made them so cutting was that it wasn’t the first time he’d heard them; he’d been repeating them to himself since the day Melanie had left.
Over time, it became easier to blame her for leaving than to examine how he’d driven her away.
What he loathed to admit was that he’d been just as unhappy as she in their marriage.
Once and for all, he wanted— no, needed—closure with his ex-wife. The only way to get that was through answers, and he made a U-turn. After pulling up to the Holiday Suites, Henry texted:
We need to talk.
I’m in front of the hotel.
Dots flickered in response, yet no message came.
Instead, several minutes later, the revolving door leading from the hotel lobby spun.
“Let’s walk to the diner.” Henry was curt when Melanie came out, and after she shot him a surprised look, the two made their way three blocks over to Betsy’s Diner without speaking.
A lifetime of gentlemanly behavior had him holding the door open for Melanie, earning him a shocked glance in return. “Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Henry bristled with annoyance.
“Hi, Henry,” Sissy, one of Beverley’s best information spreaders, greeted them as they entered. By noon, at least fifty people would know about him being here with an unknown woman, and he cringed thinking about it. “Table for two?”
He had to get this over with, so he confirmed, “Yes, please.”
“Drove past the park yesterday. That was some wedding Josh had. Of course, I’m not upset I didn’t get an invitation, ‘cause I had to work and all.” Sissy snapped her gum. “Here ya go.”
As if things couldn’t be more depressing, they were at the booth he had last occupied with DD, and there was no way he could face adding another memory to it, so he pointed to the next one over. “Actually, do you mind if we sit there?”
“Whatever you want, Henry. Coffees?”
He nodded, but Melanie requested, “Tea, please, English breakfast, if you have it.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Never knew you to be a tea drinker.”
“Just put that on the list of things you never paid attention to. All the time you were obsessed with coffee, I could never stand the stuff.”
He slid onto the banquette. “I stand corrected.” He sipped from the ice water Sissy had placed before him. “Before we go any further, I want it known that I am only here for our children. I would have been happy never speaking to you again.”
“Well, clearly I misspoke earlier.” Melanie frowned. “You have changed. When did you get so harsh, Henry?”
“Probably around the time that you left me and our son, without a word,” Henry sneered, “and then I find out I have a secret daughter that you kept from me? Stole from me—”
Melanie held up a hand. “Okay, please, you’re right.
I don’t need my list of transgressions read to me again.
” Sissy placed their drinks on the table and, when neither of them was interested in ordering anything else, left them alone.
“Sophie fell asleep just before you texted me, exhausted from reading me the riot act.”
Henry studied her. In the diner lighting, her once brilliantly blonde hair had a brassy sheen to it; her face still wore traces of her makeup from the day before.
Melanie purred, “Like what you see, Henry?” At his beleaguered sigh, she followed quickly with: “Relax, I’m only kidding. I know you’re taken.”
Stopping his hand from raising his coffee cup any further, Henry glared at her. “Excuse me?”
She smiled slyly. “This afternoon at the wedding. I saw you with someone.”
“What do you mean? Were you there?”
Melanie gave a small laugh. “Of course I was—I tucked myself far enough away from everyone so I could see the ceremony. Couldn’t hear a damn thing, but at least I got to see our son get married.
” Leaning back, shook her head as she drank her tea.
“God, Henry, did you really think I wouldn’t be there for it?
After Joshua moved back here, when your dad told me all about Effie and how perfect they were together, I knew it would only be a matter of time.
Sophie isn’t the only one who knows how to do an internet search. ”
“Did Sophie know you were there?”
“Are you kidding me? She is so straight-laced and stubborn. Would’ve locked me in the house if she’d known I was comin’.”
“And all those calls and texts from you?”
“I really was trying to tell you about her.” She averted her eyes and poured more milk into her tea.
“You looked happy today.” She looked back up, eyes glittering.
“Do you know how long it had been, when we were together, since I had seen you that way?” Melanie sipped her tea and remarked, “Obviously, you were happy where Joshua was concerned, but as for me?” Tears flowed down her face, stunning Henry.
“I would have killed to have you look at me the way you looked at her.”
Flabbergasted and frustrated, Henry pointed out, “I did—you just chose not to see it. All you focused on was what you were missing.” Sipping his coffee, Henry admitted softly, “You almost broke me when you left. I didn’t understand why you would just abandon us.
All I ever wanted to do was make us work. As a family.”
“You’re right, Henry,” she concurred, to his amazement.
Where was the woman from every contentious phone call, every terse, demanding text?
“Believe it or not, I’ve regretted that every day of my life since.
I’m so sorry, more than you can imagine.
I was selfish…hell, I still am, just ask Sophie.
” Melanie blew her nose on a napkin. “I’ve made so many mistakes, but the worst one was leaving you.
” He felt an unwelcome pang of empathy as she dabbed the corners of her eyes.
“But I struggled every day. I was so lonely, in so much pain, I wished, just once, that you’d see it. “
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Part of him always believed she reveled in her discontent, like a suffering heroine.
“I did! You refused to acknowledge it!” At his shaking head, she went on, “Henry, all I did was complain!” Melanie dragged her hands over her face. “What did you think I was doing? Just bitchin’ so I could hear myself talk?”
Yes, he thought, and to prove her point about how much she hated living with him.
Inhaling deeply, his eyes caught hers, and the hurt he had refused to acknowledge years ago pained him now.
“I apologize, Melanie. I guess I internalized it all as proof that you didn’t think I was good enough for you—that our life was good enough.
I knew I let you down when I stayed working at my dad’s shop, and that you were disappointed I didn’t go to college like I had planned; that you thought I took the easy way.
But do you know how hard it was for me when we moved to Clover Lake?
I had sworn, when I left that summer, that I would never work there again.
Never get grease under my nails or wear coveralls for the next thirty years—”
“You never said! You always just acted like you were fine with it!”
“Well, I wasn’t!” Henry exploded, slamming his hand on the table and rattling the silverware.
“You weren’t the only one disappointed in me!
I was, too. My brother was. My parents were.
I should have been a doctor!” Henry allowed his pain and anger to surface briefly before gaining control again.
“But I did what I had to do. For you,” he told her pointedly.
“For Josh.” His eyes filled with tears. “I would have done the same for Sophie.”
“I know, and that’s why I had to leave. I was terrified of being left behind—by you, by Joshua.
The older he got, the more he would become yours; that much was evident.
He wouldn’t be mine anymore. He’d see everything that I wasn’t.
” She sobbed; the vulnerability she’d hidden beneath her swagger and dreams staggered him.
“I needed to get away, and I swear to you that it was only supposed to be for a break—not forever. I called my sister because I needed someone in my corner.” Melanie picked up another napkin.
“I’d been sendin’ her money so she could come visit sometime, not aid in my escape.
” Her voice broke. “I felt so alone, and I missed her so much.”
In retrospect, Henry could see that what he had mistaken for petulance or indifference to him—her withdrawn silence, irritability, disinterest in almost anything except their son—had more than likely been depression. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Make me understand?”
Melanie shrugged. “The more miles I put between me and Clover Lake, the freer I felt. I never even told Casey I was pregnant. When I was six months along, she asked me outright. Nagged me for years to tell you about Sophie, but I wouldn’t listen.
She and I had a huge blowup when Sophie was eleven about it.
” Melanie spun her spoon in her hand. “Casey wrote you a letter that I found in her bedroom. She’d been actin’ suspicious for a while, askin’ little things about your family.
I figured she was up to somethin’, but I never imagined she’d betray me.
So, I ripped it up and confronted her. She stormed out, called me a liar, told me she was plannin’ on movin’ out anyway—said she’d met a man, fallen in love. ”
Slumping against the banquette, his ex-wife’s admission altered his reality.
If she had been honest. If he had listened.
If Casey had sent him that letter. What would he have done?
Stormed down to wherever they lived, demanding to see his daughter?
Shown Melanie more grace before she had left?
Yet, Melanie’s words had stirred something else, and he confronted her, “But you did want to leave. You were always talking about California—”