Chapter 34
Rebecca and Sabrina ordered dinner from Mooney’s, drank wine, and chatted until the stars were out and Sabrina was yawning. “I’m ahead of the game, but I still have a busy day tomorrow,” she said around nine. “I’m going to walk home and come get my car tomorrow.”
Rebecca walked her to the top of the orchard’s driveway, then headed back toward town—and found herself standing in front of the diner, unable to go in.
The lights were on downstairs, but it was empty, not just of people but of the detritus she had grown so used to.
Cort’s toolbox, the paint-spattered work boots he sometimes changed out of and left at the side door, his gray-and-red-plaid flannel jacket that would so often hang on a hook beside her denim jacket and extra sweater.
She knew without going inside that the silence, the emptiness, would be unbearable.
She peered through the window, and her eyes found the back corner booth, where they used to sit.
In the reflecting darkness, it was as if she could see them as they were, once.
Cort, in his letter jacket, his hair still damp from an after-practice shower.
Rebecca, her dark hair tied back in a French braid, trying not to watch him as he read—but unable to keep her eyes on the book in front of her.
The way he would sense her watching, look up, and smile—somehow looking shy, even though she knew Cort Adams was anything but.
See you at the dance? she could almost hear him say.
She turned away from the window, kept walking, away from the diner. Soon she was in front of the Tipsy Apple. She hesitated, looking through the pub’s glowing windows. Music, laughter, the clink of glasses. More memories, but it had been more than a year since she’d been in there with Cort.
Inside, the air was warm, scented with baking apples and fried food.
The hum of conversation wrapped around her like the exact sort of blanket she had needed, the very reason she had left the empty diner.
She slid onto a stool at the bar and ordered a hard apple cider, then stared into the amber swirl when it arrived.
“Rebecca?”
She looked up and nearly groaned. Heather Walsh, smiling down at her. And beside her, Melanie.
“Oh, hey,” Rebecca said, bracing herself.
“Come join us? We’re sitting over there.” Heather waved toward a corner booth. “It’s moms’ night out.”
Rebecca hesitated, glanced at Melanie.
“You should join us, Rebecca,” she said. Her tone contained genuine warmth. Something about her expression disarmed Rebecca. So she picked up her glass and followed them to their booth.
“We’re both having a tough week,” Heather said as they settled in. “We’ve decided wine counts as self-care.”
“I’m intruding,” Rebecca said.
“No,” Melanie said firmly. “You’re not.” Then she glanced toward the bar. “Heather, will you grab us another round, actually?”
Heather nodded, as if receiving some kind of message, and Rebecca’s heart sank. What had she been trapped into? But it was too late. Heather was sliding out of the booth. “And maybe some nachos. Or fries. Or both.”
“Both,” Heather said. She met Rebecca’s gaze. “I told you. It’s been a week.”
When Heather was out of earshot, Melanie turned to Rebecca. “I wanted a minute alone, actually. I owe you something.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I do.” Melanie twisted her wineglass stem. “I heard about you and Cort, breaking up. I’m sorry. And also…I have to be honest.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t say that wasn’t what I wanted.”
Rebecca blinked. “Well,” she said, “that’s…direct.”
Melanie gave a shaky laugh. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. Or maybe I did. It’s just—I’ve had two glasses of wine and a very long day at work.”
Rebecca stayed quiet, waiting.
“When we were teenagers,” Melanie continued, “I always saw how Cort looked at you. I knew it was something, even when he didn’t. I told myself it was just a little crush, that it didn’t matter. That he was my boyfriend. But…he really did like you. And it hurt, back then.”
Rebecca bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. We were kids. It was high school.
A lot of water under the bridge, and Cort and I would end up having issues that had absolutely nothing to do with you.
It’s just that when you came back, it triggered something in me.
And instead of being grown-up about it, I suddenly felt like the seventeen-year-old version of myself who thought she could control things by making someone else smaller.
I did that to you, and it was almost a reflex.
” She looked down at her hands. “I love Cort,” she said. “I always will.”
“The Cort Adams Effect is real,” Rebecca said, and at this, Melanie looked up and laughed.
“I’ve never heard that one before. And that’s exactly what it is.
Those eyes. That smile. How genuine he is—because he is genuine.
He’s a great guy, and as our marriage fell apart, I found myself wishing he could be the guy for me.
Every once in a while, I guess I still do, like when I saw you two back together.
I love Ryan, truly, but seeing you with Cort did something to me I’m not proud of.
” She looked chagrined. “Don’t get me wrong.
I don’t want to be with Cort. I would never, ever go after him.
We’re so much better as friends and co-parents. I just…”
“I get it. The heart has its reasons…” She trailed off when Melanie didn’t seem to get the Blaise Pascal reference. “What I’m saying is that emotions are not always logical.”
Melanie nodded. “I wasn’t fair to you. Cort and I were never meant to be forever. We both know that now. I hurt you guys for no reason other than my own insecurity, and that’s not the kind of woman I want to be.”
Rebecca took a slow sip of cider. “You didn’t ruin anything that wasn’t already cracking,” she said finally. “Cort and I…We aren’t meant to be.”
Melanie’s eyes softened. “I don’t know if that’s true. I should have known better. And Pip misses you.”
“I miss him, too—but you and Cort weren’t wrong. We needed to be more careful about Pip. You have this whole deal about who you introduce him to and when, and that’s healthy for him. That’s important, and I interfered with it.”
“You are a very hard person to apologize to, Rebecca,” Melanie said with a light laugh.
“I just don’t want you to be too hard on yourself.”
At that moment, Heather came back balancing three drinks and a plate of nachos smothered in cheese. “Okay,” she said, sliding into the booth. “Time to eat my feelings.”
“What happened?”
Heather just sighed and bit into a nacho.
“She got fired from the PTA.”
“What?”
“God, these are good,” Heather said. “Why do I ever try to convince myself kale chips are just as good as actual chips? And, yes, it’s true.
I confronted a mother during a PTA meeting about her daughter’s treatment of my daughter.
” Then she grew thoughtful. “Ambrosia has been coming home crying about it for weeks—and some of the things this kid was saying to her started to feel a little familiar.” She looked up at Rebecca.
“Because I’ve done that, haven’t I? Don’t answer me.
I know it’s true. I was a mean girl in high school—and now, seeing someone I love get treated that way…
” She shook her head. “Well, it caused me to lose my shit at a school meeting.” She was thoughtful for another moment—while all Rebecca could think about was reporting back to Sabrina as soon as possible that Heather was possibly having her first moment of self-awareness.
Then she pushed the plate toward Rebecca, a clumsy peace offering.
“Nacho?” Rebecca took one and tapped it lightly against the one Heather held in her hand, marveling at the turn this night had taken.
She was sure she wasn’t going to become a regular at Heather and Melanie’s “moms’ night out”—and yet, it was nice to know Heather Walsh actually possessed a soul.
Now Melanie met Rebecca’s eyes. “To long-lost love,” she said, and raised an eyebrow. Rebecca looked away.
“You can’t do that,” Heather exclaimed. “You have to look everyone in the eye when you do a toast or…” She turned to Melanie. “What happens? I forget.”
“Seven years of bad sex?” Melanie ventured.
“Something like that.”
Rebecca looked each of them in the eye—these women who were once girls who had intimidated her in high school.
She suddenly realized they’d changed as much as she had; she just hadn’t noticed.
They were not the same people. People could change, and yet they still carried around essential layers of themselves.
“You look like you’re having a very deep thought,” Melanie said.
“Typical Becca McIntosh,” Heather said with a laugh that wasn’t unfriendly, that made Rebecca realize that this person knew her, even if they had not been friends.
Later, when the server came by with the bill, Heather insisted on paying. “My good deed for the week,” she said, grinning. “I’ll tell the karma gods I’m working on it.”
Outside, the night air was cool and sweet. The sign for the Tipsy Apple glowed red against the dark as Heather waved goodbye to them and walked toward her house.
Melanie pulled her sweater tighter and turned to Rebecca. “I meant what I said, Rebecca.”
“I know, but it’s not simple.”
“I’ll talk to Cort. I just want to set things right.”
Rebecca shook her head gently. “It’s between us,” she said.
“I don’t think you can fix it. But thank you for wanting to try.
” The hug Melanie gave her before saying goodbye was quick and surprising.
Then she was gone, and Rebecca stood for a moment alone under the streetlight, in a town she had known all her life—and yet, it still never failed to surprise her.