Chapter 22 Beck
Beck
Saturday, midday, reunion weekend
When Audrey can’t figure out how to put on socks, Beck decides to bag the school tour.
“I know these are to keep my feet warm,” Audrey says, looking at the balled-up socks in her hand. “I just can’t figure out how they work. They come out of this . . . this knot, but I can’t see how. I’ll ask my mom.”
An hour ago, the four of them were in Audrey’s bedroom, talking about the classmates they ran into at the game, who had changed, who had not. Audrey seemed fine. Or she’d been faking fine. Then Jasmine said she had to talk to her family, and a little while later, Micah slipped out, too.
“You know what?” Beck says. “I’m kind of tired. Let’s take a nap.”
“Okay,” Audrey says and starts to get off the bed. “I’ll be in my room.”
Her childhood room, she means. Beck swallows and says, “Let’s stay here.
It’s so comfy.” She pats the bed, and after a second’s hesitation, Audrey lies down.
Beck takes the soft blanket from the bottom of the bed and spreads it over her.
Mr. Littlejeans leaps up onto the bed beside her, purring loudly.
Good kitty. Audrey closes her eyes and is asleep within seconds, her breathing steady, her hand twitching lightly.
Beck lies next to her, looking at her old friend’s profile, her face soft in sleep, no worried eyebrows or uncertain smile. She looks like the girl Beck once loved so much.
On the bureau is a picture of Clay and Audrey on their wedding day. Audrey’s dress was simple and elegant, and she held a bouquet of pink peonies. Clay beamed. Mathilda scowled.
They were going to be each other’s bridesmaids, have the most epic bachelorette weekends, give the best speeches. Hold each other’s hands through heartbreak and childbirth. Both Audrey and Beck had envisioned moving back to Stafford, being neighbors, seeing each other every day.
Now look at them. Beck is being sued for sexual harassment, Micah’s wound tighter than a piano string, Jasmine is essentially a Stepford Wife, and Audrey wants her dead mother to help put on her socks.
There’s a soft tap at the door, and she looks over to see Stephen standing there, holding two mugs, the Irish setter next to him. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Is she asleep?”
Beck gets off the bed and runs a hand through her short hair. “Yes,” she whispers. The dog looks at the bed, makes eye contact with Mr. Littlejeans, then hangs her head and pads out of the room.
“How is she?” Stephen asks.
Beck pauses. “She can’t figure out how to put on socks and wants your mom to help.” Her eyes well with tears.
He winces. “Come out here,” Stephen says, nodding at the French doors.
A small balcony sits off the master bedroom—honest to God, it’s still the prettiest house Beck has ever seen.
They sit on the beautiful, curving teak chairs, and Beck wipes her eyes.
Stephen presses a mug into her hand—coffee, cream, no sugar, the way she’s always taken it.
“This other one was for Audrey, but . . .” He takes a sip. “So much sugar,” he says. “That’s something new, too. She eats like a little kid. Gummy worms and Starburst and Skittles. It’s gross. Her teeth will . . . well.” He looks down.
Her teeth will not rot. Not before she dies.
Bitter Creek Farm’s endless green fields spread out before them, dotted with black-and-white cows in the distance. The red barn and stone dairy speak of history, the meandering stone walls anchors to the past.
“What will happen to the farm after she . . . dies?” Beck asks. “Will it go to you?”
“I don’t know. I figured she’d leave it to Mathilda.”
“Oh.” It doesn’t seem like the kid would want it, and even if she does, Beck doesn’t think she deserves it.
“I know,” Stephen says, reading her mind. “I was five when my mom died. I think Mathilda was four. And yet we had completely different experiences with our stepmothers.”
“Your mom and Dr. Kate met in college, right?”
“Yep. They were roommates. My mom made her my guardian before I was even born. She went the sperm donor route. I’m an IVF baby. I told you that, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“My grandparents were older and really couldn’t raise another kid.
Kate came out those last few weeks when my mom was dying, and after, she told me that my mom wanted me to go live with her and Uncle Burt and Audrey, and that if I wanted, she and Burt would be my mom and dad, and Audrey would be my sister. And I felt so . . . relieved.”
He puts his hand over his eyes, and Beck leans over and takes his other hand.
He glances up, eyes grateful. “Of course, I knew Kate already,” he continues.
“She was my godmother, and she’d visited here and there.
I think we even spent Christmas here in Vermont when I was two or three.
But my mom had been so sick for so long, it seemed.
When she died, the Porters rescued me. Not just taking me in, you know, but making me their instant son and brother.
Obviously, I missed my mom, and Mom—Kate—was so good at making sure I remembered her, told stories about her, all that.
And I did remember her and how great she was.
But she was gone, and here I had a built-in sister and two great parents and lived in paradise.
” He takes a sip of coffee, grimacing at the sweetness.
“Your first mom knew what she was doing.”
“Exactly. So I’ve never had a lot of patience for Mathilda, or Mattie or Tilda or Kylo, or whatever we’re calling her now. I can’t imagine digging in that hard just to prove a point.”
“And what point is that?”
“That Audrey’s not her mother. That she never asked for Audrey, doesn’t have to listen to her, all that crap. Meanwhile, Audrey’s been standing there with her heart in her hands for more than a decade, begging Mathilda to let her take care of her.”
“She has a bucket list, you know. Audrey. One of the things was to feel like a mom.”
Stephen tears up again. “Shit. I could’ve at least given her a niece or nephew.”
“You’re only forty. Get to work.”
“Forty-one. Even if I knocked you up right now, she wouldn’t live to see the baby.”
That sentence . . . good God. A whole other life flashes before her eyes. “Um, sir, will you at least buy me dinner first?” she asks, hoping to cover.
Stephen laughs and squeezes her hand, then lets go. “Will you accept that as a Freudian slip?”
Her girl parts hum, and her face is hot. Oh, she could feed off those last two sentences for years. “Sure.”
“Did you want kids, Rebecca? I always thought you’d be a great mom.”
Oof. Tough question. “I . . . I don’t think I was ever at the point in my life where kids would’ve made sense.
Work is pretty consuming, and I was never .
. .” With the right person, except when I was with you.
You were the right person, Stephen. She clears her throat.
“You said you just got out of a long relationship,” she says, turning the focus on him.
“Yeah. Isha. She was fantastic. Is fantastic. A pediatric surgeon, a little younger than me. We met during her residency. I thought we’d end up together, and I think she did, too. On paper, it made a lot of sense. Audrey loved her.”
“So what happened?” Beck asks.
He’s quiet for a minute. “I don’t know, except for some reason, I’m sure I didn’t deserve her.
” When Beck snorts, he glances at her and smiles.
“I guess she figured out that while there was nothing wrong with us, I . . . maybe wasn’t all in.
I can’t think of a single bad thing to say about her.
I did love her. I thought so, anyway, but when she ended things, I can’t say I was heartbroken.
I was sad and disappointed, but not . . . Anyway. Does that make any sense?”
Beck looks out at the fields, trying very hard not to read into his words.
If he wants to say Because I never got over you, Rebecca, he is more than capable of saying it.
“It does. I had a similar experience with the guy Jasmine ended up marrying. We were very content. Nothing wrong with us as a couple, as long as we didn’t look too hard.
” The only man who’d ever proposed to her. No one else had even gotten close.
“Are he and Jasmine happy?”
“I don’t think so. Oscar wasn’t a bad person when I was with him, but I’m not sure he was a good person, either.” She does not say that Jasmine thinks he’s cheating, because that’s a Core Four Secret. Even Stephen doesn’t get to hear that.
“Are you happy, Rebecca?” he asks.
The question makes tears come to her eyes. Again. She keeps her gaze on the gentle cows in the distance. “I am. I mean, I love my job. My life is full enough. Maybe I get a little lonely sometimes, but it’s fleeting. The Core Four was hard to replace.” And so were you.
“You girls were really special. I’m glad you’re all here this weekend.”
They drink their coffee, and then Beck asks, “Stephen . . . did you ever think about . . . getting back in touch with me?” She has to wrestle the question out of her soul, but if not now, when?
“I did.” She meets his gaze, and his eyes are soft and full of regret.
“I thought I’d surprise you, so I googled around, found your address and decided to drive to the city one night.
A stalker, but with good intentions. Rang your bell, but you didn’t answer, so I walked around the neighborhood a little.
About half an hour later, a fancy car pulled up, a guy got out and opened your door, and you went into the building together. ”
“Oscar,” she says.
“I guess, unless you dated a lot of men who drove Aston Martins.”
“Just one.” She swallows the lump in her throat at the image of him standing there on her street, watching from the shadows.
God, she would’ve been overjoyed to see him.
She would’ve dumped Oscar that minute. She would’ve run into Stephen’s arms and kissed him and dropped down on her bad knee and proposed to him right then and there.
But she hadn’t seen him.
“Anyway,” he says, “you looked really happy. It was a spontaneous trip—no forethought, just an impulse. Then I realized it wouldn’t exactly be fair to just appear and mess things up.”
She looks at him, the initial awkwardness having faded. “And now you live in Worcester and are quite the shit, I hear.”
His eyes are steady on hers. “The curse of bad timing, I guess. Aside from those four years in college, it was always wrong place, wrong time.” He pauses. “You never reached out to me, so I figured . . . well.”
She hadn’t, because he’d been the one to break up with her and then stay in Michigan for residency. But no matter how much sense their breakup made back then, it remains the dumbest thing she’s ever done. You don’t just let a love like that get on a plane.
He clears his throat. “So tell me about this sexual harassment suit,” he says.
“Oh, shit. Did you google me?”
“Of course I did.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s stupid. I met a guy, he was nice enough, we slept together, then he told me he was an actor and asked would I get him in a movie. When I said no, he sued me. My lawyer wants to settle and make it go away.”
“Don’t you dare, Rebecca,” Stephen says fiercely. “You’re the most morally upright person I’ve ever met. Don’t let some little shit put a black mark on your record.”
His words cause an actual physical ache in her chest, because in that moment, she remembers how it feels to be loved by Stephen Wentworth. The best person she’s ever known.
“Well,” she says, and her voice is rough, “thank you.” She’ll be crying soon if she doesn’t switch gears.
Now is not the time in Stephen’s life to ask for a second chance.
He has not asked her for one. Just got out of a long relationship.
His sister is dying. He has bigger things to think about.
“Maybe we should find Jasmine and Micah,” she says, and her voice is normal now.
“Hopefully, Audrey will wake up a bit more . . . with it.”
“A nap usually helps.”
“Good. Because we have to prep for the big dance tonight. It’s extremely important that the Core Four look absolutely gorgeous.”
“Save me a waltz, fair lady,” he says.
“I certainly will, kind sir.”
He extends a hand and helps her stand, and she kisses him on the forehead like a fond auntie, making him laugh. She can give him that, at least. Friendship and a smile when he needs it the most.