Chapter 26
ANNA
Holly can’t have more children.
I pull her aside, away from visitors getting off the gondolas. “What happened?”
“Miscarriage gone wrong. I had an emergency hysterectomy,” she answers, not making eye contact.
“Holly,” I say, impassioned.
This is so far outside of the lines I’d painted when I pictured Holly’s life with Jack and Quinn that I’m speechless.
For as long as I’ve known her, Holly’s wanted a house filled with laughter and energy where backpacks were left piled at the front door and crayons hidden among spoons in the utensil drawer.
Plastic alphabet letters covering her refrigerator and kids gathered around the table to work on their spelling assignments and solve math problems. She loves children. They’re why she went into education.
We’re both only children so for us, the idea of large families of our own was the dream we always returned to. I’ll have kids someday but that’s, obviously, down the road. Holly, though—she and Jack wanted three or four of them.
And here I’ve been, envying her perfect family life, never knowing she was carrying this grief. I’ve been so busy wanting what she has that I never considered it was anything less than happily ever after. Maybe none of us have the life others think we do.
“Stop staring at me,” Holly says with unease.
I blink. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No one does, except Jack and you. And the doctor, of course.”
She hasn’t told her parents?
“And before you ask, I didn’t tell Z about the hysterectomy either. It seemed…” She folds her arms, rolls a shoulder. “It seemed inconsequential.”
“Inconsequential?” I gape at her. I’m heartbroken for her. Holly, who used to share everything with her inner circle, kept this massive loss to herself.
Just like I keep my real feelings about Leo locked away. Just like I hide my desire for the very stability she represents. Zoe was right. Holly and I are more similar than either of us have cared to admit.
“Given what she was going through? There was never an appropriate time to tell her.” Holly admits her excuse for not sharing her secret.
“She would have wanted to know and help you get through it.”
Holly shrugs and turns away to stare at the mountain across from us. Wide, treeless paths run down the steep slope. They’ll be crowded with skiers come winter. For now, they’re covered with dried grass and look like a bad shaving job.
Wind whips up from the valley, twisting in our hair. I grab at mine, coiling it over my shoulder. Even Holly’s always neat bun is no match for the wind. She attempts to tuck a few rogue curls back into place.
Sensing that I’m still watching her, she turns and says, “What?”
“You should let your hair down.” I always loved when she’d let her curls do their thing. I wish she’d trust herself—trust me—to let loose.
“Seriously? Those hawks circling up there will think I’m their nest if I do that.”
Zoe’s letter plays in my head. Let go and find a spark of joy. That may be a tough ask given the bombshell Holly just dropped. But Zoe was right. That evening at the Sundeck was amazing.
“Change of plans,” I announce, and give the urn an apologetic pat.
Holly lurches with a look telling me she’s about to object.
“We’ll get to Zoe’s ashes,” I rush to say before Holly can protest. “But first, I think we need a break. Zoe said we need to let go. So let’s let go.
” I flash a trust me smile at Holly, then add, “Luxe Vacations Travel Tip Number Nine. ‘You worked hard to get here. Be in the moment.’ In other words, enjoy the view.” I swing my arm to encompass the gorgeousness that surrounds us: steep, rugged slopes, their peaks touching the sky like fingertips gliding across crystal-clear water.
We make our way into the restaurant and find an empty table by the window.
I fetch two Chardonnays and we do exactly as I suggested, exactly as Zoe would have wanted.
We sit and admire the view. So does Zoe from her perch on the table.
Unfortunately, my head babbles as much as my mouth when there’s a lot on my mind.
Thoughts about Zoe and Ava, my feelings for Leo, the rift with Holly, Holly’s well-being, what I’m going to wear tomorrow, Greece—it’s all tumbling and swirling and creating a real discombobulated mess that I need to talk out.
I chance a look at Holly to see if she’s just as lost in her thoughts and her state catches me off guard. She’s been silently crying.
“Holly?” I ask gently.
Her chest lifts and she releases a shuddering breath. “It was the only way to stop the bleeding.”
I still. “What bleeding?”
Holly wipes her face as if she just noticed her tears.
“Some of the placenta was left after the miscarriage and the bleeding just wouldn’t stop.
” She pulls her hair back, lets it go, tucks her hands under her arms. “Quinn knows I lost his baby sister. He calls her his little angel. But he’s been asking for another sister, and I don’t have the heart to tell him that will never happen. ”
Holy poop on a popsicle. Now I’m crying.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to help. I just don’t want her to hurt anymore.
That’s when I feel it, the ghost of a hand on my shoulder, much like the presence I felt on Pelican Rock. Zoe is here for us. And she’s reminding me to be here for Holly.
I grasp Holly’s hand. “You’re so strong, Holly, and caring, and nurturing, and inspiring.” I squeeze her hand. “I could go on.”
“Please don’t.” She gives me a watery smile. “But thank you.”
“Thank you for sharing with me.”
Holly looks at our clasped hands and a new river of tears flows down her face. This time she doesn’t wipe them away immediately.
“Remember all those times when we used to daydream about having families?” Holly asks, then continues before I have a chance to answer.
“I just realized that Zoe never spoke up. She’d encourage us to dream bigger, she’d laugh with us, poke fun, but she never volunteered what she was dreaming about for her future.
“It gets a little easier each day, but the feelings rush at me from time to time and at the worst possible moment.” Holly looks around the restaurant, probably thinking this is one of those worst possible places to spill her guts. It’s too public.
“No one’s looking. Except for that guy,” I tease with a whisper about one of the waitstaff hovering nearby. “I think he wants us to vacate this table.”
Self-conscious, Holly pulls back and dives into her bag for a tissue. “How long have we been sitting here?”
“Not sure.” My guess is a while because the sun is much lower than when we arrived.
She pops out of her chair. “I didn’t realize the time. We have to scatter Z’s ashes.”
And the taskmaster is back.
Though, in her defense, there was a sign at the base station that the gondola is closing early for a networking event on the mountaintop.
We look around and notice the restaurant has completely emptied out of visitors and the waitstaff, including the guy who’s been eyeballing us, are rearranging the tables.
I grab Zoe and we rush from the restaurant. The only people outside are a small group loading onto the gondolas. Everyone else has vacated the mountain. We’re it.
One of the uniformed staff managing the gondolas calls over to us. “Last ride down.”
“We didn’t decide where to scatter her,” I say to Holly in a panic.
She glances from the station to the trail we hiked with Zoe on our last trip. I know she’s debating if we should follow the mountaintop resort’s rules or run off to find a spot that sparks joy. One of those two options risks missing the gondola and we’ll have to hike down.
In the dark.
Not happening.
I throw Holly a look that asks her to make the decision for us.
“We’ll do it here,” she announces.
“Here? There are people.” Though not many, so maybe they won’t notice us. But is it even legal? Can we scatter her ashes? I’m assuming we’re on private property.
Still, I unscrew the lid.
Of course, at that exact moment, another staff member exits the restaurant and does notice us. “Hey! What are you doing?”
Holly and I yelp.
“Dust and run,” she says.
“What?” I screech.
“Dust and run,” she hisses through gritted teeth. She shakes a wild finger at Zoe, backing up toward the gondola. “Do it now, Anna.”
“Okay, okay.” I start humming with nervous energy, hopping on my toes. Cautiously, I tip the urn and shake out a little bit of Zoe.
“Stop!” shouts the guy from the restaurant.
Holly and I shriek.
We leap onto a gondola just as the door closes. The pod swings around, and after a violent shudder, heads down the mountain.
Holly and I flop onto opposite benches. “Omigod, omigod, omigod, I can’t believe we just did that.” I gasp, hugging Zoe.
Holly stares at me. Her hair is wild, her cheeks are flushed, and I’m adoring this version of her.
“What were you humming back there?” she asks, eyes bright.
“With Zoe?” My cheeks flame. I clear my throat and mumble, “‘Dust In the Wind’.”
Holly gapes, then she cackles. My head snaps back. I’ve never heard her laugh like that. The sound is so odd and silly coming from her that I snort a laugh. Of course, that only makes Holly cackle louder.
Soon we’re giggling like little girls. As good as it feels, I fear our merriment will be short-lived.
Because tomorrow changes everything. Tomorrow we go back to where it all fell apart.
Tomorrow I have to face what I did. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I’ll finally have the courage to tell Holly the truth about Greece, about Leo, and about everything I’ve been too scared to admit to.
That I’m tired of being Luxe Vacations Anna. That I want to be just Anna.
Because tomorrow, we fly to Greece.