Chapter 6 #4
I pushed open the heavy oak door of his office building, which was situated in the heart of downtown Fern River, and let it swing closed with a thud behind me. My thoughts were consumed by a woman who had been dead for years and still had the power to wreak havoc on my life.
The day was warm and the scent of fresh-brewed coffee drifted from the café down the street, mingling with the scent of honeysuckle from the nearby park.
My nerves were fried after the meeting with Glynn. Because as much as I came across like I wasn’t concerned, deep down, I was.
I had never really known Jenn. Not until it was too late.
We circled each other for only a brief period of time.
When our worlds did intersect, it hadn’t ended well.
In truth, at the time, I had hated her, and whether that was fair or not wasn’t the point.
I didn’t forgive easily. I hadn’t then, and I definitely didn’t now.
And the years hadn’t eroded the betrayal I had felt so acutely at the time.
However, for Jenn, I hadn’t been a consideration. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to mess up my life, but mess up my life she had.
And the thing was, I knew about Jennifer Moore long before she knew about me.
“Lucinda?”
I braced myself as I turned around. “Gail, hello.” I tried to sound polite, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t very convincing.
Gail Travers was one of Rhett’s fellow teachers at the high school.
She had been to my house, along with several other teachers, numerous times over the years for Christmas parties and backyard barbeques.
I always made an effort when it came to Rhett’s work friends, but some of them bothered me more than others.
And Gail’s wholesome “aw-shucks” demeanor grated on me.
She was fresh-faced, pretty, and always appeared ready to run and hide underneath a chair. She was modest and soft-spoken. I bet her students ate her up for breakfast.
“I wanted you to know none of us believe Rhett is guilty,” she said in a hushed whisper, her eyes darting around as if worried she’d be overheard.
I gave her a thin-lipped smile. “That’s nice of you. I’ll pass along your well wishes to him.”
“Oh, please do. I want him to know we’re all thinking about him.” She tucked a piece of strawberry-blond hair behind her ears. She looked young. In fact, she didn’t seem much older than the kids she taught.
“I’m sure he knows,” I replied, trying not to choke on her good will.
Gail lifted one of her grocery bags. “Well, I’d better get these home. Don’t want the pistachio ice cream to melt.”
“You sure don’t,” I retorted with a sarcasm Gail didn’t pick up on.
“Take care, Lucinda. I’m praying for you and McKenzie.”
Just what I needed: thoughts and stupid prayers. “Thanks, Gail.”
She all but ran in the other direction, leaving me wondering why she bothered to talk to me in the first place.
I crossed the street and stopped to get out my keys.
When I looked up, I realized I was standing in front of the empty shop where Crème Dulce Bakery once thrived.
It had closed down five years ago when Leslie, the owner, had suffered a stroke.
Nothing had taken its place, so it was now an abandoned reminder of what I once thought were happy memories.
I recalled that day we sat together, sampling cake for our wedding. Rhett and I had been young and full of hope for our future. I had never felt so completely sure of myself—of us.
It was a snapshot of a time that couldn’t last. As wonderful as that day had been, it was also the day I felt the first seismic fissures in our relationship.
I remembered that initial stab of jealousy like it was yesterday. The swirling darkness that surged from the pit of my stomach and morphed into red-hazed fury.
I had been on my way to spin class and realized Rhett still had my phone in his pocket. He would usually hold my things for me because I hated carrying a purse. Back then we had operated like a single organism.
We were RhettandLucy.
There was never one without the other.
I had no reason to doubt him or his love for me. It’s why I was so sure of our future together.
That day I had rushed back toward the bakery hoping to catch him before he left, when I saw him by the ice cream stand. He was purchasing two cones. I felt a tremor of annoyance. I had told him I couldn’t eat ice cream. I was trying to watch my weight before the wedding. What was he thinking?
But the ice cream wasn’t for me.
I watched as my fiancé sat beside a redheaded woman I had never seen before. He handed her the dripping cone and smiled at her in a way he only ever smiled at me.
She angled her body close to him, touching his arm.
I should have marched over there and introduced myself then. I could have held out my hand, given her a smile, and let her know, oh-so politely, that he was spoken for. But I didn’t.
Instead, I hid around the corner of the bakery and watched him talk to her. His eyes didn’t leave her face. They sat so closely that they practically thrummed with intimacy. Their legs brushing purposefully. Before that day, I had never wished violence on someone I had never met.
And, unfortunately, it was the first of many times I would feel that way.
Jennifer Moore brought out a brutality in me that once unleashed, couldn’t be contained.
And I had been paying the price ever since.