Page 32 of Ebbing Tides
She seemed to understand instantly. “That sounds like Charlie. He keeps everyone at a distance,” she agreed. “Well, I'll just let you know then. Luke was in prison for second-degree murder. He served eight years, and then he was killed by another inmate.”
It wasn't a confession you heard every day, and every word she spoke felt like a punch to the gut. The tightness in her voice. The heavy shame in her eyes. It was a weight she didn't want to carry without any way to lighten the load.
Her husband was a murderer.
When I hadn't spoken for a few seconds, I felt her eyes on me, and she asked, “You're not going to say anything? You're not going to ask what he did or how it happened or who he killed?”
She spoke defensively, and I could only imagine the things people had said to her in the past.
I shook my head. “I'm sure I could look him up if I wanted to know.”
“You wouldn't rather ask me? Get the truth?”
“If you wanted me to know, you would tell me,” I replied, holding her stare. “And I won't beg for information. But honestly, it doesn't even matter. He was your husband. He meant something to you. And whatever bad things he did, I trust that there was enough good in him for you to love him.”
Of all the things she could've said or done next, I hadn't expected her to laugh. And it was a sound on the brink of maniacal, her lips stretched into something between a grin and a grimace as her hand clutched to her chest.
“My parents thought I was crazy for starting to write to him, let alone going to the prison to see him. I think they wanted to commit me when I came home and told them we were getting married. They never …” She sucked in a quivering breath through her nose, her eyes now drowning in tears. “They didn't talk to me for years, and it wasn't until I was pregnant withCJthat they decided they wanted to know their grandkids. And the thing …” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Thethingis, I never blamed them for it. It was easier to pretend I didn't exist than it was to explain to their friends that their daughter had lost her fucking mind and gotten herself knocked up with a fucking murderer's babies. I-I mean, Charlie …” She turned to look off in the other direction, toward the Old Burying Point and its iron fence. “Charlie ran away because of the torment they put him through for being related to Luke, and I fuckingmarried him.”
I didn't know whotheywere, nor did I think it mattered. This woman—this strong, unbelievable, resilient woman—was falling apart in front of me, allowing her pieces to scatter when I assumed she'd been holding them together for a long, long time,and who was I to stop her? All I could do was hope she'd let me pick up every last one and help her glue them back together.
“I was insane,” she whispered. “My kids will never have a father. We will be alone, and they will resent me for that.” She shook her head, twisting her lips into a sneer. “God, what a selfish bitch I was. I couldn't just get over him like a normal person. I couldn't just see him the way everyone else did, like a fuckingloser. Abad guy. He was a murderer, oh my God, and I loved him anyway, and I wanted … I let him … I-I-I had his kids, knowing they would never have a normal relationship with their father, but that wasokaybecause at least they had a father. But he'sgone. He was a fucking idiot, and he'sgone.”
I didn't know what to do, what to say, so I took a step toward her and lifted an arm to pull her into a hug. But she took a step back and held out a staying hand, so I stopped, feeling as though my heart was ready to burst through my chest and lay bloody and broken at her feet.
She took a few deep breaths, steadying her lungs and drying her tears with the sleeve of her leather jacket. “I'm okay,” she croaked, sniffling. “I'm sorry. I just, um … sometimes, I want to explode, but I can't because I am always with my kids unless I'm at work, and I can't explode there either. But I shouldn't have taken that out on you. I'm sorry.”
“Don't ever apologize to me,” I ordered softly. “If you feel safe enough to explode around me, then I am honored, and I never want you to feel sorry for that.”
“Then maybe I should thank you instead,” she replied.
“No need for that either.”
Dwindling rays of sunlight glinted off the red in her hair, reminding me of strawberry picking in the summer with thegirls. My eyes held hers for a handful of heartbeats, every one encouraging louder and louder for my feet to walk toward hers, but I didn't. I stayed put. My eyes held hers, and I hoped that could be enough, but it wasn't. It never could be. I wanted her now as much as I'd wanted her years ago, if not more, but once again, I was kept at arm’s length. Because of Luke? Maybe. Probably. But was it him or the guilt of moving on from him? I blamed her for neither, but it didn't make this suck any less. Twenty years, I had held on to her memory, wishing for a chance to see her again, and it'd been given to me. But obviously, seeing was all I'd be able to do, and that had to be okay.
But then her gaze dropped to my lips as hers parted, staring like I was a tall glass of water in the middle of the desert and she'd been thirsty for too long. Her hands clenched to fists at her sides, and fuck! I wanted to close this space between us. It wasn't much, just two or three feet, but it seemed like a damn canyon now. Vast and gaping.
She wants me, and she has to know I want her too. There's nothing to stop us but ghosts.
And they aren't here.
“I, um …” Melanie began to say, letting her words fade away.
“Hmm?” I grunted, never allowing my gaze to leave her face.
“I think …” She cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from my mouth, but I couldn't miss the reluctance. “I think we should start heading back.”
I deflated as my mind scolded me for ever finding reason to hope.
Then I nodded and started walking in the direction of Washington Street, where I'd left my truck.
“Come on,” I said gently. “Let's go.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The office was quiet. Lido's absence was felt, and the time passed slowly. Even slower than usual. I glanced at the screen, my eyes scanning over the small, rectangular panels. The snowy landscape was still; the air was steady. Nobody was trespassing tonight, and shamefully, I wished someone would if for no other reason than to rob me of my thoughts.
I missed Melanie, and that seemed silly, but I had been missing her since I’d dropped her off at Charlie's cottage.
