Page 3 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
She didn't know where she was going. She didn't care.
She just drove.
The rain pounded against the roof, drumming out a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of her heart. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, low and ominous, and lightning flickered across the sky in jagged bursts that lit up the streets for half a second before plunging them back into gray.
Holly's vision blurred, but not from the rain, but from the tears that suddenly spilled hot and fast down her cheeks. She blinked them away, but they kept coming, a flood she couldn't stop.
How long?
The question tore through her mind, relentless and unyielding.
How long had this been going on?
She tried to think, tried to remember. When had Terry's divorce been finalized? Two years ago? Three? She'd been devastated, crying on Holly's couch for weeks, and Holly had held her, comforted her, told her she'd find someone better.
Had it started then?
Or before?
Holly's stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat. She swallowed it down and kept driving.
By the time she reached the bayfront, the rain had softened to a drizzle. She pulled into an empty parking lot overlooking the water and cut the engine. The silence rushed in, thick and suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic patter of rain on the roof and the distant hum of traffic.
Holly sat there, staring at the water.
The bay stretched out before her, dark and endless, its surface rippling with the reflection of streetlights. They wavered and danced, golden and ghostly, like something beautiful trying to pretend it wasn't broken.
Her chest ached. A deep, hollow ache that made it hard to breathe.
How many times had Terry smiled at her across a table? Laughed at her jokes? Hugged her goodbye? How many dinners had they shared, how many secrets had Holly told her, how many times had she called Terry her best friend, all the while this was happening?
And Simon.
How many times had he kissed Holly goodnight? Told her he loved her? Held her hand? All while thinking of someone else? Not just anyone else, Holly’s best friend!
The memories scrambled, tumbling over each other in a desperate search for answers. Had he been distant? Had Terry seemed different? When had it started? How had she missed it?
She didn't know. She couldn't see it. Couldn't piece it together.
Her hands were shaking. Everything was shaking.
"How long have I been a blind fool?" she whispered into the silence. “How didn't I see it?"
Her voice cracked, and the sobs came. Deep, wrenching sobs that tore through her chest and left her gasping. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, the leather cool against her burning skin, and let the grief pour out in waves.
When the tears finally slowed, she sat up, wiping her face with trembling hands. Her eyes burned. Her throat ached. She felt hollowed out, like someone had reached inside and scooped out everything that mattered.
Her gaze fell to her left hand.
The wedding ring glinted faintly in the dim light, a thin band of gold that had sat on her finger for thirty-five years. Thirty-five years of promises and vows and a life she'd thought was real.
She stared at it for a long moment.
Then, slowly, carefully, she pulled it off.
It came away easily. Too easily.
She held it in her palm, feeling its weight, its warmth fading against her skin. And then, without thinking, without hesitating, she dropped it into the cup holder.
