The Secret He Keeps Page 15

  She set her glass on the vanity and looked at herself. What a bad idea. What a colossal bad idea this was. She wasn’t ready for this. In no way, shape, or form. She ran some water, watching it swirl down the drain. If only she fit, too.

  There was a knock on the door. “Rachel, are you okay?”

  Are you serious? How embarrassing. Did she look suicidal before she went in? She had tried to hide that look several times before. Especially for visits back to her mother’s.

  “Yes. Do you need to use the bathroom? I’m almost finished.”

  “No, just checking.”

  She cracked the door open and pulled Dane inside. “Okay, I just got a call from the neighbor. Gus is sick. He’s throwing up everywhere. We can eat dinner, but we have to leave right after.”

  He looked to the ceiling, laughing. He even held his side. “You should be a standup comedian, Rachel. I’m not buying it. Now, what’s wrong?”

  She moved closer to him, poking him in the chest with her finger. “Listen, Dane, we’re busting out of this joint at first nightfall. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not ready for this. Now you can go with the dog story or you can start puking, yourself.”

  “Rachel.” He held both her arms down by her sides. “They’re our friends. I’m sure it’s just as weird for them. It will get easier, I promise. They don’t know what to say to you, that’s all.”

  “Have them write it in a card and mail it next week. I’m ready to leave.”

  She chugged her wine and walked out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Midnight Confessions

  The company became more bearable with a few more glasses of wine. In fact, everyone had loosened up. The food was excellent, but then it always was. April studied culinary at a prestigious school in upstate New York, before she met Troy and they decided to backpack through the country. They made it as far as Connecticut before she got tired of hitchhiking and roadside carry-out. They settled down where the last trucker dropped them: Mystic. He got a job crabbing and she worked for Peggy, waiting tables. Now to see them with their own place and business made Rachel envious. April even made pumpkin pie for dessert, using the inside of an actual pumpkin. Rachel could have cried eating it.

  “So I thought Marie and Steven were going to be here. Where are they?” Rachel asked, forking in another bite of succulent pie.

  April answered for the group. Everyone was in the know except Rachel, it seemed. She used to be. “Let’s see, Marie is at her fiancé’s family’s house. She was a nervous wreck, by the way.” She looked at everyone for that side comment. “She called me last night and said she was too old for this shit. She wanted to come here, but Derrick said she should get used to it. Thanksgiving was big at his family’s house. Cousins, aunts, and uncles.” She licked some whipped cream off her finger from her pumpkin pie.

  “What? Marie is engaged?” Boy, she had missed out on some pretty big details.

  “Then, Steven. Where is Steven, hon?” She looked at Troy to help her out.

  “Steven is still in Alaska. He says he might not come back. The girl he met isn’t ready to move back to the normal States.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started. Steven should not be trusted to find someone to mate with.”

  “What about you, Dane? Are you dating anyone?” April threw her napkin onto her plate. It covered the green bean casserole that she apologized profusely for. She said she over-baked it. Rachel didn’t notice. What would she know? Weren’t all green beans the devil, no matter what you dressed them in before heating them up?

  He squirmed a little in his chair. “Not at the moment.” That was it. No elaboration, no excuse to why. Just not at the moment. Rachel sensed there was more behind it.

  “April, let me clean up this mess.” Rachel stood, stacking dishes and banging spoons on the sides of the platters.

  “I won’t fight you,” Troy said.

  April threw her napkin at him. “Troy, she’s our guest.”

  “I’ll help her. You all go and relax.” Dane stood and carried the dishes to the kitchen.

  Rachel put on the blue gloves from under the kitchen sink and Dane took command over the rinse side of the sink, waiting for her to slide the soapy ones in the cold water. “Rach,” he said, studying the dish he took from the water.

  “What?” She wiped her forehead with the rubber glove. This was why she ate on paper towels The mess was minimal.

  “Umm, you missed some.” He held the plate up, pointing to a fleck of stuck-on stuffing.

  She scrunched up her eyes, trying to see what he was talking about. “I don’t see it.”

  “Here, look out. I’ll wipe it.” She splashed him when he tried to take her dishcloth. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t criticize me, Dane Stone. It’s not my fault they haven’t joined the modern world and bought a dishwasher.” She splashed him again. This time it soaked his shirt. She bent over the sink of water, and laughed. Maybe the wine was making her a little punchy. It was a little more expensive than she was used to.

  “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” He took a handful of cold water from his side and threw it on her. She gasped, pulling at her wet shirt with the rubber glove.

  “You’re going to get it now.” She chased him with a handful of suds, finally cornering him and wiping his nose with it.

  He held her back, moving his head to the side, in hopes of probably not getting a nose dipped in soap. While she was pushing against him, her foot slipped on the water she was dripping and she fell into him. Her head ended up in the crook of his neck, her soapy hands on the front of his shirt. She quickly backed up, her eyes searching his. For a minute, that same something from the night before had joined them again. His gaze held her in place from moving.

  Suddenly someone pushed open the door. “Okay, you two. It doesn’t look like the dishes are getting clean.”

  It was Troy. He was there for another beer. After he pulled one from the fridge, Rachel plunged her hands back in the water and Dane went to the rinse side. Everything had moved to a weird level, and she wasn’t sure why.

  “Okay,” announced April. She stretched her back and let out a yawn before she was able to catch it. “I’ve been up since five cooking a bird. I’m getting old and I need to go to sleep.”

  Rachel and Dane had just sat down. The kitchen was finally cleaned. Rachel had successfully made up for not doing dishes for the past year. Even the salt shaker got a wipe down. She was pooped, as well. Who knew it would take until nightfall to finish one dinner and clean it up? Even the football game was almost over. No one seemed to be interested; one team barely scored seven points.

  April looked at her guests. Something was wrong. Her eyes were calculating something. “Well, I guess Shawn and Edie, you can take the other bedroom.” She looked at Rachel and Dane, both sitting on different chairs, stretched out from all the hard work. “Rachel, you and Dane.” She put a finger to her mouth. “All I have is the pullout, here in the living room. Can you all put pillows down the middle like when you were little and had to sleep with cousins, and share it? It’s all we have to offer.”

  Okay, so the brochure said an empty bed. Where was her empty bed? Sofa beds with business partner didn’t come close. However, she had shared a gurney with him in the past. Long hours of residency forced you to do the unthinkable. But that was then—way before the fuzzy feelings and warm heat in her belly from having physical contact with the guy.

  She looked at him before she answered. Making it seem like it was a problem would only bring to light it was. And no matter what, it couldn’t be. “I won’t kick if he promises not to.”

  He seemed uncomfortable, taking a deep breath that drew in his abdomen. Not his usual quick-witted self with a rapid retort of sarcasm. “I can sleep on the chair.”

  “We’ll work something out, April. Thanks again for the meal. It was unrivaled.”

  “Damned green beans,” she mumbled, walking up the stairs to her private bedroom. Obvious
ly ownership had its perks.

  Soon it was just Rachel and Dane. He pulled off the cushions and took out the folded bed of springs. The kind that stabbed your back all night, taking years off your posture.

  “You can go get ready. I’ll make up the bed for you.” Dane didn’t look up from messing with the sofa.

  “I’m just going to wear this.”

  He turned around. “Rachel, go get on whatever you’re going to change into. Don’t be silly. Your shirt is soaked with dirty dishwater.”

  “No thanks to you.” She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “Anyway, I thought I’d be sharing a bed for one, so I packed just a tee shirt. Not a very long one. If you know what I mean. Someone meandering down here for a midnight snack might see a little more than what they bargained for. Including you.”

  “I said I’m going to sleep on the chair.”

  Rachel looked at the chair. It wasn’t the comfy type, stuffed with fluff and velvety to the touch. It was more like ski furniture. Wood-trimmed and stiff outdoor-like canvas fabric. “There is no way I’m letting you sleep on that thing. Come on, we’ve shared a hospital bed before, Dane. There’s no reason why we can’t share a sofa bed.”

  He looked at the chair. He was probably coming to the same conclusion. Broken neck and a limp. “Fine. But go change. You also have a little bit of gravy on your shirt.”

  She looked down in horror. She did have gravy on her shirt. Darn it. No one else was honest enough to tell her about it.

  ***

  It was too late to hide the elevator ride of his Adam’s apple when he saw her coming toward him. He just hoped his eyes didn’t give him away. She was beautiful. Pulling at her shirt that came to the end of her underpants. She ran and jumped underneath the covers.

  “I checked. I only have a pair of jeans for my change of clothes. I hate sleeping in jeans.” She must have thought about it. “Not that I sleep in jeans to know this bit of information. But I can imagine how uncomfortable it would be.”

  Did he look as flushed as he felt? Were his eyes looking in the appropriate places? At the couch and not at her long legs…not at her lips…certainly not too long into those brown eyes of hers? “That’s fine. I find any clothing to be uncomfortable. I hope you don’t mind that I sleep in the buff.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head, watching as her eyes enlarged. “I’m just kidding, Rachel. I can sleep in mine, or I have boxers. You can choose.”

  “Well, I just said jeans have to be uncomfortable. To tell you to wear them would be a hypocrite. I’ll turn my head. Just get under the covers.” She pulled a cushion from behind her head and put it beside her.

  He slipped under the blankets and found with the cushion between them, he only had about five inches of mattress to sleep on. Between the bedframe carving him out a new posture, and the thought of sleeping too close to her keeping him awake, he knew the night ahead wouldn’t be easy. “What are we, five years old?” He pulled out the cushion and tossed it to the ground.

  “Well, no, we aren’t five, but I don’t want anyone to get the idea we slept together.”

  He leaned close to her. He could smell the soap she used to wash her face. It smelled clean, like spearmint or something. He imagined how soft her legs were underneath where his were. He wanted to stray but knew he shouldn’t. “I think they know we’re sleeping together, Rachel. They left us here together and told us to. The secret’s out.”

  “I know, Dane.” She acted like his teacher, tilting her head down to talk to him and straightening her posture. “I simply wish to curb the whispers.”

  He pointed to the two upstairs doors. “No one cares that we’re down here sleeping together.” He put apostrophes in the air, surrounding the word together.

  “Just turn off the lamp and go to sleep. We should’ve just gone home. Gus is probably sick, anyway. I know Jacob is sneaking chocolate in his food bowl. That little boy is nothing but mischievous. No matter how incredibly cute he is.” She pulled at the blanket, stretching it clear up to her neck, and turned over to her side, facing the opposite direction of him.

  He kicked a few times and tried to get situated. Why was fate messing with him so badly?

  ***

  Scott was on the floor of their foyer. He must have tripped over some shoes that didn’t make it in the closet. Dane opened the door behind him that just got shut in his face, and tried pulling his best friend up. Scott was laughing too hard to help in the matter. Rachel saw herself, like watching a movie on television. Standing there, wringing her hands and feeling as though she were caught in a storm.

  “Scott, what are you doing?” She held her head with both her hands. She was at her wits’ end. “What are you doing to our marriage?”

  He stood up and fell again, this time hitting his head on a planter in the corner. His lip began to bleed. It wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t reach him. He wouldn’t stop laughing. Blood was soaking the yellow rug, spreading like ink spilling. She looked at Dane. He wasn’t moving.

  “Scott, what are you doing?”

  She felt herself being shaken. She opened her heavily sedated eyes. It was Dane. She looked around at the dark room. She was on the sofa bed at Troy and April’s house. Her house had evaporated in that split second. Scott had disappeared as well. It was becoming clear it was a dream. Or a nightmare.

  “Rachel, are you all right?” Dane was over top of her. His chest was bare, and he was holding tight to her arms.

  She rose up. “I’m all right. I’m all right.”

  She pulled the covers off her and sat on the edge of the bed, her head resting between her knees. She felt his hand on her back.

  “You were yelling Scott’s name.”

  “It felt real. Like he was there.” She turned to Dane. “You were there, too. You were helping him inside the house. I think he had been drinking. All he could do was laugh, and you were trying to help him up.” She felt her lip quiver. “He just sat there. Not trying to do anything.”

  Dane leaned back on the sofa. She turned to see what he knew. Maybe she should know, too. “Did you help him in the house, Dane? Did that happen? I can’t tell my dreams from my memory anymore. Obviously spending time with you is stirring up something inside me.”

  “I did it more than once.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as though the answers were difficult to give.

  “Why did you need to help him? What was wrong with him?” She needed to know. It was time she faced it. Her nightmares had to end. Knowing the truth might stop them from leaking into her head at night.

  “Rachel, for the last year before the accident, Scott was having trouble with alcohol. You were miserable trying to get him help. He wouldn’t take it. He refused to go to rehab.”

  She didn’t understand. Rehab? “I remember he drank with me, but never to the point he couldn’t control it. I mean, we had wine at dinner, Dane. For God’s sake, he wasn’t carrying a flask everywhere with him. He didn’t have a problem.”

  “He hid it well.” Dane looked to the ceiling, his legs outstretched in front of him. The boxer shorts he wore were on the shorter side.

  She tried not getting caught looking at him.

  “He must have been hiding something else, too.”

  “What are you talking about?” He turned and looked at her.

  She got up on the bed, crouching on her knees next to Dane. One of the renegade mattress springs had been poking her butt. “Would you tell me the truth if I asked you?”

  “Always.” He stared at her with blue eyes.

  “Was Scott having an affair?” She said it fast in order to capture the next second of his expression. She knew him well enough to know whether he was lying.

  “Rachel, we’ve been over this. Not that I knew about.”

  She couldn’t tell in that lightning-fast response whether he was telling the truth or doing a best friend duty and keeping the secret for life. At the maximum, his own.

  “Why are you persistent in believing this?”


  “I found a note. It was unsigned and said something like ‘thinking about you.’” It was sketchy now that she was trying to remember the exact words. “I feel he was having an affair. Something isn’t right when I try to remember what happened before the accident. And then knowing he came to one of my book club meetings. Maybe I confronted him or something.” She shook her head back and forth, as if the motion helped in recall.

  He sat up straighter. “What if he did have an affair?”

  So, he was. She feared it. “My whole marriage then was a joke. His vows meant nothing to him or to me. I meant nothing to him. It makes him a liar to everything I thought we were to each other. No one, no matter what, should ever cheat, Dane. Just leave the person if that’s what you plan to do.”

  Dane was still. Unreadable. She stopped prodding. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

  She crawled back to her side and pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. The images of Scott stumbling were hard to shake. The more she tried, the more they became more vivid. He had changed. Since making partner, he was under tremendous stress. A flash came to her of him on the bathroom floor, his head beside the toilet.

  Maybe she didn’t want to go back there.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A New Type of Friendship

  Rachel’s office door opened halfway. She waited to see who it was. Dane peeked in his head. “Knock, knock.”

  “Come in. I thought you were gone.” Rachel wrote on her last Post-it on the folder and placed it in the wooden box on the corner of the desk.

  He plopped down in the chair, sliding down to rest his head on the back frame. “Nope, I had a few pieces of paperwork to wrap up. How about you? Are you almost finished?”

  “Yes.” She answered, baiting him for what was on his mind. Rolling out the word until he came clean.

  “Great.” He clapped his hands together and pulled himself up to the desk. “How about a celebratory drink, on me?”