Megan's Way (27 page)

Jack remembered what it was like to be a
nervous teen. A quiet laugh escaped his lips before he had a chance
to stifle it. “I’m sure you aren’t. I think it would be fine, but
since she’s been through so much lately, why don’t we all meet you
this weekend. I would feel better if we were here, too. I’m not
really ready to let her out of my sight completely yet.”

As the warm day turned to a gray, cool
evening, Holly was unable to sit still. She felt like a caged
tiger. Her old demons had come back to haunt her. The bringing of
Olivia into her own home had dredged up her own secret that she had
worked so hard to bury deep inside so many years ago. Now, fourteen
years later, it nagged at the forefront of her mind.

She couldn’t settle her stomach which burned
and immediately processed everything she put in her mouth, leaving
her with a horrible case of the runs. Each time she saw Jack, she
expected him to confront her, though she knew that was crazy, too.
He couldn’t know. He wouldn’t have waited all these years to
confront me
.

Jack
. She thought of all of the years
they’d shared and of when they had first fallen in love. It wasn’t
an urgent love, but a love of comfort, security, and friendship. It
was as if they had been married forever and just hadn’t known that
they were meant to be more than friends until Megan had gone
away.

Usually, Holly took her Sunday run with
Megan. But when Megan went to italy for three months, Peter was
busy building his interior design business, and Jack was next on
her list.

Holly had found herself worrying about things
she had never even thought about before with Jack,
Do I look
okay?
She had realized that in all of the years she’d known
Jack, she had never been alone with him. Somehow, with Megan
around, they were a
group
of friends. Holly found herself
flustered, giddy maybe—an unfamiliar feeling amongst friends.

They had met at Cockel Cove, in Chatham, and
had planned to run along the beach. They hadn’t run more than fifty
yards, when Jack spotted a golden Retriever coming toward them, and
he slowed to a walk as they neared it. Holly noticed the way Jack
eyed the man, and the way his face cringed as he bent down to pet
the dog, and the dog cowered. Jack cocked his head to the side and
furrowed his brow,
Much like Goldens do
, Holly thought. Once
again, he bent down and tried to stroke the dog. Concern crept
across his face as the dog cowered once again. Jack stood and spoke
quietly yet firmly to the owner, gazing down at the dog before he
walked away. Holly was taken with the way he protectively
questioned the dog’s reaction to being touched.

Holly read concern on Jack’s face when he
returned to her side. He wrung his hands and there was a quickness
in his step. Holly had never seen Jack in anything but a jovial
mood. “Is everything okay?” she asked pensively.

Jack stopped suddenly, took Holly’s arm, and
turned her around. He watched the man with the dog, and Holly
remembered his face—a mixture of anger and concern— scrutinizing
the stranger. He flinched when the owner pulled roughly on the
leash in an effort to rush the dog. The dog moved slightly quicker,
but not before it cowered its head briefly toward the ground.

The owner said something sternly and moved
around the dog, kicking it from behind.

“I knew it!” Jack said through clenched
teeth. With anger in his eyes, he ran to the scene and placed
himself between the dog and the owner. “What the hell are you
doing?”

“Mind your own business, dude,” the young man
said, yanking the dog’s leash again. The dog folded into itself,
hunching its back and pulling its tail between its legs.

“This
is
my business.
Do not
kick that dog!” Jack raised his voice as his hands instinctively
clenched and unclenched.

“Move it,” the owner said roughly. “It’s just
a fucking dog.”

Jack’s fist connected with the stranger’s
face before he had time to think.

“Jack!” Holly rushed to Jack’s side, her hand
on his lower back as he stood over the man, whose nose was
bleeding. “Jack, stop,” Holly said quietly.

Jack’s breaths came in loud huffs. “How does
it feel to have something bigger than you push you around?” he said
in a deep and serious voice.

“What the hell?” the man said in a quivering
voice. “It’s a god damned dog! Take the damn worthless thing if you
care so much. I don’t give a shit!” The man got up and threw the
leash in Jack’s direction. “Fuck you!” he turned and quickly walked
away.

Jack picked up the leash and moved to the
dog’s side, stroking it protectively. “It’s okay, boy. It’s not
your fault.” Holly was both intrigued and intimidated by Jack’s
passion. “Jack?”

“I’m sorry. Animal activists, you can’t take
us anywhere.” He smiled up at her, but his face quickly grew
serious. He stood up quickly and put his hands on her shoulders,
“I’m sorry, Holly. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just can’t let
that happen to an animal.”

Holly smiled and silently wondered why the
touch of his hands created a stir deep within her.

Holly remembered how she quickly had become
aware of what a passionate man Jack was. It had taken her by
surprise, the way they had melded together over the next three
months, spending every moment together as if they had always been
by each other’s sides.

There was a part of Holly that wanted to
admit her guilt to Jack, rush into his arms and tell him every
sordid detail, to lay it all out between them—to be dealt with,
cried over, and screamed about. There was a part of her that wanted
to take Olivia in her arms and gush:
Olivia! My baby! You are my
child, not Megan’s. You are finally home
! Though she knew she
could neither. At times she found she had to physically swallow the
words before they escaped her mouth.

She went outside and paced the yard.

When Jack arrived home, he wrestled with
keeping his day a secret, and yet, he couldn’t fathom trying to
keep another secret from Holly. He confessed his lie of a business
trip and explained that he had gone back to the beach to think
things through. He told Holly about his encounter with Jason. His
memory of his night with Megan, however, stayed tucked deep within
the borders of his own mind, silenced by his guilt.

Holly remained silent, growing more angry by
the second.

“I know I should have told you. It’s just…you
are holding up so well, and I guess Megan’s death hit me harder
than I imagined,” Jack said softly.

I’m tortured inside, and you’re walking on
a beach?
Holly thought to herself. She wanted to yell at him,
to scream that he was selfish! How could he do that to her? Leave
her alone to wallow in her misery. It was she who had lost her best
friend! Her! And yet, she could not bring a single word to her
lips.

The next day, Holly awoke with purpose. She
drove to the cemetery. The morning was chilly, and she wore a
thick, brown sweater. Her jeans were loose and comfortable. The
brown mules she wore picked up sandy flecks across the toes as she
walked across the cemetery toward the tiny headstone.

Holly set the flowers next to Alissa Mae’s
grave.
Will your mother ever forgive me? Are you with her now?
Does she know the truth?
She shuddered as she remembered the
slick feel of the plastic iD bracelets as she had worked them off
of the infants’ wrists. Swallowing the acidic bile that had risen
in her throat, she buried her head in her hands and cried
frustrated, angry tears.

Fear, anxiety, and internal disgust were her
constant companions.
If Megan knows, does she hate me? Did I do
the right thing? Did I ruin Olivia’s life? Megan’s? My own? she
wondered. Would Olivia have been better off with me, even if I
hadn’t been ready to be a mother, even if she hadn’t been Jack’s
child?

What would Olivia think of her now if she
were to find out the truth? What would Jack think?
Oh, Jack. I’m
so sorry.
Her body trembled as she thought of how her husband
had supported her through Alissa Mae’s burial and the awkward and
heart-wrenching aftermath of her death.

Peter’s gentle voice pulled her from her
thoughts, “I thought I might find you here.”

“Peter,” she sighed as she wiped her tears
and turned to face him.

The look in his eyes brought the guilt of
their unspoken secret to the forefront of her mind. The turmoil
from that confusing, steamy evening, fourteen years earlier, brewed
inside her once again. All of her anxious and unsure feelings rose
to the surface. She faced the same questions today, as she did back
then.

What is with me? I love Jack. Why am I so
scared?

She remembered that fateful day, so many
years ago— packing their picnic carefully, adding each of Peter’s
favorite things—brie and crackers, fruit salad, and Jack Daniel’s.
As she had placed the bottle into the basket, she had thought of
how ironic it was that she was bringing Jack with her in her mind.
Exactly what I’m running from!

A picnic was just what she had needed—and
Peter, of all people, would help her see that Jack was the right
man for her, that she was doing the right thing and had no reason
to fear their relationship. He would help her through her feelings
of inadequacy. He would tell her to marry Jack! God how she had
wished Megan were there. She was angry with Megan for leaving for
italy so suddenly. She was angry with Megan for not taking her
along. She was, in fact, jealous of Megan’s carefree existence, her
self-made career. Though her love for Megan was stronger than her
anger or her jealousy, for she knew that had Megan been in town,
Megan would have stayed up all night talking with her, helping her
to figure out if she was moving too fast with Jack, if she was
really feeling love and not something else. Else? What else could
it be? Her stomach was tied in knots. Her head hurt, and she could
not wait to get out of the house and clear her mind.

Holly had taken solace in the warmth of her
drink as it trickled down her throat. A blush had risen and settled
on her cheeks. The afternoon drifted seamlessly into evening. As
she looked at Peter, she saw him through new eyes. He was handsome
with his smooth tanned skin and wavy hair that had laid haphazardly
across his forehead. She watched his chest move up and down with
each breath and had felt a familiar stirring that she recognized
but didn’t understand.
Chill, girl. He’s gay
.

She lay next to him, resting the right side
of her body against his left side, and had felt his body tense, for
only a moment, and then relax. For years, she and Peter had been
close. They and Megan had shared hotel rooms, slept in each other’s
beds, and been like brother and sisters.

She hated to see him so sad, so tortured
about his mother’s abandonment, and yet, selfishly, she needed him
to be strong. It was she who needed help that night! But she knew
that was selfish–Peter had been battling his own demons. She leaned
toward him, and tasted the sweet smell of the liquor as it rose
with his breath, and pulled her racing mind away from her own
turmoil to try and soothe his. “I’m sure she loved you, Peter.
Mothers love their children. She had her own shit to deal with,
that’s all.”

A tear slid silently down his cheek, landing
on the blanket and spreading into faint, thin lines.

Holly placed her hand on his chest, and her
fingers had brushed the edge where his unbuttoned shirt met his
soft tufts of chest hair. Warmth spread from her chest to her belly
and had awakened her senses deep within her center— senses that she
knew were wrong, yet only made the heat of the moment that much
more enticing.

“Peter, things are moving so fast with Jack.
I’m not sure I’m ready.” Holly watched his reaction. His eyes
remained still and closed. He didn’t move. She leaned her chest on
his and whispered, “Peter? I need some help here. Am I making a
mistake? is it too fast?”

She felt a rise in Peter’s loins, as her hot
breath had met his warm face. A look of confusion swept across his
face. He remained still. Holly knew the sadness of his mother’s
absence weighed heavily in his heart. She also knew the tears that
fell from the corners of his eyes were born of years of pent-up
hurt and anger. He reached up and pulled Holly close to him,
hoping, she knew, to stifle the pain. Holly had the sense that the
reason he clenched his eyes shut was to make what was happening not
so real, as she’d done so many times in her own life. She knocked
over the empty liquor bottle as she let Peter pull her closer,
embrace her. Feeling his warm tears on her neck she bent her head
back, and tried to both escape the heat that was growing and gather
the strength to quell her desire for him.
You smell so
good
.

He rolled her over as his mouth, sweet with
alcohol and hot with passion, found hers. His tongue moved in hard,
forceful strokes, drinking in the safety of her, and erasing his
painful memories of his mother. Her anxiety about her relationship
with Jack was set aside, as she gave in to Peter’s desires—and her
own?—and safely lost herself to one of her closest friends.

“Holly?” Peter’s voice urged her mind back to
the cemetery.

Holly looked at Peter as if she had forgotten
he was there. “Peter?”

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look
really…I don’t know, but not okay.”

She smiled. “I’m okay. I was just thinking
about the past.”

Peter’s voice shook just a bit, just enough
for Holly to notice. “Yeah, me too,” he said quietly.