Halfway to You(72)

Maybe Tracey was right: if Todd really cared about me, he wouldn’t’ve hid behind a half truth. I might’ve been keeping Todd at a physical distance, but he had kept me at an emotional distance, and that was so much worse.

And Keith—was that what he’d meant yesterday, about my presence being awkward? Had he assumed I knew? Or had they both withheld this from me? I thought we’d been thick as thieves, but really, they’d kept me out of everything.

As I sat on the floor in the hotel room, with the old heater ticking and snow falling outside the window, intense rejection spread across my skin like frostbite. That’s when the in-room phone rang.

“I ditched the kids,” Natalie said when I answered. “You, me, and Barbara are going to the spa.”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . ,” I said, spinning the phone cord around my finger.

“The appointments are booked and nonrefundable, so you have no choice but to feel better.”

My mouth twisted into the tiniest smile. “What time?”

“We’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”

“All right.”

The line was silent for a few seconds, long enough to know what was coming next. “Ann, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”

“Tracey’s outburst was inexcusable, but . . . well, she’s had a harder time than the rest of us. It wasn’t about you.” She sighed. “Todd has always been reserved, but I’m angry that Keith didn’t . . . that they . . .”

“It’s fine,” I repeated, because what else could I say? It was kind of Natalie to sympathize with me. It was kind of her to include me, and apologize, and try to make it right. Her kindness was a hand breaking through the snow. A form of rescue.

She cleared her throat. “Spa. Half hour.”

“See you then.”

During facials and massages, Natalie and Barbara talked through the incident with me, offering solidarity and support. Two hours later, I exited the spa with heavy muscles, oily skin, and a cottony headache—still embarrassed and confused and tense in my stomach but less alone in my pain. The guys were just returning from their hike, and Todd barely checked in with me before retiring to our room to shower. Then it was dinnertime, and afterward, a nightcap with Keith, Natalie, Jackson, and Hugh, telling empty stories for laughs. “Tell them about the time you accidentally broke into the Agora!” Todd said to me, his breath smelling of lemon and whiskey.

By the time we retired, Todd was sloshed from hot toddies and promptly crashed. As I tucked myself in bed beside him, I couldn’t bear the thought of confronting him. To fight with Todd over Christmas, only to immediately leave for Rome, sounded awful.

So I let the Penny issue slide.

From the outside, everything remained the same. Natalie, Barbara, and Una must’ve agreed among themselves not to bring it up. Tracey ignored me. The kids’ attention spans were too fleeting to fixate on the incident. And I plastered a holiday-cheer smile on my face.

The deception, however, was a rot that spoiled me from the inside. My muscles were mealy, my heart brown. Did Todd not trust me, or did he simply not see me as a true partner?

I’d been learning Todd’s story for years, uncovering layers like a miner cutting through rock, in search of that tender vein of understanding, that glittering gold thread of intimacy. In all the many letters we’d sent, pouring our hearts out onto those pages, it amazed me how much he’d actually held back. I had seized every opportunity to open up to him and thought he’d done the same—but I was wrong.

The day after Christmas, as we were all heading to lunch, Keith stopped me in the hall. He led me into a narrow, carpeted stairwell and paused on the landing between floors, where we had some privacy. “Natalie told me what happened. Actually, she yelled it at me.”

I frowned. The incident at the craft table was days past.

Keith continued, “That’s why I asked, when we were checking in. I thought you knew. I assumed Todd told you.”

So Keith hadn’t kept me in the dark on purpose. It was a small relief but didn’t take away the sting of Todd’s betrayal. “Yeah, well, he didn’t.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“What’s there to say?” I asked. “What could I possibly say? She was his wife, Keith. I can’t yell at him for not talking about his dead wife.”

Keith flinched, and I realized my mistake.

I touched his arm. “I’m sorry for the blunt phrasing,” I said. “But you see my predicament, don’t you? Todd has been so withholding—”

“Which is why—”

“—I shouldn’t pressure him. Clearly he’s still hurting.” The last time I had tried to pressure Todd was in Greece, and I had ended up heartbroken and alone.

“Clearly you are hurting,” Keith said, touching my cheek. It was a sweet gesture, a comforting one. It was the kind of gesture that was so simple and well meaning that it had the power to completely unravel me.

Tears tingled in my eyes. “I don’t want to scare him off.”

“I know you care about him,” Keith said. “So do I. But he’s not a wild animal, he’s a man. And if he’s hurting you, you need to tell him so he can make it right.” Keith gripped my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “You deserve to have your voice heard, Ann. Todd loves you—I can tell because I’ve seen him fall in love before. But if you want a trusting, lasting relationship, my advice is to be honest with him about how his actions have affected you.”