Halfway to You(73)

I swiped a tear from my jaw. “You had to have known Todd wouldn’t . . .” I bit my lip. “Keith.”

The set of his jaw faltered, the red-brown stubble on his chin rippling with his frown.

He released my shoulders and cleared his throat. “As you might’ve guessed, in my family, we don’t talk about Penny.”

I waited as a million expressions passed over Keith’s features: the nostalgic furrow of his brow, the squint of a smile by his eyes, the wrinkle of pain at his nose, the pinch of restraint at his mouth. His hand met the wall beside me, and he traced the floral wallpaper with a finger.

“I remember dunking her Barbies in the toilet. I remember walking her to school and threatening her first-grade boyfriend. I remember thinking that no man would ever be good enough for my baby sister . . . and then I met Todd.” He sighed. “We became fast friends—inseparable. His parents were busy with the bookshop, so he spent a lot of time at our house.

“Penny loved Todd from the get-go, even as a kid, but he was a few years older and didn’t notice her until college. God, I was there when he saw her on campus, the first day of her freshman year. She had grown up a lot over the summer, and Todd hadn’t seen her in over a year. She spotted us and started walking our way, and he said to me, ‘Damn, do you know her?’ And I shoved him so hard he fell on his ass on the lawn.” Keith exhaled a chuckle. “‘You know her,’ I said. When she reached us, I could tell she was still smitten as ever. And I knew right then it was all over.”

Keith was flicking at the seam in the wallpaper now, not looking at me. “When Penny got pregnant, they’d been terrified to tell me—me, of all people. But all I could think was that if it had to be someone, thank god it was Todd.” Keith’s eyes were reddening, a sheen blurring the color of his irises. “Those were the happiest days, and then—” His voice cracked.

I rubbed his arm, and his mouth pulled into a wan smile.

“My parents’ approach to the tragedy was to pretend it didn’t happen. But doing that is to pretend Penny was never here . . .” He coughed. “I think we all got into the habit of pretending. It’s just easier that way. Even Natalie usually doesn’t bring her up.

“But you see, I grew up with Penny. I didn’t choose her, I just loved her because she was family. We all knew Penny for twenty years before she died. But Todd . . .” His voice thickened. “Todd chose Penny. And he barely had any time with her at all.”

My face burned. I didn’t know what to say.

“We don’t talk about Penny because it hurts, but we also don’t talk about her out of respect for Todd.” Keith ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his red-splotched face. “His parents had come to visit them in the hospital, and he’d gone to the cafeteria to get his mom some orange juice. When the alarm sounded, he thought it was a fire drill. He was ushered outside, into the parking lot. Then the firetrucks arrived, and he . . . he saw the roof collapse. I think he’s always wondered what would’ve happened had he gone back upstairs instead of following the nurses into the parking lot. Wondered if he could’ve . . . done something.”

My hand rose to cup my throat. It wasn’t grief that had kept Todd from telling me the truth—it was guilt.

“Losing Penny is one of the greatest heartbreaks of my life,” Keith said. “But Ann, when I think of losing my parents along with Barbara and Iris . . . the loves of my life . . .” His face pulled into a stricken, horrified frown. “I can’t fathom it.”

“Keith . . .” I drew him into a hug.

We held each other for a minute; then he wiped his face and pulled away.

“I should’ve told you, or made sure he . . .” He shook his head. “I just wanted to respect the privacy of his grief. Because his grief was—is—very different than mine.”

I nodded in understanding, and with the motion, more tears fell from my face.

Keith’s brow furrowed. “But he should’ve told you—long before this trip.”

How could I be angry with Todd over keeping this secret? It didn’t seem right to press him where he hurt most. Yet I was angry. And I was hurt too.

Keith smiled lopsidedly. “When I met you, I knew immediately that Todd would love you.”

I grimaced.

“It’s true,” he said. “You’re so much like her. Funny, smart, unique. It sounds weird, but I knew by the sound of your voice that Todd would adore you. Something about your humble inflection and the sense that you’re much more cunning than you let on . . . I knew Todd would fall hard.” He smeared a tear off my cheek. “But I see what his secret has done to you. You haven’t been yourself all week, and I know Todd has noticed, but I think he’s afraid to ask. Which is why I think you need to talk to him.”

I shook my head. “I can’t—my complaints are nothing compared to . . .” I shook my head again.

“There’s something my therapist said that I think you’ll benefit from,” Keith said. “‘Another person’s broken wrist doesn’t mean yours is any less sprained.’” He paused. “Your pain is valid, Ann. If it bothers you, go talk to him. Trust me.”

I stared into Keith’s eyes, which had cleared of tears. His earnest stare rendered me all the weaker. “Keith . . . you’re my best friend. Did you know that?”