In an Instant(73)

85

Chloe and Vance sit on the beach looking at the ocean. Their shoes are beside them, their bare feet dug into the sand. She examines his fingers, then shows him hers. They compare notes and agree that Vance’s surgeon was a hack who botched the job pretty badly.

He brings her damaged hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across her skin. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes glassy. “I tried to go back for you.”

She swallows, then stands and holds out her hands to him to pull him up. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She wraps her arm around his waist, and he drapes his across her shoulder. She tells him about the kittens and the shelter, and he tells her about looking for Oz and putting up with my dad.

“I’m surprised you two didn’t kill each other,” she says, her eyes sliding to the bruise on his cheek from this morning’s scuffle.

“Came close,” Vance says. “Your dad is crazy. Did you know that? Fucking nuts.”

“Runs in the family,” Chloe says, grinning up at him.

They walk at the edge of the water, the tide washing over their feet—Chloe’s seven toes, Vance’s ten.

“Silk socks,” he says, knowing Chloe is wondering about this. “The doctor said the socks I was wearing were made of a silk weave, and that’s what saved my toes.”

“Bet you didn’t realize what an important decision you were making when you bought those socks.”

“Nope. No idea.”

He stops, turns to face her, and rests his hands on her shoulders. “I’d have given them to you,” he says. “If I would have known that the socks would have saved your toes, I would have given them to you.”

He wants to believe this, and perhaps he does. And I believe that if the accident happened today, he would be telling the truth. He would give her his socks. But today he is different than he was on that day. I was a witness. On that day, when the time came, he wanted to live.

Chloe knows it too. With a weak smile, she turns to continue down the beach. She walks with her head down, and he walks beside her, his shoulders stooped and his focus on the sand. Chloe takes his hand again, then bends down to pick up a tiny piece of white sea glass. She puts it in her pocket. When she gets home, she will put it in the glass jar we keep on our shared dresser, a lifetime collection from our walks on the beach.

“You’re amazing,” Vance says, looking at their hands twined together. It’s not a compliment so much as a statement. She forgives him for the unforgivable, and it’s almost too much to bear.



They arrive back at the house just as the ham hits the table.

“I thought we were going to have to send out a search party,” Aubrey says as they walk in, causing everyone except Ben to freeze at her choice of words.

Aubrey is completely oblivious or does an amazing job pretending to be. “Can you believe our wedding is in five weeks?” she says, and again, miraculously, her normalcy resets the balance.

The six of them have a surprisingly great time during dinner, and I love it and hate it. I want to be there having a great time too.

When they’re almost done with dessert, Aubrey says, “Hey, Chloe, I brought the dress for you to try on.”

Chloe half grins, half groans, like she’s unsure how to react. “Snarky teenager” doesn’t quite fit anymore.

“What’s this?” my mom asks.

“Chloe has agreed to be my maid of honor,” Aubrey says.

My mom claps her hands together and yelps with excitement, her eyes getting moist. “And you’re going to wear the bridesmaid dress?” she says, as if this is too much to hope for. “Will you try it on? Please.”

“Now?” Chloe says, her skin growing pink.

My mom looks like a kid at Christmas who’s just unwrapped a bike she’s been wanting for a year. Her hands are still clasped in front of her, and she’s nearly jumping up and down in her chair.

“Fine,” Chloe says, “torture me on Easter. Cruel and unusual punishment, Aubrey, bringing that dress, knowing everyone was going to be here. I’ll get you back for this.” She stomps off to grab the dress beside the door.

“I’ll help you,” my dad says as she carries it up the stairs. “Payback’s my specialty, and we do have a wedding to liven up.”

He winks at Chloe, and I want to cry. Practical jokes and pranks were our thing. Oz and I were his partners in crime. We were already plotting a carefully wrought plan for the wedding that would make the event truly memorable, and now he’s conspiring with Chloe. Being dead sucks. I’m stuck here watching while everyone else is doing all the things I want to be doing and all the things I was going to do.

“Don’t ruin my wedding,” Aubrey says, half-scared my dad is going to mess up her day, half-hopeful that his plan will add a bit of levity to what is looking to be a very boring event.

“Chloe and I are just going to have a little fun,” my dad taunts.

I ache, hating that I will never concoct a plan with my dad to prank my sister’s wedding, or eat my mom’s ham, or sit with my family at the dinner table again. It’s so unfair.

Chloe walks down the stairs in the dress, her Doc Martens peeking out from beneath the lime taffeta that swims around her in a cloud of great green pouf, a grimace of pain on her face.