Every Breath(59)

The stress of the divorces had taken a heavy toll on Josh and he no longer resembled the man she’d married. He’d put on weight and his skin was pallid and spotted; he’d lost much of his hair and his once-athletic posture had become stooped. One time, after she hadn’t seen him for a few months, it had taken Hope a few seconds to recognize him when he waved at her from across the dining room of their country club. She no longer found him attractive; in more ways than one, she felt sorry for him.

Not long before he’d retired, he’d shown up at her door in a sports jacket and pressed slacks. His freshly showered appearance had signaled that it wasn’t a normal visit, and she’d motioned him toward the couch. She made sure to sit at the opposite corner.

It took a while for him to get to the point. He started with small talk, discussing the children, and then a bit about his work. He asked whether she was still doing the New York Times crossword puzzles, a habit she’d picked up shortly after the kids started school that had slowly but surely become a minor addiction. She told him that she’d finished one just a few hours ago, and when he brought his hands together, she asked him what was on his mind.

“I was thinking the other day that you’re the only real friend I have anymore,” he finally said. “I have partners at work, but I can’t really talk to any of them the way I do with you.”

She said nothing. Waiting.

“We’re friends, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “I suppose we are.”

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately…about you and me. The past. How long we’ve known each other. Did you realize it’s been thirty years? Since we met?”

“I can’t say that I’ve thought about it much.”

“Yeah…okay.” Though he nodded, she knew he’d wanted a different answer. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know I made a lot of mistakes when it came to us. I’m sorry about the things I did. I don’t know what was going through my mind at the time.”

“You’ve already apologized,” she said. “And besides, that’s all in the past. We divorced a long time ago.”

“But we were happy, right? When we were married.”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Not always.”

He nodded again, a hint of supplication in it. “Do you think we could ever try again? Give it another shot?”

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You mean marriage?”

He raised his hands. “No, not marriage. Like…going on a date. As in, can I take you to dinner on Saturday night? Just to see how it goes. It might not go anywhere, but like I said, you’re my closest friend these days—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, cutting him off.

“Why not?”

“I think you’re probably in a low spot right now,” she said. “And when you’re feeling low, sometimes even bad ideas can seem like good ones. It’s important for the kids to know that we still get along, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.”

“I don’t want to jeopardize it, either. I’m just wondering if you’d be willing to give us another chance. Give me a chance.”

In that moment, she wondered how well she’d ever known him.

“I can’t,” she finally said.

“Why not?”

“Because,” she told him, “I’m in love with someone else.”



As she walked the beach, the damp, cold air began to make her lungs ache, and she decided to turn around. At the sight of the cottage in the distance, a memory of Scottie flashed through her mind. Had he been with her, she knew he would have been disappointed and stared at her with those sweet, sad eyes of his.

The kids had little memory of Scottie. Though he’d been part of the household when they were young, Hope had read once that the part of the brain that processes long-term memory isn’t fully developed until a child is seven or so, and Scottie had passed away by then. Instead, they remembered Junior, the Scottish terrier who was part of their lives until both Jacob and Rachel were in college. While Hope had doted upon Junior, she secretly admitted that Scottie would always be her favorite.

For the second time on the walk, she felt her phone vibrate. While Jacob hadn’t yet responded, Rachel had texted back, telling Hope to hav fun! Any cute guys? Luv u with a smiley face. Hope knew that kids these days had their own texting protocols, complete with brief responses, acronyms, incorrect spelling and grammar, and a heavy use of emojis. Hope still preferred the old-fashioned way of communicating—either in person, on the phone, or in a letter—but her kids were of a different generation, and she’d learned to do what was easiest for them.

She wondered what they would think if they knew the real reason she’d come to Carolina Beach. She often had the sense that her kids couldn’t imagine her wanting more from life than doing crosswords, occasionally visiting the salon, and waiting around for them to visit. But then, Hope recognized that they had never known the real her, the woman she’d been at Sunset Beach so long ago.

Her relationship with Rachel was different than it was with Jacob. Jacob, she thought, had more in common with his father. The two of them could spend an entire Saturday watching football; they went fishing together, enjoyed action movies and target shooting, and could talk about the stock market and investing for hours. With Hope, Jacob mainly spoke about his girlfriend, and often seemed at a loss for words after that.