The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(66)
Except for the rising flush in her neck and cheeks, Claire’s face looked like it had been carved in stone. She withdrew her fist before she spoke, her voice brittle. “Am I now the guilty party and Peyton the victim?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Steffi began, but Claire cut her off.
“You two don’t get it, and you don’t get me. This is just like after that bullet struck. ‘Claire, you’ll be fine,’” Claire mimicked. “And, ‘There’s more to life than tennis. You have other talents.’ Or my favorite, ‘Claire, you have to go away to college. Why would you want to stay here?’ Meanwhile, you both went off in search of more exciting lives, yet neither of you ended up any better off than me. And still you push, trying to convince me to do things your way. Why don’t you try to understand me instead of trying to change me?” Her voice cracked.
“Relax—”
“Don’t tell me to relax.” Her voice turned shrill. “You don’t know what it’s like to be shot by a madman. To rebuild a new life after your dreams are stolen.” Claire gripped her cane, staring into the distance. “To live with a daily reminder and pain. To wake from dreams that I’m healthy and playing tennis, and see ugly scars, feel the ache, and grab this.” Claire shook her cane.
“Claire . . .” Steffi reached out, but Claire withdrew further.
“I don’t need your pity. I made peace with it—or I had.” She smoothed her hands along the tabletop. “I had carved out a pleasant life here with a job I enjoyed, a family I love, and a man I loved. Someone who overlooked my disfigurement and lived in quiet contentedness like me. I was finally happy and had ‘it all’—more than either of you at the time, actually. It might not have been much by your standards, but I was planning the future . . . a family. Then Peyton deigned to return to this ‘pitiful little town,’ with her teasing ways, and her larger-than-life stories, and perfect, healthy body that never held her back. Just like that gunshot that changed my life, so did she.” Claire thumped her fist on the table.
Steffi waited, sensing Claire had more to say.
Claire’s scowl deepened, and her voice fell so low it sounded hoarse. “She already had so much, why’d she have to take Todd? And I don’t care if they didn’t get together until after he broke up with me. If she’d been any kind of friend, Todd would’ve been one hundred percent off-limits. She wouldn’t have given him any signals or encouraged any hope. So don’t guilt-trip me because I won’t talk to her. I told you, I don’t wish her harm, but I don’t owe her anything, either.”
Claire’s gush of anguish swept away every argument Steffi might’ve posed, leaving her speechless. And she was right; Steffi and Peyton had been too busy making Claire “better” to have seen things from her perspective.
“I’m sorry I’ve been the kind of friend that made your recovery harder rather than easier. I never meant to make you feel alone, downplay what you lost, or belittle the way you chose to cope. I should’ve listened to you instead of trying to convince you to do things my way.” Although heartfelt words and softness never came easily to her, Steffi scooted to the edge of her seat and held Claire’s gaze. “I hear you now. I love you, whether or not you ever forgive Peyton. All I want is for everyone to be happy. For all of us to find what we need in life. I wish life—happiness—wasn’t so complicated, don’t you?”
“It’s not complicated,” Claire snapped. “Just be honest—with others and yourself. If you do that, then you should be able to get what you need.”
Steffi drummed her thumbs on the table, musing softly, “That would mean I’d have to tell Ryan how I feel.”
“Maybe he deserves that from you—for you to take the risk. It could be what gets him over his mistrust.” Claire patted Steffi’s hand and then pushed herself up with her cane. The lines of her face curved downward, as if the gravity of the conversation had pulled at her cheeks and mouth. In a wistful tone, she said, “You don’t have much to lose at this point.”
Claire turned and started for the stairs, the heavy thump of every other step drilling home the story she’d unloaded this afternoon. Steffi sat at the table and filed the paperwork her friend had uncharacteristically left behind.
Ryan had warned that Peyton would have to be the one to find a way back into Claire’s life. He’d been right.
Was Claire right, too? Could life be simpler if she was honest with Ryan?
Claire had blithely said Steffi had nothing to lose, but Steffi’s pride was at stake, even though pride didn’t keep you warm. Vanity could wreak havoc on a life, like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
And even if she got over that hurdle, honesty wouldn’t budge two others: Emmy and Val. No matter what she wanted, she had no control over how those two would react.
Chapter Fourteen
“Why are you wearing that mask?” Emmy asked from where she’d drawn back the clear plastic curtain Steffi had put in the new archway between the not-yet-finished family room and the home’s central hallway.
Was it four o’clock already? That meant Steffi had an hour until her appointment with Gretta. The elder Mrs. Weber had already moved into the nursing home, so Gretta agreed to let Steffi and a home inspector into the bungalow this afternoon.