Fresh Tracks (17 page)

Sophie flinched. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked the back of Laura's head.

"The scowls, the snorts, the eye rolling. Do you think I miss it all? Do you think I'm blind and deaf?" Laura wanted to sound angry, but she was annoyed by the undercurrent of hurt

that so obviously colored her tone. "Here, boy!"

"I don't—" Sophie began, but was cut off by Laura's upheld hand.

"Shut up."

Sophie blinked in surprise.

Laura glared at her. "I know your girlfriend fooled around on you and I'm sorry about that.

I know it hurt you terribly and I also know you're projecting your anger onto me because I

did the same thing to my husband."

Sophie poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue and struggled to remain quiet, to

stay in the same spot, to keep from turning dn her booted heel and running away as fast as

possible, leaving Laura standing in the snow alone in her pajamas. She didn't want to hear

this. She didn't want to hear any of it.

"But you know what, Sophie?" Laura's voice dropped until she

was practically snarling through her clenched teeth as she carefully articulated each word.

"You don't know a thing about me. You don't know a thing about my life. You don't know a thing about my marriage. You have no right to judge me. No right at all."

They stood face-to-face among the trees, creating a dichotomy of light and dark. Snow fell

silently onto their hair as Laura's chest rose and fell, the quickened pace a sign of her

anger, something she kept banked like the glowing embers of a fire. She was so incredibly

tired of having to explain herself, to defend herself. No, she wasn't proud of the way

she'd handled things, but she'd had her reasons. It was over and done with and she'd

moved on. She wished people would just leave her the hell alone about it.

She turned on her heel and headed deeper into the woods. "Come here, boy!"

Sophie saw the hurt, the resentment, the exhaustion in Laura's face before she turned

away, surprised by how they made her feel. She wet her lips and spoke before she had a

chance to think about it. "I was a crappy wife."

Laura stopped, her back to Sophie, feeling somewhat off balance at the remark. "What?"

"I was a crappy wife." Sophie couldn't believe she'd said it. Twice. "A crappy partner." She also couldn't believe how much better she felt, as if the fact had weighed an extra fifty

pounds and by saying it, she was now that much lighter. "I was never around and when I

was, I was a control freak. I was bossy. I worked too much. I was distant."

"Oh, Sophie..." Laura didn't know what to say. She sighed and looked at her feet.

"I drove Kelly to somebody else. It was my fault."

Laura turned to look at her, saw the anguish and the self-recrimination in Sophie's eyes.

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth. Do you know why Kelly started going to the gym where she met her new

love?"

Laura suspected this was the first time Sophie had talked about this and she didn't want

to answer because she knew it would only exacerbate the pained expression on Sophie's

beautiful face. At the same time, she guessed maybe Sophie needed to tell the story,

needed to say the words out loud. Al of them. "No. Why?"

"Because she was always complaining about being fat—which she wasn't. And so one day she said she was fat and instead of trying to

convince her that she was beautiful, which any good partner would have done, I agreed with

her. I told her she was right, that she was putting on weight, that she needed to get

herself back into shape because she wasn't getting any younger." The memory horrified

her and made her sick to her stomach. "Who says something like that to the person they

supposedly love?" She shook her head and snorted. "I bought her the gym membership for her birthday. Serves me right."

Laura was quiet for several minutes. Looking at Sophie, she was surprised to note that all

she wanted to do was relieve the hurt that came off her like waves of heat. "You know...it takes two to tango. It takes two to mess up a relationship."

"Sometimes it only takes one," Sophie said with a sad smile.

Laura took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, knowing she couldn't make this better, that

only Sophie had the power to forgive herself, to learn from her mistakes and move on. "I'm sorry." It was the most fitting thing she could think of to say.

"No, I'm sorry. You're right. I've been a judgmental bitch and I had no right."

Laura grinned, surprised by the words. "Apology accepted." Her dimples deepened. "Do you think we can start over?"

Sophie held out her hand. "Hi there. Sophie Wilson. Nice to meet you."

Laura took the offered hand and shook it, warmed by the strength of the grip. A tingle

zipped up her arm as she nearly became lost in the rich brown of Sophie's eyes, lighter now

than they'd been earlier. "Laura Baker. It's nice to meet you, too." They held on for several long seconds before Laura reluctantly let go and asked with a smirk, "Think you can help me find my dog?"

By early afternoon, the snow had subsided and then started back up again. Bellies were full

from the lunch of turkey sandwiches and vegetable soup Laura had prepared for the group,

ordering Amy to take a meal off and just sit, not an easy feat. Wine and beer were flowing

in abundance and the atmosphere in the cabin was one of general relaxation. Peals of

laughter rang through the living room as Sophie and Molly battled video game zombies,

squealing like little girls as they sat Indian-style on the floor.

Laura had reclaimed her chair and book. The terrier, located that morning by Jo and Darby

with his nose stuck in the chipmunk hole of a dead tree, was curled up in the crook of her

knee sleeping off the exhaustion from his adventure. Every so often, she'd glance up at

the game players and catch Sophie's eye. Sophie would smile and they'd each return to

their tasks, relieved to have gotten past the animosity. Amy was in the shower. Kristin sat

at the kitchen table with her Blackberry and a beer, checking her e-mail. Jo and Darby

were putting away the lunch dishes.

"How's your wine, Laura?" Jo cal ed to her guest. "Ready for a refill?"

Laura glanced at her half-full glass. "Not yet, thanks. I'm good."

"Zombie warriors?" Sophie and Molly picked up their empty bottles and held them over their heads. Jo laughed. "I'l take that as a 'yes, could we please have more beer, Ms.

Cooper?'" She retrieved two fresh bottles from the fridge and handed them to Darby for

delivery. "Kristin?"

Kristin was absorbed in her e-mail, using her thumbs to type a response to a client as she

became increasingly annoyed that Reeves continued to forward e-mail, to her knowing she

was on vacation. He could just as easily be handling it himself. Jo laid a hand on her

shoulder, causing her to jump.

"Sorry." Jo reached for Kristin's beer. She handed it to her frazzled-looking friend.

"Finish this last swallow and I'll get you another one. You look like you could use it."

Kristin did as ordered and handed her bottle over to Jo, who took it into the kitchen.

Darby walked by with the empties from the living room. Looking at Kristin with thinly veiled

disgust, she commented in a tone only Kristin could hear, "Jesus, look at you. In a corner away from the women, swigging beer and absorbed in your job while you're supposed to be

on vacation. You might as well not even be here."

The muscles in Kristin's jaw clenched.

"You're practically invisible. Pretty soon, she won't see you at all."

Kristin's nostrils flared and she felt her face heating up. She knew if she didn't move, run, get away right now, she would very likely knock Darby on her ass. Hard. It would be

embarrassing for everybody, Molly would be pissed, she'd ruin her friendship with Jo and

Amy and succeed in hammering the final nail into the coffin of this "vacation."

She stood up so fast, her chair fell backward and crashed loudly to the floor.

The cabin got quiet as everybody turned to look at the two women staring at each other.

Kristin's eyes were blue fire and if she could have shot laser beams out of them at Darby,

she would have. Darby, on the other hand, had enough sense to look a bit fearful, knowing

instinctively that she'd crossed a line. She stood her ground, swallowing hard and feeling

not only Kristin's glare, but that of her aunt in the kitchen.

Her nostrils stil flaring and her jaw clenched so tightly it was giving her an instant

headache, Kristin managed to speak. "I need some air," she ground out.

Darby stepped back out of her path before she could be bodily pushed. Kristin didn't look

at anybody as she stepped into her boots and donned her coat, hat, and gloves. She crossed

to the kitchen and took the open beer bottle Jo had been about to bring her, then headed

for the front door.

"Kristin?" Molly's voice was uncertain.

Kristin held up a gloved hand, forestalling any further conversation. "I need some air," she said again and then she was gone.

Nobody moved for what felt like several long minutes. The room was silent, save for the

shrieking of the dying characters on the video game. Amy returned freshly showered and

her gaze bounced around the room in confusion.

"What happened?" she asked and her voice seemed to free everybody, as if they'd been frozen and just waiting for a sound to break the spell. They all shifted at once, Sophie and

Laura glancing at each other, Molly looking across the room at Darby in disappointment.

Before Darby could react at all, Jo grabbed a handful of her shirt and yanked her bodily

past a bewildered Amy and into the back bedroom, where she slammed the door and pushed

her niece roughly against the wall, keeping her pinned with a hand on her chest.

"What the hel was that about?" she demanded.

"What?" Darby tried to feign innocence, knowing it wasn't going to work. "She obviously can't take a joke."

"Why would she take a joke from you, Darby? You've been slobbering all over her girlfriend the whole week."

"You think she's actually noticed?" The sarcastic edge to her voice didn't do a thing to dissuade Jo's anger with her.

"Everybody else has."

Darby chuckled, but stopped immediately as Jo pulled her forward just enough to bump her

back into the wall again, wiping the smirk right off her face.

"Not funny. Show some respect, God damn it. These are my friends and you're way out of

line."

Darby couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Aunt Jo this angry with her. She

blinked, honestly not following her aunt's train of thought. "How? How am I out of line?"

"How?" Jo looked at her in disbelief. "Jesus, your generation is just a fucking mess, isn't it?" She rubbed at her forehead in frustration as she realized she was actually going to have to spel things out. "They're in trouble, Darby. Molly and Kristin. Their relationship is in trouble and if you knew them the way Aunt Amy and I do, you'd know that they love each

other enough to fix it." She eyed her niece, satisfied she was paying close attention.

"Maybe you and your friends think it's okay to move in on somebody who's spoken for—

though I want to believe you're not that cold-hearted—but me and my friends? We don't

work that way. I don't know what your intentions are in this game you're playing with Molly,

but I suspect you want nothing more than to get into her cute little panties so you can

carve another notch into your bedpost." At Darby's gasp of indignation, Jo sneered. "Oh, come on, Darby. It's what you do. You cruise, you fuck, you move on. You know it and I know

it. You talk about it all the time. And I've never judged you for it, have I?"

Darby grimaced and bit the inside of her lip as she shook her head. "No."

"Wel , this time, I am. These are my friends; they're not a challenge put here for you."

"But I like her." Darby sounded like a small child.

"What?"

"I like her. Molly. I.. .you know.. .I like her."

Jo looked at her for several long seconds, seeing something in Darby's eyes she'd never

seen before. Son of a bitch. Why now? Why Molly? No, it didn't matter. She shook her

head. "That's too damn bad. You can like her. You just can't have her. She's a married

woman who's desperate to fix her failing relationship. If you do like her, then you need to

step back and respect her enough not to interfere."

Darby looked at her feet, feeling like she was eight years old all over again and being

scolded by her aunt for messing with her tools.

"Do you understand?" When Darby looked back up at her, Jo, too, was reminded of a much younger version. She could vividly see her niece fifteen years ago, kind, smart, quick-witted. It was excruciatingly difficult to stay angry with her. She consciously softened her

tone. "Look, I know you like Molly. It's not hard to, believe me. She's a good egg who's in a bad place right now. She's vulnerable and she's confused and she needs help from her

friends, not more obstacles. Can you do that? Can you be her friend and not an obstacle?"

Darby grimaced, thinking back to that morning, of kissing Molly, of how good she felt under

her hands, under her mouth. She also remembered being pushed away, being begged to

stop, and the look of uncertainty in Molly's bruised green eyes—the look that told her she

wasn't helping matters any, no matter how Molly had responded.

Darby wet her lips. "Yeah. I can do that."

Jo rubbed her hand over her face as if trying to wipe away the recent stress. "Good." She backed off, letting Darby move away from the wall. "Thank you."