Chapter Twenty-Six
Brooke’s house was not hard to find. In fact, it stuck out like a pair of dog’s balls in a block of aging Willow Park grande dames. Brooke and Christopher must have had a special friend in town planning.
Gone was the red-face brick, beneath layers of stucco white, Moroccan-style plasterwork. All the old cottage pane windows had been removed and tortured into arches that appeared strangely out of proportion. An entire wing was tacked onto one side of the original house. It started under the eaves, went straight up, and then tapered into half an A-frame. A child with a set of building blocks had, clearly, been their architect.
Lucy took a deep breath. She was not here to judge.
“Lucy?” Brooke appeared on the front step beneath a soaring arch that had once been a square-fronted porch. Today, she was poured into shiny, black trousers. Her coat was bright red with the arms covered in zebra print, the heads of which opened their maws over her chest and shoulders. “Can I help you with something?”
Here goes. Lucy sucked in a breath and tried to calm the butterflies overrunning her stomach. She felt ready this morning to do this. Lucy had the feeling she would need all her newfound fortitude, because Brooke was not looking in the least welcoming. Not a shocker after the scene in the store, but not exactly encouraging, either.
“Actually”—Lucy tried to keep her smile warm and open—“I wondered if you had a minute?”
“What for?” Brooke folded her arms with a wide sweep of her zebra.
Lucy flinched. It was a fair question, but not one she had a short answer for and certainly not one she wanted to get into standing on the sidewalk. “It won’t take long,” she evaded neatly. “I need to come in for a bit.”
Lucy shivered under the hostile rake of Brooke’s eyes as the other woman studied her intently. It looked like Brooke might refuse and then she shrugged and motioned for Lucy to follow. The heels of Brooke’s boots clipped sharply against the terra-cotta tiles as Lucy trailed her into the house.
Lucy stopped dead inside the door, shaken out of her purpose for an instant. A giant Versailles, crystal chandelier dominated the entrance hall. Colored crystals had replaced the clear ones and shed their jeweled tones all over the walls and floor.
“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Brooke murmured from beside her. A rapt expression spread across her features. “Christopher had it specially made for our eighth anniversary.”
Lucy turned to look at her in surprise.
Brooke’s pale blue eyes dared Lucy to comment.
Lucy leaned over to take off her boots. It gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. Brooke must have worked fast, because nine years ago Lucy had left town with her then-boyfriend.
“Yes,” Brooke said, having read her mind. “We have been married almost nine years.”
Forget fast, Brooke must have had a meteoric courtship.
“We met, fell in love, and six weeks later, voila.” She flashed a rock the size of Lucy’s purse at her and tittered happily.
Voila, indeed.
Brooke wrestled free of the zebras to reveal more animal print beneath.
Lucy was no expert, but she thought this might be snow leopard. Or close enough. She shrugged out of her old black parka and Brooke hung it beside the door.
There was a definite order to the coat hooks. First, there was a man’s jacket. Christopher, she guessed. The next hook was impaling the zebras and the following two were clearly for children, one blue and one pink.
Brooke examined her from head to toe, not missing a thing. Her eyes were of such a light blue that in some lights they appeared almost colorless. It could be a bit disconcerting, having those unfriendly orbs turned in your direction.
Lucy took a careful breath and smiled cautiously.
“We should sit.” Brooke turned suddenly, leaving Lucy to follow in her wake.
Lucy took the opportunity to mentally run through the speech she and Mads had worked on. Her mind kept going blank. Now that she was here, in Brooke’s home, the past throbbed alive and palpable between them. Lucy cursed herself for not trying to have this meeting on neutral ground. But it was a miracle Brooke had agreed to see her at all.
Lucy stopped a moment on the threshold of the living room. Blue, blue, and blue, everywhere you looked, from the sofas to the drapes to the carpet. So blue, it made the back of Lucy’s eyeballs ache. And when it wasn’t blue, it was gold and that, too, assaulted her eyes. A huge gas fireplace dominated one end of the room. Disembodied blue flames danced in eerie solitude above blue glass pebbles. The heat it put out was making Lucy’s scalp itch already and she chose a seat farthest from the inferno. It seemed a fitting place from which to do penance.
“Lucy Flint.” Brooke stood opposite her and stared. She shook her head at the peculiarity of it all. “Sitting here. Now.”
“Brooke,” Lucy began on a deep breath. It was time. “Thank you for seeing me.”
Brooke shrugged one shoulder, as if it were a minor inconvenience. “I have no idea what this is about, Lucy.” She settled onto one of the blue velour chairs near the fire. “But I have not forgotten how civilized people behave.”
“Well, thank you.” Lucy took a breath. “I think I should start out by telling you I am an alcoholic.”
Brooke’s eyes lit appreciatively. This was excellent fodder for the gossip canon.
Lucy grit her teeth and got on with it. “I have always had a problem with alcohol, but it took me until my late twenties to realize I was no longer in control of my drinking.”
Brooke went a deeper shade of pink and a soft sheen of anticipation glowed on her skin.
“It was then I sought some help.” It was getting harder now and Lucy took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I went to AA and they put me on their twelve-step program. I am now at step nine and that is about making amends to people who I have hurt or injured.”
A small frown crossed Brooke’s forehead and Lucy could sense the change in the other woman. She was not nearly as eager to hear what Lucy had to say anymore.
Lucy got to the meat of it. “Brooke, when I left Willow Park, with Jason, I can only imagine how much that must have hurt and I want you to know I regret it.”
Brooke’s face had gone a bit pasty looking.
Lucy could see the hurt no amount of bling could hide. It stared out of Brooke’s face at her accusingly. The past was not a kind place for the other woman. “But even before Jason, I treated you very badly. I said and did things that were unkind and hurtful,” Lucy said softly, not wanting to leave new wounds on top of old scars. This was not the purpose of her visit today, at all.
“You used to call me pudding,” Brooke said in a dull, flat voice that hid more pain than Lucy cared to dwell on.
“I remember that, too,” she said. “Brooke, I am here to tell you I realize how badly I hurt you and I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you. When I drank, I only focused on myself to the detriment of others. It is not an excuse for my behavior, but it is an explanation and one you deserve. My drinking was an illness that seeped into every area of my consciousness and caused me to behave in ways I am not proud of.”
Brooke had gone completely still, but Lucy forged forward. “It has taken all this time to realize how much I injured you and I ask your forgiveness. You are under no obligation to give it, but I want you to know I am deeply and sincerely sorry for any hurt I caused you and if there is any way you can think of that I can make it up to you, you need only ask.”
Lucy sat back in her chair and waited. Her heart pounded loudly in the stretched silence.
“Well.” Brooke sat back suddenly. “Well,” she said again. “You always drank too much.” Brooke recovered some of her composure and her face lost the sickly pallor.
“Yes, I know.” Brooke had not even seen her drinking at its worst. “I have never had any control when it came to alcohol, which is why I am where I am now.”
“Hmm?” Brooke frowned again and worked at her bottom lip with her teeth as if she were weighing something carefully. “You have stopped drinking?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
“That’s how it works.” Lucy nodded.
“And now you come back to Willow Park and say you’re sorry. Sorry for all the things you have done and the people must forgive you. Just like that.”
Lucy’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I can’t change the past, Brooke. I can only take ownership for what I did, beg your forgiveness, make it up if I can, and move on.”
Brooke continued to sit there and stare at Lucy. “You are sorry?” Brooke drew the words out thoughtfully. “This is what you came here to say?” Her voice was not quite steady and her body was as tense as a drawn bowstring.
“I realize it probably seems inadequate when all is said and done,” Lucy said, shrugging helplessly. “So, if there is anything I can do to prove my sincerity, I would happily do so.”
Brooke gave a short bark of laughter and patted her hair self-consciously. Her hands were not quite steady. “You know what you can do for me, Lucy Flint?” She paused and turned to face Lucy.
Hot, angry tears glittered in her pale eyes and her jaw worked spasmodically as if she were reaching desperately for control. “You can give me back my beautiful party. The one I spent nearly a year planning and you ruined. You took it from me without a thought. Can you do that for me?”
“Brooke . . .” The blood drained from Lucy’s face.
“You can give me back my boyfriend, the love of my life. You can give me back Jason.” Brooke lurched forward suddenly until her face was mere inches away.
Lucy shrank back reflexively.
Brooke made no effort to conceal her anger and her bitterness. “Do you know how they laughed at me? They pitied me. They all looked at me and felt sorry for me. I crawled, Lucy Flint. I crawled through this town like a joke.”
“I am so sorry.”
Brooke was not listening to her. “I want you to crawl like I did. I want you to feel my shame. That’s what you can do for me, Lucy Flint.”
Lucy got unsteadily to her feet. Frantically, she searched for the right words, but her mind was blank. She tried to think what Mads would say, but she couldn’t.
Brooke had risen to her feet as well.
“I can’t go back and change things,” Lucy stuttered, her heart racing. “I can only do things differently in the future.”
“Yes, I heard. You can only say you’re sorry and beg for forgiveness.” Brooke cut her off again. “You haven’t changed.” Brooke stalked toward her, her voice low and menacing. “Nothing about you has changed. You come here, today, speaking about your regrets, but I saw you, Lucy, and I know that it’s all more lies.”
The hair on the back of Lucy’s neck rose.
“I saw you sneaking out of Richard’s house this morning.”
Lucy went cold and then hot.
“You are doing what you always did, taking everybody else’s man. He is married, Lucy, married to Ashley, but you never let that stop you. Never.” Brooke made a slashing motion with her hand and Lucy stepped back.
“Forgive you?” Brooke’s voice rose to a shriek. “I don’t forgive you, Lucy Flint, not now and not ever. I wish on you all the pain and humiliation you caused me. I wish every scornful word you said to me and every single thing you did to hurt me back on you. Do you understand me? Do you hear me, Lucy Flint?”
Lucy had to get out of here. Brooke’s malice poisoned the air until it became difficult to breathe. “I think I should go.” Her feet carried her quickly to the door. Her mind registered only the need to escape.
Brooke had seen her this morning, which meant that the entire Willow Park community would know by the end of the day. Ashley would know, if she didn’t already.
“Yes, you should go.” Brooke scrambled after her. “You should go. You should get out of my house.”
Her tirade gathered momentum as she followed Lucy out of the living room. “And you should get out of Illinois completely. Go back to Seattle. Leave here. We don’t want you here. Not me, not Ashley, and not Richard, nor any of the others that you crapped on.”
Somehow Lucy made it out the door. She was almost running as she reached the sidewalk. Beneath her hastily pulled-on boots, her feet slid and slipped on the ice, but she didn’t slow down. Her heart jumped in her throat. She thought she might be sick.
Brooke’s hatred was a living thing pursuing her down the street.
She pulled out her cell with shaking hands and hit speed dial. It hurt more than she could have imagined. It hurt and it shamed her. She must have said something coherent, because the next thing she heard was Mads, firm and gentle.
“You have to breathe, Lucy, breathe.”
She dragged air into her lungs obediently and somehow managed to push it out again. She told the story haltingly, not quite believing it, even as she recited the details.
“Okay, Lucy Locket,” Mads spoke again, soothing her with that dark, velvet voice. “There are always one or two like that, but you have to let it go, Lucy Locket. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Lucy whispered into the phone.
“You breathe in and you breathe out and you let it go. She is not able to forgive you. It’s sad and regrettable, but it’s her choice and the reasons she can’t are hers to own. Got that?”
“Yes,” Lucy lied unconvincingly.
“You will.” Mads chuckled softly. “You did the right thing, Lucy. Now let it go.”
“Just like that?” Lucy gave a harsh bark of laughter.
“No,” Mads returned quickly. “There’s quite a bit more to it than that.”