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Depression is like an ice pick. It hacks away at the soul, and each little piece that slivers off leaves the whole less than what it was.
Randy couldn’t remember where she’d heard that, but it was an apt description. Despair cocooned her, and time blurred. Seconds to minutes. Minutes to hours. Hours to days. It didn’t matter. What difference did the present make when the future offered nothing but sadness?
She drifted, sleeping but not resting, searching her heart for answers and coming up empty. Eating and changing out of her pajamas, only because her friends took turns guilting her into it.
After Alex’s visit on Monday, Sydney’d shown up on her doorstep Tuesday evening. She’d taken one look at the specter who answered the door and turned back to her car without a word. Randy closed the door, thinking she was well rid of the interruption, only to open it fifteen minutes later to find Sydney back with Sonic bags in her hands. Just the smell of the food made Randy queasy, but Sydney refused to leave until Randy choked down half a burger. The food tasted like straw and settled into a nasty lump in Randy’s stomach, but cooperating got Sydney out of her house.
Apparently, that information had been passed down the chain, because Wednesday night brought Charley to her door with a pizza. She’d stood over Randy like the matron in a prison while two pieces were consumed. Randy fought back tears at the memory of Charley taking her hand at the door as she was leaving, pulling her close, and praying for strength and healing.
Randy knew they loved her. She wished that were enough.
Last night it was Jesse and Mexican fast food. While Randy nibbled on a taco, Jesse had gone into the bedroom and stripped the twisted, stale sheets from Randy’s bed and remade it with fresh. Then she’d refused to leave until Randy had stripped off the two-day-old pajamas. Adding those to the pile of dirty sheets, Jesse stuffed everything into one of the pillowcases.
“What are you doing with all that?” Randy asked.
“I’ll wash them and send them back in a day or two.”
“I can do my own laundry.”
Jesse stared at her with raised eyebrows. “The question isn’t can you, it’s would you?”
“I—”
Jesse shut her down with a raised hand. “Don’t go there, OK? I know we’re supposed to come here to check on you and make sure you haven’t starved yourself or moped yourself into oblivion. Alex said we’re supposed to do that and keep our mouths shut until you’re ready to talk.” She swung the loaded pillowcase over her shoulder with one hand and pushed her glasses up with the other. “But I don’t see how this tiptoeing around you is doing any good. I gotta tell you, you’re wallowing, and I’m more than a little worried about that. The Randy I knew wouldn’t live like this.”
Jesse’s candor stung, but if any one of her friends had the lack of tact to call it like she saw it...
“The Randy you knew doesn’t exist anymore.” The words left Randy’s mouth in a rush. She resisted the temptation to slap a hand over her mouth when Jesse’s eyes widened. Instead, she lifted her chin a notch to drive the words home.
Jesse rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You do understand that’s nonsense, right?”
Randy stared at her dark-haired friend, forced back a step by the words, more so by the look on Jesse’s face. She’d seen sympathy and concern on the faces of the others over the last few days. But this...? The expression on Jesse’s face bordered on pity, and she’d felt color bleeding onto her face like a napkin soaking up a spill. She hadn’t offered Jesse an answer. She’d just crawled between the clean sheets and let her friend leave.
On Friday, Randy spent more time mulling Jesse’s words from the night before than counting nubs on the ceiling.
“You’re wallowing.”
Well, maybe she had been. She turned over and hugged an overstuffed pillow close. And what if she was? Wallowing was a harsh word for the grief she couldn’t seem to find her way out of. She bit her lip. Wasn’t a girl allowed to grieve the loss of her future? Randy filed that under questions with no answers.
She’d learned her lesson though. From here on out she’d wallow for the twenty-three hours of the day she was alone. If the pattern held, Mac would be her visitor tonight. Randy determined that she’d be up and dressed long before Mac knocked on her door. If her friends were comparing notes on her progress, or lack thereof, she’d give them what they wanted to see today. Hadn’t she spent the first eighteen years of her life fixing a happy face over her heartache? She could do it again. She figured it was like riding a bike—once you learned, you didn’t forget.
That afternoon, when her doorbell sounded at five-forty, Randy crossed the room with measured steps and calming breaths. She checked her appearance in the mirror in the entryway. Blue jeans and T-shirt both fresh from the closet, hair combed, and the obligatory smile. She cocked her head and studied her reflection. That pasted-on smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but there was only so much she could do.
She pulled the door open, and Mac lifted several take-out bags.
“I hope you like Chinese.”
Randy stepped to the side and motioned Mac past her. “Yum!” she said, but her stomach rolled at the thought.
“Oh, I’m glad. I didn’t know what to get, so I probably got way too much.”
Randy followed Mac into the kitchen.
“You look better than I expected,” Mac said.
“Me and Mark Twain.” Randy held up her hand, two fingers crossed. “We’re just like this.”
Mac looked at her over her shoulder. “What?”
“The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.”
“You’re funny.”
Yeah, well. Randy watched her friend arrange a dozen small containers on the table and swallowed back bile. Maybe if I take a little from four or five boxes and nibble, she won’t notice that I’m not really eating.
Mac stepped back. “Plates?”
Randy pointed and gasped when Mac reached for the handle of the cabinet. She grabbed her friend’s left hand and pulled it into the light. The engagement ring spit fire into the room. She let the hand fall, her eyes filled with tears, her heart with conflicting emotions.
Mac yanked her hand away and hid it behind her back.
“When?” Randy asked, her voice thick.
Mac stared at her feet. “Saturday night. I’m sorry. I hoped you wouldn’t notice it. I probably should have taken it off, but I just couldn’t.” She brought her hand up and admired the ring. “It’s not the first time I’ve been engaged, but it’s the first time I’ve felt all sappy about it.” Mac looked up and met Randy’s gaze. “I know that probably hurts you right now, and I’m sorry.”
Randy pulled out a chair and sat. Life goes on. “You don’t have to apologize. After being forced into an arranged marriage, you have the right to be happy this time around. It just took me by surprise.” She pushed against the ache in her heart. At least someone would get her happily ever after, and if anyone deserved it, it was Mac. “You and Dane were meant for each other. Tell me about it?”
Mac brought plates to the table and sat across from her friend. “It was magical,” she said with her dreams in her eyes. “Before the concert, he took me on a carriage ride. The driver took us to this lovely old park and, instead of turning around like the carriages in front of us, he stopped next to a fountain. Dane and I got out for a closer look and before I knew what was happening, Dane was down on one knee with this ring in his hand.”
“Oh...”
“I know, right?” Mac’s eyes glowed brighter than the diamond. “It’s like he knows I missed out on all the romantic stuff the first time around, and he wants to make up for it.”
“Of course he does. He loves you.”
Mac held up her hand and looked at the ring again. “I’m going to be the mushiest bride.”
Randy closed her eyes, ashamed that she couldn’t share in Mac’s joy. She swallowed the tears gathering in her throat. “I’m really happy for you.”
“I know that takes a lot for you to say that right now. It means a lot that you did.” Mac reached across the table and laid a hand on hers. “Randy?”
Randy focused on her plate. Mac’s tone might as well have been a sign around her neck warning her of questions she couldn’t answer. “Hmm.”
“Are you going to be OK?”
“I think so...but it’s going to take more than four or five days to get there. There’s so much in my head right now.”
“Like...?”
She spooned some fried rice onto her plate. “I’ve spent a lot of time this week trying to nail down what’s different between my life two years ago and my life now. Between a future with Eli and a future without him.” A tear escaped, and she brushed it aside impatiently. Cry me a river was taking on a whole new meaning these days. “I mean, two years ago I had a challenging job I enjoyed. I had my faith, my hobbies, and my friends. I was happy. Without Eli, I still have all those things, right? I’m trying to convince myself that if they were enough once, they can be again.”
“And they will be,” Mac said. “Have you talked to Eli at all?”
“He’s called every day, more than once, but...”
“You haven’t answered a single call, have you?”
“No.”
“Randy, you have to talk to him. People fight. I’m convinced that the more they love each other, the more likely they are to fight. If they didn’t care so much, they wouldn’t bother fighting.”
“We didn’t fight.” Yeah, because I shoved him out the door.
“Then why...?”
Randy folded her arms across her chest. “It’s complicated, and talking won’t solve it.”
Mac changed track. “How about talking to God?”
Randy stared at her.
“Look, I know Jesse scolded you pretty good last night. We got a full report. I just want to remind you that a few months ago when my life fell apart, prayer was the one thing you guys encouraged me to do. I’m going to throw that right back at you. You’ve been holed up in here for almost a week, and from the looks of things, it’s getting worse, not better.” She gave Randy a sharp look. “That phony smile and the food you’re pushing around on your plate doesn’t fool me.” She pushed her own half eaten dinner to the side and leaned on the table.
“I know you’re hurting. You won’t talk to us, or to Eli. That only leaves God, and He’s the best of the three. Don’t ever forget that you’re one of the people who taught me that.”
* * *
ELI FLIPPED A GRILLED cheese sandwich and stirred a can of tomato soup on Friday night. What a way to end the week. He glanced at his cell phone lying on the counter. The urge to call Randy swept over him, so intense he shoved his free hand in his pants pocket while the knuckles of the other grew white on the handle of the wooden spoon.
He’d lost track of the calls he made to Randy this week, each unanswered, each a reminder that she’d shut him out cold. Each time his phone rang, his heart thudded with the hope that she’d come to her senses; each time, he was wrong. What’s going on with the women in my life? Celeste was out running wild, and Randy? Well, Eli was convinced that Randy was running from something, but he didn’t have a clue what it was or how to fix it.
He poured the soup into a bowl, laid the sandwich on a plate, and carried his Friday night dinner to the table with a sigh. Working all day, going straight from his job to the day care, caring for Astor all evening... I’m whipped.
The week had given Eli a new respect for single parents. The kid had some sort of radar that alerted her the instant his butt found a chair. She needed a drink, she was hungry, she needed a clean diaper, she couldn’t find her blanket, she wanted to play... If he weren’t so tired, it might be funny. Then once he got her to sleep, she rarely stayed that way through the whole night. He scrubbed a hand down his face, picked up half his sandwich, and dipped it into the soup. He didn’t remember Celeste ever being so high maintenance, but she’d been five when Rhonda died, so maybe he’d missed out on that part.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent time with his granddaughter before now. He had. But, an hour here and there, an occasional overnight stay, hadn’t prepared him for full-time. Eli rested his head on one hand. Tomorrow was Saturday. Maybe things would relax a little. I think I’ve said that every day for the last two weeks.
The phone broke into his thoughts, and his heart jumped to his throat. He grabbed it up. It probably wasn’t Randy, but hope wouldn’t turn him loose. The number on the display excited him for a whole different reason.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Page, this is Hank Wright from the Adam’s Group. I have some good news for you.”
“You found my daughter?”
“She’s in Paris with her husband.”
Eli ran a hand through his hair, pushed back from the table, and paced the kitchen. “Were you able to get any information on this husband of hers?”
“Quite a bit, actually.” Wright cleared his throat and continued. “Your daughter’s new husband is Raymond Stone, age forty-five.”
Forty-five? Eli swallowed. I’m forty-five. Celeste had married a man more than twice her age. Why?
“He’s a wealthy land developer headquartered in Miami.”
Wealthy. There was his answer.
“We found a marriage license filed in Dallas thirteen days ago. From what we’ve been able to piece together, Mr. Stone had business in Oklahoma City several days before. The car he used during that visit came from the company where your daughter was employed. We were also able to access the flight plan for Stone’s private jet, along with his credit card records. They’ve spent the last week or so sightseeing and shopping. They have a new flight plan filed for Sunday.”
“Where are they headed?”
“Rome. They have a hold on the Picasso suite at the Hotel De Russie for a week. Then it looks like their plans take them to Tuscany for a few days.”
Eli felt his lips firm into a hard line. A trip to Rome meant more time off work, which shot his own honeymoon plans down in flames, but he had to go. There were answers he needed for himself and Randy.
“Listen, I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate your quick work here,” Eli said. “Looks like I’m headed to Rome as soon as I can arrange my travel.”
“We wish you luck.”
Eli swiped the call closed. Florida, a week’s fees for the Adam’s group, and now a trip to Rome. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The costs of his daughter’s escapade were mounting. It wasn’t the money, but the time off from work, the issue with Randy, and the certainty in the back of his mind that this trip would prove as fruitless as the last. But he had absolutely no choice but to book the first flight he could get.
The phone rang again, and Eli was too pre-occupied to be excited. He looked at the screen but didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Eli?”
His eyebrows went up at the hesitant female voice. “Yes.”
“It’s Mac.”
“Oh, hi. What’s up?”
“It’s Randy. She’s...well, first of all, she’ll kill me if she ever finds out I called you, but I think you need to check on her.”
“I’ve been trying to talk to her all week. She won’t return my calls.”
“She mentioned that. But I saw her tonight, and she’s a mess. She hasn’t been to work all week—”
“She’s not working?”
“No, and she won’t tell us what’s going on. She’s lost weight, and, well, I’m really worried. Do you think you could go over there?”
Eli thought of the baby sleeping in the other room. He could wake her, but this was a conversation that needed to happen without distractions. He’d go in the morning, but there was still the baby.
“Astor’s asleep. I can go in the morning, but I need a huge favor.”
“If it helps Randy, I’m all over it.”
“Can you come sit with Astor tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll be there by nine, but you have to think of a reason for the visit that doesn't include me.”
Eli’s laugh was a harsh, mirthless sound. “As messed up as this situation is, that won’t be a problem. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Eli disconnected the call and stared at the phone in his hand. This time, he wasn’t leaving until he had some answers.