‘How are you doing?’ Charity asked in an overly peppy voice, like one might talk to a patient in a nursing home, as she stepped into the back office of Sweet Sisters. ‘Laurie told me she thought she saw you come back here.’
‘I’m OK,’ Faith said, looking up from her desk. ‘Who’s Laurie?’
‘Laurie? She’s new. Started a month or so ago.’
‘Oh. Well, I was gonna check on the purchase orders and inventory. You know, see what I missed and get myself back up to speed. I’m going a bit crazy at the house.’
‘I did the POs yesterday.’
‘You’re doing the ordering now?’
Charity nodded and grinned. ‘Yeah. And I learned payroll, too.’
‘Wow. I’m so impressed, Char. The place looks great. It really does.’
‘Thanks, Faithey; I really appreciate that you noticed. Things have really worked out here, so I hope you didn’t worry too much while you were gone. I love Viv; we’ve gotten real close.’
Faith bit the inside of her lip. ‘Good. I’m happy to hear that. I thought I might go into the kitchen and bake today, you know try something new. Maybe something that screams spring, right? Strawberry cupcakes with a lemon cream cheese and poppy seed frosting.’
‘Ooh. That sounds nice. Buster is back there now with Al. Have you met him yet? Buster? He’s great. Really creative.’
Faith shook her head. ‘Maybe something with blueberries, then …’ She looked at her desk. Mixed in with pictures of Maggie were pictures of Kamilla, Kaelyn and Kourtney.
Charity sipped her coffee. ‘I saw the opening statements this morning on TV. Are you allowed to watch?’
‘No. I’m not allowed in the courtroom until I testify. Not that I would want to be. Or that I’d want to watch.’
‘Oh yeah, yeah. That makes sense. I had it on while I was getting ready for work. Are you nervous about testifying?’
‘I’m OK.’ There was an awkward pause. The whole conversation felt forced. Usually her and Charity could pick up right where they left off, but not today. ‘How are things with Nick?’ Faith asked.
‘Who?’ Charity smiled. ‘I thought he’d be more involved, you know, Faith? I thought he’d want to see his kids and be down here in my face, trying to bring me back, but I haven’t seen him. I don’t even hear from him. So I got a lawyer.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Vivian helped me with that. I’m filing papers. It’s over. Really, this time.’
Faith nodded. ‘Good for you. Jarrod said you signed up for a class at Broward College?’
‘Yeah. I gotta get up to speed on the computer. Even the baby knows how to work an iPad and play games. Kamilla, you know, is almost a teen. I gotta keep an eye on her; she lives on that computer. I think I’m gonna go for my associate’s. It’ll take forever, but that’s OK.’
Faith nodded. The awkward, painful silence was back.
Charity headed for the door. ‘I should get back out there. Anything you need, Faithey, let me know.’
‘Thanks.’
She could hear the laughter and buzz through the walls. Three o’clock used to be slow, now it was packed. Lunch hour blended into Caffeine Happy Hours – another idea of Charity’s – and then there were book signings and game nights in the new part of the store, annexed from the Feeling Lucky boutique next door that had gone out of business while Faith was away.
A lot of things had happened while she was away. One hundred and twenty days could have been three years. Maggie had learned how to ride a bike. Jarrod had won a big case. The staff – her staff – had turned over. Now it was a bunch of bakers she didn’t know and baristas she didn’t recognize. With Vivian’s help, Charity had done the impossible: untangled herself emotionally from Big Mitts and filed for divorce. She’d started college and learned payroll and ordering. She and Vivian had become super close. The bakery had expanded and changed into a full-on café. Sweet Sisters didn’t even look like the same store.
Faith chewed on her lip. It was almost as if things were better since she left.
Maggie, though, was still struggling. Her forehead was raw and ugly a week after the incompetency hearing. It would probably scar. She’d been very cautious around Faith – ‘removed’ was how the therapists at The Meadows had explained what Maggie’s emotional reaction to Faith’s long-term absence might be. For a little girl who’d always been detached, this was tantamount to taking ten giant steps back in the affection department. It was like they were distant relatives living together, not mommy and daughter. And Faith didn’t know how to change that, to even get it back to where it was. Give it time, the therapists had advised. Approach it slowly and get her to trust you again and trust that you won’t go away again. She’s scared. Kids are resilient; she’ll come around. But the therapists in Arizona didn’t know Maggie. They didn’t know her … circumstances … her difficulties bonding to begin with. Faith didn’t know if she’d ever ‘come around’, or if there would be more permanent scarring to come.
She went through her desk to see what else had been replaced while she was gone and found a picture of her and Jarrod on vacation in the Bahamas, having piña coladas poolside. She could remember the moment the British tourist had snapped it. The very moment. Jarrod had leaned in to kiss her and she was laughing. She’d buried it in the drawer herself after he’d cheated. She ran her finger over the glass. He’d been at the facility to fly her home, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a suitcase filled with new clothes in the other. The recovery program called for limited contact with friends and family, but Jarrod had called every night to say goodnight. And he had come out to Arizona for family week. He’d been trying. God knows he’d been trying. She wasn’t sure, though, if his actions were motivated by guilt or obligation or a true desire to fix what was broken. There were many nights where she’d stared out into a vast, black Arizona desert and worried that he would turn to Sandra, or perhaps someone new, for companionship while she was gone, but she’d taken the flowers and worn the pretty new clothes and she’d leaned on him emotionally, nonetheless, in the limited way she knew how.
She looked at the desk calendar, now in April, with memos written in someone else’s handwriting and Vivian’s weird, funny doodles drawn for Charity, not her. She fought back the wave of jealousy and rubbed her stinging eyes before the tears had a chance to fall.
It was almost as if things were better since she left.
She felt like a ghost, floating around a few weeks after her funeral to see how life had carried on, and had surprisingly found everyone was doing quite well. Thriving, actually. And she thought, then, of her old friend, the one she wasn’t allowed to grieve or mourn or miss. Four months in rehab and therapy and the only real revelation she’d had by the end was that she wasn’t like the other people in there. She wasn’t an alcoholic. She might say the word, because they made her say it, but she wasn’t like those people. Her situation was altogether different from everyone else’s in group therapy. She had not been molested as a child, or abused by her parents. She’d never drunk herself homeless or into prostitution or out of a job, or woken up wondering where she’d been for weeks. She could control herself and being part of a program of dysfunctionals had made her see that. Given her current situation, anyone would turn to drink or popping pills to cope. All she had to do was get past this trial, focus on Maggie, and work on her marriage. Once the stressful situations that made her want to drink had passed, she’d be OK. Until then, it was all willpower and self-control.
Her cell phone rang.
‘Hey, Faith. It’s Detective Tatiana Maldonado. I’m calling to let you know that Detective Nill will be taking the stand late this afternoon. The prosecutor expects to call you on Wednesday. I wanted to give you a heads up, you know, to prepare you.’
Faith nodded. She put the picture of her and Jarrod back in her desk.
‘Faith?’ the detective asked when Faith hadn’t said anything. ‘Are you doing all right?’
‘I’m OK,’ Faith replied quietly, closing the drawer. ‘I’m just OK.’