woke up in a bad mood. She couldn’t answer Cindy’s question. She did not know what the clue was that Paul said she had. And she had dreamed that she lived in a pink cloud. That vision of life was so far removed from the life she had now, it made her feel angry and frustrated.
Bree hated being angry and frustrated, even though those feelings overrode some of the grief that greeted her with every breath. However, Bree knew that being angry and frustrated meant she would be snappy and rude to Cindy, who certainly didn’t deserve it.
But then, Bree thought, she’s known me a long time. Perhaps she’ll forgive me.
Bree put aside the nagging voice that reminded her she had often asked Cindy and the girls to forgive her for a lot more than her snappy, snarky nature and headed to the kitchen to make coffee, hoping Cindy wasn’t up yet. She enjoyed being by herself.
Even when Paul was alive, she enjoyed the time he went off on trips or worked all day. The difference was he would come home, and they talked and shared what they did while he was gone. Now he would never return home again.
She wasn’t so lucky. Cindy was already in the kitchen making coffee. She had just shut the refrigerator door when Bree walked in, and she gave Bree a long cool look.
“What have you been eating? Or not eating? There’s nothing in there or in the cupboards.”
“Bars and frozen vegetables. All gone now, though.”
“Perhaps we need to go grocery shopping?”
Bree took the coffee Cindy had made, sipped, and said, “You remembered how I like my coffee.”
“I remember many things, Bree. And one of them is that you don’t like to talk about yourself. But you will have to force yourself to let me in a little because I’m not going anywhere. I either take you home with me or we go on the scavenger hunt together. Your choice. What will it be?”
“You could leave me here,” Bree said, her head down, looking at her cup.
“Can’t. Won’t,” Cindy said. Looking at her friend, so thin her clothes hung on her, dark circles under her eyes, and hair that looked as if no one had noticed it for months, she added, “I can’t let you go again, Bree. You look terrible. I was your best friend for years. We had a pact. You broke it.
“And now we are going to put it back together again whether or not you like it, because right now you are acting like a baby, and that’s not the Bree that I know. We are going to bring Bree back. Maybe I’ll have a t-shirt made that says, ‘Bring Bree Back,’ and sell it at my art gallery. That way, you will be embarrassed into action.”
“You have an art gallery?” Bree said, looking up.
“That’s what you got from that?” Cindy said. “Yes, I do. And Judith, April, and Marsha have had lives too. Lives you have missed. That changes now. The only question is, are you willing to do this, or do I have to drag you through it?”
Bree looked at Cindy and saw the little girl with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. The girl who had always been beside her, wanting to love her, needing to be loved back. It was both a weakness and a strength when they were growing up. But now, a woman stood in front of her, and that need was now a strength.
“Okay,” Bree said.
Cindy, ready to keep arguing, had to stop herself from spouting more words, surprised by Bree’s answer.
“Okay? That’s all you have to say?”
“Yes, okay. But there are a few things to do first. I want to get this house ready to sell. I can’t live here without Paul. That might take time.”
“It won’t. We’ll call Judith. She’ll get in touch with a realtor here and handle it all. We’ll pack what you need to keep and put it into storage and ship it or come back for it later.
“In fact, if you are willing, you could give Judith a temporary power of attorney for you, and she can watch over all your interests. Whatever they are. Since none of us know exactly who you are anymore or what you do.”
“Okay,” Bree said again. The coffee was making her feel better. And Cindy taking over some of the decisions she was afraid to make lifted some of her anger and frustration. Besides, she knew that if she kept herself in a planning mode, she could keep the grief at bay. And they would be so busy Cindy might not ask her again why she and Paul had left. At least it would put off the question for now. It gave her time. Maybe Cindy would forget about it.
Bree knew that was a false hope. One of the pact would remember to ask. They’d ask over and over again until she told them or they figured it out. She kind of hoped they figured it out. It would relieve her of the responsibility of telling.
“But before we do anything, I need to get something done to my hair.”
Cindy put her coffee down and started laughing. “OMG girl, do you ever. But first, could we go out to breakfast?”
“Okay,” Bree said again, enjoying the briefness of the word. It was simple. It said she was willing.
“But it has to be where no one knows me.”
A few hours later, the two women returned home. Bree’s hair had been cut to fall softly around her face, having found a drop-in salon one town away. When the hairdresser had started to say something about the condition of Bree’s hair, Cindy had given her a look and shook her head. Smiling, the hairdresser nodded that she understood.
Now, back home with enough groceries to last a few days, it was time to make a call that Bree dreaded. That Cindy was almost bursting with excitement only increased the dread. Cindy had set up the call while Bree was getting her hair cut.
Cindy set up Bree’s computer on the kitchen table, the window that looked out into Bree’s back garden highlighting both their faces, and started the call.
As each woman’s face popped up on the screen, Bree gasped, and by the time all three of them were there, tears were running down her face. What she had been terrified about had come true. She still cared about them, and the pain she had felt when she disappeared from their lives rushed back.
Marsha, who had disappeared for her own reasons and who understood how it could happen, said what they were all thinking.
“It doesn’t matter why you left Bree. We’re here together now.”