Satisfied Faye hadn’t been seriously injured, Meredith gave her a nod and then drew her in for a quick hug, which Faye endured good-naturedly. She wasn’t a hugger but she was used to Meredith’s overwhelming need to mother everyone in her sphere.
“I’m fine, Meredith. I take it the road is clear now?”
“Yes, they’ve moved your wreck to the side and taken away most of the tree. Some of it will have to wait until they can get some heavier equipment up, but there’s room to squeeze by.”
Faye had expected to feel relieved at the news. Actually, she’d expected to feel jubilant. Instead there was a hollow sense of loss looming inside her. She shoved the thought away before it could take hold.
“Well, that’s a relief!” she said with all the brightness she could muster. “I think I’m suffering a bit of cabin fever. I can’t wait to get home.”
“Mr. Luckman! I’m so glad to see you!” Meredith gushed effusively over Faye’s shoulder.
Faye turned and saw the swiftly masked look of disappointment in Piers’s eyes. Had he really thought that a spectacular night of sex would change her mind about leaving? She already knew there was a flight out early this afternoon. She had to be on it. She couldn’t stay another minute or maybe she would change her mind and stay—and what then? More risk? More chance of loss? More joy and pleasure that she didn’t deserve and couldn’t allow herself to enjoy? No, it was far better that she left now.
“Meredith, good to see you, too.”
“How have you been managing?” Meredith said, fussing over him.
“Just fine, thanks, Meredith. You left us so well stocked we could have stayed here a month on our own.”
Faye suppressed a shudder. A month? She could never have lasted that long and still left with her sanity intact. In a month Casey would have grown and changed and wound her completely around his pudgy little fingers. And a whole month confined here with Piers? She tried to think of the reasons why that was a bad idea but her newly awakened libido kept shouting them down. Every last one. Which in itself was exactly why she needed to put distance between her and Piers.
“We have run out of diapers, however,” Piers continued. “I hope you got my text to add them and baby food to the groceries.”
“I did. But why on earth...?” Meredith looked from Piers to Faye for an explanation.
Faye shrugged and looked at Piers. “You can explain it. I really need to get going. Meredith, after we’ve unloaded your car, can I borrow it to get to the airport? I’ll organize for someone to return it for you.”
Over Meredith’s iron-gray curls, Faye saw Piers looking at her again. His expression appeared relaxed but she could see tiny lines of strain around his eyes.
“Do you really need to run away right now?” he asked.
“I can’t stay. You know that. I have things to do. Places to go. People to see.”
He knew she was lying, she could see it in the bleak expression that reflected back at her. Faye turned away. She couldn’t bear to see his disappointment and it irritated her that it mattered to her so much.
She grabbed her coat, scurried down the front steps to where Meredith had left her station wagon and started to take bags of groceries from the rear. Piers was at her side before she could make her way back to the house.
“You know you’re running away.”
“I’m doing nothing of the kind. I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place, remember?”
“You’re running away,” he repeated emphatically. “But are you running away from me or from yourself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not running anywhere,” she snapped and pushed past him to take the groceries to the house.
He was too astute. She’d always admired his perceptiveness in the workplace but she hated it when he applied it to her. Behind her she heard him grab the remaining sacks of supplies and follow her up the stairs.
She made her way swiftly to the kitchen, where Meredith was already taking inventory of what needed to be done.
He was close behind her, and as he brushed past he whispered in her ear, “Liar. I’d hoped you might change your plans and spend Christmas here with Casey and me. We don’t have to worry about anyone else.”
Words hovered on the edge of her lips—acceptance and denial warring with one another.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she eventually said, hoping she’d injected just the right amount of lightness into her tone.
“Faye, we need to talk. C’mon, stay. It’s Christmas Eve.”
The last three words were the reminder she needed. Christmas Eve. The anniversary of the death of her family. Shame filled her that she’d lost track of the days.
“I really need to go,” she said, her voice hollow.
Meredith handed her the set of keys to the station wagon. “There you go, Ms. Darby. There’s plenty of gas in the tank.”
“Thanks, Meredith. I’ll take good care of it, I promise. I’ll leave Mr. Luckman to explain why he needs all these diapers,” Faye answered, patting the bumper pack she’d carried in with the bags from the car.
Before Piers could stop her, she slipped out of the kitchen, through the main room and out the front door. The finality of pulling the heavy door closed behind her sent a shaft of anguish stinging through her, but she ignored it and kept going. It was the only way she could cope. She was used to loss. Used to pain. She’d honed her ability to survive, to get through every single day, on both those things. And, somehow, she’d get through this day exactly the same way.
Blue skies, sand and sunshine had never looked better, Faye decided as she opened the drapes of her sitting room on Christmas morning and stared out at the vista below. She’d paid a fine premium for this apartment with its tiny balcony overlooking the beach, but even though she’d chosen it because it was nothing like what she remembered of home, she never could quite shake off the memories.
Take last night. She’d started her movie marathon; the way she’d done every year since she’d lived alone. But for some reason the gory plotlines and the gripping action couldn’t hold her attention and in the end she’d turned off the player. At a loss, she’d sought out the box of precious possessions among her parents’ things. The entire household had been packed up and stored in a large locker after the accident and held for her until she turned eighteen—fees had been paid out of her parents’ estate.
This particular box she saved for Christmas Eve alone. Filled with photo albums of her throughout her childhood, starting as a baby, with her mom, then with her stepdad and finally the unfinished album with the precious few photos she had of her baby brother. He’d have been just over thirteen years old by now. Maybe he’d have been an irritating teenager, pushing his boundaries—or a sports star in his favorite game.
