Love in a Small Town (Pine Harbour Book 1) Page 9

  “Olivia, this is a surprise!” They hadn’t seen each other since the night Rafe insisted she come home from the bonfire with him and Dean. She hadn’t explained the change of plans to her friend, and suddenly she was reminded of the fact that she didn’t talk to Ryan about Lynn disappearing into the woods.

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “No, not at all. Come in, I was just catching up on dishes.”

  The living room was neat and tidy, but through the open kitchen door Olivia saw a stack of plates and dirty pots on the stove and a row of glasses on the counter, like it had been a couple of days since anyone had filled the sink and done any scrubbing.

  “Ryan at work?”

  Lynn nodded. “Last day of four in a row. The kids will be glad to have him home for the weekend.”

  Like Rafe, Ryan worked out of Wiarton. The EMS station was located at the regional hospital. Olivia remembered how a twelve hour shift basically meant he’d be gone for everything but sleeping with the commute back and forth. “That must be hard, having him basically gone for a bunch of days when he’s working.”

  Sadness drifted across Lynn’s face. “It’s okay. It’s not great for us when he’s home, either. But the kids are happy. I’ll probably go to my sister’s place for the weekend.”

  Olivia was dumbfounded. “I had no idea. You guys always seem…” Happy wasn’t the right word, in hindsight. “Content.”

  “I think I was too busy having babies to notice that we’d drifted apart.” Lynn picked at imaginary fluff on her jeans. “Anyway, my marriage troubles weren’t the reason you came over, I’m sure.”

  “I’ve got time, if you want to talk.”

  “No…” Lynn blew a big raspberry, making Olivia jump and Maya giggle. “Come here, baby girl, Mama wants a cuddle since you refused to nap.”

  Maya toddled over. Lynn kissed her forehead and pulled her into her lap. Olivia’s heart ached at the sight of her friend clinging to a fading happiness. Would that have been her if they’d had kids? Resenting Rafe’s time away? Losing all sense of self?

  Hell, she’d already been down that road and she hadn’t been caring for children, either.

  On the other hand…people work. Spouses spend time away—sometimes a lot of time. That wasn’t necessarily a death knell to a marriage. And maybe they were failing each other by wallowing in that loneliness instead of leaning on each other.

  “Maybe we should do something fun…go dancing in Owen Sound or have a girls’ night in.”

  Lynn gave her a strangely knowing smirk. “I think our ideas of fun are too different these days, honey.”

  Olivia thought of the disappearing act at the bonfire. Maybe that was true. “I’m sure we can find something to agree on.”

  Lynn shook her head. “That’s the problem…I don’t want to have fun anymore. I’m just done.”

  “I don’t understand.” Nervous, Olivia leaned forward and tried to catch Lynn’s eye. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Yes. Of course.” She laughed, a hollow sound that did nothing to quell the storm churning in Olivia’s gut. “So, why did you pop by?”

  Reluctantly, Olivia allowed the conversation to steer toward the cottages. “The thing is,” she explained after outlining her idea. “By my initial count, we’ll need three private residences, each with at least three bedrooms, and then an additional twelve rooms in any configuration. The rental contract would be more than fair, and my boss will lay that out for your parents, but I just want to know if they might be interested. If not, I need to come up with an alternate plan before the team comes up next week.”

  Lynn counted bedrooms on her fingers, arriving at the same thought Olivia had already. “So you’ll want to rent my parents’ place as well.”

  “Renting the entire lane would really be perfect. Except your place, of course.”

  Her friend shrugged. “Let’s go ask them.”

  Behind Lynn’s house, a path wound through the woods, running parallel to the edge of the road—a safe route for the kids to visit their grandparents. On the opposite side of the lane sat the five Blue Heron Lane cottages, but as they followed Maya through the thick brush, Olivia couldn’t see any of the modern glass and wood structures.

  The path opened into the clearing behind the Fenich home. Gloria Fenich was hanging laundry on a line strung between her back door and a free-standing pergola at the side of the house. Maya started running as soon as she saw her grandmother.

  “This is a lovely surprise, I thought you had preschool today, little one.” Gloria kissed her granddaughter and looked at Lynn with a furrowed brow.

  “We had a long nap and missed the start of it.” Lynn tossed out the explanation in a quiet, hurried burst of words, then busied herself with hanging up the rest of the wet laundry in the plastic basket on the deck. Olivia tried hard to pretend she didn’t know it was a lie. What was going on with Lynn?

  “Olivia, it’s lovely to see you again.”

  “And you as well, Gloria.” She took a deep breath. It felt weird, being something other than the waitress at the diner. A good kind of weird. “This isn’t just a social call, however. I have an interesting proposition for you…”

  Olivia outlined what she knew about the project—which wasn’t a lot, but she made it sound good—and promised Gloria that they would have all the information laid out really clearly by somebody else before they had to make any commitment. But in broad strokes, if they were interested, she could arrange for a meeting with her boss.

  “Oh my,” Gloria said, a pleased smile dancing on her lips. “I’ll need to talk it over with Mike, of course, and he’s on a hunting trip, but he’ll call tonight. Can I give you an answer tomorrow? And in the meantime, how about I make us some tea?”

  Olivia couldn’t believe her good luck as Gloria bustled off to the kitchen. Maya followed along behind her asking for some milk.

  “You’ve got a knack for that,” Lynn said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “Selling an idea.”

  Olivia grinned. “It’s not much different than convincing fifty people they want Frank’s lunch special.”

  Lynn laughed. “I guess not.” For the first time since they’d arrived at her mother’s house, Lynn really looked at Olivia and held her gaze. “I envy you.”

  “My mess of a life?” Olivia shook her head. “Grass is not greener, honey.”

  “Yeah, probably not.” But Lynn didn’t sound convinced.

  Olivia didn’t know how to press harder without offending her friend. She knew she was chickening out even as she leaned back and pasted on a bright smile. “This is a good opportunity for them. Maybe for you too, if they’re going to be away.” Gloria had mentioned maybe staying at their Florida condo until the filming was done, to free up their place entirely as a rental unit. “You could be the contact person for the tenants.”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s not interesting.”

  Interesting is what you make of something, Olivia wanted to yell. Instead she smiled politely and looked toward the kitchen. Tea couldn’t come fast enough.

  Lynn snorted. “Don’t try to save me, Liv.”

  “I’m not,” Olivia said quietly. Save yourself, don’t give up on the lovely little life you have. “I’m just saying if I could do things differently, I would.”

  “I can see the look on your face. You think life is a fairytale.”

  “God, I really don’t. If it was, I’d still be married.”

  “So…you get it?” Lynn looked at her, eyes wide, almost pleading for affirmation…of what?

  Olivia shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I do.” Tea wasn’t coming, so she leaned forward and looked Lynn in the eye. “What’s going on?”

  “How did you get up the courage to leave Rafe?”

  “I didn’t. He asked me for a divorce.”

  Lynn’s shoulders slumped. “Ryan will never leave me. He wants to go to counselling.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” Ol
ivia fought back the harsher words that bubbled up and wiggled on the tip of her tongue. Don’t throw your marriage away. But that would make her a hypocrite. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to save her own marriage even if she had handled things differently.

  — TEN —

  Three years earlier

  THE front door opened slowly, followed by the sound of Rafe’s heavy footsteps. One, two, three. Just far enough inside the door to swing it shut, and there he stopped. Waiting. She clattered dishes in the sink, a pathetic, passive-aggressive warning that he might not want to come and find her in the kitchen. Not without armouring up first, anyway. Except it was also a pathetic, passive-aggressive vie for his attention. She hated that she was throwing a tantrum.

  At least the kitchen was getting tidied at the same time.

  She couldn’t see him but his routine was the same every night. He’d sit on the bench at the door and take off his boots. Thunk. Then he’d go upstairs and wash off the uglier side of humanity he’d spent his day with. Another point of contention that she had no right to be upset over. She wanted to be his first priority when he came home, not taking a minute to decompress. He’d tried to explain it to her and she’d just gotten wound up. Like she was yet another stressor in his life that he needed to mentally brace himself for.

  Tonight he didn’t go upstairs. It felt like a hollow victory, because he certainly didn’t come and wrap his arms around her waist, although that might have something to do with the giant butcher knife she was furiously scrubbing.

  “I’m sorry, I know you were looking forward to this weekend.” He filled the kitchen doorway. He’d changed at the detachment before driving home, but he still had on “work clothes”. An OPP t-shirt and navy cargo pants, his standard almost-in-uniform uniform.

  “It’s not about the weekend, Rafe.”

  He looked confused and she didn’t blame him. Her rage didn’t make much sense outside her head. “This course is only offered once a year, and I need it.”

  “I know.” She scrubbed harder, as if she could wash away their problems with extra elbow-grease.

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “When?” She shook her head and placed the knife in the dish rack. “I switched three of my days off to make this weekend happen. Two of them I took out of time we had off together. And I’m sure you’re going to get called in—“

  “I’ll say no.”

  “No, you won’t. And I don’t want you to. It’s not just work, Rafe. I get it, I really do. You’ve got responsibilities that are greater than me.” She waved her hand in front of his face, spraying sudsy dishwater as she cut off his interjection before it even began. “No. I understand. What you need to understand is I’m still pissed. Logic has no place in this conversation. I’m just…sad and hurt and looking at yet another weekend alone. Nothing makes that better.”

  That was true, but it didn’t change the fact that she wanted him to try, even if it was in vain. But he had tried. And she’d tried not to care. They were both tried out. So Rafe turned slowly and went upstairs. The shower turned on, then off after a few minutes. He didn’t come back downstairs.

  She wiped down the counters. Then the front of the fridge and the windowsill.

  Finally she trudged up to their room. He was lying on their bed, reading a book he’d read a dozen times before. She wanted to make a snipping comment about the meaning of life being a happy wife, but knew it would go over like a lead balloon. So she quietly grabbed a tank top and sleeping shorts and got changed. “I might go sleep downstairs.”

  He snorted. “That’s a great solution to us not spending enough time together.”

  “Quality time, Rafe. Not like this.”

  “This is what we make it, Liv.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  He pushed up, sitting on the edge of the bed. His book sat beside him, open facedown on the bedspread to keep his page. “Come to bed.”

  “I don’t think sex is a good idea.”

  “Not for sex, woman. Jesus, I certainly don’t feel like it when you’re harping at me.”

  Great, so now she was a harpy. “Then it won’t matter if I sleep downstairs.”

  “It will matter. It does matter. Let’s just…read together. Watch a movie. We’ve got tonight, anyway.”

  And he wanted to spend it watching a movie together. Not talking. Not slowly peeling off the new lingerie she’d bought for the weekend—online, with express shipping, because that was her only option for anything other than Wal-Mart. Forty-five minutes of half-assed cuddles before he’d inevitably fall asleep and she’d lie next to him for hours wondering what had happened to her marriage.

  “Fine.” She didn’t mean it, but she didn’t want to sleep on the couch, either. She curled up next to him, fully expecting to be fuming again in short order. He pulled her close and played with her hair, twisting it this way and that, then burrowing his fingers closer to her scalp. His movements slowed but never stopped. And before she could remember she wanted to be mad, she was the one drifting off to sleep.

  — —

  Rafe had sent Liv no fewer than six loving text messages while he was gone for the weekend. She’d responded to two of them. He didn’t like that response ratio.

  But when he got home, she’d made chili for dinner, one of his favourites and something that kept nicely. If she was truly pissed, she’d have made salmon or something that didn’t survive re-heating.

  He heated up a bowl and ate it on the couch while they watched a singing competition reality show.

  They didn’t talk.

  They didn’t fight, but that might have been better, more of a warning of what was to come.

  Bedtime that night was quiet. They didn’t make love, but when he pulled Liv into his arms, she folded agreeably into his side. He’d had a long weekend, the course had involved overnight training and it had rained all day, one of those cold late autumn dumps that seeped under the skin and turned him to a prune from the inside out.

  “Love you, Liv…” he mumbled as he drifted off, and he wanted to believe she said it back, but it might have been sleepy wishful thinking.

  — —

  He took a seat at the diner counter and waited for Liv to have a break. He could have sent her a text message, but after the last month of what felt like non-stop fighting since the weekend that wasn’t, he knew that wouldn’t go over well. But doing this at her work didn’t feel great either.

  She stopped in front of him and wordlessly held up the glass carafe. He nodded and she poured him a cup. “What is it this time?”

  “We’re short-staffed.” He braced himself for the bitching. “I need to go in for a night shift tonight.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Maybe you could go with someone else.”

  “Nah, I’ll just give the tickets to Deena.”

  “Go with her.”

  “We work together, Rafe, but we’re not friends. I don’t want to go to a play with her.” She glared at him, her eyes yelling the unspoken next sentence. I wanted to go with you. My husband.

  “Isn’t there someone else you could go with?” Why did her social life live or die on his work schedule?

  She pursed her lips, then crooked her finger in a follow me gesture. In the office, she smoothed her hand down his arm and gave him a sad smile. “Why’d you come here, Rafe?”

  Why did they have to dissect everything? His throat tightened and he struggled against the knee-jerk reaction of a smart-ass remark. “Because you deserve to look me in the eye when I let you down.”

  She closed her eyes, brows pinched together, and he drifted his fingers over her forehead. She had a tiny mole just above her left eyebrow. He’d always loved it. She had the sweetest, prettiest face he’d ever seen. And behind it lay such a complicated girl brain that made his head explode.

  “Liv…”

  She fluttered her eyes open and the sadness there gutted him, but it also pissed him off. “Take someone else to
the show.”

  She shook her head slowly. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t have anyone to take. Dani’s at school, Lynn had a baby a few weeks ago. That’s it, the sum total of my friends here. And it’s not like I’m not friendly, Rafe. It’s that there aren’t any other women my age here.”

  “Maybe Tom—“

  “Your brother isn’t a substitute for you! And don’t suggest Dean or Jake, either. I don’t want to go anymore.”

  “But you wanted to see this play.”

  Her eyes flared, and too late he realized her not having anyone to go with wasn’t really the problem. “I wanted to go on a date with you, you idiot! Jeez, get a clue.”

  She thought he was an idiot? Maybe she shouldn’t be so fucking complicated. He saw red and knew he should walk away, but he just couldn’t. “Maybe you should give me more clues then, Olivia.” She blanched at the use of her full name but he pushed on. Maybe they kept fighting because he let her bitch at him. “Look, I want to go on dates with you, okay? I want to make you happy. But I have a fucking job to do, got it? Two jobs. And I can’t just blow them off because you’re feeling a little needy.”

  Her lips pinched together and her face went from pale to stark white. “I’m not needy.”

  He let out a hard, ruthless laugh. “Are you kidding me? Rafe, spend time with me. Rafe, I’m lonely. This is life with me, Liv. I’m busy.”

  “It’s not always like this—“

  “No, but when it is, it just is. And I can’t change that for you.”

  “I’m not asking you—“

  He exploded, the words spilling out of him before he could pull them back in. Before he could stop himself from tearing a strip off his wife who most definitely didn’t deserve his anger. “Yes, you fucking are. With your silence and your whining and your fucking neediness, Liv. Jesus. Give me some space.”