The Inn at Rose Harbor (23 page)

She’d missed an entire semester of school her freshman year as she slowly recuperated from her injuries. Physically, it’d taken only a matter of months for her to heal, but emotionally … emotionally she was never the same again. She’d internalized the hatred in
Angela’s mother’s eyes. Abby felt like a shameful, marked woman who’d committed the ultimate sin; one that could never be redeemed.

Twice more Abby had attempted to talk to Angela’s parents. The second time had been the summer following the accident. Angela’s father had answered the door and he’d said it would be best if Abby didn’t come around again. Their rejection had cut her to the quick—Mr. and Mrs. White had been like a second set of parents to her. Not only had she lost her best friend, but she’d been targeted with every ounce of the Whites’ hate and blame.

Every day as she drove through town she passed the spot where the accident had taken place. Someone had erected a small cross. Flowers were laid there on a routine basis. It was a constant reminder to Abby of the accident, salt in the wound.

The roadside memorial was difficult to see, but the rumors were the worst. Abby’s own mother asked her if it was true that the two of them had been drinking that night. Yes, they’d been drinking hot cocoa at the mall, but nothing alcoholic. Word spread that they’d been speeding, too. If anything Abby had been driving below the speed limit. She’d been a careful driver. Snow and ice were to blame, not drugs, alcohol, or negligent driving. The police had cleared her of any wrongdoing, but none of that appeared to matter.

So-called friends stopped by to ply her with questions about what had happened, eager to learn any information that they could spread. It didn’t take long for Abby to refuse to see anyone because she didn’t know who she could trust. Even Steve. She preferred to remain in her bedroom to study or read.

The summer between her sophomore and junior years of college, Abby had gone on a work/study program to Australia instead of coming home. It was just too painful to be in Cedar Cove, to know that people were staring at her when she walked by. Did they honestly think she couldn’t hear what they said? She was the one to blame. Abby had been the driver and now Angela was dead.

Five years following graduation, their high school class held their first reunion. Money had been raised for a small memorial in the city park in honor of Angela.

The memories seemed to wrap their way around Abby like a lasso, binding her until it became difficult to breathe normally.

Distracted by her memories, Abby had only just started to back out of the driveway when her cell phone chirped. The ring reverberated inside the car until it felt as if she were standing next to a bell in a church tower. She grabbed her phone and checked the Caller ID.

Her mother.

She hesitated and then decided to let the call go to voice mail. If she spoke to her mother now, Abby feared she might break down. Worse, she might confess that she was headed to the cemetery and her mother was sure to try to persuade her to let matters be. This was Roger’s wedding day. Abby shouldn’t be doing this.

And her mother would be right.

Abby had been in town for two full days. She’d put this off too long already. She should have stopped by on Friday or even Thursday … but she hadn’t been able to force herself.

Her cell chirped again, indicating that her mother had left a message. Abby would listen later.

She checked her watch. It was nine-thirty.

She had plenty of time.

She had no time.

A lump had started to form in her throat. She wasn’t sure what she expected, what she hoped to gain. Absolution? Forgiveness? A blessing? Even now, all these years later, she didn’t know why God had allowed her to live and Angela to die.

Considering the crushing weight of guilt she’d carried since the accident, she would so much rather be the one forever sleeping under six feet of soggy ground. She was so tired of feeling terrible about what had happened.

Taking the long route, Abby drove past the high school. She swallowed hard as she looked up at the window of what had been their homeroom their senior year. They’d been so silly and immature; eager to make their mark on the world. As seniors they’d considered themselves hot stuff. Super cool. Over the top. Silly, yes, but innocent, too. Little did Abby guess the rude awakening that awaited her just a few short months after graduation.

When Abby arrived at the cemetery she discovered two tents on different areas of the graveyard, indicating recent burials. Not until she climbed out of the car did Abby realize that she had no clue as to where Angela was buried. It took nearly forty minutes to locate her tombstone. By then her face was nearly numb from the cold.

A tingling sensation moved up her arms when she spotted the marker bearing her best friend’s full name,
ANGELA MARIE WHITE
, engraved in granite. Even now, after all these years, it felt like a bad dream. Beneath the dates of her birth and death were the words
Beloved Daughter
. If only she’d been able to add
Best Friend
.

Not knowing what to do now, Abby continued to stare down at the tombstone. A rogue tear slipped from the end of her nose and splashed against the granite marker. A vase had been added to the grave marker and was filled with plastic flowers. Yellow daisies.

Yellow daisies had been Angela’s favorites. Although she didn’t know who she’d eventually marry, Angela had said she’d carry a bouquet of daisies down the aisle on her wedding day. And she’d drawn her wedding dress along with her bridesmaids’ dresses.

Naturally they’d assumed Abby would serve as Angela’s maid of honor and Angela would serve as hers. Abby had helped design her own maid-of-honor dress, laughing over Angela’s sketchbook. They had agreed nothing would ever come between them. Not boys, not other friends, not even their parents. They were true BFFs.

Feeling unbearably awkward she sniffled once. “Hello,” she whispered.

“It took you long enough.”

Abby whipped around—she hadn’t noticed anyone close by.

No one was anywhere in the vicinity.

Frowning, Abby turned back to stare at the gravestone.

“Yes, it’s me. Did you think the grave would keep me silent? Come on, Abs, you know me better than that.”

“Angela,” Abby gasped.

“Don’t worry, no one else can hear me. My voice is all in your head.”

This was too much. The pressure had gotten to her. Now Abby was hearing things. The voice was simply in her imagination. It had to be. Talking to Angela was … impossible. At least that was what Abby told herself, otherwise she’d need to consider contacting a mental health professional.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” A crisp professional voice would say to her.

“I’m hearing things,” Abby would reply.

“What kind of things?”

“Dead people’s voices.”

“Stay on the line. We’re sending help right away.”

The entire scenario played out in Abby’s head. She could picture the ambulance, siren blazing, rushing into the cemetery and hauling her off to the loony bin. Not only was she hearing voices, she was answering them.

“Oh don’t get all excited. It isn’t as bad as all that.”

“Angela, please stop, you’re freakin’ me out.”

“I wouldn’t if you hadn’t taken all these years to come see me.”

Clearly Abby was simply talking to herself. Her overactive imagination had stimulated this emotional response. But whether it was real or imagined, she couldn’t let this chance to talk with her friend slip away.

“I tried to see your parents after the funeral, but—”

“I know, I know, it’s my mother.”

“She can’t forgive me.” That horrible scene played again and again in Abby’s mind. She understood their reaction.

“Hey, sweetcakes, you can’t even forgive yourself. Don’t go blaming my mama.”

“I saw Patty Morris; she—”

“I know, Mom told me. Stop changing the subject. Stay on track, okay?”

Abby ignored the comment. “You probably know more than I do then.”

“Loads more. My mother still comes to the cemetery every week or so.”

“Oh dear.”

“Oh, she’s much better, actually. It used to be every single day. You wouldn’t believe the way she carried on, throwing herself down on the ground, sobbing. It was the most pitiful thing you’ve ever seen.”

Abby covered her mouth and swallowed back a sob. She’d rather not know any of this. “Are you really talking to me, because if it isn’t you, then I’d rather this stop, okay?”

“Am I real? Am I real?”
Angela repeated, louder the second time.
“Hmm … I think you’ll need to figure that out yourself.”

“I can’t. I want to believe we can communicate, but I know it’s impossible.”

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter, I’m just pleased you found the courage to come. Finally. I’ve been waiting a very long time.”

“I couldn’t before …” Abby whispered aloud.

“And why not?”

Abby leaned her head back and stared up at the threatening gray skies. “My brother’s getting married this evening.”

“There you go again. Quit changing the subject. I want to know why you didn’t feel you could come see me.”

“Ah …” Abby broke down then, swallowing hard against the huge knot in her throat—one so large that for a few seconds she found it impossible to breathe. “I … I am so sorry, Angela. So very sorry.”

“
I know, I know
,” Angela murmured.
“But it’s time you got over it.”

“Got over it? Are you nuts?” Abby nearly yelled. “I killed my best friend. No one with a conscience … with a heart, gets over something like that.”

“
But you have to
,” Angela insisted.

Abby didn’t know how to respond.

“If you felt so guilty, why didn’t you bring me flowers? Yellow daisies would have been perfect.”

“Oh my goodness, I should have. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, if you want to feel guilty, then go for it. You kept me waiting years and years, and when you finally do show, you don’t even bring me flowers.”

“I already apologized.”

“Don’t worry about it. When people do bring flowers they almost always don’t have water. You wouldn’t believe the stuff folks will put in that silly vase my mother insisted upon. I’ve had coffee, soda, fruit punch. You name the liquid and I’ve seen it.”

“Oh.”

“
Okay, you’re here and I’m real glad to see you.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“You don’t look it. Your mascara is running and your nose is all red. You’d better clean up before your brother’s wedding or guests are going to wonder who died.”
She immediately broke into peals of laughter.
“Oops … bad choice of words there.”

Abby looked away.

“Smile, Abby. Smile. I need for you to have a good life. I need to know you’ve been able to put this accident behind you and that you’re enjoying life for the both of us.”

“How can I?”

“Because I asked you to. I don’t want you carting around this ball and chain of guilt.”

Abby didn’t want to carry it either.

“You know what your problem is, don’t you?”

Abby shifted uncomfortably. “Well yes, I’m responsible for your death.”

“No, that’s not it. You aren’t responsible, and anyway, nothing can change what happened now. No, your problem is that you’ve grown so comfortable with feeling guilty that you’re afraid of what will happen if you don’t. Being happy frightens the very life out of you. Oops, there I go again. Listen, everyone dies, so you have to get over it.”

“I wish I was the one who’d died.”

“But you didn’t. You’re alive, so enjoy life. Why aren’t you married? By now you should have a husband and two or three children and be in tons of carpools.”

“I should?”

“Isn’t that the life we planned?”

Abby sobbed once. “Nothing turned out the way we planned.”

“It seldom does, from what others tell me. Still, that’s no reason to wallow in guilt. Now tell me you’re ready to get on with life. I want you to live it to the fullest.”

“I wish I could.”

“Abby!”

“All right, all right,” she cried, nearly shouting the words. Thankfully no one was around to hear her.

“Okay, good. But you need to do something first.”

“What?”

“You aren’t going to like it.”

Abby’s shoulders sank. “It has to do with your parents, doesn’t it?”

“Yup, you need to go to them.”

Abby shook her head, immediately dismissing the idea. “I can’t, Angela, I can’t. They blame me … your mother can’t even stand to look at me.”

“She needs to see you; to talk to you. Do this one thing for me; that’s all I ask.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to try again, Abs.”

“Next time.”

“No. Today. Now.”

Abby shook her head. “I have a lunch date with Patty and a few others … my mother is coming with me. I don’t have time.”

“Go after the lunch.”

“Can I take my mother with me?”

“No. Go alone. It won’t be easy. I can’t guarantee that Mom won’t say or do something unkind. But this isn’t about her, you know. It’s for you. Nothing will change if you don’t.”

“Angela, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Then promise me you’ll think about it. That’s all I ask, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” She reached inside her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose.

“Enough with the tears. You’re beginning to sound like my mother.”

Abby grinned.

“Hey, that’s more like it, now get out of here and have a wonderful day. Tell Roger congrats from me. I always did think he was a cutie.”

“I will. Good-bye, Angela.”

“
Bye
,” Angela called out after her.
“Remember, you have to have a happy life; you’re living it for the both of us.”

Abby turned away from the gravesite. Had that really happened?
Had she really just been talking to her dead best friend? Regardless, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Still in a daze, she was walking slowly to her car when her cell phone rang again. This time she answered it. “Hi, Mom.”