“What?” Nancy’s hazel eyes grow wide. “Are you serious?”
I nod, my cheeks flushing. “I needed to talk to her. I needed to ask her some questions.”
“Oh, Skye. I wish you’d told me. I would’ve offered to take you. How was it?”
“Lexy came with me and stayed in the car. It was … completely surreal.” I don’t tell Nancy that it was clarity that I needed, that I’d been craving. Even if I knew that I still loved Burke, even if I believed he loved me, I couldn’t live with the uncertainty of knowing whether Heather would continue fighting for her marriage—or whether Burke would ultimately stay with her out of some misguided loyalty to his children. “But, Nancy, she said something at the very end of our conversation that’s stuck with me, that I can’t shake.” I pause, remembering the disdain in Heather’s eyes. “She said that my mom didn’t like Burke. That she thought he was trash.”
Nancy looks confused. “What do you mean?”
“My mom knew Burke a little, since he and Heather were together back in high school. And I guess she never liked him. She thought Heather could do better.”
I watch Nancy absorb this. “Ah. So your mom didn’t approve of the man you ended up falling in love with. That’s what Heather is shoving in your face.”
Hearing Nancy articulate it like this is both a relief—how come I never realized how much she just gets me?—and a dagger to the heart. “Right.”
“But you know what, Skye?” Nancy uncrosses her arms, and her voice is firm. “It doesn’t matter. Whether or not what Heather says is the truth, your mom knew Burke a long time ago. People change.”
I nod. “It killed me to hear her say those things, but you’re right. Plus, I’ve started to realize that my mom wasn’t … perfect.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect. When people pass away, it’s sometimes easier to pretend that they were.”
“Exactly. I mean, for so long I’ve put her on this pedestal. Losing her destroyed me, and in response to my grief I’ve spent so much energy following her every footstep. But I don’t think I can do it anymore. It’s … exhausting.”
“Skye.” Nancy’s gaze lands on mine. “Your mother might not have been flawless, but she was an extraordinary woman. She was loving and smart and charitable—all this I know from your father, from the way his eyes light up when he talks about her. And what I also know is that she loved you and Nate more than anything. The two of you—you were her whole world. And I know she would’ve been proud of you for chasing your dreams, Skye. Even if they weren’t her own.”
Sunlight cracks through the clouds then, causing both of us to squint as the hardened blanket of snow gleams and shimmers at our feet. The world is suddenly bright, and very clear.
Nancy’s smile breaks into a laugh, and she looks at me knowingly. “I think it’s safe to say, your mom agrees.”
When we get back to the house later that afternoon, I go upstairs and open my laptop to Gmail. I need to share my decision with one more person before I act on it.
Email feels like an oddly formal way to communicate with my best friend, but what I have to say is too long for a text, and I’m not sure I could get it out over the phone. I craft the message to Andie, reiterating what I’ve just confessed to Nancy. I explain why I’m not going to testify against Burke, and that I’m going to drop the civil suit. I tell her that I believe Burke and I have a chance, and that, for better or worse, I need to see that chance through.
I click Send and feel the email disappear into the cloud, out of my control. A blade of afternoon light spears through the west-facing window by my childhood desk, illuminating the dust particles in the air. I wait.
Andie’s reply comes a few hours later, after the sun has gone down and I’ve finished dinner with Nancy and my dad.
S,
When Burke was in your life, you were the happiest I’ve ever seen you. The two of you lit each other up—I meant that when I said it in my wedding toast, and I mean it now. To say that I have doubts about your decision—and about Burke—is an understatement. But if you believe that what you had was real, and that there’s a fighting chance for you to get that love back, then I believe it, too.
I never told you this, but after everything fell apart in October, I reached out to your wedding photographer （I drunkenly got his card at the reception in case Spence ever proposes … FML）。 Anyway, I told him that things had gone downhill with you and Burke and asked him not to send you the wedding photos when they were ready. He said that he was almost done editing them and asked if he should send them to me … so I said yes. I don’t really know why. I’ve looked through the whole batch a bunch of times, if you want to know the truth. I’m sorry … I just knew seeing them would destroy you. I promise I didn’t show them to anyone though, not even Spence. But there’s one picture I keep going back to, attached, that I thought you should see. It’s Burke’s face when you were walking down the aisle with your dad.
Love always,
A
I reread Andie’s words, staring at her email in awe. I’d completely forgotten about the wedding pictures, and that the photographer never sent them over. There’s a warm glow behind my chest, and no matter what Andie and I have been through, no matter the stormy, tumultuous nature of our friendship, she is always the one who knows every last way to protect my heart, and that will always mean everything.
I open the photo attachment, and a black-and-white image floods the screen. Burke is standing at the front of the church, tall and handsome, hair combed back, hands clasped behind him. You can tell I’m walking down the aisle because the edge of my veil is in the frame. It’s not a close-up of Burke, but Andie is right that when you look at the photo, all you see is his face. His gargantuan smile, the way it radiates, the way it lights up the tears in his eyes.
* * *
The following Wednesday, Nancy, my father, and I arrive to the plea hearing a few minutes early.
Davis is waiting for us in the courtroom, looking redder than usual and thoroughly pissed off, which isn’t surprising given that I told him and Frank Monday night that I would not testify. I’m surprised Davis has even shown up.
“Frank is not happy,” Davis growls.
My father shakes his head. He’s angry, too, but having Nancy as my advocate has helped calm him down a bit. One day, I trust he’ll be able to understand.
I’ve realized after this whole terrible process that the tragic day at the lake—the day Heather’s brother drowned—was the catalyst for so much continued pain. If Heather could’ve found a way to overcome her anger—if she hadn’t responded to her grief by so obsessively focusing on revenge—none of this would have happened. I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to keep perpetuating this punitive cycle, even with the law on my side, because what’s the point? I’ve found it in my heart to begin to forgive Burke, so why shouldn’t I act on that? Why shouldn’t I let Heather just keep the money my mom tried to give her in the first place? Don’t we all deserve to move on?