A Little Secret between Friends

“That’s okay.” He disappeared down the hall, then came back with painkillers and a glass of water.

“You make a good nurse,” she told him, and immediately regretted the words. Beth had died at home and that last month had been hard. There’d been professional home care, but both Colin and Sally had helped. Then, the last two weeks they’d taken turns so Beth would never be alone.

He’d made a good nurse then, too.

“I keep saying the wrong thing.” Was it her injury? Or just being around Colin? He’d always brought out the worst in her. In law school she’d been compelled to prove him wrong at every opportunity. And when they occasionally found themselves on opposite sides of the same courtroom, sparks were sure to fly. They were so combustible they’d earned a reputation with their colleagues.

But there’d been no hint of an argument between them tonight.

“That’s okay, Sally. But it was hell seeing her suffer, wasn’t it?”

Colin collapsed into the chair across from her bed with a weariness that seemed more of the heart than the body. For the first time it struck Sally as strange that they’d never talked about this before. They’d both supported Beth through every stage of her cancer from the day she’d found the lump, to the day she’d finally died. Two years of their lives, and yet never had she and Colin shared what they were going through.

And since the funeral, they hadn’t spoken at all.

Even now, she spoke hesitantly. “This may sound trite, but she was such a genuinely good person. I’d known her since she was a schoolgirl and I never saw her do anything mean to anyone.”

“Her students loved her. She got letters from all her second-graders. Those were the letters I found hardest to read after…after she was gone.”

“She loved those kids so much.” Beth had been a natural with children. That she’d never managed to have one of her own had been her biggest regret. “And she was always so good to Lara.”

“What do you miss the most?” Colin asked.

“That’s a tough one.” There were so many things. The annual holiday they took back to the lake in Saskatchewan where they’d gone to camp when they’d been kids. Their movie dates, where they alternately laughed and cried through the chick-flicks the men in their lives refused to see. The times they’d shared a bottle of wine and just talked.

“You know, I think I missed her the most on my birthday.” For the first time in Sally’s life, the day had passed unremarked by anyone. Her parents were gone, she had no husband, and Lara, with her father that weekend, had forgotten to phone. “Beth always took me out for lunch on my birthday.”

“I remember.”

Sally shifted into a sitting position. The pain in her head had settled into a moderate throbbing. Her hand, treated with cream and wrapped in a bandage, no longer burned. “What about you? What do you miss most?”

“Her smile, I guess. Or maybe the way she always worried her eyebrows when she was concentrating.”

Sally gave a snort. “That was so annoying.”

“I know. But sort of cute, too. How about that yellow blouse she wore every Easter?”

“With the embroidered Easter eggs? God, that was so tacky.”

“She wore it because the kids loved the colors. Remember how she used to play Neil Diamond when she was in an especially good mood?”

Sally sang the first couple of lines of “Sweet Caroline,” with Colin joining in partway through. Eventually they forgot the words and, after they’d both given up on the song, their glances caught and held. Sally felt as if her own grief was being mirrored right back at her.

He really loved Beth, Sally thought. Not that she’d ever doubted it. She’d known her best friend had a great marriage. But he’d really loved her.

“Speaking selfishly,” Colin said, picking up the thread of conversation, “I’d have to say I miss her companionship when I come home from work—not to mention her cooking. She knew all my favorites.”

“And what would those be?”

“Anything with a tomato sauce. Pizza. Lasagna. She made the best chicken cacciatore.”

“Same things we ate when we were university roommates.” Beth had done most of the cooking then, too, Sally recalled. “So what do you eat for your dinners now?” she asked Colin. “Takeout?”

“No. I boil things. Microwave things. Grill things. I just can’t cook anything.”

“So by cooking, you mean combining more than one ingredient in the same pot?”

“I guess that’s what I mean.”

“I should teach you how to stir-fry. It’s sort of like cooking, only easier. And healthy, too.”

“Is that what you were doing tonight when you had your…fall?”

“Yes.” Why had he hesitated that way? Sally angled her head for a closer look at him. Two minutes ago Colin had seemed ready to spend the night in that chair. Now he was poised on the edge of the seat cushion, watching her closely.

Did he suspect that there was nothing at all accidental in what had happened to her? For a moment she considered confiding in him. But could she really trust Colin with this when she, herself, didn’t know how to react?

Besides, she had to remember that to Colin, Neil was a respected colleague. And a friend, too. After all, they’d gone to school together. And when Sally and Neil had been married, they’d gone out with Colin and Beth occasionally.

Sally’s instincts were to keep silent. She had to figure out what had happened and why. She needed to step carefully, because if she made any mistakes, Neil would make her pay, for sure.

And even though they were having a nice conversation tonight, Colin wasn’t someone she wanted to take into her confidence. Ever since she’d found out Beth was in love with him, she’d walked on eggshells around the man.

“Is Lara at Neil’s?”

“She’s at a sleepover party.”

“What time are you supposed to pick her up in the morning?”

“She’s getting a ride. She’ll be home around eleven.”

“Right. That’s taken care of, then. Where would you like me to sleep?”

Right where you are. Of course, Sally didn’t dare say that, even though it was so comforting having him close. “The spare room is down the hall to the left. There are clean towels in the bathroom closet.”

“Okay.” Colin stood and stretched out his tall, large-boned frame. He cut an imposing figure in the broad-shouldered suits he wore to work, but to Sally’s mind he looked even better in the jeans and plain blue T-shirt he wore tonight.

He left the room, and moments later Sally heard him moving around in the kitchen. Was he cleaning up the mess from her aborted stir-fry?

He was back ten minutes later. “Still awake?”

“So far,” she agreed.

“You had a lot of food prepared,” he commented.

Neil had said the same thing.

“A lot of food for just one person.”