“I thought you’d changed!”
They stared at each other, the chasm that had been bridged over these last few months opening wider than ever. “I suppose neither of us has changed as much as we thought,” Juliet finally said.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t go, if she asked you?”
Juliet let out a hard laugh. “She would never ask me.”
“But if she did—”
“The point is,” Juliet cut across her, “she wouldn’t. And she’s only asking you because she knows you’ll come running. You’re like a puppy, Lucy, always eager to please and so easily hurt.Honestly.Don’t you realize how she’s using you? As soon asshe’s recovered, she’ll be grandstanding again. She’ll turn your act of service into something to be ridiculed. How My Daughter Tried to Win Back My Love. And you’ll just take it,again—”
“Why are you being so mean?” Lucy cried. “Or can you not stand the thought that someone needs me? That I’m important to someone?”
“You think you’re important toFiona?”
“She needs me,” Lucy repeated stubbornly. “When has someone needed you, Juliet? When have you let yourself get close enough to someone for them to need you? You hide in your house, making breakfasts and beds for people you’ll never see again. You’ve never really tried with anyone.”
Juliet jerked back. “I tried with you,” she said, and Lucy’s face crumpled.
“Juliet.I don’t want us to be like this.”
Juliet pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I don’t, either.”
“Do you . . . do you not want me to come back?”
“No, I don’t want you togo.” Juliet dropped her hands from her eyes. “Look, I realize I might be overreacting a little.”
“It’s only a few weeks,” Lucy said. “I’ll be back by the first of January.”
Juliet knew Lucy believed she’d be back; the trouble was, Juliet didn’t. Poky Hartley-by-the-Sea with its wind and rain would seem very far away once Lucy was back in Boston, with her old friends, her old life. Maybe that jerk Thomas would get back in touch with her, ask her to babysit his kids. Maybe Fiona would have a change of heart and throw Lucy an art exhibition herself. Or maybe Lucy would just fall back into her old ways. It would be all too easy for her to say she’d changed her mind and stay in Boston instead. And if that was what happened, there wasn’t a thing Juliet could do about it.
“Fine,” she said lifelessly. “Do what you have to do.”
“I don’t want to part on bad terms—”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you my blessing. Not for Fiona. But I understand why you feel you need to go.”
Lucy stared at her. “Then I guess I’ll have to take that,” she said sadly.
Chapter twenty-seven
Lucy
Lucy barely slept that night; the wind gusted down the street and rattled the windowpanes, but it was the thoughts chasing one another in her own head that kept her awake.
The argument with Juliet had stung more than she’d thought possible. She’d craved her sister’s support and received her scorn. And she’d hurt Juliet, she knew, with her own unkind words. It felt as if the relationship they’d worked so hard to build had shattered in the first breath of a storm.
And as for Alex . . . and Poppy and Bella . . .
Lucy rolled onto her side and tucked her knees up to her chest. Could she ignore her mother, her mother who hadcancer, for the sake of little more than a kiss? Alex might have said he was serious about her, but only because Juliet had been lecturing him. They hadn’t had the chance to see how a relationship would work out, how she’d fit into his life and he into hers.
And anyway, if Alex was serious, he would wait for her. He’d understand she needed to go to her mother, and he’d wait until she came back. It was only for a couple of weeks.
Although Lucy knew she couldn’t promise that it would be such a short time. Fiona might need her for longer than a day or a week or even a month. Surgery, chemo, recovery . . . It usually took months or even years before you were cancer free. Lucy had no idea how much of that process Fiona would need her for. How much she would be willing to stay for.
By six in the morning Lucy was up, showered, and mostly packed. She’d booked a five p.m. flight back to Boston, and arranged to take the train to Manchester Airport. Juliet had already left to walk the dogs; they hadn’t said a word to each other that morning.
All Lucy had to do now was talk to Alex. A little before eight she headed up the street to school, a feeling of unreality coming over her at the realization that this was the last time she’d walk into the primary school, turn on the copier and the kettle, and welcome the children who streamed past her window.
