“He’s just misunderstood,” I replied, to which she rolled her eyes. It was a drizzly morning, damp and cool, but with tons of birdies chirping loudly. Protesting the rainy Saturday, maybe. Or simply happy that it was finally spring.
The McClellans were off in Florida celebrating the arrival of their newest grandson. Mrs. M had recently recovered from back surgery but was still nervous about walking such a big dog, and Mr. M was a bit frail, so Arnold hadn’t been getting scheduled walks. I knew that his breakouts had a lot to do with that and tried my best to give him the workout he craved, but I’d worked a twelve-hour shift yesterday.
I usually took him for a good stroll each morning and then let him frolic free in their vast yard—with supervision, of course—for a little while each day. So far, during the week I’d been here, he’d never taken advantage and always came when I called him.
I might possibly have ascribed too much moral conscience to him, but hey, I tended to believe the best in people…and animals.
“Do you need to get him?” my friend, Mia, the responsible worrywart, asked. She hiked a thumb over her shoulder at the dog, who was gleefully bounding about, nose to the ground, following some irresistible scent trail.
“I’ll give him a minute.” I ushered them in as Arnold happily trolled the perimeter of the big yard.
“When do the McClellans get back?” Sam asked, studying Mr. M’s hole-in-one golf ball, which lived encased in a giant resin block on the coffee table.
“One more week,” I said. “Perfect timing for my house to be done.”
Tyler and I had bought a sweet little Cape Cod across the street—not on the golf course, like the McClellans’ was. It was basically the tiniest house in a great neighborhood, and Tyler had seen value in that even if he’d thought it was too cutesy and old. I’d loved it from the second I’d seen its big old tree with sprawling branches and the charming transomed front door. The catch was that it was dated and needed a ton of work, most of which I couldn’t afford—yet.
But hey, I’d somehow managed to buy Tyler out. And to wipe all thoughts of him out of my mind, I’d had every room painted something other than white, Tyler’s favorite color. Which really explains everything about the two of us.
We’d managed to negotiate and sign papers regarding the house. We’d also taken care of all the leftover wedding bills. I’d given him back his ring. But we hadn’t really talked. It was more and more clear to me that I’d hurt him deeply, even though I was certain I’d made the right decision not marrying him. And I’d surely embarrassed him by calling off our wedding so publicly. I’d left him voicemails, trying to apologize, but he never called me back. I hated that I’d hurt him in such a public way and desperately wanted to make peace.
“How’s it looking?” Sam, my practical, no-nonsense friend, asked.
Oh, the house. “Nice,” I said. A guy I dated from high school ran a remodeling company and had given me a great deal on repainting the kitchen cabinets (okay, I did choose white for those), and white quartz countertops to replace the ancient red Formica. And that’s when my money ran out.
“I knew this was a bad idea, inviting us over the morning after your ER shift,” Mia said, fluffing my bedhead, which hadexpanded overnight, my hair no doubt curling in every direction. “What time did you finish?”
“After one.” By the time I finally got home, I was still pretty wired. I’d watchedGilmore Girlsfor a while. More like a few hours. I kept thinking about that baby and that young mom, until I finally fell asleep on the sofa around three.
Then something weird happened—at around five, I’d woken up to what I thought was a baby crying. I’d sat bolt upright, but the entire house was dead silent, except for my buddy Arnold, wedged happily in between me and the couch back, snoring softly. Actually, I was halfway off the couch because he was a total couch hog, but hey, companionship came with a price, I guessed.
I glanced again out the window. Arnold was rolling over and over in the grass, which was soaking wet.Great.
“I’m sorry to oversleep, but I’m so glad you came.” My two best friends were here to help me with the fun task of making bacon-wrapped scallops for my parents’ fancy party tonight. Mia was in her first year of pediatric hematology/oncology fellowship, and Sam was a pediatric anesthesiologist, who, like me, was enjoying her first year out of residency and in a real job. Our friendship was forged during our residencies at Children’s Milwaukee—we’d come to rely on each other at work—and also in our personal lives.
Both Mia and Sam worked in Milwaukee, but Sam and her boyfriend Caleb, an orthopedic surgeon, spent every Friday doing clinics at Oak Bluff. Mia’s husband Brax spent his Fridays in my practice helping out with the overflow. My ambivalence about staying alone in Oak Bluff after I called off my wedding was tempered by knowing that my dear friends were nearby for at least part of the week. But they’d both found the loves of their lives. As for me—well, there weren’t exactly a lot of potentialsuitors in our tiny town—so it was a good thing I’d sworn off men, possibly for good.
I led my friends into the kitchen and then excused myself to get cleaned up. When I returned, Sam had already started the oven and pulled cookie sheets out for the bacon, and Mia had coffee going. A quick peek outside showed that Arnold was still canvassing the wooded section of the yard for squirrel or chipmunk intruders, no doubt.
I sat down and poured myself a coffee, thanking Mia for knowing my need for caffeine without asking. I guess I’d zoned out, because I was startled to attention when Sam called my name. “You okay?”
“Sorry. Tough night.”
“You shouldn’t be doing this after working so late,” Mia said.
“And your mom is having the food catered, so I’m not sure why you offered,” Sam said. “I thought you weren’t going to do things just to please your parents.”
I got up, grabbed a box of toothpicks, and threw a bunch into a bowl of water to soak. That way, they wouldn’t burn in the oven. “I know, I know. I just still feel like a disappointment after all the ruin of the wedding.”
“Not marrying Tyler was a godsend,” Mia said. “I’m not sure why you feel that you have to apologize for that.”
No, I would never apologize for calling that wedding off. Tyler, a cardiologist, was brilliant and dedicated. I’d fallen in love with his logic and his organizational skills, both of which I fell short on. The trouble was that he was also self-centered and lacking in compassion, traits that I continually made excuses for. After the wedding disaster, he’d left Wisconsin for New York and never looked back. I was relieved that he was many states away.
I gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, you know, the expense. It was…a lot.” This year was my first year out of residency, and the first time since my nursing career that I made a salary where Ididn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck. Tyler had been working as a cardiologist for several years. We’d insisted on paying a chunk of the reception money, but my parents had covered the majority of the expenses to give us a really nice wedding. They’d saved for it for years, and I was grateful for it.
I vowed to pay it all back. I didn’t mention that the real source of my guilt was the fact that I’d waited until the eleventh hour to call it all off. It would have saved heartache—on everyone’s parts—and money—if I’d pulled the trigger earlier. Much earlier. Why had I ignored the signs?
Mia and Sam exchanged glances. We’d been through all this before—my pathological need to please my mother, who meant well but seemed essentially unpleasable. My parents were likely the only people on the planet who’d left retirement in Florida to move back to Wisconsin. Their reason? To be five minutes away from me, which, given our relationship, provided many extra opportunities for what I could only describe as pure torture. In the most loving way possible, of course.
