Helen Brenna - Redemption at Mirabelle

THE CAPE COD MARIN AND HER mother had rented had only two bedrooms, and Marin’s mother had chosen the one on the first floor, leaving the entire upstairs, basically, a remodeled attic, to Marin. Pale moonlight streaming through her bedroom window, Marin flicked through her cell phone messages as she walked into the bathroom getting ready for bed.

Her father had called Marin at least four times since she and her mother had arrived at Mirabelle and had left two voice mails. As she brushed her teeth, she quickly texted to let him know they were fine. What else was she supposed to do?

Colin, on the other hand, had left no fewer than twenty messages, text and voice mail combined. They ranged from soulful apologies to frantic appeals to angry outbursts, and she’d deleted every single one of them.

How could he have done this to her? She rinsed out her mouth and washed her face, scrubbing roughly. They’d been as good as soul mates practically since the day they’d met in grad school. They’d been cut from the same cloth, both of their families coming from old, East Coast money. They liked the same books, movies, TV shows, food, colors, decor and even hand soap. They’d fit together, their lifestyles, their dreams and aspirations. And he’d been entirely content with her decision to not have children.

All in all, they’d wanted the same things in life. Or so she’d thought. Shutting off the water, she dried her face. Then he’d broken her heart. She slathered on a moisturizer.

Or had he?

Shouldn’t she be more inconsolable if her heart truly had been broken? Shouldn’t she want to throw her phone across the room, smashing it into a thousand pieces? Shouldn’t she be unable to sleep or eat? Shouldn’t she have cried at least once?

Instead, it was almost as if she’d expected this outcome to their relationship. Maybe that’s why she’d kept delaying the wedding date, almost as if her subconscious had known that when she’d come home early from that conference that she was going to find Colin in bed with someone. What she hadn’t expected was for that someone to be Colin’s best friend. Marcus.

It explained so much. She padded to her bedroom. It probably even explained why she’d found herself so undeniably attracted to their neighbor Adam, a man as virile and down-to-earth as Colin was cerebral and refined. And gay.

Pretty simple, really. Available woman in need of an available, attractive—very clearly heterosexual—man. No reason not to act on it, right? Except that she wasn’t entirely sure Adam was attracted to her. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she just wasn’t feminine enough to attract a masculine man.

With a heavy sigh, she climbed onto her bed and dialed Colin’s number. He picked up on the first ring. “Marin, thank God, you called. Where are you? Your doorman said you’d left the city.”

“I’m on Mirabelle,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake her mother who’d gone to bed almost an hour ago.

“You went to Melissa’s? Why?”

“You expected me to stay in Manhattan? With everything that’s going on?”

“The paparazzi have been hounding me to death.”

“Better you than me. This is, after all, your doing.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed. “Oh, Mar, I’m so damned sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

What else could he say? She knew his family well. His father and mother wouldn’t just be surprised. They’d likely disown him if they found out. Colin wasn’t a bad man. In fact, he’d been her friend before they’d gotten engaged. He was still her friend.

“I have to know,” she said. “Did I do something? Not do something to…cause this?”

“Oh, Marin, how can you say that? Think that. It’s not you. It’s me.”

“How long have you known?” she asked, trying to understand.

“Do we have to go there?”

“I do. Did you know before we started dating?”

He was silent for a moment. “Yes.”

“You son of a bitch.” The words came out of her mouth without heat. As much as she tried, she couldn’t seem to summon an appropriate amount of anger, let alone indignation.

“I guess I thought you knew,” he said. “Inside. I mean, come on, Mar. We weren’t exactly a match made in heaven, but I assumed it was a match that suited you. Your needs. The way the facade of our engagement suited mine.”

“I was convenient, is that it?”

“No. You were…content with…mediocrity.”

That made her angry. “Content with—I thought I loved you! I thought you loved me. I thought we were good together! I thought—”

“Marin, you’ve worked ten- to twelve-hour days from the day I first met you. Between your career, your volunteer gigs and your workouts we barely saw each other. Maybe, if we were lucky, we ran into each other in bed in the middle of the night once a week and made love. The truth is that I spent more time with Marcus than I did with you. And you can almost include the time we spent sleeping together in that equation. Can you honestly tell me that’s a vibrant, healthy relationship?”

He was right. She swallowed. But he was wrong, too. Maybe she’d worked so many hours and kept so busy because she’d been, underneath it all, so dissatisfied in her relationship with Colin. She remembered the nights he’d turned her down when she’d wanted to be intimate. When she’d wanted more from him. She hadn’t understood her own frustration. Now, she wondered.

“I think there was a part of me that felt like…like there was something wrong with me, Colin. Sexually. For wanting more. For not turning you on.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s my fault entirely.”

“Does anyone in your family know? Your sisters? Your brother?”

“Good God, no! And I’d very much like to keep it that way.”

“You should tell them.”

“Can’t we just let this…die? I’ll do whatever you want. Tell everyone I was cheating. With a woman, please. Tell them I beat you. That I have gambling debts. However you want to handle the breakup, I’ll go along. Just don’t tell my family. The press. My coworkers. Please, Marin.”

“Tell me this. Would you have gone through with the wedding?”

A long pause followed, and then he admitted, “Probably.”

“Wow.” She shook her head. “Fine. Tell everyone you had an affair with some woman, if that makes it better for you. I really don’t care anymore.”

Marin hung up the phone, flicked off her light and stared outside. A full moon shone down on the trees, casting creepy shadows on the grass. She cracked open the window, letting the still-warm late summer breeze flow through the room. It was quiet here, so quiet she could hear the wind rustling the leaves of the towering old maple just outside her window. Maybe Saint Barts wouldn’t have been a good idea. She needed this time away more than she’d realized.

All her life, she’d swallowed hook, line and sinker her father’s rhetoric about how Camdens being Camdens needed to lead by example. She’d meticulously dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s. She’d been a high achiever, some said overachiever, in both academics and athletics throughout her childhood. She’d graduated summa cum laude from Harvard. She donated heavily from her trust fund to worthy causes. She spent every Wednesday night at the women’s shelter, every Sunday at the food bank. Worst of all, through it all, she’d even imagined herself happy and in love. It had all been a lie.

Well, now she had to find out what she wanted from life.

Her gaze was suddenly, inexplicably drawn to Adam Harding’s backyard. Would she find him, once again, leaning against his tree? But no. He was inside, his house completely dark but for one dim light at the first floor. Pale sheers fluttered with the breeze blowing through his open window. His bedroom? Probably not. The bright glow of a computer screen indicated it was likely an office. He was working late.