Page 98 of Hello, Summer
“I took a ride by Grayson’s house on the way out to the Dunes today,” she told him. “I’m pretty sure Tony’s gone. His car’s not there, and the yard looked pretty raggedy.”
“Sad,” Skelly said.
“Even sadder is the fact that my own sister can’t be straight with me. I wanted all of us to go out for drinks after we got off deadline to celebrate our first big digital experiment, but Grayson said she had stuff to do. Then I saw her car at the parking lot at the country club.” She shook her head. “Why can’t she just be honest and tell me what’s going on?”
“Maybe she’s embarrassed,” Skelly said. He stretched his arm along the back of the swing. “I know the last time Danielle left—for good—I didn’t tell anybody. I kept thinking, maybe she’d change her mind. It’s stupid, but I guess I thought if I didn’t admit we were getting divorced, it would keep it from happening. I wouldn’t have to admit that our marriage was a failure. And so was I.”
“Denial is a powerful emotion,” Conley said, sighing. “It must be a generational thing. From the time I was a little kid, nobody ever leveled with me about what was going on with my mom when she up and disappeared.”
“When she left, she was gone for long stretches of time, right?” Skelly asked.
“Yep. And the times got longer over the years.”
“What did your dad tell you and Grayson?”
“The first time, he said she was going to graduate school. Someplace out west.”
“But that wasn’t true?”
“No. I think she was actually in rehab. But nobody has ever admitted that to me. Later, as I got older, I figured out that things weren’t working in their marriage. They never fought as far as I could tell. She’d just… vanish.”
He let his palm rest on her shoulder, and after a momentary shock, she realized his touch was welcome. Reassuring even.
“Must have been hard on your dad,” he said.
“The worst,” she agreed. “Every time she came home, he was so happy! I’d hear him humming to himself. He’d bring home little presents for her in the middle of the week—some flowers, a bottle of her favorite perfume, maybe a piece of jewelry.” Conley sighed and took a sip of her wine. “But the rest of us, G’mama and Pops and Grayson—even Winnie—we were all… holding our breath. Everybody knew it was just a matter of time before she left again. Everybody but Dad. And then, when she was gone, he just got so quiet. And sad. So very goddamn sad.”
Skelly tilted his head toward her, absorbing her words. He was a good listener, which she found to be a precious quality in a man. His eyes were a deep blue green, and they were bracketed with crow’s-feet.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “This must hit awfully close to home for you. Anyway, it’s old history. Let’s talk about something else.”
“No, it’s actually a relief to talk about it,” Skelly said. “I went to a therapist for a while after Danielle left, but once she filed for divorce, eventually it felt like a waste of money. Like, she’s not coming back, so why keep beating a dead horse?”
“Would you take her back again if she decided to try to make it work?” Conley asked.
“No,” he said quickly. “Too much has happened. And not just with her. With me too.”
“Like what?”
He looked away and blushed slightly. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t laugh. You moved back home.”
“Oh God, Skelly,” she started to say.
He tapped his fingertip gently to her lips. “Let me finish. When you walked into the bar at the Legion last week, my brain lit up like a pinball machine. Endorphins, whatever. And then when we danced together…”
“We’d both been drinking,” Conley said. “Me, especially.”
“No,” he said stubbornly. “I had two beers. It wasn’t the booze talking. At least for me it wasn’t.”
“I’d forgotten what a great dancer you were. Are,” she corrected herself. She found herself thinking back to the only other time she’d danced with Sean Kelly. God, how she’d looked forward to that night. She’d gotten her first professional manicure and pedicure, even talked G’mama into taking her shopping at the mall in Tallahassee for her dress. She’d had a huge crush on Sean Kelly, one that she’d never confessed to a single soul.
“What?” he asked, leaning closer. “You’re still mad at me for taking you home early, and then, after… you know, with Steffi… I was an idiot. A horny, teenage idiot. You’ll never know how many times I wished that night had ended differently.”
“Me too,” she said simply. She took another sip of wine and then another. “As long as we’re dabbling in true confessions here, maybe now is the point when I tell you that you broke my silly girlish heart that night.”
