After I’d closed the door behind her, she turned and asked, “What did those pricks want?”
I shrugged. “They were after Scott, but I’m not sure why.”
She drew a long breath and as she blew it out, her shoulders slumped while her face turned white. “Fuck,” she muttered, and made her way to the kitchen table.
Following her, I asked, “Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?” Her stress fed mine, and I needed to know what was going on.
We sat at the table, and she fidgeted while avoiding eye contact so I pushed her. “Sharon, what the hell is going on?”
Her eyes snapped to mine and my heart fell into my stomach at the fear I saw there. Something bad had happened.
“Have you ever questioned absolutely everything in your life, Harlow?” Her voice was almost a whisper and I could sense the demons she was wrestling with. I didn’t know exactly which demons she was referring to, but the air between us sat heavy with introspection, and with that always came demons.
“Yes, I have. Recently, in fact.”
She nodded slowly, taking that in. Turning it over in her mind. And then she continued. “I’ve made a lot of bad choices in my life, but the one right thing I did will be the thing that comes back to haunt me forever.” She stared at me and I stilled. The ghost of her past had her in its grips and I knew she was about to bare her soul to me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted her to. We hardly knew each other, and I had no comprehension of the life she’d led because the Storm she knew and the Storm I knew were almost completely different. She’d lived through the years where they dealt in crime and filth, whereas that had all been cleaned up by the time I came along. I wouldn’t know how to help her in her hour of confession.
I waited silently for her to speak.
And when she did, she stunned me completely.
“I was involved in my husband’s death and I think the police have worked it out. They came to my house today, too. Asked me a lot of questions before I refused to answer any more.”
I stared at her while my heart rate picked up speed.
“I thought Scott killed him,” I eventually blurted while still trying to wrap my mind around what she’d just said.
Her eyes widened. “No. It was me - ” She stopped suddenly and I wondered what else she had been about to say, but I didn’t ask because I really didn’t want to know.
Unsure of what else to say to her, I went with – “I wouldn’t blame you for killing Marcus.” When she just sat staring at me in silence, I added, “I mean, he was an awful man.” Oh God, was I putting my foot in it now? She’d been married to the man for years and I’d just labelled him as awful.
“You must wonder why I stayed married to him for all those years.” She spoke quietly again. I was sure I could sense shame woven through her words.
I shook my head. “It’s not my place to wonder things like that, Sharon. That was your business…your life. No one else’s.”
“God, Scott is right about you.”
My brows pulled together in a frown. “In what way?”
“He told me he loves you because you have this amazing capacity to see the good in people even when there is no good to be seen.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I thought I was a strong woman by staying with him. I convinced myself that staying was the right thing to do for the kids; I didn’t want them to have a broken family. And I convinced myself I loved him. In the end, I broke all of us.” Her shoulders drooped and the mask she always wore slipped. In its place sat a cracked veneer of regret and self-loathing.
Oh my goodness.
My heart broke for her.
I reached for her hand and held it. “Sharon, everyone’s definition of strong is different depending on the life experiences we’ve each had. You were strong in the only way you knew how, and you protected your children through it all. You have to give yourself credit for that. As far as me wondering about your marriage, I never judge another woman’s choice in a man because I’m not the one walking in their shoes. I can never know what has happened to them in their life that they feel compelled to make that choice. Someone with family support and self belief possibly wouldn’t stand for domestic violence or cheating, but a lot of women don’t have that, or don’t feel they have that. The rest of the world needs to stop judging women for the resources they don’t have. It would be a nicer world if instead of judging, we helped. And I sure as hell will never know the intricacies of any relationship because the only people who will ever understand that are the two people involved.” It hurt my throat so much to say all this, but it was important to me for her to hear what I wanted to say so I pushed through it.
She squeezed my hand as tears fell down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I passed the tissue box sitting on the table to her. “You don’t need to thank me for something that should be a given in life. But I want you to know that I am here for you. I’m not sure if I have much to offer you, but I’ve always got a shoulder and a listening ear.”
She smiled through her tears. “I’m sorry to dump all this on you when you’re so sick. I ran out of friends over the years; they all deserted me when they couldn’t stand Marcus.”
I swallowed back the tears her words induced. “They weren’t your real friends, then.”
Her gaze zeroed in on the way my face contorted as pain stabbed at my throat. Standing, she announced, “I’m going to go so that you can go back to bed and sleep off that pain. Do you need me to do anything for you before I go?”