“Wait up here, I’ll climb down and get us a bunch.” Ellen scooted down, leaping the last few feet and landing with a clacking crunch at the bottom of the crevice. A minute later she reemerged, grinning triumphantly, bulging pockets making her hoodie sag midthigh. “Got ’em.”
“Good haul.” Addie gave her a thumbs-up, still feeling uneasy about ditching work, wondering what Derek was up to.
“Have a seat. I’ll divide them up.”
Addie wiggled around until she found a place that fit, and accepted a lapful of assorted size rocks, smoothed and rounded by constant tumbling.
“Now.” Ellen sat, picked up a stone from her supply and hurled it. A second later, the most delightfully liquid thwunk and splash made them both laugh for no particular reason.
Addie took her turn. Another thwunk, more splash, strangely and wonderfully satisfying.
“Okay.” Ellen consigned her next one to the deep and smoothed her hair, which the breeze promptly messed up again. “I have a confession.”
“What’s that?” Addie threw another rock, farther this time, enjoying the release.
“I used to be really jealous of you.” Ellen tossed one high in the air.
“What?” Addie was so astonished she didn’t watch for it to come down. “Of me? What on earth for? You’ve got everything.”
“Paul was in love with you for years.”
Addie’s jaw dropped. She laughed uncertainly. “With me? Paul? No, no, he wasn’t. Not with me. You’re confusing me with someone else. We hung out together all the time as friends. With Sarah and Kevin and a lot of others. It wasn’t me.”
“Yup, it was.” Ellen threw her next stone, then wiped her hands together, that’s that. “He was absolutely crazy about you. You were his perfect woman.”
“But...but that’s impossible.” She laughed again, incredulous rather than amused, mind racing back over their grade school years, remembering parties, movies, board game tournaments, softball and soccer and tons of plain old hanging out, trying to see now what she must have been blind to then. “He never said anything. Showed anything.”
“Lucky for me.”
“No, no, Ellen. I would never have—” She broke off, not sure if it was polite to tell someone you found the love of her life sexually unattractive. “I mean Paul is like a brother to me. Always has been.”
“He knew that. That’s why he never told you.”
Addie anxiously studied Ellen’s profile. Her voice and expression were unconcerned, but sometimes people could hide bitterness. Addie didn’t sense any, thank God. “Wow. That is just so...weird. I never picked up on a thing.”
“No. You didn’t.” She said the words with unusual weight, which made Addie feel a bit anxious again, and unsure how to respond.
A heron flapped over, its wingspan impressive after so many gulls and cormorants. A crow gave a guttural croak from the trees behind them, as if annoyed at the intrusion into its air space.
Addie found herself tensing again, undoing the relaxation their rock-throwing session had started. She was beginning to think Ellen had some motive bringing her here besides Bride’s Prerogative to avoid work.
“Did Paul ever tell you how we got together?”
“You met on a blind date, took one look at each other and that was that.”
Ellen threw another stone, watched it splash. “That’s the version for public consumption. It was more complicated, and more difficult.”
Addie felt a jab of disappointment. She’d loved the idea that the two of them had found true love simply, honestly and easily. Did it ever happen that way? “Complicated how?”
“Paul fought how he felt for a long time.”
“No.” Addie was too flabbergasted to throw her next stone. “But it’s so obvious you’re perfect for each other.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Ellen arched an eyebrow at Addie, who was clearly being sent some signal, but had no idea what it meant. “However, it wasn’t obvious to him, not at first. He’d wedged himself into this narrow mindset about who he was and about his feelings for you. He wasn’t really open to me, even though he thought he was ready for a relationship, and had been dating around looking for one.”