“It’s just, it’s been fifteen years, Abby. And I’m not saying you should be over it by now or something. I’m really not. But sometimes it feels like you’re living like a—like a hostage.”
“A hostage?” Abby managed a dry huff of laughter. “You’re sounding a bit melodramatic. Anyway, that’s not how it is at all.”
“Are you sure about that?” Shannon met Abby’s scoffing gaze with a steady, sympathetic challenge she couldn’t stand. She’d wanted an easy night of wine and Gilmore Girls. Why did her friend have to nail her like this? She felt exposed, and she hated that. She shouldn’t even feel that way, because Shannon didn’t understand at all, even if she thought she did.
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” Abby dismissed with a shrug.
Shannon took a deep breath and Abby knew to brace herself. She had a horrible feeling that fifteen years of papering over the cracks wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Not that she would have considered it that, all this time. She’d been fine. Really, she’d been fine. And their friendship had been fine. They didn’t need this kind of heart-to-heart, no soul-searching required.
When she’d decided not to go to college, Shannon had been understanding. Abby needed to be there for her dad. Of course she did. They’d got together on Shannon’s breaks, and, for the most part, it had been fine. Abby was accepting that Shannon had made new friends, went to Fort Lauderdale or Vail with them, started living her own life. Meanwhile, Abby had gotten on with the orchard, the shop, finding a way to live her life, too, even if it wasn’t quite as exciting as Shannon’s.
A distance had opened between them then—natural, understandable, but still a little sad. But when Shannon’s job in Chicago had gone bust and she’d returned to Ashford to set up as a private, small-town accountant, Abby had felt like she was getting her best friend back.
The years that had already happened had served as a bridge from the past to the present, so there had been no need to discuss all the water under it—the car accident, Abby’s choice to stay home, Shannon’s life that had flamed out, the serious boyfriend she’d left behind. And as the years in Ashford had passed with nothing more than Netflix, wine, and the occasional blind date, Abby had been perfectly satisfied with that. But now, looking at Shannon’s resolute expression, she had a horrible feeling everything was about to change, or that maybe it already had.
“Okay,” Shannon said. “I’m just going to say this—”
Abby let out a sigh, knowing better than to tell her not to. She reached for the open bottle on the coffee table between them and sloshed more wine into her glass.
“The thing is, Abby,” Shannon said, speaking hesitantly but with determination, “I understood why you chose not to go to college. I really did. You needed to be there for your dad, and while I was sad for you, I supported your decision.”
“I know you did.” Abby lowered her gaze as she took a sip of wine.
“But you know, at some point, I thought you’d do something else. Take some night classes, or think about moving to a city.”
“I like working at the orchard, Shannon,” Abby cut across her. “Even if you don’t think I do.”
“I know that,” Shannon insisted. “I might have had my doubts at first, but I get that now.”
“So what’s the problem?” Not that she really wanted to know.
“It’s just…” Shannon looked uncharacteristically uncertain. “There’s a part of you that seems as if you don’t want to be happy,” she said in a rush. “Almost as if you don’t think you deserve to be happy. And I get that you may have survivor’s guilt. I understand that—”
“You get a lot,” Abby said with acid in her voice that made Shannon blink. “Really, you’ve missed your calling. You should be a therapist.”
“Sorry,” Shannon said after a moment. “I’m probably coming a
cross as patronizing—”
“You think?” Abby couldn’t keep the bitterness from spilling out. She didn’t need Shannon as well as Simon coming over all analytical, treating her like some sad specimen to be examined, understood, helped. “Look, I don’t tell you what I think is wrong with your life,” she continued, hurt fueling words she knew she’d regret later. “I don’t question why you came running back to Ashford when you could have got another job in the city. I don’t ask you if you’re being held hostage because you’re living in a small town and you date about as much as I do. Why can my life go under the microscope, but yours can’t?”
Shannon was silent for a moment, absorbing everything Abby had said, until guilt, her usual companion, rushed in.
“I’m sorry,” Abby muttered. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“No,” Shannon cut across her, using a diffident tone that meant she was hurt but trying not to be. “We’re best friends. You have every right.”
That made Abby feel even worse. “I don’t want to fight with you,” she pleaded. “Can we just turn on Gilmore Girls and forget all of this?”
Shannon looked tempted, but Abby knew her friend well enough to know she wouldn’t back down. “No, we can’t. Not if we’re really best friends. Let’s have this out, Abby.”
“There’s nothing to have out—”
“I came running back to Ashford because my confidence was knocked,” Shannon cut across her. “Really knocked, more than I ever let on, because I was too proud. I was the one who had my life together, right?” She gave a twisted smile. “I really thought I was all that, up and coming, high flyer, you name it, and then when the redundancies started coming, I was the first name on the list, before the most recent hires even, the college grads who had barely started. I couldn’t believe it. I realized I must have been crap at my job.” She took a quick breath, continuing on before Abby could interject with another groveling apology. “You’re right, I could have got a job in Chicago, I could have sent my resumé out to umpteen firms, but I realized something about myself—I realized I’d rather be a big fish in a small pond than the other way around. And so I came home.”
Abby felt terrible now, wretched with misery at hurting her friend, and all because she’d been hurting. “Shannon, I’m sorry—”
“And as for the dating, or lack thereof? The truth was, I thought Mike would follow me. We’d been dating for three years. I was hoping he’d propose, we’d settle in Ashford, have a couple of kids, the minivan, the picket fence. Moving back here was my passive-aggressive way of giving him an ultimatum, and he didn’t bite. When I lost my job, I lost him, too.” Shannon looked down at her wineglass while Abby stared at her, appalled.