Through Love's Eyes Page 5

  There was a moment of tense silence. “I appreciate your apology, but even after so much time, I can’t understand why you did it.” A tear rolled down Brittany’s scarred cheek, and she tipped her head down. “We were friends.”

  Erika wanted to touch her, hold her, take away her pain, but she settled on scooting close enough so their thighs touched. Brittany didn’t move away. “I’m not sure I have the words, Brit. But I’d like to try.”

  Brittany raised her head and met her eyes. “Can we do this inside where it’s warm? I hadn’t realized how cold it is, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to have this conversation where other people can hear it.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. I have a couple of parlor chairs in my room. We can sit and talk there.” Erika stood and held out her hand. “Come on.”

  They walked quickly to the hotel. Erika dropped into one of the chairs eager to get the confrontation over. She had no idea how she was going to begin, and words didn’t seem like enough. What could she say? She never thought she’d see Brit again, much less have to explain her outrageous behavior.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brittany sank into the comfortable parlor chair and watched Erika James, the beautiful self-assured model, transform into the fifteen-year-old self-conscious Amy Jansons. Her perfect posture probably hid some of the discomfort, but Brittany could tell her words were being pushed through uncomfortable memories. She refrained from reaching out to offer reassurance. Brittany needed to hear this.

  “Did you recognize me right away?” Erika leaned forward with her hands clasped, her forearms on her knees.

  Brittany nodded. “The day you arrived.”

  “I wasn’t positive until the day we sat out on the log.” Erika stood and poured a glass of wine. “Would you like some?”

  “I’ll have water if you have one.” Brittany reached for the bottle and their fingers touched. The same warmth spread through her hand as she had when they’d contacted earlier under the blanket. “Thanks.” She leaned back in the chair to give herself some distance.

  Erika took a sip of wine and walked to the window. “I want to try to explain my actions in high school. It’s something I’ve never forgotten and always regretted.”

  Erika looked miles away as she spoke, and Brittany wondered if she could see that time period as clearly as Brittany could.

  “I struggled with self-worth in high school, as I think most kids do at that age.” She took a sip of wine. “My parents decided I was going to be a famous model when I was four. They taught me my worth was tied to my looks. Each year before school started, my mother would sit me down with the latest fashion magazines and show me how I was to stand, sit, walk, smile, and what kind of clothes to wear. She cautioned me about falling into complacency and looking sloppy. I didn’t even know what complacency meant. They convinced me I had to live up to the world’s standard of beauty in order to be good enough. Just being me wasn’t enough. I even changed my name so I could be the person everyone else wanted me to be, so I could leave the old one behind. I left Amy behind a long time ago. I think the times at your house might have been the last times I was her.” Erika sighed and sat in the chair across from her.

  Brittany couldn’t keep from interrupting. “I remember. You used to come over crying, telling me you were no good. But you were, and you are.”

  Erika gave her a sad smile. “I remember, too. You said the same thing then. I don’t believe my parents did any of this to suppress my self-esteem. I believe they recognized my potential to make a good living because of my looks. All my modeling instructors encouraged me to pursue a modeling career, so my parents encouraged it, too. I really believe they wanted to help me. They loved me and wanted the best for me.”

  Brittany rolled the water bottle between her hands. “Do you remember the day you came over and told me you were running away from home? We sat on the floor in my room and drew pictures of horses.”

  A happy smile spread across Erika’s face. “I remember. You asked where I’d go, what I’d eat. You convinced me not to go. You were my best friend.” She looked sad again as she continued. “You always told me I was special because I was me. You didn’t deserve to be treated like we…I…treated you.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Brittany paused. “But it was over twenty years ago.” She looked at her watch and stood. She felt like she’d been thrown back into the school hallway, splayed on the floor fending off the taunts. She needed some air and open space. “It’s getting late. Could we meet for breakfast tomorrow and continue talking? I think you’re not scheduled for photos until after noon.”

  Erika stood and stretched. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” She set her wine glass down and walked her to the door.

  “Good night, Erika.”

  “Sleep well, Brit. See you tomorrow.”

  Erika was the only one who ever called her Brit, and she liked the way it sounded as it rolled off her full lips. But Erika was no longer Amy. They had a way to go before trust could be restored, and a part of her hoped it could be. There was some old saying about holding on to anger and how it poisoned you instead of doing anything to the person you were angry with. She wanted to let go of that old thorn so the wound could truly heal. She took her time walking home to allow the words Erika had spoken to sink in, and she gazed at the water as she passed. She did, however, want to hear more from Erika the next day.

  Brittany leaned against the wall and breathed in the cool May night air before unlocking the door to her apartment. She never would have imagined she’d see Amy again, much less listen to her apologize for her participation in the terror. She left after high school to pursue her career as a fashion model and never came back to their small town. Did she ever return to visit her parents? Were they proud of her? It sounded as if she fit the mold they’d expected. She shivered, unsure if it was from the cold night or the bitter memories. So many memories and so many unknowns. She hoped Erika would be on the island long enough to help give her some closure. She wasn’t sure how close to forgiveness she could get, but she looked forward to whatever more Erika had to say for herself.

  She made herself a cup of chamomile tea and sipped it while she watched the late evening news. The weather reporter assured her tomorrow would be warm and sunny. She hoped her time spent with Amy…no, Erika, wouldn’t be awkward. She had to respect what she called herself now; she wasn’t the person Brittany remembered. She turned off the TV and went to bed hoping for dreams of past happy days and drawing pictures of horses.

  * * *

  Brittany woke to the morning sun radiating through her bedroom window. She sat up to check the time. Her usual routine would have her at the stables by seven, but her assignment of chauffeur for Erika James meant she only had to be there when they needed her. She hadn’t bothered to set her alarm, but now she wished she and Erika had set a time for their breakfast meeting. She’d been in such a hurry to leave she hadn’t thought of it. She lay back on her bed and tried to think about what more Erika would have to say for herself. She made a cup of instant coffee and turned on the morning news. Nothing new had happened overnight, so she shut off the TV and sat in silence for a few minutes, until Erika overtook her thoughts once more. Her feelings began to interrupt her serenity, so she rose to take a shower.

  Brittany took a few extra minutes to apply her makeup. She told herself it was because they’d be in the dining room with many other people, but the truth was she wanted Erika to continue to look past her scars, to see her as she was. And, maybe, to see something attractive in her. She stilled to analyze her feelings as her therapist had taught her. The pain of the past had already been dulled and nudged away by time, but would Erika’s return be a setback? She mentally shook herself, determined to stay open to listening to her story. She finished dressing, put on her glasses, and headed out the door.

  In the dining room, Erika looked poised and gorgeous sitting at the same table they’d occupied the night before, but Brittany could still see the dark circles und
er her eyes that she’d done a decent job of covering with makeup. “Good morning.” She pulled out the chair across from her.

  “Morning. Last night I realized we hadn’t set a time to meet, so I hope this is good.” She detected a slight tremor as Erika wrapped her hands around her coffee cup.

  A few people looked their way, probably checking out the beauty seated across from her. “This is perfect.” For the first time in years, she realized she hadn’t considered they were looking at her. The freak. She sucked in a breath and ducked her head. Erika drew attention because of her beauty. Brittany drew attention as well. Like a curiosity in Ripley’s Believe it or Not.

  “Actually…” Erika stood to accept a carryout bag from the waiter. “I’d like us to go back to my room. Easier to talk there.”

  Brittany didn’t care if Erika noticed her relief. “Sounds good.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Erika removed their breakfasts from the bags and set the food on the small table between the parlor chairs. “I got us omelets, whole wheat toast, and fruit cups. Help yourself to a cup of coffee.” She handed Brit a set of silverware wrapped in a linen napkin.

  “Thanks for getting all this.” Brit put a pod in the coffee maker and turned to lean back against the counter. “And thank you for rescuing me from the crowds.”

  Erika smiled and held her gaze. “No thanks necessary. I wanted a quieter, more private, place to talk.” She swallowed a bite of omelet, hoping to still her quivering hand. She’d chastised herself for her behavior while a member of the clique in high school, but she’d never tried to analyze it fully. She took the cup of coffee Brit offered and forced herself to do it now. Brit deserved it. “Let’s eat while it’s still hot. I need to try to explain my awful behavior so many years ago.” She sipped her coffee and then dove in.

  “Jill was the popular girl in school. She was the one we all wanted to be like. She was pretty, a cheerleader, popular with the boys, and instinctively took over the leader position. I didn’t see her sadistic side until she and a few girls created a group. They started hanging out together in the cafeteria. Then, with Jill in the lead, they began to roam the hallways and harass girls at their lockers. It was a nasty form of entertainment for them.” Erika shook her head and took a couple of bites of her breakfast before continuing. “I watched them grow stronger, membership to their little group coveted by lots of girls. Anyone who wasn’t accepted by their group feared their wrath. I was scared to death of them yet craved their approval. My greatest fear was not belonging, and I never would have if it weren’t for my looks. I was pretty, so they accepted me.”

  She swallowed some coffee to quell the tightness in her chest. “I went along with their mean antics and suppressed my disdain. I was so happy to be included, I never gave any thought to our victims. When you returned to school after your accident, you became the perfect prey to bolster their sense of worth.

  “Jill discovered I was in modeling school just before you returned. I think she perceived me as a threat, and I was certain she was going to kick me out of the group. It was a double-edged sword, I suppose. She feared I’d push her out and take over as leader of her group, or if she got rid of me, I’d start my own and people would want to hang out with me instead. She had no idea that I couldn’t survive without her approval.” Erika looked at her half-eaten omelet. Her appetite had fled, replaced by what felt like a rock in her belly. She raised her eyes to meet Brit’s, begging for understanding. Or absolution? “That’s why I participated horrendously in your abuse. I’m so sorry, Brit. It was so wrong, and so awful. I don’t know what else I can say.”

  Brit looked thoughtful as she poked her fork at her eggs. “I remember Jill. I remember her being called the Queen Bee. I thought it was because she was the leader of the group that swarmed like bees through the hallways, stinging anything in their path. I can’t say I understand the mentality, but I guess I kind of get it. I needed to fit in and be accepted by my peers, too. I needed friends and the sense of security belonging brings, and I was devastated by your involvement with the clique. We were friends, and I cared deeply for you. I never expected to be betrayed by you.”

  Brit stood and made them each another cup of coffee. “When I think about it, I suppose you were a victim as well, in a way. You lived with the fear of losing your position in the popular girls’ gang if you didn’t go along with their bidding. You had to be the person your parents wanted you to be, and having a group of friends probably made them happy.” Brit handed her a full cup of coffee and settled in the chair next to her.

  “You know what I hate the most?” Erika took Brit’s hand in hers. “If it had been anyone besides you they’d chosen, I don’t think I would’ve been so upset. Hell, there were others aside from you, and I didn’t feel nearly as bad about them. I hate to admit I could’ve been a Jill. But, you know, I think she must’ve been in constant fear of losing whatever identity she had tied to that role, too.” She released Brit’s hand and let out a bitter laugh. “I suppose we were all casualties of being a teenager.”

  “Yeah. But we’re adults now, and I should probably go get your carriage ready for this afternoon.” Brit stood and set her empty coffee cup on the counter. “Thank you for your honesty. I appreciate it.”

  Erika watched Brit open the door and leave. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes to settle her stirred up emotions before beginning to prepare for the afternoon photos. She’d made her apologies, but why didn’t it feel like enough?

  * * *

  Brittany stood outside Erika’s room and took a deep, settling breath before heading home. Her intention to go to work early had melted under the heat of the emotions Erika’s words had created. She needed time to process them and search herself for forgiveness. She needed to figure out if she was blocking it or if she truly could never forgive. How much would it hurt for the rest of her life if she couldn’t? She had to find a way, or she’d carry the pain forever. A part of her had hoped her memory of the event was wrong and it had been someone other than Erika standing in the hallway taunting her. She checked the time, made herself a cup of tea, and settled in her rocker.

  The Amy she’d known as a kid had grown into Erika. A world-renowned model. She was rich and famous with a life utterly removed from the small town in which they’d grown up. She closed her eyes and drifted back to a summer afternoon, sitting in her room next to Amy drawing pictures and working on a puzzle. Their fingers had touched as they both reached for the same piece and the heat racing up her arm was an unfamiliar, yet pleasant, feeling. The kiss that followed was even more unfamiliar and even more pleasant. Did Erika remember the kiss? Had it meant anything to her? Brittany stood and rinsed her cup. It didn’t matter if she did. Those days were long gone, and she needed to focus on the present.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hi, George. How’re things at the stables?” Brittany found her carriage parked in its usual spot.

  “Hey, Brittany. Things are good here. Nothing new.” He leaned on the side of the carriage. “You doing okay? You look tired.”

  “I’m okay. I just didn’t sleep well.” Brittany checked the wheels on the carriage and grabbed one of the harnesses. “I’ll see you later.” She hitched the horses to the carriage and climbed onto the driver’s seat.

  She contemplated what to say to Erika as she waited for the group to arrive. She believed her regret was sincere, and maybe they could start over, although she couldn’t believe she’d have anything in common with a world famous fashion model. She hoped Erika would help her figure it out.

  “Ready to go?” Brittany watched Erika and her crew load their equipment and settle in the carriage.

  “I think we’re all set.” Erika sat in the seat she’d hoped she would. Directly behind her and close enough for them to talk.

  After she coaxed the horses into a slow walk to the destination of the day, she turned to Erika and smiled. “You look great.” Brittany knew little about fashion or fashion designers, but t
he flowing skirt and low-cut blouse fit Erika perfectly and accented her flawless figure.

  “Thanks. This is the first time I’ve worn this designer, and I love it.” Erika brushed her hand down a sleeve. She leaned forward and lowered her voice so only Brittany could hear. “Are you all right? I’ve been thinking about you since you left this morning.”

  Brittany took a moment to consider her response. “I’m all right. I just need some time to process what you told me. I’ve been in therapy off and on since the accident, so I’ve got a pretty good handle on my PTSD. I’m comfortable living here, I work and I’m mostly happy, but I was certain I’d never see you again, so it was a shock when you showed up.”

  “Nobody knows how fate works. Why me? Why this magazine? Why here and now? All I know is I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I had an opportunity to try to make amends.” Erika was interrupted by her photographer demanding her attention.

  Brittany guided the carriage to the side of the road and watched the group work. They’d become quite proficient at climbing in and out of the carriage with their gear and setting up the scene they wanted. Erika looked relaxed, elegant, and at ease in her element. One Brittany couldn’t imagine, or desire. Their connection as kids in a small town, on the floor of her bedroom drawing pictures seemed a lifetime ago. She’d grown and changed since those years, just as Erika had. Pushing aside the memory of their one and only kiss, however, she found impossible.

  * * *

  Brittany parked the carriage securely and fed and watered the horses before she grabbed a brush and headed to one of the Percheron’s stalls. “Hey, Buddy.” She called softly so as not to startle him before she touched his back. “May I brush you a bit tonight?” She wrapped her arms around his massive neck. He turned his head to rest it over her shoulder as if he recognized her need for comfort. She pushed her cheek against his warm neck, and tears welled as she realized it’d been years since she’d sought comfort from his gentle presence. “One of the girls who tormented me in high school is here. I don’t understand. She was my friend. We grew up in the same neighborhood. She apologized, and I believe she’s genuinely sorry, but I still feel so angry and hurt. I don’t know if I can forgive, but I know I want to.” Buddy nickered but didn’t pull away. “Okay, boy.” She let go, stepped to his side, and combed his flowing mane and brushed his coat until it glistened. The methodical work helped calm her stormy thoughts, and she finished feeling better than when she started. “Thanks for the company, old friend. Sleep tight.” She returned the brush to the tack room and headed home.