Chapter Six

Peyton

"Girls, I can't tell you what this means to me." Sheri held out her hands, one to me and one to Emmy, as she gazed fondly at Delilah who stood a little apart. "You really will never know. If this weekend is my last hoorah—which it very well might be—I'm so grateful that I got to spend it with you."

Guilt swam up over me, and not for the first time today. Sheri was sincere that her dying wish had been to have this weekend with us, her friends from high school, and yet I realized that over the past thirty-five years, I really hadn't given her much thought.

To be honest, I hadn't thought of many of my friends in that time. In my defense, I'd been pretty busy with pregnancy, having a baby, and then raising that baby on my own. But I also knew that I'd deliberately turned my back on anything that reminded me of the Cove and brought back the pain that was associated with my abrupt departure.

" . . . do you remember that, Peyton?"

"What?" I blinked at Emmy. "I'm sorry. I guess . . . I spaced out a little."

"That's okay. I space out all the time," Delilah chuckled, touched my hand where it lay on the arm of the chair. We'd gathered here in Sheri's room because she'd declared that she wanted some privacy for us all to talk, but I suspected that she also felt better in her own space, with her medications, blankets and pillows lying nearby.

Sheri didn't look good. I knew that was a stupid thing to think, but I supposed that deep down, I had half-expected her to be sick, but not this close to the end. But Sheri was beyond thin, and her perky blonde hair was a wig. Dark shadows were smudged under her eyes. I'd noticed several times already this morning that she'd nodded off now and then during our conversation.

But she was genuinely happy to be here with us, her smile wide as she looked at me, waiting for me to respond.

"We were talking about that time in middle school at Sheri's birthday party. Remember?" Delilah grinned. "We went out into her garage to look for—God, I can't remember what we were looking for, maybe a game or something? And we found that old globe that was broken in half, and someone had the bright idea to stick up under our nightshirts?—"

"—and we all took turns walking around, holding our backs, pretending that we were nine months pregnant!" Sheri finished. "I took pictures, and you all got mad at me for bringing them to school after."

"Oh, we weren't really mad, were we?" Those memories were so faint that they were almost lost to me. "We probably just didn't want anyone to see them and make fun of us."

"Maybe." Emmy waved one hand.

"I was mad. No doubt about it. I was already so insecure about my weight I thought those pictures made me look like a whale. I was good and pissed off when you brought those pictures to school." Delilah side-eyed all of us.

Rolling her eyes, Emmy continued, "No matter what pissy Delilah says, it was funny at the time." She sighed. "I used to laugh so hard with you three. I miss that."

"Me, too. I've missed you all over these years." Sheri reached for her water bottle. "Peyton, I was so sad that you left the Cove—and that you weren't with us for graduation. I couldn't imagine what had happened to keep you from being there."

Earlier today, I had briefly sketched out for the girls what had happened at the end of senior year. I hadn't gone into detail as I had with Nash, but I'd confessed to being pregnant and leaving town with Ryan and his parents.

"Well, pretending to be pregnant might have been funny in seventh grade, but getting knocked up for real as a senior was damn scary." I shifted on the ottoman, folding one leg beneath me. "I mean, I love my daughter. I couldn't be prouder of who she is, and I can't imagine my life without her in it. But when I think back on how trapped and alone I felt in May of 1989 . . ." I shuddered. "I guess I was sad to miss graduation, but honestly, it was hardly even a blip on my radar at the time."

"I'm sure. You weren't the only one to miss graduation…" Delilah trailed off, then shook her head and closed her eyes. I hadn't really thought about the memories she might have about those days, about how her boyfriend Matt Rawley disappeared before prom when Crystal Cove and the entire world found out his real identity, the son of a duke.

I started to change the subject, then Delilah leaned forward and tapped my hand. "You know, I remembered something this morning that I hadn't thought of in years. On graduation day, Nash Sampson stopped me in the hallway to ask where you were, Peyton. I think at the time, I was kind of surprised by his question, because you know, it was so crazy that day and I obviously wasn't really focused because of… things. I don't really know what I told him—I think I did say that I'd talked to Ryan's neighbor, who had told me that the Harveys had packed up and left early that morning." She swiveled to look at Emmy and Sheri. "Do you remember Nash? He was a real brain, and he was kind of quiet, too—but he and Peyton hung out sometimes."

"We were friends," I said quietly. "He was extraordinarily kind to me."

"I saw Nash yesterday," Sheri put in. "Last night, I was having second thoughts about being here—about everyone in the class pitying me—and I ran into Nash just outside the lobby. He was very sweet, ended up walking in with me so I didn't have to brave it alone."

"It's so funny," Emmy mused. "Back in high school, we were all about the popular guys, the football players, the surfers . . . but when I think about someone like Nash, it makes me wonder how many really great people we missed out on."

Sheri tilted her head. "Says the woman who married the big-time surfing champ and is now shacking up with the baseball star."

Emmy threw back her head and laughed. "Well, Cooper wasn't a baseball star when we started hooking up. I honestly don't even think of him that way. But I do think guys like Nash got overlooked when we were in high school. That's my point."

"Hmmm." Delilah slid me a speculative glance. "I think someone isn't overlooking Nash Sampson these days."

I arched one eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that this morning, when I was in the lobby, I just happened to glance out the window and see you with Nash, strolling back from the beach. At least, that's where I assumed you'd been. And the two of you seemed pretty chummy!"

"We just happened to run into each other down there." I shrugged. "No big deal. Like I said, we were friends back in the day. We were catching up this morning."

"Oh, really? Looked to me like Nash wanted to do more than that." Delilah waggled her brows. "But then, I'm pretty sure he had a crush on you back then. Maybe he still has one now."

This topic was making me uncomfortable. I'd just this morning won Nash's forgiveness for my actions thirty-five years ago. While I couldn't deny that the cute boy I'd liked so much had grown into a very attractive man, the idea of him still being interested in me after everything that had—and hadn't—gone down between us felt very unlikely.

"Hey." I forced a bright smile as I changed the subject. "What happened to that bottle of Prosecco that Emmy brought down here? Isn't it time to pop that baby open?"

Emmy chuckled. "Well, it's not quite noon yet, but if we mix it with OJ, we can call it a mimosa, and then we're all right."

"I'm game." Sheri sat up a little. "And while Emmy's opening the bubbly, I have a little surprise for you all." She leaned over to the bedside table and retrieved an ancient-looking white envelope. "I've been clearing things out lately—you know, I don't want my brother to have the job of going through all my things once I'm gone."

She spoke matter-of-factly, but nonetheless, a lump rose in my throat.

"And when I was sorting through an old box, look what I found!" She opened the envelope and held up a photograph. "I found the pics from my party—and as long as you all promise not to get mad at me all over again, I'll let you look at them."

"Oh, my God." Delilah jumped up to snatch one of the photos from Sheri's hand. "You were supposed to burn these, Sheri. But look at what babies we were. We were so young." She bit her lip as an expression somewhere between pain and nostalgia drifted over her face.

As we poured over the old pictures, Emmy passed around plastic hotel cups filled with orange juice and Prosecco.

"A toast." She lifted her cup, pausing to look at each of us in turn. "To friends—and to friendship that transcends time, space, life and death."

There was a moment of silence, and I wondered if we were thinking the same thing I was, seeing these fifty-something women as the girls we'd been once upon a time, remembering the bonds that had linked us together and that were still here, even after over three decades apart.

"To forever friendship." I lifted my cup, too. "To my friends."

Sheri and Delilah echoed the toast, and we all took healthy sips of our drinks. All of us except Delilah. I noticed her cut a glance at Emmy first and wait for our friend to give her a clipped nod before she took a sip. I knew Delilah was living back here in the Cove again, so I imagined she and Emmy were closer now.

I thought of my past, of the Cove, of my parents and my family . . . of every part of my history that I had spent thirty-five years pretending didn't matter to me. I'd cut off part of my very self and acted as though it no longer existed.

But here in the Cove, surrounded by the women who had been such an integral part of my past, I knew that I could no longer go on denying that I'd missed this. Something deep within me shifted imperceptibly and yet dramatically . . . and no matter what happened next, I was never going to be the same.