A Little Secret between Friends. C.J. Carmichael

he figured the answer out on his own. “That must really hurt.”

      “It’s not the worst part,” she assured him, then smiled at his grimace.

      It was peaceful riding in the car with Colin, which was strange. She wasn’t used to being in his vicinity without a good argument brewing between them. Usually legal in nature, but sometimes political or economic. In truth, their world views weren’t that different, but from the first time they’d butted heads in law school, they’d seemed to take pleasure in picking fights with each other.

      Back at her house, Colin surprised her by producing a key to her front door, then helping her inside. When she looked at him questioningly, he said, “It’s Beth’s.” He started to work it off the chain, but she stopped him.

      “Keep it. If I ever lock myself out, I’ll be glad you have the spare.”

      Trailing her hand along the hallway wall, to keep herself steady, Sally headed for the laundry room. As soon as she opened the door, Armani tumbled out, barking excitedly.

      “I’ll take care of him. You should get some rest.” Colin crouched beside the puppy. “I’ll bet you need to go outside, don’t you, fella?”

      “Thank you, Colin.” Sally couldn’t wait to get off her feet. It was almost midnight now and all she wanted was sleep. In the hospital Colin had told her he would stay the night to keep an eye on her. Otherwise, the doctor would have insisted on admitting her.

      Sally tossed her bloodied clothing into the hamper and put on flannel pajamas. She managed to brush her teeth then, with relief, crawled under the covers.

      Within a minute, she heard Armani and Colin return to the house. There were some noises in the laundry room. She presumed Colin was making sure the puppy had food and water for the night.

      Then Colin came to her room. She’d left the door open, but he stood out in the hall.

      “Are you okay?”

      “Fine.” The painkillers were blessedly effective.

      “How long were you there? Lying on the floor before I got here.”

      “I’m not sure. Lucky for me you showed up when you did.” Then she realized how strange that was. Colin never dropped by, and certainly wouldn’t do so without phoning first. “How was it you came for a visit tonight, anyway?”

      Colin looked surprised. “Don’t you remember phoning?” He disappeared down the hall, returning a few minutes later with her cell phone. He’d wiped off the blood and now he pressed a button to show her the last number dialed.

      She vaguely recalled fumbling with her cell phone, then dropping it. “I must have hit one of the speed-dial buttons.”

      “When I answered you asked for Beth.”

      “Oh.” Now that he said that, she recalled thinking of her friend in those first painful and confusing moments. Beth had always been the person she turned to during an emergency.

      But how awful for him, to get a call like that. “I’m sorry, Colin. I guess it must have been instinct or something. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

      “That’s okay.” He disappeared down the hall, then came back with painkillers and a glass of water.

      “You make a good nurse,” she told him, and immediately regretted the words. Beth had died at home and that last month had been hard. There’d been professional home care, but both Colin and Sally had helped. Then, the last two weeks they’d taken turns so Beth would never be alone.

      He’d made a good nurse then, too.

      “I keep saying the wrong thing.” Was it her injury? Or just being around Colin? He’d always brought out the worst in her. In law school she’d been compelled to prove him wrong at every opportunity. And when they occasionally found themselves on opposite sides of the same courtroom, sparks were sure to fly. They were so combustible they’d earned a reputation with their colleagues.

      But there’d been no hint of an argument between them tonight.

      “That’s okay, Sally. But it was hell seeing her suffer, wasn’t it?”

      Colin collapsed into the chair across from her bed with a weariness that seemed more of the heart than the body. For the first time it struck Sally as strange that they’d never talked about this before. They’d both supported Beth through every stage of her cancer from the day she’d found the lump, to the day she’d finally died. Two years of their lives, and yet never had she and Colin shared what they were going through.

      And since the funeral, they hadn’t spoken at all.

      Even now, she spoke hesitantly. “This may sound trite, but she was such a genuinely good person. I’d known her since she was a schoolgirl and I never saw her do anything mean to anyone.”

      “Her students loved her. She got letters from all her second-graders. Those were the letters I found hardest to read after…after she was gone.”

      “She loved those kids so much.” Beth had been a natural with children. That she’d never managed to have one of her own had been her biggest regret. “And she was always so good to Lara.”

      “What do you miss the most?” Colin asked.

      “That’s a tough one.” There were so many things. The annual holiday they took back to the lake in Saskatchewan where they’d gone to camp when they’d been kids. Their movie dates, where they alternately laughed and cried through the chick-flicks the men in their lives refused to see. The times they’d shared a bottle of wine and just talked.

      “You know, I think I missed her the most on my birthday.” For the first time in Sally’s life, the day had passed unremarked by anyone. Her parents were gone, she had no husband, and Lara, with her father that weekend, had forgotten to phone. “Beth always took me out for lunch on my birthday.”

      “I remember.”

      Sally shifted into a sitting position. The pain in her head had settled into a moderate throbbing. Her hand, treated with cream and wrapped in a bandage, no longer burned. “What about you? What do you miss most?”

      “Her smile, I guess. Or maybe the way she always worried her eyebrows when she was concentrating.”

      Sally gave a snort. “That was so annoying.”

      “I know. But sort of cute, too. How about that yellow blouse she wore every Easter?”

      “With the embroidered Easter eggs? God, that was so tacky.”

      “She wore it because the kids loved the colors. Remember how she used to play Neil Diamond when she was in an especially good mood?”

      Sally sang the first couple of lines of “Sweet Caroline,” with Colin joining in partway through. Eventually they forgot the words and, after they’d both given up on the song, their glances caught and held. Sally felt as if her own grief was being mirrored right back at her.

      He really loved Beth, Sally thought. Not that she’d ever doubted it. She’d known her best friend had a great marriage. But he’d really loved her.

      “Speaking selfishly,” Colin said, picking up the thread of conversation, “I’d have to say I miss her companionship when I come home from work—not to mention her cooking. She knew all my favorites.”

      “And what would those be?”

      “Anything with a tomato sauce. Pizza. Lasagna. She made the best chicken cacciatore.”

      “Same things we ate when we were university roommates.” Beth had done most of the cooking then, too, Sally recalled. “So what do you eat for your dinners now?” she asked Colin. “Takeout?”

      “No. I boil things. Microwave things. Grill things. I just can’t cook anything.”

      “So by cooking, you mean combining more than