Chapter 2: Shattered Vows

When I opened the door, Rachel was crouched in the entryway, polishing my dress shoes.

It was a Tuesday night, and the smell of slow-cooked pot roast drifted down the hallway—she must have started it before work. Rachel always made sure my shoes were buffed before every meeting, even when I was just hustling to sell insurance out of a strip mall office.

She looked up when I came in, setting the shoes aside and automatically reaching to help me with mine. Her hands moved gently to my laces, but then her eyes caught on Emily and me—our hands locked together.

Rachel’s face drained of color, so pale it looked ghostly in the porch light. My heart thudded in my chest.

I started to worry again she might snap—maybe throw something, maybe worse.

She’d always been so calm, but grief can turn people into strangers. I half expected a vase or a shoe to come flying.

But instead, she tried to speak, her lips parting, but her voice cracked. Her hands clenched the shoes so hard her knuckles went white. Then, two silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

She swallowed hard, jaw tight, like she was holding back a scream.

Whew…

I let out a silent breath, the air in the entryway heavy and tense, like the sky before a tornado.

That look on her face triggered an old memory—after my second business went under and we lost everything, I tried to jump off a bridge. Rachel chased me down the street, and later, in a cramped rented room, I held her trembling hand. I’d told her, "Rachel, I won’t ever try that again—seeing you like this hurts worse than dying."

Her hand had shaken in mine, the November wind from the river biting through the window as we sat together, crying quietly.

“Rachel, I really didn’t want to disturb you…”

“But I’m pregnant, and Jason doesn’t feel comfortable letting me live alone…” Emily’s voice broke into my thoughts.

Coming back to myself, I gripped Emily’s hand, bypassed Rachel—I told myself I was doing the right thing, but even I didn’t buy it—and walked straight into the living room.

I didn’t look back.