Wait for the Rain Read online

  ALSO BY MARIA MURNANE

  Perfect on Paper

  It’s a Waverly Life

  Honey on Your Mind

  Chocolate for Two

  Cassidy Lane

  Katwalk

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2015 Maria Murnane

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781477827413

  ISBN-10: 1477827412

  Cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014951898

  To Annie and Lynette

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “You awake yet, hon?” Carol asked in her perpetually cheerful voice.

  Daphne yawned into the phone. “Barely, but yes.”

  “Barely’s good enough for me, and it’s certainly good enough for the airline. Are you all packed?”

  Daphne glanced at her bulging suitcase in the hall. “Overpacked. It’s the curse of motherhood.”

  “But Emma isn’t going with you, right?”

  “No, she’s off to Utah with her dad. But I still packed way too much. I had to stop myself from tossing an iron in there. What is wrong with me?”

  Carol chuckled. “Well, I guess it’s better to be overprepared than the alternative, right? I’ll be over in just a few minutes to grab you.”

  Daphne glanced out the window into the pitch-black Columbus winter and wondered how anyone could be so peppy at such an ungodly early hour. “Okay, thanks, Carol. See you soon.” She hung up the phone and set it on the kitchen counter, then with another sleepy yawn opened the overhead cabinet. She reached for her favorite mug, the pink ceramic one Emma had made years earlier that said “I love you, MOMMY!” in wobbly blue lettering. It had been a Mother’s Day gift back when Emma was in third grade. The pink was a bit faded now, and the handle had a small chip that seemed to be growing, but Daphne treasured it like gold. Despite her daughter’s occasional groans of protest, especially those weekend mornings when she had a friend or two over—Mom, that’s so embarrassing!—Daphne still used it nearly every day. If and when it became necessary, she would fix the crack with superglue. Retiring the mug to the back of the cabinet, much less to a dusty box in the garage with other mementos from Emma’s early years, was simply not an option, at least for now. Daphne had never been one to hold on to possessions that had outlived their use, but when it came to her little girl’s things, that was a different story. Going on sixteen now, Emma was growing up so fast, and Daphne was determined to cling to what little remained of her childhood for as long as she could. She couldn’t yet bring herself to think about what her life was going to be about once Emma left for college. Just the idea of it was almost unbearable.

  Her eyes still not entirely open, Daphne poured herself a cup of steaming black French roast, extra strong, and glanced at the time on the coffeemaker: 5:17 a.m.

  She yawned again. It was much too early to be out of bed, much less on a day when she didn’t have to rouse a slumbering teenager before school. She stirred cream and sugar into the mug and wondered how cold it was outside. It was certainly dark out there, and they’d been saying it would probably snow again today, or maybe there’d be freezing rain, which in her opinion was the worst weather of all. As she sipped her coffee, her mind traveled back to the period of her life when rising before the sun was the norm, not the exception, back when feeding Emma in the early morning hours was as much a part of her day as packing Brian a sandwich to take to the office.

  Back when the house was rarely this quiet.

  Or still.

  Or . . . empty.

  It was all of those things now, at least when Emma was at Brian’s place. Or, as of last weekend, Brian and Alyssa’s place.

  Daphne stiffened at the thought. I can’t believe he’s really getting remarried.

  She looked around the tidy kitchen and dining area, a bit too orderly for a house with a teenager living in it, even though Emma was only there half the time. She closed her eyes. I can’t believe this is my life now.

  She felt a pang deep inside as a vision flashed before her, one of Emma decorating her spacious new bedroom at the house in tony Westerville that belonged to the woman who would soon be her stepmother. It was a spectacular, magazine-worthy structure, one of several high-end properties Alyssa’s family owned in the Columbus area. Daphne imagined her daughter giggling and gossiping with Alyssa as she unpacked, sharing her secrets and stories and crushes—things she never seemed to tell Daphne anymore. Daphne pictured the two of them chattering like classmates as they strolled arm in arm down the driveway of Emma’s new home. Of Brian’s new home. Of their new home.

  Daphne closed her eyes and willed her mind to erase the painful visual. She took a deep breath. Don’t torture yourself like this. You know you’re better off without him.

  She set down her coffee and glanced at Emma’s monthly calendar on the refrigerator, secured front and center with an OSU magnet. As usual, her daughter’s schedule was packed with volleyball practices and games, piano lessons, chorus rehearsals, study groups, and a smattering of birthday parties. Recent additions to the list were driver’s training and an SAT prep course. Daphne had not only typed up and color coded the schedule but memorized it, and she took great pride in making sure Emma never missed an activity or appointment.

  Daphne picked up the mug and made one last trip into her bedroom to confirm that she hadn’t forgotten anything essential, although given that she’d triple-checked everything on her list after packing her enormous suitcase last night, she knew the chances were slim if not zero. Then she stopped by Emma’s room to have a quick peek inside, something she often did when Emma was staying with Brian. She never entered the room, determined to give her daughter the privacy her own mother had never afforded her as a teenager, but she found it comforting to see Emma’s things there, even if she was currently elsewhere. As usual the room was relatively clean, the bed made, the pink-and-white-checkered comforter smoothed evenly over the twin bed. The white walls were sprinkled with posters of pop stars and award ribbons from various events and competitions. A cork bulletin board above her white wood desk was covered with smiling photos of her and her girlfriends, the matching white chair tucked neatly underneath. A thick blue binder lay atop the desk next to a small stack of textbooks. Her daughter had inherited Daphne’s knack for keeping things organized, something Daphne loved given how messy Brian was. It had been a daily battle just to get him to put his dirty clothes in the hamper, a battle Daphne had given up fighting years ago but had never been able to understand. How hard
is it to toss clothes into a hamper or hang up a wet towel? Besides, they’d had bigger problems in their marriage than laundry.

  On her way back into the kitchen she looked over at the empty oak table in the quiet dining room. Her imagination suddenly flashed to an image of breakfast time at Alyssa’s place, where she pictured Emma, Brian, and Alyssa conversing energetically over pancakes about their upcoming adventure. It was Emma’s spring break, and the three of them were headed to Park City to spend the week skiing, snowboarding, snowshoeing, sledding, and whatever else outdoorsy people do in the Utah mountains. Despite Emma’s grumbling about a week away from her friends, not to mention her electronic devices, Daphne knew she was looking forward to the trip. No doubt she, Brian, and Alyssa would have a fabulous time together.

  Just like a real family.

  Daphne flinched at the thought.

  In a few months it would be official. Alyssa would become the new Mrs. Brian White, assuming the title of Emma’s stepmother.

  Daphne felt another stab at the thought of Alyssa playing such a formal—and important—role in her daughter’s life, one Daphne had wanted so desperately to keep all to herself. She glanced at the clock again, then peered through the white plantation shutters. A moment later she spotted Carol, the unofficial matron of their tidy block, emerging from the two-story Colonial-style house across the street. Bundled up in a massive red ski jacket and shiny black rain boots over what looked like a white flannel nightgown, she carefully navigated her way through the swirling snow flurries.

  Daphne picked up the coffee and closed her eyes, again willing her anxiety to pass.

  Be happy for Brian.

  He’s not a bad person.

  Things will get better for you.

  Things have to get better.

  The divorce was now final, so it wasn’t like she could expect him to stay single forever, even though part of her secretly wanted him to. He’d been dating Alyssa for more than a year, but for Emma’s sake he had waited to move in with her until they were officially engaged, and Daphne had to give him credit for that. He was clearly trying hard to be an involved father now—much more than he had when Emma was younger. If he and Daphne didn’t share a daughter, she’d be free to cut ties with him, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option, emotionally or logistically. While no longer her husband, for better or for worse he was in her life for good.

  This is how things are now.

  She squeezed the pink mug tight, desperate to escape from the suffocating disappointment that her life wasn’t what she thought it would be at this age.

  She just wished she knew how to do that.

  How to be alone after being part of a couple for so many years.

  How to find herself again.

  How to start over.

  I could have had a career. Now I have just the shattered pieces of a family.

  She blinked a few times to shake the visions from her head. It was time to focus on the reason why she was up so early this dark winter morning.

  The birthday trip. I can’t believe I’m really going.

  Carol’s knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts. She rinsed out the mug and carefully placed it in the drying rack, then hurried to open the front door.

  Chapter Two

  “A week in St. Mirika sounds just heavenly, especially given how darned cold it is here right now,” Carol said as she carefully merged her SUV onto the freeway. It was snowing harder now.

  Daphne was having difficulty wrapping her head around the fact that she was actually doing this. In just a few hours she’d be setting foot on one of the most coveted island destinations in the Caribbean. Home to soaring palm trees, a sparkling green ocean, and sandy white beaches, St. Mirika truly resembled paradise—or so it appeared in the photos she’d seen. For months her travel companions and longtime friends KC and Skylar had been sending around links to websites showcasing the dazzling beauty of the island.

  She pressed a fist against her chin.

  What will it be like to see them again?

  They’d called themselves the Three Musketeers back in college, but it had been ages since the three of them had gotten together.

  Daphne had changed a lot since those days.

  I wonder what they’re going to think of me now.

  Carol didn’t seem to notice Daphne’s apprehension. “I’ve never been to the Caribbean, but I’ve heard it’s just stunning. Norman’s not much of a tropical vacation kind of guy. In fact, if it doesn’t involve attending an OSU football game, he’s not that interested in traveling.” She shook her head with a sigh. “I adore the man to the moon and back, but I will never understand his obsession with that football team.”

  Daphne smiled to herself at the thought of Carol’s equally good-natured husband, whose favorite activity in the world was lounging in his sacred leather recliner and watching his cherished Buckeyes take the field on his big-screen TV—if he wasn’t attending the actual game, of course. And Norman was hardly alone in his passion. After all these years Daphne was still amazed at the affection the Columbus area had for the Buckeyes of the Ohio State University, as the school was officially called. Sometimes she felt like the only person in town who hadn’t gone to school there. She saw Northwestern, her alma mater, as a university that had a football team. From what she could tell, OSU was a football team that had a university. On game days she still felt conspicuously out of place if she wasn’t dressed in red, even if all she was doing was buying groceries.

  “Where are you staying down there?” Carol asked.

  Daphne glanced out the window toward the horizon, which was still dark. The first glow of the sun wouldn’t appear for at least another hour. “I’m not exactly sure. Skylar’s in charge, and she said my only job is to get myself on a plane and meet her and KC at the airport bar.”

  “Sounds like the perfect vacation for you at the perfect time.” Carol knew about Brian’s recent engagement. “You do so much organizing for Emma as it is. It will be good for you to sit in the backseat and take it easy for a few days.”

  Daphne nodded softly. “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in charge, not to mention the last time I went to a bar, so it should be an interesting few days, that’s for sure.” Despite Daphne’s nervousness about the trip—her first as an unmarried woman in more than . . . fifteen years?—she was looking forward to seeing her old friends again. It had been so long since the three of them had gone on vacation together.

  Too long.

  Ten years in fact, when they’d spent a couple days in Chicago to “mourn” turning the Big Three O. They wore black all weekend and made silly jokes about being over the hill—while knowing very well their best years were ahead of them.

  And now, here they were once again, reuniting to celebrate their fortieth birthdays.

  Daphne tried to wrap her head around the vivid yet distant memory of the Chicago trip juxtaposed with the immediacy of the one she was about to embark on.

  Am I really about to turn forty years old? How did that happen?

  “Your friend Skylar sounds like she’s on top of things,” Carol said. “It’s nice having people in your life like that: go-getters who can take charge once in a while, so it’s not all on you.”

  Daphne nodded. “She’s a redhead, and she basically meets every stereotype that goes with it. Strong willed, intelligent, no-nonsense, testy if provoked, and fiercely loyal. You don’t want to mess with Skylar, but you definitely want to be friends with her.” Daphne paused. That’s how Skylar used to be, at least. Will she have changed as much as I have?

  Carol smiled. “She sounds like quite the firecracker. Where does she live?”

  Daphne frowned in thought. “She’s in New York now, although I’m not sure how much time she actually spends there. She’s in sales and has a lot of people working for her, so she’s constantly on the road.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen her in person.” How have so many years slipped by? I used to see Skylar every day. Every single day.

  Carol patted the steering wheel. “Sounds like an exciting life she has. I’ve barely been out of Ohio, although when I was in my early twenties, I did spend a glorious week frolicking around Miami with a handsome—and much older—Italian man.”

  Daphne quickly turned her head. “You did what?”

  Carol laughed. “It was years ago. Before I met Norman.”

  “How much older was he?”

  Carol pursed her lips. “I never asked, but let’s just say he was old enough to be my father. I knew it wouldn’t last, but everyone needs a bit of adventure now and then, right?”

  Daphne smiled wistfully and looked out the window again. “I guess so,” she said, while thinking, I used to be adventurous.

  Her mind began to wander again, traveling backward until it hovered over the last time she’d lived with Skylar. After graduation they’d both begun full-time jobs in Chicago, Skylar having landed a coveted spot in an executive training program at a software company, and Daphne working as an admin at a small travel magazine. Their entry-level positions were barely a notch above internships, but both young women excelled and were soon promoted—Skylar to sales associate, Daphne to fact checker. Thrilled with having taken their first official step on the corporate ladder, they’d celebrated by ditching their dingy futon and buying a real couch for the small yet cozy two-bedroom apartment they shared in Lincoln Park. In the following weeks they’d spent many nights sipping inexpensive wine on that purple velvet couch, laughing and dreaming about the spectacular careers they were about to embark upon.

  Both of them were young, eager, and intelligent. Their energy and optimism was palpable. The road ahead was boundless, and they couldn’t wait to make some footprints.

  Then one snowy evening in January, Daphne and Skylar were tucked in a corner of their favorite wine bar a few blocks from their apartment, enjoying a quiet conversation. Daphne heard the chime of the bell and looked up to see Brian walk through the door with two coworkers, the three of them in town from Columbus for a conference. Brian and Daphne only briefly made eye contact, but a few minutes later he walked over to her, introduced himself, and said, “I’m going to kiss you tonight.”