Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs Parrish

Lynnes Dedication:

For Lynn, the other bookend, for reasons too numerous to mention

Valeries Dedication:

For Colin, you make it all possible

Amber Patterson was tired of being invisible. Shed been coming to this gym every day for three monthsthree long months of watching these women of leisure working at the only thing they cared about. They were so self-absorbed; she would have bet her last dollar that not one of them would recognize her on the street even though she was five feet away from them every single day. She was a fixture to themunimportant, not worthy of being noticed. But she didnt carenot about any of them. There was one reason and one reason alone that she dragged herself here every day, to this machine, at the precise stroke of eight.

She was sick to death of the routineday after day, working her ass off, waiting for the moment to make her move. From the corner of her eye, she saw the signature gold Nikes step onto the machine next to her. Amber straightened her shoulders and pretended to be immersed in the magazine strategically placed on the rack of her own machine. She turned and gave the exquisite blond woman a shy smile, which garnered a polite nod in her direction. Amber reached for her water bottle, deliberately moving her foot to the edge of the machine, and slipped, knocking the magazine to the floor, where it landed beneath the pedal of her neighbors equipment.

Oh my gosh, Im so sorry, she said, reddening.

Before she could step off, the woman stopped her pedaling and retrieved it for her. Amber watched the womans brow knit together.

Youre reading is magazine? the woman said, handing it back to her.

Yes, its the Cystic Fibrosis Trusts magazine. Comes out twice a year. Do you know it?

I do, yes. Are you in the medical field? the woman asked.

Amber cast her eyes to the floor, then back at the woman. No, Im not. My younger sister had CF. She let the words sit in the space between them.

Im sorry. That was rude of me. Its none of my business, the woman said, and stepped back onto the elliptical.

Amber shook her head. No, its okay. Do you know someone with cystic fibrosis?

There was pain in the womans eyes as she stared back at Amber. My sister. I lost her twenty years ago.

Im so sorry. How old was she?

Only sixteen. We were two years apart.

Charlene was just fourteen. Slowing her pace, Amber wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. It took a lot of acting skills to cry about a sister who never existed. The three sisters she did have were alive and well, although she hadnt spoken to them for two years.

The womans machine ground to a halt. Are you okay? she asked.

Amber sniffed and shrugged. Its still so hard, even after all these years.

The woman gave her a long look, as if trying to make a decision, then extended her hand.

Im Daphne Parrish. What do you say we get out of here and have a nice chat over a cup of coffee?

Are you sure? I dont want to interrupt your workout.

Daphne nodded. Yes, Id really like to talk with you.

Amber gave her what she hoped looked like a grateful smile and stepped down. That sounds great. Taking her hand, she said, Im Amber Patterson. Pleasure to meet you.

* * *

Later that evening Amber lay in a bubble bath, sipping a glass of merlot and staring at the photo in Entrepreneur magazine. Smiling, she put it down, closed her eyes, and rested her head on the edge of the tub. She was feeling very satisfied about how well things had gone that day. Shed been prepared for it to drag out even longer, but Daphne made it easy for her. After they dispensed with the small talk over coffee, theyd gotten down to the real reason shed elicited Daphnes interest.

Its impossible for someone who hasnt experienced CF to understand, Daphne said, her blue eyes alive with passion. Julie was never a burden to me, but in high school my friends were always pushing me to leave her behind, not let her tag along. They didnt understand that I never knew when shed be hospitalized or if shed even make it out again. Every moment was precious.

Amber leaned forward and did her best to look interested while she calculated the total worth of the diamonds on Daphnes ears, the tennis bracelet on her wrist, and the huge diamond on her tanned and perfectly manicured finger. She must have had at least a hundred grand walking around on her size-four body, and all she could do was whine about her sad childhood. Amber suppressed a yawn and gave Daphne a tight smile.

I know. I used to stay home from school to be with my sister so that my mom could go to work. She almost lost her job from taking so much time off, and the last thing we could afford was for her to lose our health insurance. She was pleased with how easily the lie came to her lips.

Oh, thats terrible, Daphne clucked. Thats another reason my foundation is so important to me. We provide financial assistance to families who arent able to afford the care they need. Its been a big part of the mission of Julies Smile for as long as I can remember.

Amber feigned shock. Julies Smile is your foundation? Its the same Julie? I know all about Julies Smile, been reading about all you do for years. Im so in awe.

Daphne nodded. I started it right after grad school. In fact, my husband was my first benefactor. Here shed smiled, perhaps a bit embarrassed. Thats how we met.

Arent you preparing for a big fund-raiser right now?

As a matter of fact we are. Its a few months away, but still lots to do. Say... oh, never mind.

No, what? Amber pressed.

Well, I was just going to see if maybe youd like to help. It would be nice to have someone who understands

Id love to help in any way, Amber interrupted. I dont make a lot of money, but I definitely have time to donate. What youre doing is so important. When I think of the difference it makes She bit her lip and blinked back tears.

Daphne smiled. Wonderful. She pulled out a card engraved with her name and address. Here you are. Committee is meeting at my house Thursday morning at ten. Can you make it?

Amber had given her a wide smile, still trying to look as though the disease was first in her mind. I wouldnt miss it.

The rocking rhythm of the Saturday train from Bishops Harbor to New York lulled Amber into a soothing reverie far removed from the rigid discipline of her workday week. She sat by the window, resting her head against the seat back, occasionally opening her eyes to glance at the passing scenery. She thought back to the first time shed ridden on a train, when she was seven years old. It was July in Missourithe hottest, muggiest month of the summerand the trains air-conditioning had been on the blink. She could still picture her mother sitting across from her in a long-sleeved black dress, unsmiling, back erect, her knees squeezed together primly. Her light brown hair had been pulled back in its customary bun, but she had worn a pair of earringssmall pearl studs that she saved for special occasions. And Amber supposed the funeral of her mothers mother counted as a special occasion.

When theyd gotten off the train at the grubby station in Warrensburg, the air outside was even more suffocating than the inside of the train had been. Uncle Frank, her mothers brother, had been there to meet them, and they piled uncomfortably into his battered blue pickup truck. The smell is what she remembered mosta mixture of sweat and dirt and dampand the cracked leather of the seat digging into her skin. They rode past endless fields of corn and small farmsteads with tired-looking wooden houses and yards filled with rusted machinery, old cars on cinder blocks, tires with no rims, and broken metal crates. It was even more depressing than where they lived, and Amber wished shed been left at home, like her sisters. Her mother said they were too young for a funeral, but Amber was old enough to pay her respects. Shed blocked out most of that horrendous weekend, but the one thing she would never forget was the appalling shabbiness surrounding herthe drab living room of her grandparents home, all browns and rusty yellows; her grandfathers stubby growth of beard as he sat in his overstuffed recliner, stern and dour in a worn undershirt and stained khaki pants. She saw the origin of her mothers cheerless demeanor and poverty of imagination. It was then, at that tender age, that the dream of something different and better was born in Amber.