Somebody Like You by Beth K. Vogt Read Free Book Online Page A

on the couch, tucking her bare feet underneath her, perfectly manicured toes glinting a soft pink. “Question: Why can’t you have one decent conversation with this guy? And then be done with him?”
    “Sam didn’t want a relationship with him; why should I have one?”
    “One meeting.” Claire held up her index finger, the fingernail painted a matching pink. “Answer a few questions. That is not a relationship.”
    Haley motioned to where she’d had her latest standoff with Stephen Ames. “He wants to help me.”
    “As I heard—sorry, wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, even if I was peeking—you already declined his invitation to help you. Again, you’re not starting a relationship with the man.”
    Haley closed the bag of Doritos, the foil crinkling. “I—I can’t do it, Claire.”
    “What can’t you do?”
    “I can’t look at him.” Haley’s voice came out small. Hollow. She closed her eyes, locking the first swell of moisture behind her eyelids. “The army shipped Sam home in a casket—a closed casket. I got a folded flag. His medals. A coroner’s report that I’ve never read. The last time I saw Sam, he was alive—walking away from me, getting on a plane for Afghanistan. And now . . . it’s as if my husband is standing in front of me again. Breathing. Talking. But it’s not Sam.”
    Silence swallowed up her words.
    Haley stared straight ahead. “Nothing to say?”
    “What can I say to that, Haley?” Claire tried to blink away the tears in her eyes, but not before Haley realized she’d made her cry. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
    “And yet—” Haley stifled a groan.
    “What?”
    “I can’t help but wonder what God wants me to do.” She ran her fingers through her long hair, shoving it away from her face. “I hate that question sometimes. What would God want me to do? It makes me think of other people . . .”
    “The whole you’re-not-the-only-person-in-this-equation syndrome?”
    “Exactly.” Haley sat her soda on the varnished surface of the coffee table, which she’d edged with multicolored tiles, twisting to face Claire. “I didn’t sleep much last night. And I thought about what if . . . what if two of my brothers had somehow argued about . . . I don’t know what. Something. And then they didn’t talk to one another for years. I mean, I get that stuff like that happens. What about Jacob and Esau in the Bible?”
    “I hadn’t thought about it like that—”
    “You weren’t the one watching the clock last night. At least Jacob and Esau reconciled. But what if one of my brothers died without a chance for them to forgive each other . . .”
    “To talk.”
    “Yeah.” Haley stared into her friend’s eyes. “I’m one way for Stephen to connect with his brother.”
    “True.”
    “Do you have to agree with me?”
    “You usually like me to agree with you.”
    “About where we eat dinner. Or what movie we watch.” Haley leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her palm. “Am I going to do this?”
    “I think so.” Claire crossed the room and retrieved Stephen Ames’s business card from the breakfast bar. “You know how to reach him.”
    “Okay. One phone call. One meeting.” Haley stood. Chin up. Back straight. Shoulders stiff.
    “Exactly.”
    “To answer questions.”
    “Yes.”
    “I am not becoming Stephen Ames’s sister-in-law.”
    “Well, technically—”
    “I don’t think there’s anything technical or legal about this. He’s Sam’s brother. And that’s as far as it goes. I’ll answer his questions this one time. And after that, he can talk to his mother.”
    “But they’re not close, right?”
    “That’s not my problem.” Haley took the business card from her friend, rereading the name scripted in plain block letters. “I don’t have time to worry about Stephen R. Ames’s family problems.”

four

    T he pale winter sun failed to warm her as Haley shuffled through the handful of mail. Electric