3

Breakfast was nice with Henry and the rest of the guys and so was the party planning. Danny and Sully invited her along with them to round up as many of their friends as possible by seven o'clock that evening. Malcolm got his frat house to agree to supply an assortment of party flavors and Booth was having no trouble decorating the docks with a few of his friends.

The only one not having fun seemed to be Henry, but he was trying his hardest, Abby supposed. She saw him laugh and smile a few times after he finally got out of bed and was attacked by a mob of his college buddies, but for the most part, she could tell Trish Wellington was still to blame for his unhappiness. It was cruel of him to punish himself on his birthday for something she did. He didn't do anything wrong but that was the kind of person he was. Somehow, Abby would find a way to fix this. Maybe if she talked to Trish about it, since Henry was so adamant about not talking to her at all, they could figure some kind of resolution.

Even the thought was unlikely…

Around five that afternoon she snuck away from the group to hunt her down anyway. Everything seemed to be taken care of for the most part in terms of the party, so she didn't waste time telling anyone where she was going or what she would be doing. Especially not Henry. He would have sooner locked her away somewhere than let her go looking for Trish. Abby fully understood his reasons for not wanting anything to do with her right now, what Trish did to him was worse than hurtful, but there was no way she was going to let what happened between them ruin his birthday. She came here for one reason and that was to make sure Henry was happy.

Abby walked across campus to the co-ed buildings up the street from Sully and Henry's dorms. She recalled dropping by Trish's dorm one day in particular when Henry lost his cell phone and thought to search there first. Sure enough, he found it on the shelf above her bed where he'd left it the night before. Hopefully Trish could be found in the same place.

She took the elevator up to the fourth floor and prayed she could remember which door was hers, but unfortunately she had to ask a passing girl where she 'could find Trish Wellington'. On the bright side, the friendly W.S.U. student pointed her in the right direction and naturally she did a generous amount of thanking her.

Before she got there, she had to ask herself: what was she really doing here? What could she possibly say to Trish that would be of any help? All she knew was that she was both of their friends, or so Trish had once told her, so maybe they could just talk about it for now. She was trying her hardest not to pick sides (Henry…), but without mutual cooperation there was no way to ever peacefully get past this. She couldn't stand the thought of her best friend suffering because he lacked closure. It was his birthday, and Abby only had so many days here to make sure he was okay when she left.

Taking a deep breath to relax herself, Abby knocked a few times on the door. She heard a female's voice ask her to wait a second, but when the door opened up, it wasn't Trish standing in the doorway. It was Lucy Daramour, one of Trish's childhood friends who had followed her off to college. She was one of those people that smiled so brightly and talked so sweetly that it was nearly impossible to tell if her kindness was sincere or completely fake.

"Abby," the girl said, surprised. Abby forced a weak smile to be nice and Lucy returned a much stronger one. "What are you doing here? I didn't know you were coming."

"Hi. Lucy. It's good to see you again," she said, holding her smile.

Lucy nodded in agreement. "Oh, you must be here for Henry. His b-day's this weekend isn't it?"

"Today. Actually," Abby said. Lucy nodded, silently saying 'I knew it' with her eyes while stepping aside to allow Abby entrance. She politely stepped inside, not finding Trish or her roommate, Beth, anywhere. "Yeah. Listen, is Trish around? I was kind of hoping to talk to her."

She shook her head. "No. No, sorry. She left a little while ago. I have no idea where she went. She's been kind of blah since… well you must know." Abby nodded with understanding. "Yeah. This whole thing sucks. Henry's a nice guy and I think Hunter just has Trish a little confused right now."

Abby wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to what she was about to ask, but the question left her lips anyway. "I don't mean to pry but…" She hesitated. "How long has this been going on? I mean… did you know about it before this?"

Almost immediate guilt made Lucy frown, and as much as Abby wanted dearly to take the question back, she didn't. She waited. Listened. This was going to take patience.

Lucy noticeably swallowed. "I knew… for about three months. I'm so sorry. I know Henry's your friend, but Trish is mine and she needed someone to talk to about it. She really does love Henry."

"Then… what does she need another man for?" Abby didn't mean for it to come out as rude as it did, but she got snappy after the 'three months' thing. Her knowing wasn't even proof that it started at three months.

"I don't know, Abby. I wish I did. But it's like I said. She's confused. And for what it's worth, I sincerely hope they find a way to get past this. They deserve each other."

Abby didn't say anything and for a moment, the only sound in the room was coming from the flat screen on the wall where the evening news was playing on one of the local channels. There was a male news anchor on the screen, but when he introduced a different story, it switched to someone else.

Lucy turned and unintentionally got sucked into the report.

"News 4 WKFD reporting live outside Cargo, this is Cynthia Miller. Twenty-two year old Sarah Taylor left a friend's house late this afternoon to find her fiancé Navy Houston dead in his apartment complex." It switched over to the woman she was referring to, the fiancé of Houston, Abby assumed, and she frowned. She was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks.

"I don't understand," she cried. "He was fine. He was fine when I left… I was gone maybe thirty minutes…" She was shaking her head. "But when I got back…" The camera cut back to the reporter when the woman's cries grew worse.

Abby took a step forward, listening closely.

"Taylor arrived soon after leaving a friend's house, she says, to find Houston hanging from the ceiling fan. Now police aren't too clear on whether any foul play was involved but authorities are close to confirming that Houston has in fact committed suicide. I'm Cynthia Miller reporting live outside Cargo for News 4 WKFD. We'll keep you posted on the latest."

It panned to a wide-shot of her location and Lucy put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh my goodness, I know those apartments." She pointed. "They're a couple miles off campus. I wonder if he was a student here. That's so sad."

Still, Abby stared silently at the television as the male anchor from before came back on. Death… There was no way of escaping it. She tried running from it before, but no matter where she went, no matter what part of the world she was in, it always lingered. It waited for its next victim. Like it did with everyone no matter what.

Like it did with her mother four years ago on Harper's Island.