One Thing I Know

by Kara Isaac

  Lucas ran a hand across the three days of growth. A shower he had managed, but a shave required more effort than he possessed.

  “Don’t even think about it.” His brother took a sip of his brew.

  “What?”

  “You’d look horrible with a beard.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’d look like Brad Pitt in Seven Years in Tibet, but even more manly.”

  “Let me know how that works out for you.” Scott lifted his World’s Bestest Uncle mug back to his lips and slurped.

  Lucas tipped back and eyed the congealed food on the dishes littering almost every surface. Including a half-eaten bowl of cereal, which he couldn’t even remember starting. Gross.

  “So.” Scott placed his mug down.

  “So.” Lucas walked to the counter and dumped the bowl into the sink, turning on the tap and letting the stream wash away gluggy rice crispies and semi-fermented milk.

  “What happened?”

  “I’ve been offered a job by Brad Shipman.” He almost did a double take at his own words. That had not been what he was planning to say.

  Scott’s brow wrinkled. “Should I know who that is?”

  Lucas shrugged. “No, but he’s a bit of a big deal in radio land.”

  “What’s the job?” Scott tipped back so he was balancing on two chair legs.

  “A show in LA.”

  The front two legs of Scott’s chair landed back on the floor with a thud. “Wow.” His brother kept his face in neutral. “So what are you thinking?”

  “It’s complicated. I mean it’s a great opportunity, but it would mean leaving you guys and . . .” He trailed off, something stopping him before he told his brother about what else it would require.

  Scott’s gaze probed his face and he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

  “What? So what do you think?”

  Scott leaned forward. “Well, of course we would miss you a lot, but you have to decide what is the right thing for you.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  His brother pushed his chair back. “Good, I didn’t want to. This is one thing you have to decide for yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  His brother gestured around them. “So now how about you tell me what’s really going on. I’m assuming something went wrong with Rachel.”

  He was sure the taste in his mouth was mighty similar to the curdled milk he’d just poured away. “She was a fraud.”

  “Rachel?”

  He nodded. Unable to even say her name.

  “What happened?”

  He stacked the bowl on the counter and emptied two glasses of water down the drain. A bitter laugh left his lips. “I told her I was crazy about her. That I wanted a chance at something with her. And in return—” Ripping open the dishwasher door, he tipped the two glasses into the rack. “In return, she told me she and Donna are just a couple of cons.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  Lucas turned, leaned against the cupboard, and ran his hand through his still damp hair. “Well, big bro, turns out that Dr. Donna isn’t Dr. Donna, she’s just a front. Rachel is the one who writes the books.”

  Scott’s face creased for a few seconds while he processed this. “So Rachel writes the books, but everyone thinks Donna does because she’s the one who does all the talk shows and stuff.”

  “Well, that and they’re in her name.”

  “Gotcha.” Scott leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his neck, looking completely unperturbed.

  “ ‘Gotcha’? I tell you that America’s number one relationship coach is a complete and total double-life-living fraud and all you’ve got to say is ‘gotcha’?”

  “Nope. Unless I missed something, you just told me that Dr. Donna has a ghostwriter. And I may be just a small-time farmer from Wisconsin, but I’m pretty sure none of those Duck Dynasty people wrote their own books. The second thing I have to say is, why does this result in you going into hibernation, eating junk food and pouting like a three-year-old?”

  How could his brother, of all people, not get it? “Because I made an idiot of myself. I told this woman I loved her and it turns out she’s been taking me for a ride. Rachel even called in to my show pretending to be Donna. Playing everyone for fools. Just like . . .” His words trailed off.

  “Just like Dad.” Scott said the words with understanding, but not with agreement.

  “Your words, not mine.” Lucas busied himself stacking the dishwasher.

  “Did you give her a chance to explain herself? Why she did it?”

  “Her father was drunk, got hit by a car, brain damaged. She did it to pay for his care.”

  “Oh. So she’s nothing like Dad, then.”

  “What?”

  “Seriously, Luc. The two are nothing alike. Our father cheated on Mom, had a second family, emptied the bank accounts, and then took off, leaving Mom to raise us on the poverty line.”

  “But—”

  “Not finished.” Scott held up a roughened hand. “Meanwhile, Rachel lives a lie in order to pay for the care for a guy who doesn’t sound like he was exactly the world’s best dad to start with. Yeah, sounds like the two of them are real alike.”

  “You don’t get it.”

  “What? I wasn’t there too when Dad walked out? I didn’t quit school before graduation so Mom didn’t have to get a third job to put food on the table?” Scott pushed back his chair. “Seriously, Luc, I love you, but sometimes you need to get over yourself. Give me a call when you’re ready to behave like a grown-up.”

  He slammed the door on the way out. Like he hadn’t been the one to barge in uninvited in the first place.

  Lucas went to pick up the laundry he’d brought downstairs. The holey gray sweatpants collapsed like a pile of cobwebs in his hands. Nope, nothing could save these babies. Time to go. He opened the kitchen cupboard and stuffed them in the trash.

  Needed to get over himself? Whatever. Just because Scott was a big softy who cried watching Terminator 2.

  He did have to get out of his funk, though. He’d been played. No point sitting around feeling sorry for himself like the Packers had lost the Super Bowl.

  Grabbing his phone off the countertop, he plugged it into the charger. He hadn’t even realized it had gone flat at some point in his self-imposed sulkathon.

  The screen tumbled and then lit up with a list of missed calls. Lacey, Lacey, Donna, Brad, Brad, Rachel, Scott, Brad, Ethan, Rachel, Brad, Brad. His stomach clenched. What was he going to do?

  He hadn’t spoken to any of them. The only communication he’d had was a text message to Donna to say he was out of all of it. The tour. The book. He didn’t even know if the shows had gone on without him or if they’d conjured up a reason to cancel them.

  He might not ever want to see Rachel again, but did he hate her enough to destroy her? And Donna?

  He tried to pace, but his socks stuck to the linoleum, issuing up a slurping sound as they unpeeled with every hobbled step he took. The money. The dream. Living in LA. Actually, that didn’t really appeal at all. He’d have to see if he could negotiate to stay in Madison, at least until they knew if the show was going to get wings or flop.

  But then there was Brad. Urgh. Did he really want to be beholden to someone who made his skin crawl? And that was presumably him at his most charming.

  But syndication. The opportunity to reach hundreds of thousands more people. To be something a little different. He had enjoyed himself on tour. Even if he hadn’t exactly enthusiastically signed up for it.

  Scott and Grace could pay off the loans they’d taken out over the ranch. Afford better, more cutting-edge, fertility treatment. Joey might finally get his little brother or sister.

  His phone flickered to life on the countertop, vibrating across the surface until it skated close to the edge. He didn’t even have to look at the screen to know who it was. It was a sign.

  The book deal was off the table. He didn’t owe Rachel or Donna anything. But he
owed it to Scott and Grace to do everything he could for them.

  “Hello.” He had to contort himself to get the phone to his ear.

  “Lucas! I was getting worried my favorite host had gone off reservation on me! What’s going on? I heard the last two Feelings and Football events were cancelled.” Brad’s attempt was jovial, but there was definitely an edge running underneath.

  “I just had something come up and needed to come back home. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Excellent, excellent.”

  Man, this was awkward; he was half kneeling, neck contorted. Lucas squinted at his battery bar—2 percent—nope, no chance he could take it off charge. He stabbed the speaker phone key and put it back on the counter.

  Deep breath, Lucas. You’re the one in the right. America deserves to know the truth. “So, I’ve—”

  “So how’s that cute little assistant? I saw that photo of the two of you online. I’m assuming all the secrets have come out now in your pillow talk. Or has there not been much talking?” Brad’s accompanying chuckle was pure poison.

  Lucas stood. Socks glued to the sticky floor. He did not just say that. He. Did. Not. Just. Say. That. “Excuse me?”

  “What was her name? Raquel? Rochelle?”

  “Rachel.” Lucas corrected Brad before he even thought about it.

  “Rachel! That’s it! Man, those were some killer legs. I bet between the sheets—”

  Lucas’s finger darted out and stabbed the loudspeaker off, bringing the room to blessed silence. He wanted to rip his ears off. Unwind the last minute and unhear every syllable out of Brad’s mouth. He felt violated just being in the same room as the guy’s voice.

  What was he thinking? How could he have possibly thought that anything would be worth having to work for this scumbag? And to hand over Rachel and Donna to be publicly crucified by him?

  He picked up his phone, threw it out his front door, then sank to the floor, folding his knees into his chest. God, forgive me. He had been so stupid. So blinded by chasing his dream and the money, he’d almost been prepared to sell out at any cost to get it.

  It took him a few seconds to realize he’d just made his first request to the Almighty since his mother died and he’d stopped asking God for anything.

  - 31 -

  Rachel had been to one funeral in her entire life. A depressing, dreary occasion that maybe fifty people attended and lasted less than an hour. She’d survived thanks to sedatives, while her father hadn’t even tried to hide the hip flask he’d taken regular slugs from.

  Cam’s funeral couldn’t have been more opposite. Hundreds of people. So many they’d had to set up an overflow hall. Everyone in bright colors, on order of Libby and Anna. The tributes alone went for almost two hours. And Anna somehow in the middle of it all, holding firm under more weight than Rachel thought it was possible for one person to bear.

  The whole thing had left her feeling disoriented. She’d steeled herself for heartbreak, but it was the undercurrent of hope that had left her floundering. The pastor talking about eternal life like he actually believed it.

  Rachel pushed her feet against Anna’s porch boards, using the leverage to rock the swing back and forth. Lifting her feet, she savored the breeze whooshing past her calves. She grasped her teacup and watched as the remnants of the tea inside swished around.

  Next to her, Lacey rocked in a chair. Hair pulled back in a tight bun, eyes with black shadows underneath. “Have you heard from Lucas?”

  “No. I doubt I ever will.” It had been four days. Lucas hadn’t returned any of her calls, which had gone straight to voicemail. Both of the final shows had had to be cancelled. Max was trying to hold the book deal option open just in case Lucas needed a few days to cool off, but she’d told him there was no point. She’d driven him away.

  You’re just like him. The accusation rolled through her head as if on repeat. Taunting her. There hadn’t been time to process the revelation during their scorched-earth-style battle, but now the words, and the storm of repulsion and contempt in his eyes as he said them, haunted her.

  But it would fade. She’d never been married to Lucas. Had a child with him. Unlike Anna, who now had to navigate the rest of her life without her husband. She’d had to buy another freezer to hold all the meals that had shown up. She and Libby would be eating lasagna for months. Yesterday, more worker ants from the church had shown up. Cleaned the house from top to bottom. Taken care of the yard and garden. Some teenage boy had told Anna he was going to mow her lawn every other week for the next year.

  It was almost enough to restore Rachel’s faith in humanity. It certainly didn’t look anything like the angry protesting, picketing Christians who popped up in the news with monotonous regularity.

  “Do you think it’s true, Lace?”

  “What’s that?” Lacey’s hands twitched. Like she didn’t know what to do with her fingers without her phone in them.

  Rachel shrugged. “God. Heaven. All of it.”

  Lacey considered the question for a long second. “No.” She said the word softly. “But I’m really glad that Anna does.”

  “Here you are.” Anna stepped out onto the porch. “Scoot over.” She yawned as she sat down. “Sorry. I’m exhausted.”

  Rachel shifted farther to the left and Anna settled in beside her. After a couple of seconds, she pushed her feet against the porch boards, keeping the swing rocking in perfect rhythm.

  “Gloss?” Anna offered her a small tube.

  “Thanks.” Rachel swiped some across her lips, then passed it back. “It was a beautiful service.”

  Anna closed her eyes and leaned back. “Pastor Dave did a great job. I know it must have been hard for him.”

  Hard for him? What about her? The woman who’d just had to bury her husband? Been left with a little girl to raise alone? “How do you do it?”

  “God.” That was it. No explanations, no preaching. Just one word.

  “Really?” Rachel couldn’t stop the skepticism that leached into her voice.

  “I get that may sound a little hokey to you, but the truth is that if it weren’t for Him, I wouldn’t be rocking in a porch swing with you, I’d be sedated. Or possibly in a psych ward somewhere.”

  “You really believe that?” Really? Now is a good time to grill someone about her spiritual beliefs? She’s just been made a widow at barely thirty. Let her find her comfort wherever works.

  Beside her Lacey just watched, silent.

  “I know it, Rach. Don’t get me wrong. Most of the time I can’t breathe, because it feels like I can’t shove the air past the shards of my heart. And I have a little girl who doesn’t have her daddy anymore.” A lone tear meandered down her cheek. “And I will probably never understand why God let him fall. Or not make him land any other way. But I know that when nothing makes sense and life is as hard as it’s ever been, God is even more present in the middle of all the brokenness. Because Jesus changes everything.”

  “I wish I could believe that.” For the first time in years it was true.

  Anna’s hand closed over hers. “Faith is a lot like love. It’s a big, scary leap that requires you to hold nothing back, throw yourself off the precipice and believe you’ll be caught.”

  “I tend to run away from precipices.”

  Anna yawned and settled her head on Rachel’s shoulder, her curls tickling the small space where her scarf didn’t quite cover her neck. “Is that what happened with Lucas?”

  Rachel mulled her answer. “Something like that.”

  “Can you fix it?”

  “I don’t think so. I . . . I kept something from him, something big, and I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for it.”

  “But you told him the truth?”

  “About that, yes.”

  “Did you tell him you love him?”

  “No.”

  “Well then . . .” It came out like a little sigh. “You should tell him the whole truth. You might be surprised.”

&nbs
p; “How can I, when he isn’t even returning—”

  A purr from Anna, followed by a snort. She’d fallen asleep.

  “My calls.”

  - 32 -

  “Hey.” A week later, Anna opened her front door and stepped aside. “Come on in.” Her damp hair trailed water patches across her shoulders and her T-shirt and sweatpants had clearly seen better days.

  “I bring supplies.” Rachel held up her grocery bag containing Anna’s favorite apple pie and ice cream.

  Anna peeked inside and smiled. “I love you.”

  Rachel stepped over the vestibule and found herself in a hallway lined with photos on both walls. She must have walked through it the day of the funeral, but it was all a blur.

  She paused and looked at a picture that must have been taken just after Libby was born. In it, Cam stared down at a beaming Anna, the only sign of Libby the tip of a tiny nose peeking above the swaddle of blankets.

  “What’s it like? To have someone love you that much?” The words just slipped out. “I’m sorry.”

  Anna laid a hand on her arm, fingers curling around her elbow. “It’s fine. I’d rather talk about him than have people not mention him, like they’re afraid I’ll fall apart if they acknowledge his existence.”

  Lifting the photo off the wall, Anna’s fingers danced lightly over the surface. “No matter what, I had eight years with a guy who made me happier than I knew was possible. Which is more than a lot of people ever have in a lifetime.”

  The parade of memories marching down the hall overwhelmed Rachel. What would it be like to have even a tenth of them?

  What did she have? Nothing. She’d betrayed the one guy she’d ever loved. And when she didn’t deliver a book in less than two months, she would have to return her half of their substantial advance. Eventually her father would have to be moved to another care facility. The magnitude of her failure threatened to overwhelm her.

  “ ’Achel!” Little arms wrapped around her knees and she shook off her melancholy to swing a pink-pajama-clad Libby into her arms.

  “Hey, angel. Whatcha doing?”