Inevitably You

by Abby Brooks

  My time here at the farm with David and his family has been like a vacation from my life. Everything is so calm and ordered. Everything has a place and meaning. The Carmichaels work together to care for the animals and the crops, to supply local shops with fresh food, and to keep their family legacy growing. The work isn't easy, but they're happy to do it. I'm happy to do it. Even Claire seems better in the few weeks we've been here, her smile nearly constant and her sweet, tittering laughter coming easier and easier. I hadn't realized how turned off she's been until I've gotten to see her this alive.

  When we show up at the studio each night, stepping out of this life and into our old one, the transition jars me and one look at her face tells me she struggles with the same thing. Our old life—our real life—it’s cold and dark and small and scary compared to the warmth and light of living here with David. I never want this to end and that’s a lot of pressure to put on a relationship this new.

  "Those look like some mighty deep thoughts you're having." David smiles as he sits beside me. "Anything you want to talk about?"

  "I was just watching the two of you together and realizing how happy we are here." I applaud myself for my honesty even as I fight the panicked thoughts skittering through my head, reminding me there's a reason I don't always say the things I think.

  David leans back on his hands. "She's a good kid." He smiles towards her and then turns his gaze to me. There's something heavy behind his eyes again and it makes me hold my breath. "I didn't think I could be this happy with another person. Not after what I went through with my ex-wife."

  This is only the second time he's mentioned her and I sit very still, afraid to move and scare this part of the story away. "You never really talk about her," I say quietly.

  David stares out over the water. "With good reason.” He closes his eyes and lets out a breath before opening them again. ‘There's no use in dredging up that old stuff. It's over and done with and doesn't affect my day-to-day life at all anymore."

  I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. If I expect him to share himself with me, then I need to be willing to share myself with him. Even the hard parts. The stuff I don't like to admit.

  "Did I ever tell you how I ended up married to a man like Russell?"

  David sits up and brushes his hands on his shorts. "Nope. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been wondering."

  I suck in my lips and take a breath. "It's not my best moment, that's for sure. In a world full of strong and empowered women, it only proves just how weak I am. But it sure has taught me a lot about…well…everything."

  David shifts so he's facing me. "The best way to learn is through our bad decisions.”

  "I remind myself of that all the time. The decisions that led to Russell are chock full of learning opportunities." I pick a piece of grass off the blanket. "I’ve mostly had to face truths about my own self-worth. Russell was a friend of a friend in high school.”

  “He went to Brookside?”

  “No.” I shake my head, my eyes trained on his. “His sister took ballet with me. He was one of those kids who saw the worst in everything and I always thought I could help him see the world for how amazing it really is. We lost touch when I started getting serious about my ballet training and then we reconnected when I came home after the injury."

  I take a long breath and watch Claire as she crouches to play in the water, her blond hair glittering in the sun. "When we met up again, he was even worse than he was when we were young. So depressed and so upset, and when he asked me out on a date, I didn't have it in me to turn him down. I didn't want to be one more bad thing in his life, you know?"

  David bobs his head. "I can believe that you would feel that way."

  "So, I didn't want to go out with him but I did. And even though I wasn't attracted to him, I didn't turn him down when he made an advance." I smile weakly. "And then there was Claire."

  "So you married him to do the right thing."

  "I was kind of told I had to." I glance at him, preparing myself to tell this man the hardest, most painful of my truths. "When my family found out, they told me I had to marry him. You know, to be a good role model for the kids at the studio. I didn't love him. And I knew we weren't going to work out, but I did it anyway. I wasn't strong enough to stand up for myself, so I let everyone else make decisions for me. I dated him when I didn’t want to. I slept with him when I didn’t want to. I married him when I didn’t want to. All because I wanted to please everyone but myself." I run out of words and trail off, awaiting his judgment.

  "Why did you divorce him?"

  "Because I was tired of putting everyone before me. Because I was tired of being miserable. Because I wanted something better for Claire.” I stare at my hands. “Because I found myself thinking it would be easier to die than live another day.”

  David wraps an arm around me. "Michelle..."

  “I would never do it. Because Claire needs me. But my life wasn’t my own. I had nothing to look forward to but a long strain of days that were the same stretching on for the rest of forever. I had no joy. No point. No purpose other than surviving so I didn’t leave Claire alone to face this herself.”

  “That’s no way to live.”

  “No. It’s not. So I gathered all my courage and made a change, and have been clawing my way back out of that hole ever since.”

  “Shit, Mish.” David leans back on his hands to see my face. “I’m so sorry you ever felt that way.”

  "Believe it or not, I'm not sorry. At least not all the time." I lean my head against his shoulder. "I'm a better version of myself because of it."

  He drops a kiss into my hairline and is quiet for a while, before he swallows hard and clears his throat. "When I met Becky, my ex-wife, she was in a hard situation like you are now. Not enough money, not enough support, doing what I assumed was her best to make ends meet." David lets out a long breath. "I was so wrong about that. She wasn’t doing her best, not by a long shot. That woman was nothing but chaos wrapped in drama and dipped in manipulation."

  I wait for more but it doesn't come and we sit in silence while Claire splashes and laughs.

  "Was it unnerving?" I ask after a while. "When you found out I didn't have any money, that my situation was so much like hers?"

  David turns to me, takes my face in his hands, and looks me straight in the eyes. "Not even for one minute. By the time you were comfortable enough to share with me how much you were struggling financially, I already knew without a doubt that you were not like Becky in any way."

  I smile. "Good."

  David returns my smile. "Yeah. You're right. This is very good." And then he leans in to kiss me and I realize I couldn't agree more.

  The afternoon passes quickly and the time comes for me to leave for work long before I'm ready. A weight settles on my shoulders as we pack up our blanket and Claire mopes around, dragging her feet. When she was an infant, Russell threw a fit about having to take care of her when I went to work. So, instead of making a fuss, I conceded and started taking her to work with me, following the path of least resistance instead of forcing him stand up and act like a rational adult. She’s come to work with me ever since that night. She's used to it, but that doesn't mean she likes it. And it doesn't mean I like it either. It's hard to do my job when I'm worried about my little girl, and it's hard to be a good mom when I'm trying to give my students the attention they deserve.

  David takes one look at me and I swear that man can read my mind. "Why don't you let Claire stay here tonight?"

  "I couldn't ask you to do that," I say as Claire clasps her hands together and starts bouncing up and down.

  "Oh, Momma, please?" She looks so hopeful my resolve starts slipping.

  David takes my hands. "I'm sure Mom would love some help picking strawberries.” He smiles down at Claire. "And then turning those strawberries into muffins. We can get her into bed at a decent hour and you only have to worry about being Michelle the Teacher, not Michelle the Momma, too.
"

  I look from Claire to David and back again. "Please?" Claire mouths.

  "You're sure?" I ask David. "It wouldn't be a burden?"

  "A burden? Have you even met this kid? She's the easiest little monster I know." David grins at Claire who looks appalled.

  "I am not a monster," she growls. "How many times do I have to keep telling you guys that?"

  I watch as David teases her right back and my daughter dissolves into laughter, looking happier than I ever remember her being. It's a bittersweet feeling, looking at her and knowing that she's better than she's ever been and worrying that it might not be permanent. David and I are great, and living together is easy, but our relationship is still so young. We haven't had one fight yet, haven't had to overcome a single obstacle. This life here on his farm is borrowed. Claire and I are interlopers. I shouldn't let her get too comfortable.

  There's that word again.

  Should.

  I am so tired of shoulds. So tired of trying to figure out what’s right when the target keeps moving. Where is the danger in letting her stay here at the farm with the Carmichaels? How much harm can there be in letting Claire understand what it means to truly be happy?

  I don't know the answer. I don't know for sure what I should do. But I do know what my gut says.

  I nod, another full body smile working its way across my face. I swear, if happiness is equivalent to light, then I must be glowing right now.

  Claire squeals. "Is that a yes?" she asks, looking like I just told her she won a unicorn ride through Rainbow Town.

  "That's a yes."

  She launches herself into me, wrapping her little arms around my waist. "Oh Momma, thank you."

  I pull her close and meet David's eyes over her head. "Thank you," I mouth and mean it with my whole heart.

  DAVID

  Claire's fingers are blue. Her hair fanned out in the water. Her face, I can't see it. The water is too high, and she is too still, and ice drags through my veins.

  Shaky hands.

  Dry throat.

  No breath. None for me and none for her. Dear God...

  None for her.

  I drop to my knees. My hands on her body. Turning her over. Her eyes, empty and staring. A scream tearing through my soul. I cradle her and now I'm wet, too. Stand and stagger, dripping water from her dangling hair, her head flopping loosely. Too loosely. I cradle her close. Press her face against my heart and lurch towards the bedroom where Michelle is stretched out, unconscious and spread-eagled on the bed.

  "What have you done?" The words come from everywhere and nowhere. They are mine. A roar. A warrior's call bouncing off the walls and ceiling. An accusation and the worst question I've ever had to ask in all my life.

  Michelle's eyes flutter open. She pushes herself up, her hair shimmering and shifting, turning blond and then white as it falls across her face. Her blue eyes glassy. So glassy. And then, not hers at all.

  It's not her.

  That isn't Michelle.

  And I'm not holding Claire.

  It's...

  My eyes spring open. My heart is in my throat. Sweat coats my body. Michelle rolls towards me.

  "You okay?" she murmurs, her sleep-warmed hand an iron brand on my thigh.

  "Everything's fine." I slide out of bed. "Just have to pee."

  Michelle nods and falls back to sleep before I've even left the room. I blink against the bathroom lights, grip the cold porcelain sink, and stare at my reflection in the mirror. The nightmares faded away almost a year ago. Almost a year of good nights and easy mornings. Almost a year of feeling like I know how to live with a Maggie-shaped chunk of myself missing. And right now? Every time I close my eyes, I see Claire's face superimposed over hers.

  I turn on the cold water and cup my hands under the faucet. Splash it onto my cheeks and drag my still-wet hands through my hair. Sleep is an impossibility so I head downstairs, brew some coffee, and wait for morning to come.

  Mom's the first to arrive, humming to herself as she pushes through the front door. She freezes when she finds me sitting in the dark at the table in the kitchen, and then heads over to check the coffee pot.

  "How long has this been on the burner?" she asks.

  I shrug. "Hours."

  She nods once and empties what's left into the sink before starting a fresh pot. "It's been a long time since you've been up when I came in," she says, her hands busy and her eyes on her work.

  "It has."

  "Does Michelle know?"

  I sit back and run my hands up into my hair. "Does Michelle know what, Mom?"

  She finishes with the coffee and then pulls out a chair and sits across from me. "Does Michelle know about Maggie?"

  "No."

  "Don't you think she deserves to?" Mom folds her hands together and rests her arms on the table. "That's a pretty big thing to keep from her, and it's not fair. Not to you. Not to her. And not to her little girl."

  She's right. I don't want her to be, but she is. "And it's not fair to Maggie, either." I close my eyes and let a long breath out through my nose. "I know I need to tell her. I just..."

  I just what? Don't want Michelle to know about my daughter? Don't want her to judge me for what happened? Don't want Maggie to be part of my future with Michelle and Claire?

  "Keeping it a secret doesn't change the fact that it happened, Son. It doesn't lessen the pain and it certainly doesn't make it any easier to bear when you try to shoulder it alone. If Michelle and Claire are just a bit of fun for you, I can understand why you wouldn't want to share Maggie with them. But I'd also have to ask you what in God's name you're doing having those two live here if you don't see something serious with them.

  “But you can't hide the way you look at her, and there's no denying the way she looks at you." Mom raises her eyebrows and waits for me to acknowledge I heard her. "What's the point in holding back, David? What's the point in hiding? If this is the woman for you, then she deserves to have all of you."

  I scrub my face with my hands. "We've only been dating for a few months."

  "I knew the day I met your father that he was the man for me. When you run across true love, you can't deny it. You can't explain it to someone who hasn't experienced it, but once you have? It's clear as the difference between night and day."

  Is that what this is? True love? Am I in love with Michelle? When the hell did that happen? As soon as I ask myself the question, I know the answer. The very instant I laid eyes on her, part of me responded to her in a way I don't know how to explain. In a way I didn't recognize as special because nothing about that day at the shelter was extraordinary—except her.

  Mom stands, grabs my mug from the table, and then pulls one down for herself before filling them with fresh coffee. She doesn't say anything else about it for the rest of the morning. Doesn't tell me what to do. Doesn't ask what I'm thinking. She just goes about making breakfast, wiping her hands on the towel stuck into the front pocket of her jeans while she hums herself a little song.

  Claire wanders downstairs just after sunrise and climbs into my lap right around the time Dad and Colton come in. My heart clenches in agony and then opens with joy. Maggie used to do the same thing every morning. I'd bury my nose in her hair, breathe her in, and snuggle her close while she chattered on about whatever had her attention that morning. I give Claire a little squeeze and then shift her to my knee while Mom makes very pointed eye contact with me over her head.

  "You're up awfully early, Little Monster," I say.

  Claire leans her cheek into my chest. "I had a bad dream."

  I let out a long sigh. "I did, too."

  "You did?" Claire looks up at me. "Are you okay?"

  "I am. Dreams can't really hurt you, you know."

  "Mine hurt." Her eyes drop to her lap. "My daddy used to make Momma cry and that would make me cry, too. Sometimes, I dream about him like a big stompy monster, blowing stinky smoke everywhere and screaming and screaming and screaming."

  I sigh.
Maybe dreams can't really hurt, but the memories they bring up sure do. I hate that a child this young understands that through personal experience. "But what about now?" I ask. "Are you still scared?"

  Claire sucks her top lip into her mouth and chews on it. "A little. I don't like thinking about all those bad things."

  "I get that. But what happens when you think about all those bad things being over and done with? When you remember that now you get to play with Mouse in the barn and help pick apples in the orchard, and go help take care of the hens?"

  Claire considers. "I guess it feels less scary then."

  "Bad things happen to everyone," I say. "We can choose to carry them around like terrible secrets or we can recognize that we're stronger now and they can't hurt us anymore." It took me long enough to learn that and it looks like I still have some learning left to do.

  She nods like she understands what I'm saying, like she's a tiny adult trapped in a child's body. "What about you? Are you still scared after your bad dream?"

  "A little," I reply. "But I'm feeling better by the minute."

  "How come?"

  "Well, because I have a sweet little monster in my lap and a delicious breakfast on the way. And your momma is asleep upstairs and she makes everything better." And I've already decided that I'm going to share my secret with her, the heaviest burden I've ever had to carry. And the relief I feel in making that decision leaves little doubt in my mind that it's the right one.

  "She does, doesn't she?" Claire asks, looking proud. "My mom knows just how to make even the worst bad things feel okay."

  MICHELLE

  The incessant buzzing of my cell phone vibrating its way off the bedside table pulls me from sleep. Still half-conscious, I flip the thing open and press it to my ear.

  "Hello?" I flop back on the pillow and drape my arm over my eyes. If whoever this is doesn't have a compelling reason to call me, there's a good chance I'll be asleep again before we say goodbye.