Our Broken Love

by Terri Anne Browning

  Ten minutes later, I was driving through my hometown. It was a small town where everyone knew everyone’s secrets. “Not mine, though,” I murmured to myself. “They never knew my secrets.” It was also a place where everyone left their front door unlocked and their car windows down. The dangers of the outside world didn’t dare intrude here, even if the gossip mags did.

  “Aunt Chris would never allow it,” I mused to myself as I drove down Main Street and noticed that, other than the designer labels in the front windows of all the expensive boutiques, nothing had changed in the more than five years I have been away. The streets were all well-kept, the old brick buildings in great condition, while a $60,000 car sat on almost every street corner. Even the sheriff had a decked-out Humvee, I noticed as I stopped next to him at the red light outside of city hall.

  The old man seemed startled when he noticed me in the driver’s seat. But he quickly covered his surprise with a friendly smile and a nod of his head. Probably too afraid I would tell Aunt Chris that he hadn’t acknowledged me. No one liked to piss her off.

  My aunt, Christa Bradshaw, more or less owned the whole of Craven, South Carolina, a small, upper-crust town not too far from Florence. She had more say over what happened within the town than the mayor. Some called her the Dragon Lady because she could be a real hard-ass when she had to be, and I would have been the last person to ever disagree on that. But I was also the first to defend her. Christa, my father’s sister, had taken me in when I had no one.

  Both my parents were gone, my mother who had abandoned me when I was little more than a baby had passed away from breast cancer two years before. As for my father, he had drowned when I was eight, and Christa took me in. Up until then, I had never experienced what it was to have a mother figure in my life. By the time she got me, I was a hellion. My father had spoiled me rotten, and I’d had no rules in my life. But Christa had taken me in hand, and by the time I was ten, I was a “respectable” little girl.

  Christa loved me as if I were her own. Having only produced three boys, not to mention the young stepson she had acquired upon her marriage to Ram Bradshaw, she had despaired that she would never have the daughter she wanted most. So I had come as a wonderful delight, and she was no longer alone in a house full of testosterone.

  At first, I had hated Christa, resenting her for being alive when all I wanted was my daddy. But because of our mutual love for my dad Grayson Calloway, we bonded, and I grew to love my aunt more than anyone in the world. Which was why the past six years had been so hard. I hated staying so far away from the one person who loved me so much, unconditionally.

  But I’m back now.

  Christa had called me two weeks before, and there had been something in her voice, something I couldn’t put a finger on, but it told me I needed to see her again. The next day I put in for my month’s vacation from the hospital where I’d been working for the last three years as an RN.

  And here I am.

  Correction, I thought with another glance in my rearview window. Here we are.

  I hadn’t told anyone, but especially not Christa, about Sophie. She never would have understood. I hadn’t been ready to explain to her the truth that surrounded Sophie’s father. I still couldn’t look myself in the mirror and think about it. I was too ashamed of my actions.

  What am I going to do if he is here?

  I pushed that thought away for another time. There was only a small possibility of running into my daughter’s father, and even if I did, there was little chance he would realize—or care—that I had given birth to his child. Sophie looked nothing like her father. She was my image down to the little dimple in her left cheek. Even her personality was one hundred percent me.

  So, yes, my baby girl was going to be a total surprise to my beloved aunt. But I doubted she would be angry for long, if at all, once she got one look at Sophie. My girl was so special she would have Christa Bradshaw—hell, the entire town—wrapped around her little finger before the end of the first week of our visit.

  “Are we there yet, Mommy? I have to use the bathroom,” Sophie informed me from the middle of the back seat, where she was strapped into her booster chair.

  “Nearly there, my darling. See that hill right there?” I pointed ahead of us.

  “The one that looks like a castle?”

  I grinned. Of course, my childhood home would appear to be a castle to her. Uncle Ram had built the huge mansion in Christa’s honor the instant she had agreed to marry him, and she was more of a queen than anyone I had ever met. A conquering queen, sure, but a queen nonetheless. “Yes, darling. That is where Aunt Chris lives.”

  “Awesome!”

  My grin grew despite the dread eating at my gut. “Yes, it is pretty awesome.”

  Our trip lasted only a few more minutes before I was pulling to a stop in front of the Bradshaw “castle.” I got out of my SUV and stretched, trying to relieve some of my tension from the drive before I added more to my already aching muscles. For a moment, I just stood there soaking in the sights of the place that had once been home.

  The gardens were expertly manicured. Flower beds adorned the entire estate. The driveway was a half circle with a garage around back that could house up to ten cars. The house itself was three stories, with turrets on each wing, giving the place that castle look. I took in a deep breath, smelling the distinct aromas that went with being home. That pine and sand scent I’d always associated with South Carolina, along with the delicate aromas of sweet pea and lavender that were totally home.

  I saw a curtain twitch from one of the upstairs bedrooms and decided it was time to pull up my big-girl panties and get this over with. I opened the back door of the Cadillac and helped Sophie out. Hand in hand, we climbed the many steps to the front door, and I let the five-year-old ring the doorbell.

  All too soon, the big, heavy door opened, and a woman I had never met before stood there in the housekeeper’s uniform I knew all too well. The older woman had a stern face that looked as if it had never dared crack a smile a day in her life. She was frowning down at Sophie and me as if we had three heads and carried a contagious disease. “Yes?” Her tone was cool and crisp.

  Sophie gave me a weird look, and I gave her a small smile of encouragement before I turned my attention back to a real battle ax of a lady. “Hello. My aunt is expecting us.” Not the full truth, but I knew Aunt Chris had seen me from the window, so as of two minutes ago, she had been expecting me.

  “I was not told Mrs. Bradshaw was expecting company.” She looked down her crooked nose at us as if we didn’t matter—or as if we were imposters there to steal the good silverware. “What is your name, young woman?”

  I blinked. As far as I knew, I was the only niece my aunt had. Was this a test? “I…”

  “Erin!”

  I glanced over the housekeeper’s wide shoulder and saw a little slip of a woman running down the stairs. I grinned. To look at Christa, no one would never guess that she was well into her fifties. Or that she had given birth to three monstrous males. She was dainty, beautiful, and appeared more in her early forties than late fifties.

  “Aunt Chris!” I waved at her, as the housekeeper had yet to move aside so I could enter the house.

  “I didn’t think you would come,” she exclaimed as she pushed past the housekeeper and hugged me tightly. Another thing that was deceptive about the little woman. She was freakishly strong. But I didn’t care as I hugged her back for all I was worth, letting nearly six years of loneliness fade away with just that simple embrace. After a few emotionally charged moments, Christa stepped back to look at me. “I’ve missed you like crazy, child,” she told me, tears glazing her dark eyes.

  “I missed you too, Aunt Chris.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” she demanded.

  I shrugged. “After your call a few weeks ago, I knew I had to see you. You sounded as if…” I broke off, glancing at the housekeeper who had yet to move away from the door and was paying
extra attention to everything I was saying. “But we can talk about that later. I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Mommy?”

  Christa jolted as she glanced behind me and saw the little girl who could have been my clone from years ago. “What in the world?” Christa murmured as if she thought she was dreaming. Her gaze went back to mine, and she raised a questioning brow.

  “Surprise?” I gave her a weak smile and pulled Sophie closer to me. “This is Sophie Grace Calloway, my daughter. Sophie, say hello to your great-aunt Christa.”

  Sophie gave the older woman a good going-over before finding her acceptable. “Hi. You don’t look all that old to me.” She gave me a look that said she thought I had lied to her.

  I bit back a snort of laughter, while Christa just grinned. “Why, thank you, Sophie. That’s a very nice thing to say… I think.” She bumped my shoulder. “But I shouldn’t be all that surprised considering who your mother is.”

  two

  The afternoon passed quickly once we settled into our rooms. I was put in my old bedroom, while Sophie was given the one just a few doors down. I hated being so far away from my baby girl when she was in a strange new environment, but she seemed perfectly content in the room that belonged to another special little girl. The princess bed was probably the deal-breaker, and I knew it was going to take a lot of patience to get Sophie out of there by the end of our stay.

  After a quick shower for the both of us, I made my way downstairs and joined Christa in the library, my favorite room in the house. Coffee and scones were waiting for me, and I dropped down onto a comfortable, albeit expensive, sofa and reached for the cup my aunt had already poured for me. I took a deep breath, breathing in the heavenly aroma of the coffee that I loved so much. “Thanks, I needed this.”

  My aunt was giving me the evil eye. I took a sip and set the cup and saucer down. “Okay,” I muttered. “Let’s hear it, Aunt Chris. Let’s get it all out of the way before I have to go drag Sophie out of Lilli’s room.”

  Christa just kept looking at me for a long moment, as if she was thinking of how to phrase her many questions. Finally, she took a deep breath and blew it out in a frustrated sigh. “She’s the reason you left?”

  “One of them.”

  “One of them?” She shook her expertly colored head. “What were the other reasons?”

  I shrugged. “That’s not really your business, Aunt Chris,” I murmured, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but knowing that if I told her the biggest reason, she would be devastated. I just couldn’t do that, not yet. Maybe not ever.

  She was looking at me in the oddest way. “Erin, I could have been there for you. I could have helped you through the birth, given you advice when you had to have been losing your mind with a newborn.” Tears glazed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I was ashamed—not of having my baby,” I quickly assured her. “But of how her conception came about. I did some things I’m not proud of. Stupidly, I fell for the wrong guy. I couldn’t even face myself, let alone you.”

  “Oh, honey.” She left her chair and came to me, pulling me close as we sat together on the sofa. I didn’t cry, all my tears over the past had been cried out a long time ago. But I soaked up the comfort she was willingly giving me. “You are as precious to me as any of my own children. No matter what happens, I will always be here for you. Always.”

  “I know that,” I whispered. “Really, I do. But I didn’t want you to be caught in the middle. It wasn’t right to make you pick sides.”

  She pulled back a little. “Will you tell me who he is? Sophie’s father?”

  “No one who’s important now,” I told her, unsure if I was being completely honest with myself. It had been a long time since I had let myself think about the man who had helped me create Sophie, but now that I was back home, thoughts of him were flooding back in and becoming overwhelming. “Please don’t push on this, Aunt Chris. There is no reason to bring up past events. He doesn’t deserve to be a part of his daughter’s life.”

  Christa gave me searching look, as if she could read the truth in my eyes. But I had perfected the skill of hiding my thoughts where he was concerned long before I fell pregnant. After a few minutes of soul reading, she gave up and kissed my forehead. “Okay, then. Consider this subject closed. For now. Tell me about that little angel upstairs.”

  I couldn’t help grinning. “Well, she’s mostly like me.”

  Christa snorted. “Why, I didn’t notice that in the least.” She rolled her dark eyes, and we both laughed. “You wait, Erin. That little girl is going to give you ten times as much hell as you ever gave me.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I assured her truthfully.

  We set there catching up for what felt like hours. I was brought up to speed on my three cousins’ love lives. Grayson, named after my father, was getting married at the end of the summer—which was only three months away. Christa seemed to dislike the subject but didn’t get into her reasons for why, and I got the feeling my eldest cousin was the reason why my aunt had been so off during our phone calls recently. I knew she had been looking forward to more grandchildren to go with the one step-granddaughter she had, so I was interested to find out what was going on in that direction, but I chose to find the answers on my own.

  My cousin Andrew—Drew to all his family and friends—was having a wild “secret” affair with a local girl. Cammi Morgan had been my only real friend growing up, but I hadn’t spoken to her since I left Craven. I was thrilled to find that one of my cousins had the good taste to hook up with such a nice girl, though. But I was worried about Drew, who was known in most of the local gossip columns as being a player, hurting her.

  Then there was Matthew. I had been closer to him than any one of my cousins, and I had hurt myself severely when I had forced myself to break contact with him along with the rest of my family. Christa told me he wasn’t in any type of relationship, and she feared he never planned on getting married. I knew the truth about Matt and his reasons for never marrying. I was probably the only person in our family who did know, so I just nodded in agreement with my aunt and let her change the subject.

  Eventually, I went up to try to pry my daughter from her dream bedroom while Christa made a few phone calls. She wanted to let my uncle know I was home and ask him to pick up some wine to celebrate. I also knew I would be overrun with family by dinnertime. Christa would insist that all her sons be at dinner. And while I was more than happy to see my cousins again…

  Well, I wasn’t ready to see them all.

  I found Sophie playing in the little fairy castle in the corner of the room. Princess Barbie dolls and other fairy-tale characters were tucked inside with her while she played. I crawled inside with her and played along for a little while, before having to drag her downstairs. It was only with the promise of a swim the next day in the pool at the back of the house that she agreed to leave the bedroom.

  “I’m thirsty, Mommy,” Sophie told me as we searched for my aunt.

  “How about some fruit juice?” I suggested as we turned in the direction of the kitchen when I heard Christa’s voice coming from that direction.

  “’Kay,” she sighed. “But I would rather have soda.”

  “To much sugar, darling.” It was an old argument that Sophie knew she would never win with me, but I gave her points for continuing to try.

  As we neared the kitchen, I heard Christa talking to someone. But I hadn’t expected the voice that accompanied it. “Nana, I’m not hungry. Honest.”

  I froze. No! No! No!

  My heart started pounding, and I wondered if it was too late to grab my daughter and run. But I knew I couldn’t, so I mentally pulled up my big-girl panties for the second time that day and pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. Only to relax when I found my aunt was alone with the girl seated at the island.

  Lilliana Bradshaw sat with her long, blond hair French braided down her long, graceful back. She was nearly thi
rteen now, but she looked several years older. Her mother had been some Scandinavian model, and Lilli was going to look a lot like her—tall, curvy, and beautiful. Her mother had divorced her father years ago, signing over full rights to her father in favor of her career.

  Big blue eyes stared at me as I entered the room. Once recognition set in, she let out a little squeal of delight. “Erin!”

  I hugged her close when she threw herself into my arms. My heart hurt more than a little as I remembered the little girl I babysat all those years ago. I had been Lilli’s confidant, her ally against the world. To say I had simply missed this kid was an understatement. Lilli gave me a hard squeeze before stepping back a little. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said with a little sniff as she raised her hand to wipe away a tear.

  I gave her a watery smile. “I missed you more.”

  “You look like Taylor Swift,” Sophie spoke up. “Only much prettier.”

  Lilli looked down at the little girl with a grin. “I do?”

  The five-year-old nodded her dark head. “Can you sing too?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never really tried.” Lilli, at five foot seven, was just as tall as me, so she crouched down to Sophie’s eye level. “So you like Taylor Swift?”

  “I’d say,” I muttered as I moved to the fridge and extracted a pitcher of fresh orange juice.

  “She’s only my favorite.”

  “I like her too. But Lady A is my favorite. Do you know them?”

  “Oh yeah! I like them too. I have some of their songs on my phone.” She pulled the thing out of her back pocket where she always kept it. “See?”

  “Oh, wow!”

  I grinned at Christa as I poured Sophie’s juice and set it on the large island. “I know, I know. She’s only five. But trust me when I say that little bit of technology has saved my sanity on more than one occasion.”

  “I didn’t say a word, darling.” We watched as Lilli helped Sophie into the tall barstool at the island, and Sophie showed off her mad skills at working her phone. I was a little peeved that she knew more about the thing than I would ever begin to understand. I still didn’t know how to work half the features on my phone.