by Sharan Daire
But it meant a whole hell of a lot to me.
I couldn’t go back to a relationship with anyone who lied to me. Who misled me about their intentions. I thought they’d understood that. I thought they’d loved me. My fairytale men who’d stepped in and fixed my life. Who’d turned broke-down Shelby into a purring sex kitten who modeled for a living and had money in the bank and didn’t cook or clean or wait tables or clean toilets.
But if I stayed under false pretense, then all the polish and fancy clothes were just bubblegum and duct tape holding broke-down Shelby back together again.
I needed honesty. Truth. Trust. Unconditional love. Both for me and my kids. I refused to settle for anything less ever again.
Bessie drove like a dream, which pissed me off even more. She floated down the freeway, carrying me further and further from Little Cypress Lodge. And I couldn’t stop crying.
I parked the car on the tree-lined street in front of Granny’s house. The small Craftsman-style home looked exactly the same as I remembered. I’d sat on the porch swing day after day, watching the road for a strange, expensive-looking car that might be Mom coming to pick me up for another adventure.
“Kids. Wake up. We’re here.”
Liam started to stir, but Allie whimpered, still too sleepy to rouse and walk. I’d have to carry her. Stiff after driving for three straight hours, I grimaced as I bent down and picked her up. Maybe I was just tired, but she felt bigger, as if she’d grown another few inches since we’d left Dallas.
Or it could be the good food we’d had for a change.
Shame washed over me, stiffening my resolve. Never again. I had money in the bank. I was sure Chris would fire me now, but I still had twenty grand in the bank. It was plenty for us to live on. If Granny let us stay a few weeks, I’d research my options. I’d originally planned to stay in the Kansas City area, since there were tons of job opportunities, but I’d changed my mind.
Three hours wasn’t far enough away from Little Cypress Lodge. I could almost feel the silent tug to the south, urging me to hop back in Bessie and drive home.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed that thought away. Home wasn’t with men who couldn’t be bothered to tell me the truth and let me decide what I wanted to do on my own.
We climbed the steps of the porch. The light was on, as if she’d been expecting us. Surely not. I’d called her over a week ago. I shifted Allie in my arms so I could press the doorbell. Hopefully Granny was still up. I’d forgotten to check the time. It was dark out, but I didn’t think it was past six.
The door creaked open and Granny asked, “Who’s there?”
“Hi, Granny,” I said loudly, making sure to enunciate clearly. “It’s me, Shelby.”
Not even five-feet tall, Granny adjusted her glasses. “Shelby? Maryanne’s little girl? Is it really you? My, how you’ve grown! Come in, honey. Come in.”
A wave of memories flooded me. Walking into her house was like stepping back twenty years in a time machine. The same antique gold-velvet couch and matching chairs. Loud Victorian-style wallpaper, though it was peeling in a few places. Creaky hardwood floors, probably original to the house. Granny had told me stories about her husband, William, building the house for her as a wedding present.
“Sit a spell and tell me who this handsome young man and lady are.”
“This is my son, Liam.” Shyly, he pressed close to my side as we sat on the couch. “And my daughter, Allie.”
“How’s Maryanne?”
I winced and gave her an apologetic smile. “Oh, she passed away about ten years ago. Did no one tell you? I’m so sorry!”
“Oh. Yes. That’s right.” Granny shuffled over to a table set before the bay window and picked up a thick book. “Let me check the date.” She flipped through a few pages as she carried it over to me.
Allie was awake enough to sit beside me, though she was still groggy, clinging to her old stuffed dog.
Granny set the book on my lap and pointed midway down the page. “Here’s Maryanne. Let me get a pen so you can make the update.”
The book was a family Bible, with page after page of people’s names. Cousins, aunts and uncles, I guessed, though checking the details, it looked like most of the people had died over the years. I didn’t recognize any of the names except my immediate family’s. Granny’s given name was listed across the top of this page, Virginia McIntire Moore, married to William Moore. Her only daughter, Maryanne Moore Reynolds. That was one of the married names she’d taken, but Granny was missing at least Smith and Davis. Should I tell her? I didn’t think it mattered.
I was listed below, Shelby Moore, my maiden name. The line above for my father was blank.
As a child, I’d wanted to know who my father was. I’d made up all kinds of stories about him. Maybe he’d show up one day with Mom and we’d go live our happily ever after somewhere. But evidently Granny had been telling me the truth when she’d answered my questions with, “I don’t know, honey.”
She came back and handed me an ink pen. “Make sure you list your beautiful children too, honey. I want to keep track of you all.”
I wrote down the day Mom had passed away, but my hand hovered over the blank beside my name.
I didn’t want to list Rob as their father. Not that dead-beat dad who couldn’t be bothered to check up on us. I had no idea where he was. He’d made it impossible to track him down, hiding out from having to pay child support. Joke was on him, because you had to have a job to pay child support, and he couldn’t ever seem to hold a job more than a month or two.
For all I knew, he was in prison for drunk driving. Or dead.
Which made me remember Chris’ story last night. Tears burned my eyes. Why couldn’t I list his name? Or the twins? Why did I have to list my abuser’s name in Granny’s family Bible?
I thought I was holding myself together fairly well. Until Bubby said, “I wish you could write down Derek as my dad.”
“Me too,” Allie said. “And Kaleb. You can have Everett and Chris, Mommy.”
Tears dripped onto the page, making the thin paper wrinkle.
Granny patted my shoulder. “Do as your babies ask.”
Surprised, I blinked my tears away and searched her face. “But they’re not really. Their father is a…”
I wanted to say bastard. Abuser. Dead-beat.
Granny said, “Worthless son of a bitch? Yeah, there’s a lot of them out there. But it sounds like your kids have found a couple of winners. You’d best keep them. Who’s hungry? I’ve got cookies in the kitchen.”
“Me!” Allie hopped down and both kids followed Granny into the kitchen, leaving me staring at the family tree. Would Derek and Kaleb mind if I listed them in an old woman’s Bible as my kids’ fathers? No. They’d be ecstatic.
So I did it. I listed Liam and Allison Anderson beneath my name, with Shelby Moore Anderson Harris Blakely. It looked as ridiculous as it sounded, but it was too late to change my mind.
Granny hadn’t given me a pencil. I couldn’t erase it. Just like I couldn’t erase them from my heart.
34
Shelby
Sitting at the same Formica table I’d eaten many a meal at as a child, I listened as my ninety-year-old grandma regaled my kids with all the crazy things I’d done. I was pretty sure she made most of those stories up, especially the time I supposedly fell out of a tree and broke my arm, because I definitely didn’t remember ever having a cast.
But they ate those stories up, laughing and asking for more.
“I’m thirsty, child. Let me get another glass of juice.” Granny started to push up from her chair, but I hopped up first.
“Let me get it.”
She sat back down and gave me a grateful smile. “Thank you, honey.”
I went over to the fridge that was even older than Bessie and poured her another glass of orange juice. I noted the bottle was almost empty. So was the milk. She had two eggs in the door, and a loaf of white bread on the shelf. A couple of glass dishe
s with mystery foods. Maybe casseroles or leftovers, I wasn’t sure.
Not a lot of food. Maybe enough for her, but I was relieved that I hadn’t descended on her with starving kids and an empty bank account.
“Can I have more juice, Mommy?”
“Of course,” Granny said. “Miss Jessie brings my groceries tomorrow, so we might as well drink it all.”
I took the jug over to the table and topped off Allie’s cup too. Putting the juice back in the fridge, I noticed the calendar on the door. I had to laugh, because it was from the year 1983, but the days actually did line up. I’d asked her about it as a kid, and she told me she kept the same seven calendars, just recycling them over and over.
It was one long page, listing all twelve months. She’d circled a few key dates. My birthday in June. Mom’s birthday in December. Granny’s was in October. Which only made me remember Chris telling me he was ten years old this month. What day had he started celebrating as his birthday? The month was almost over.
Something nagged the back of my mind. I stared at the calendar, trying to figure out why it was important. Letting my mind circle back to dates. Then it dawned on me. Heart pounding, I counted the days one by one.
From my last period. To last night. The night I’d had sex with Chris. Without a condom.
I knew my monthly cycle. I was extremely regular. And last night was a very bad, bad, bad night to have unprotected sex. That was exactly how I’d ended up with Liam in the first place.
“You okay, honey?” Granny asked.
I felt rather faint, but I mumbled something that seemed to satisfy her as I sat back down at the table. My hands trembled. I had choices. This wasn’t like before, when I’d been trapped. I wanted more kids. Someday.
I especially wanted kids with Kaleb. Or Derek. Or Everett. Or Chris.
I could see it so clearly. Their rings on my fingers. Yes, all four of them. Seeing them every morning at the table. Every night when I went to bed. Their smiles and laughter as we played tag in the yard, or tossed a football, or played with Wally.
A baby passed around from one man to another with nothing but love shining in their eyes. The same love they showed my kids. And me.
I could go back. I wanted to go back.
They had allowed me to leave. Even now, hours later, no one was blowing up my phone. They hadn’t called or texted me. Surely Kaleb had called Chris right away when I’d burned rubber out of his garage. But they hadn’t stopped me.
They certainly could have. Chris especially wouldn’t take me leaving lightly. Not after last night. Yet they’d given me that space to think and breathe and escape to safety. Until I’d figured out what I wanted to do. On my own time. My own way.
“Mommy, when are we going home?” Allie asked.
Home. My fingers shook as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Let me see what the guys are doing.”
I texted Chris. I’m okay. I made it to Granny’s.
Immediately, he answered. Do you need us?
The same thing Derek had asked him the night he’d saved Chris’ life. No demands. No excuses. No apologies or entreaties. Just a steadfast promise to come to my aid if I wanted them. Not just him. But all of them. The Blakely Four Brothers.
Yes.
Barely a minute went by and someone rang the doorbell. Surprised, Granny started to get up. “I wonder who that could be. I haven’t had so many visitors in years!”
“Chris!” Allie shrieked, hopping down and running toward the door.
Surely not. So fast? But that would mean…
They’d followed me. This whole time, they’d been behind me. Near enough to walk in as soon as I texted one of them.
Sure enough, she opened the door. “Mommy, they’re all here.”
Kaleb scooped her up in his arms. “What’s my Alliebear up to?”
Stunned, I slowly rose from my chair. All four men stepped into the foyer. Larger than life. Dressed in super nice billionaire suits and carrying bundles of red roses. They all looked incredible, but my gaze locked with Chris’ ferocious eyes. I’d never seen him dressed up before. He said he didn’t care for ostentatious shit, yet here he stood in a sleek, elegant tuxedo fit for the red carpet.
“Oh my.” Granny clapped her hands. “Looks like someone’s getting married.”
Frozen, I couldn’t make my feet move. I could only stare as they came closer, filling up the tiny kitchen with their impressive bulk.
Chris went down on one knee before me and offered that ostentatious diamond ring he’d been carrying with his dog tags. “Shelby, will you marry us?”
Us. Not me. I didn’t think polygamy was legal in Missouri, but I appreciated the sentiment. I sniffed, trying not to cry, but it was a losing battle. “Yes.”
He flashed a brilliant smile and snagged my hand. Slipped his ring on my finger. And pressed a fervent kiss to my palm. Crying, I clung to his hand as he stood and drew me against him. His heart pounded beneath my ear. Steady, fierce and strong.
Everett joined us, went down on his knees, and offered me the ring he wore on his own pinkie. “Shelby, will you marry us?”
I laughed, still crying, and held out my hand to him too. “Yes.”
“Hmm, let’s see.” He grinned up at me, making a big show of testing each finger to see which one fit his ring the best. “I think we’ll need to get it sized down a little, unless you want to wear it on your thumb.”
“I’ll wear it on any finger. I don’t care.”
He left it on my thumb and kissed each of my fingertips before he stood up.
Derek and Kaleb stepped forward together, dropping down on one knee before me. In unison, they asked, “Shelby, will you marry us?”
Their rings fit perfectly on my ring and index fingers on my other hand.
Allie wrapped her arms around Kaleb’s neck, and Bubby came to Derek with a look of shy hesitation that broke my heart.
“Is it true, Mom?”
Derek looked at me questioningly.
“He wished that you could be his father.”
Derek’s jaw tightened, his eyes glistening as he turned to Bubby, drawing him into a hug as he stood. “I’d be honored to call you son.”
Allie tapped on Kaleb’s face. “Can I call you Daddy too?”
Kaleb gave her a shining smile of such joy that I couldn’t stop crying. “I would love that, Alliebear.”
Chris tightened his arm around me. “Let’s go home.”
35
Shelby
All seven of us piled into Bessie and started the drive back to Little Cypress Lodge. The twins sat in the back with the kids. I sat in the front between Everett and Chris. Everett drove. Chris was too busy settling me on his lap to drive.
“How did you get here so fast?”
“We flew, of course. Then we hired a car to drive us over from the airport.”
“I suppose you have a company jet.”
He snorted. “I do, several in fact, but we took a helicopter. It was faster and less red tape to navigate.”
“Money talks,” Everett said cheerfully.
“Yes it does,” Chris replied. “The driver was perfectly willing to keep his car running outside your grandmother’s house all night if need be. But I knew it wouldn’t take that long.”
“But how did you even know where I was?”
“That’s my fault,” Kaleb said from the backseat. “I used my phone to set up your GPS. So I had the address right away. I’m truly sorry, Shelby. About everything.”
“Me too,” Derek rumbled. “I was a fucking idiot. Sorry kids.”
Chris let out a growl that rattled my chest. “If I’d known they were plotting behind your back to spruce this old beater up, I’d have knocked their heads together. Though the ride is better than the fucking ‘copter. Sorry kids.”
“Do we get to say fuck now, Mom?” Bubby asked.
“Yeah, do we?” Allie piped up too.
“No,” I replied firmly. “Absolutely not.”
> In less than an hour, the kids had dozed off again, lulled by the steady hum of the car. I peeked over Chris’ shoulder to be sure, and then looked him in the eye. “We might have a little problem.”
His chin jutted and his eyes blazed with determination. “Then tell me so I can fix it.”
“You can’t fix this.”
“Bullshit. I’m a Marine. I can fix anything.”
I blew out a sigh, trying to think of the best way to tell him. “Before Derek found me broke down alongside the road, there were a lot of things wrong in my life. I was as broke down as my car.”
Chris cupped my cheek. “I don’t care about anything in your past.”
I smiled, rubbing my cheek against his palm. “Despite all my problems, one thing has always worked without fail. Like clockwork. Every single month.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he still hadn’t put two and two together yet.
I bit my lip, dreading his reaction but also more hopeful than I could say. “You didn’t wear a condom last night.”
Silence stretched out in the car. I didn’t dare breathe. Chris didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even blink. He just stared up at me.
Everett glanced over at us, his eyes wide. “Are you saying…”
I shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’s possible.”
“Possible,” Chris drawled out in a soft voice that sent chills down my spine. “Or likely?”
I swallowed hard. “I know my schedule. It’s likely. Unless there’s a problem.”
“When will you know?” Derek asked.
“A couple of weeks. If I’m late…”
Chris’ fingers closed around my neck and dragged me hard against him. I buried my face against his throat, breathing in his scent. He rubbed his lips against my hair, working his way to my ear. His breath hot. “I guess I believe in miracles after all.”