Bless Her Heart

by Sally Kilpatrick

  God, that should’ve been yet another clue that he would make a piss-poor father.

  Anger infused his face as he pointed at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I have nothing to lose,” I whispered softly.

  “You have everything to lose.” He practically choked on his anger.

  “Not as much as you do. Not anymore. Oh, and when you talk to Ben, add a provision that I keep everything I bought with your credit card. That’s the least you could do.”

  He stormed down the hall, and I sank down in my desk chair once more.

  Only, it wasn’t really my chair nor my desk nor my room nor even my job. He could take everything from me. If we went to court, and I told my story complete with graphic illustrations, I would destroy myself along with him. It was, however, a risk I had to take because I would never go back to him. Never, ever.

  * * *

  Cautiously I moved through the rest of the week, learning more about my students and about my job. I looked over my shoulder constantly until my Taser finally arrived and Julia gave me a tutorial. In spite of my attempts at constant vigilance, however, I settled into the routine, happily exhausted when Friday rolled around. That afternoon, Ben called to let me know that Chad had finally finished his portion of the paperwork and had agreed to the uncontested divorce. The papers would be ready to sign next week, but he’d let me know after Chad signed them so we wouldn’t have to run into each other.

  Part of me wanted to celebrate; the other part wondered when the other shoe would drop.

  Either way, I was overdue for catching up with Liza and picked up a bag of Oreos on the way to her house. She answered the door with a baby on her hip. The dark circles under her eyes had grown fainter, and she smiled. Then scowled. “Why can’t you bring a bottle of wine like a normal human being?”

  “Oh, no,” I said, almost turning green at the thought. “Alcoholic beverages and I are taking a long hiatus, possibly a permanent one.”

  She sighed. “You should’ve gone out with me instead of your sister. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

  I couldn’t argue with her. “Still, I think I’ll stick with Oreos for the time being.”

  She traded me the baby for the Oreos, and I followed her to the kitchen where she started the coffee maker. “I hope decaf is all right. I’m trying to avoid caffeine after lunch.”

  “Probably for the best,” I said as I held Nathaniel up and blew raspberries on his little belly until he giggled. “I’m so tired I thought about going home and straight to bed.”

  “So no babysitting tonight?”

  “Not tonight even if he is the cutest little man,” I said, repeating that last sentence and continuing with the raspberries because they brought smiles and giggles.

  “Oh, stop. You’re making me sick.”

  I cleared my throat. Liza wasn’t a fan of baby talk.

  “Nathaniel, you have a smidgen of drool there, old chap,” I said, reaching out a hand.

  Liza rolled her eyes as she gave me the plain cloth diaper draped over her shoulder. “Your British accent is even worse.”

  Turning my pseudo-nephew around, I held him against my stomach as I bounced him gently. Seeing a colorful plastic key ring, I held that in front of him. He slapped at the keys and chewed on them. “So I, um, have something I need to confess.”

  “Really?” Liza jumped to her feet as the coffee maker finished percolating. “Do tell.”

  “I may or may not have slept with John the Baptist.” For some reason I looked down at the baby as if he could make note of my transgressions. He gnawed away on his keys.

  “Wait. What?” Liza said, the coffee pot poised midair. “I thought I heard you say you did the horizontal tango with John O’Brien. Surely, my sleep-deprived brain has betrayed me.”

  “Ha. You’re downright chipper from newfound sleep, and you heard me just fine.”

  “And?”

  “And wow.”

  Liza silently made coffee for me. She knew how I liked it, one of the advantages of hanging out with a friend.

  “You took all necessary precautions?”

  “Of course,” I said. “It’s not like I can even get pregnant, but John had condoms so—”

  “Wait. What?”

  “I can’t get pregnant, Liza. I’ve been trying for almost ten years now. A doctor even told me so. You know that.”

  She studied me, “No, I may be in the HOV lane to senility, but I would’ve remembered that.”

  Had I really not told my best friend about my struggles? I told her about trying to get pregnant, but then I took the job as a receptionist. Then she got pregnant and had Nathaniel. My heart sank. Just another way I’d been isolated from the people who actually cared for me. “I’m sorry, Liza. I thought I’d told you.”

  “You told me you were trying, but you never told me you couldn’t. I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding when Nathaniel was born.”

  I kissed his head, inhaling scent of baby and brushing that soft hair against my lips and cheek. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I was well accustomed to keeping those particular tears at bay. Finally I choked out my new phrase on the subject, “It is what it is.”

  Liza opened her mouth, but wisely closed it. If I knew Liza—and I did—then she had been about to launch into a discussion of all the miracles that could happen, all the specialists I could see, and how she would personally find a way to get me pregnant. I half chuckled at the thought of Liza coaching me into pregnancy, probably telling the in vitro people how to do their job. Even worse, she wouldn’t hesitate to stand at the side of my bed and dictate the best sex positions and practices to get me pregnant.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “You.” I hugged Nathaniel, but he got very excited about those keys and jumped up enough to pop my lip against my teeth. I ran my tongue over the injured lip, glad the child hadn’t drawn blood. “I know you were thinking of how you were going to get me pregnant if that’s what I really wanted.”

  She shrugged but didn’t deny me. “Well, you know me. Always wanting to help.”

  “Someday you can be a reference when I adopt.”

  She smiled.

  I looked down at Nathaniel. “Oh, and I don’t want to get my hopes up until it’s a done deal, but Ben says Chad has turned in the paperwork and agreed to the divorce.”

  Liza sucked in a breath. “Well, I’ll cross my fingers and say my prayers.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “How ’bout some Oreos?” she said brightly.

  She fed the baby and put him down for a nap, and we sipped coffee and ate Oreos the rest of the afternoon. When Owen came in, I tensed. He leaned in to give Liza a kiss on the cheek, and I relaxed, reminding myself that not all marriages were like mine. Hopefully, none of them were.

  Owen stood at the sink, washing grease off his hands from where he’d probably been changing oil in both of their cars. He was the model for the strong and silent type, but Liza swore he was a regular Chatty Cathy when no one else was around, doing all sorts of jokes to make her laugh. He looked over his shoulder. “It’s payday. If you’ll order a pizza, I’ll fetch it along with some beer.”

  “Deal,” Liza said. “Pose, wanna join us?”

  I almost said yes, but, by the way Owen was looking at his wife, I had the idea he might like for them to spend the evening together so I told one of those patented half-truths I’d learned from my mother. “I wish I could, but I told Mom I’d eat at home tonight. Both Rain and Henny will be at supper for once.”

  This was all true, but Mom had also told me I didn’t have to be there. She’d hinted that I should get out and visit with Liza or even John.

  “Bummer.”

  “Next time,” I said.

  “You’d better,” she said with a laugh. “I’m going back to work next fall so we only have this summer to get into whatever shenanigans we want to get into. Maybe I’ll make you take me to one of those
pole dancing lessons.”

  I groaned. “You heard about that, too?”

  “Rain told me when she gave me a coupon.”

  “Pole dancing?” Owen asked.

  If I hadn’t had a reason to leave before, I had one now. I had no intention of returning to the Pole Cat. “All right. I’m outta here.”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Liza said with a grin.

  chapter 21

  The next day I went by Ben’s office I signed the divorce papers with little fanfare. I ran my fingers over Chad’s signature, almost unable to believe he’d finally caved. Everything I wanted was within my grasp. Ms. Varner had complimented me just the day before for the job I’d been doing and had hinted there might be a position opening up in second grade. In two months or so, I’d be able to pursue whatever was between John and me. Could be love or could be lust, but either promised to be fun. I itched to call him at least three times a day, suggesting absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

  Each day I loved my charges a little more. Each day I relied less on Heather’s lesson plans and created my own. Each day I grew a little more confident, a little less apprehensive that Chad would show up. Days became weeks, and before I knew it a month had passed.

  “Would you like to come with me to the Maundy Thursday service tomorrow night?” Mom asked one evening while I washed dishes.

  “The what service?”

  “Maundy Thursday, the day we celebrate the Last Supper. You know, tomorrow’s Good Friday.”

  Ah. Good Friday. I knew that one even if I had often questioned the descriptor “Good” for the day that Christ died. Maybe it was all a case of perspective. “I’ve made it this far. I think I’ll wait until Sunday.”

  Maybe I’d buy a new outfit now that I’d made my own money. I still didn’t want a dress, though.

  “Wanna come to church with me on Sunday?” Mom asked as she sipped herbal tea.

  I said nothing, but the picture in my mind was First Baptist, the place where I’d been baptized. The place that had welcomed me long before I met Chad. They might not welcome me with open arms after all that Chad had said and done or if Fiona had blabbed about John and me, but First Baptist was the church of my heart so I had to try. “Oh, I’m not going back to your church. I’m going to mine.”

  “To Love Ministries?”

  “No. I’m going back to First Baptist,” I said, surprising myself with the conviction in my own voice. “They are my church family, and I should’ve never left them.”

  “But I am your actual family.”

  “My going to a different church doesn’t change that fact.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  I wondered if she ever thought about how she’d tried to keep me from First Baptist when I was little. Did she blame them for Chad? She shouldn’t. As hard as it was to separate him from the scriptures he’d used as a weapon against me, I could almost do it because I’d been there first.

  “We can be a family at dinner after the service,” I said. “I didn’t feel comfortable at your church.”

  I dried my hands and draped the dish towel over the few dishes in the drainer then turned around to see her studying me with her head cocked to one side. “That was a very brave thing for you to say.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “In the past, you would’ve deflected my idea rather than answer me straight on or you would’ve come along with me but sulked all the way. I guess those self-help books are working, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “I guess they are. Rain helped me the most by putting a name to what I’d been feeling for so long.”

  “I’d like to borrow some of the books when you’re done with them.”

  “Mom, I think you’ve got it together now.”

  She chuckled. “You’d be surprised. Well, I’m going to miss you tomorrow and on Sunday, but maybe I can talk Mabel into helping me take your granny to church.”

  Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. Mom could use my help since Granny got a little weaker every day. She’d really burrowed into her own world after her trip down Maple Avenue. “I guess I could help you so Mabel could go to her own church.”

  Mom stood and put a hand on my shoulder. “Now, now. Don’t renege on those nice boundaries you set. We’ll work it out.”

  As she left, Rain passed her, lugging her backpack and dropping it on the ground in a huff.

  “I hear you haven’t missed a day of school since that last migraine you had,” I said with a smile.

  “Ugh. I don’t see what the point of all this is. My college applications have already gone through. No one’s going to take a look at my spring semester grades.”

  Maybe not, but after I’d told Mom and Santi about how Rain secretly feared they wouldn’t be able to pay for her college, they’d subtly reassured her on that point. Santi had even promised her a newer car if she could make it through the spring semester with no absences and all As. If he’d known about the Pole Cat, I’m sure that would’ve been a part of the deal, too, but Rain let everyone keep believing she was still working at the mall. Which was kinda true. It was a strip mall. With an establishment that helped women learn to strip.

  “What are you up to?”

  “This research paper I have to do. Most everything is winding down, but my English teacher is nuts. She made us write down all of the quotes we want to use as supporting evidence on notecards like it was nineteen eighty or something. Everyone else uses computers, but, no, not her. Then she told me my quotes didn’t support my argument, which is total crap.” Rain punctuated her sentence by dropping a library book from her backpack on the table. “And we have to use at least one real book even though everything we could possibly need is on the Internet.”

  “I’m sorry for your struggle,” I said, attempting to hold back a smile.

  Rain took two packs of Twizzlers from her backpack and reached into the fridge for a two liter of Mountain Dew, a substance Mom only grudgingly permitted in the house. “The struggle is damn real, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t patronize me.”

  I held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

  Rain looked over her shoulder. “And don’t tell Mom I cussed.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. I can, however, take a look at your index cards, if you would like.”

  “Would you?” Her eyes widened with hope and her mouth unsnarled from disgust. How could I say no?

  * * *

  The next morning I deeply regretted the amount of Twizzlers and Mountain Dew I’d consumed while helping Rain with her research project. My digestive system was no longer that of a teenager as demonstrated by my nausea. At least I never threw up. I could happily go the rest of my life without ever seeing either of those foods again.

  By dressing quickly and skipping breakfast in favor of peanut butter and crackers, I still managed to make it to school on time. When the kids asked me why I looked a little green, I told them the truth: I had eaten too much junk food the night before. I could be their cautionary tale. Of course, that meant a five-minute discussion about what “cautionary tale” meant, in which they thought they were getting me off track. Nah. I had a few extra minutes to spare. Even so, I’d already learned it was best to sometimes let my students think they were getting the best of me. All the better to surprise them with my upper hand later in the day.

  As I shielded my eyes from the sun to watch them on the playground at recess, I realized I would miss them. I’d grown to love the students in my charge—even Noah. Maybe especially Noah since I’d had to work so hard to win him over. Each morning he brought me a new dinosaur fact as our own special bond.

  That evening I took a trip to Jefferson to get a new Easter outfit. I tried on a few dresses, but I still couldn’t bring myself to buy one. Not only did they remind me of Chad, but I was tired of having my thighs rub together when I walked and summer would do me no favors in that area. Granny would’ve pointed out that I could wear pantyhos
e, but I’d given up hosiery in anticipation of the world’s demise at Y2K. The world kept spinning, but I hadn’t picked up hose ever again.

  Nope. I wanted pants, and, by golly, I was going to have some pants.

  I hung up the dresses and went over to the racks that held suits. It couldn’t hurt to have a professional suit for future interviews. Ms. Varner seemed pleased with my work, but one could never be too sure in such situations. I passed up pastel pinks and purples. Mint green was so not my color. I held out a white pantsuit—it had such a nice cut, but white made my butt look bigger and was just an invitation for a period mishap.

  My face drained of all color there in the middle of a department store with only thirty minutes before closing. When was the last time I’d had a period?

  It had been over a month. A month and two weeks, to be exact.

  I let the suit go as if it had singed me, and walked back to my car a zombie.

  What if my first pregnancy test really had been a false positive?

  What if I’d somehow managed to get pregnant with John even though we used condoms?

  What if I had some kind of dread disease?

  Ridiculous. You know the main reasons for a missing period are pregnancy, menopause, and extreme weight loss—two of those most certainly don’t apply to you.

  Once home, I walked back to my bedroom and dug through the closet until I found the box of pregnancy tests I’d bought over a month ago. I had one left.

  As much as I wanted to know, I also didn’t want to know. I told myself I’d go to bed and try in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep. Even so, the part of me who’d studied fertility so obsessively couldn’t take the test until first thing in the morning to maximize the accuracy. I drank water and herbal tea and worried, happy I could at least keep Granny company for a few hours while she watched old episodes of Murder, She Wrote.

  At some point after three, we both fell asleep, more than one mystery unsolved.

  chapter 22

  I jerked awake at the sound of my alarm going off in the other room. To say I felt terrible was the understatement of the century.