My daughter…she was almost normal, if that was even a term I could use anymore. She was getting better, though, and every word out of her mouth, every sparkle in her eye was testament to it. Without a doubt, the counseling was working.
As I started filling up the sink with water, Justin came behind me, sliding his hands around my waist. “What’s wrong, Rascal?”
Shit. So much for hiding it.
This was the moment I’d been dreading. Talking to Justin about it would make it completely real. Was I ready? Not even close, but he was standing there, snuggling me close, waiting for me to spill the beans.
Without warning, my eyes filled with tears and, muscles feeling weak, arms heavy, I shut off the water before turning around, burying my head in his chest. That was when the tears really started to rain. While trying to suppress sobs, I spat out, “I don’t even know how to say it.”
He led me to a chair and I grabbed a napkin to dab at my face. Sarah and Devon appeared from the doorway and Devon, my little angel, patted me on the shoulder. “What’s wrong, mom?”
Forcing a smile, I looked at my beautiful children through watery eyes before using a positive tone that sounded almost happy. “Nothing, guys. Everything’s okay. I just need to talk to Justin for a little bit, okay?”
Sarah wasn’t buying it. “Did I do something?”
“No, honey, no. I promise. It’s not you, sweetie. It’s something that happened to me. Please don’t worry. I’ll be okay.” Pulling Devon and Sarah into an embrace, I forced myself to keep that smile plastered as Justin sat in a chair next to me. “If you guys give me a little bit, we can make more banana splits in a while.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m too full.”
Devon grinned. “Mom’s going crazy.”
“Don’t expect this all the time, guys. Tonight’s an exception. Now go play your games, okay?”
Neither child was convinced—I could see that in their eyes—but they went to the living room just the same. As I dropped my forehead into my hand, Justin touched my knee. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I couldn’t put it off. Nodding, I took a deep breath and then forced myself to look up at him. Like ripping off a bandage, I was just going to blurt it out. “I’m pregnant.”
Justin’s face froze, and it looked like he wasn’t even breathing. Finally, as if he thought he’d misheard me, he blinked a few times as he said, “You’re what?”
I continued avoiding his eyes as the knot in my stomach grew tighter. “Pregnant. I took a test today to be sure, and it was positive.” It wasn’t until then that I looked up at him.
And he simply stared back, emotionless. For a long while, he seemed speechless, and it took me back to my days with Mike when a revelation like this might have brought a slap to my face—or worse. I swallowed again as my body filled with that feeling of dread, wishing he would fucking say something, anything, and my eyes filled with tears again.
When he finally did speak, his voice was so low, it sounded like a growl. “How did that happen? I thought you were on birth control.”
As I closed my eyes, two tears dropped down my cheeks. “The week I was sick, I forgot to put on a new patch. I didn’t remember until the next week. I was just so sick, so out of it, I never even thought about it. And by the time I realized I missed it, it was too late. We’d already had sex by then. So I hoped…”
Justin nodded, pulling my head to his chest, letting me cry.
But he didn’t say anything else for the remainder of the evening. This man I’d grown to love, who always had something to say, a devilish twinkle in his eyes, a hidden grin, as laid back as they came, was quiet for most of the night. The silence was heavy, but I figured maybe he just needed to process.
After the kids went to bed, I joined him in the kitchen where he sat at the table staring at the wall. I’d thought telling him would make me feel better, but I instead felt worse, and now I was wondering if I should have simply made a decision before coming to him. Sitting in the chair beside him, I could feel the tension. It was so thick, I could have cut it with a knife.
I couldn’t tolerate the silence anymore. “What are you thinking? What should we do?”
“I have no fuckin’ idea. I’m trying to wrap my mind around it, trying to figure out if this was part of your plan. Since we’re playing house, we might as well play mom and dad.”
I had no control over the tears as they started dropping again. “You think I did this on purpose?”
One thing I’d give Justin—he kept his voice low. Mike would have already been yelling, waking the kids up. Somehow, though, Justin seemed scarier, and even though he’d never once made me feel threatened, I couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were balled up into fists. “What am I supposed to think, Randi? Are you sure this baby doesn’t belong to the perv?”
It took me a second to realize he was talking about my one-time encounter with Kevin. “Are you serious? There’s no way this baby could be his. He was wearing a condom.”
“Sure, he wears a condom. Until you, I never went without. But then you say, ‘I’m on birth control, Justin. You don’t need to worry about it.’ So I trust you. Then it’s not long after we move in together that you’re pregnant. What the hell am I supposed to think?”
“You think I want to be pregnant? Like it’s a joyride?” Unable to stop myself, the tears began again and I dropped my head, knowing that I could say all I wanted to, but the more I’d try to assure him, the more he might doubt it. Besides, I couldn’t stop sobbing enough to speak coherently anyway.
So we sat in the kitchen, silent except for my occasional sob, and I grabbed a napkin to dab at the moisture on my face.
After a while, Justin pushed the chair back from the table. “I need some time to think. By myself.”
I didn’t look up, instead allowing my ears to tell me what was going on. His keys rattled as he scooped them off the spot on the coffee table where he’d been keeping them since moving in, and then he walked out the door. After a bit, I could hear his truck outside as he started it up and drove away.
And then my eyes turned into waterfalls. How I still had more tears in me, I’d never know.
* * *
I’d almost forgotten how horrible a crying hangover felt after a teary night. Puffy eyes, red and sore, and a stuffy nose mirrored the pain I still felt inside. But this sort of thing reminded me of my resilience. As much as I hated that Justin had stayed gone all night long, I assured myself I was okay without him. I still had the unborn child to figure out, but I’d wait. I needed to put on my game face.
First, though, cold tea bags on my eyes. After sipping a cup of coffee, I lay on the couch with my eyes covered, hoping I could get the swelling down enough that it wouldn’t be obvious by the time we went to my parents’ house.
Devon touched my shoulder, his small thin fingers warming my heart. “I’m done with my bath, mom.”
Sitting up, I removed the tea bags, setting them on a saucer. “What about Sarah?”
“She already showered. It’s your turn.”
“Why don’t you get some breakfast, sweetie?”
“Sarah’s making it right now.”
No matter how wrecked my heart was, there was a part of it that beat for my wonderful children and, suddenly, I felt blessed. Sitting up, I tousled his hair and smiled. “I’ve got a couple of great kids, you know that?”
Grinning back, he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “We have a great mom!”
“Go eat, honey.”
Then, willing my feet to move every step of the way, I walked to the bathroom realizing I no longer felt sad. At some point that morning, my emotions had shifted. Now, I was angry that Justin hadn’t returned since leaving the night before. Apparently, he needed a lot of time to think.
Fuck him. I don’t need him. I was strong and I didn’t need a fucking man. I was fine before he came into my life, and I’d be okay now.
So why the hell were the tears well
ing up again?
As the water poured down on me, though, I started wondering if maybe Justin had been right. Sarah and Devon had both been unplanned and I’d been using birth control. Had something inside me wanted to be a mother, no matter the cost? I couldn’t believe that—but no fucking wonder Justin had come up with that theory.
Shutting off the shower, I grabbed a towel, reminding myself that what he thought didn’t matter. It didn’t change shit—except, of course, that I’d have to go back to being a single mother again. And that didn’t matter, either. I’d already survived that fucking crucible.
I’d figure out what to do with the kids later while I worked my Thanksgiving shift. If grandma and grandma couldn’t keep them around, maybe I could take them with me to work. For now, though, I just had to put on a happy face—or at least an expression that didn’t appear miserable.
Mid-morning, the kids and I piled into the chilly van, and I scraped the windows while the heater warmed up the interior. As we drove out of town and I eyed the dark skies, I thought the weather was an apropos reflection of what was going on inside. As I sped down the highway, I realized I was craving a cigarette so badly, it made my mouth water.
Maybe being with my family would help—but I also knew it could have the opposite effect.
When we arrived an hour later, I fought against cursing when I spotted a rental car in my parents’ driveway, because it could only mean one thing.
Perfect Megan, my sister.
But maybe that wasn’t fair. She wasn’t an enemy—nor were my parents, as much as I’d often wanted to think of them that way.
So I said to the kids, “Hey, guys, it looks like your cousins are already here.” When Devon smiled and even Sarah’s eyes lit up, I told myself today might turn out to be okay after all.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The Miller house was warm and steamy, full of good cheer. It smelled of turkey, stuffing, home-baked rolls, and pumpkin pie, the aromas of Thanksgiving.
As my mother had requested, I sat at the table in the kitchen slicing cucumbers. Meanwhile, my kids were playing downstairs with their cousins while my father and brother-in-law were already watching football in the living room. As I eased into the mood of the holidays, I was able to let go of a lot of my own negativity. Our arrival had started out feeling pretty awkward when everyone wanted to know why Justin hadn’t come after all, so there was no way in hell I was going to confess that I was pregnant once again.
Or that I was going through another shitty breakup.
Instead, I was going to focus on the positive—or on keeping my mouth shut entirely. Thus far, it had been working well.
Fortunately, Megan drove the conversation in the kitchen while dicing tomatoes for the salad my mother had us preparing together. She talked about her Ladies’ Bible Group and then her work on the PTO and her husband’s job, and I hoped I appeared to be paying attention. I was trying to figure out when would be a good time to ask if my family could watch the kids tonight and instead considering taking the easy way out by just bringing them with me to work.
When mom came over to the table and started tossing lettuce leaves into the large bowl on the table, she said, “It sounds like you’re keeping busy, Meg.”
My sister nodded, smiling widely. There was no mistaking we were sisters—our hair was the same shade of brown, our faces the identical shape, especially our chins and noses. The only genetic difference was my sister had ice-blue eyes. Her hair was styled into a pristine bob and her makeup was lightly applied—except for the cherry-red lipstick she wore to match her blouse. What I noticed most, though, were the gold crosses hanging on her neck and dangling from her ears, a symbol of who she was—and her words also reflected it. “Yes, but it’s a good busy. I love everything I’m doing. I can give back to God, and I can help Petey at school without taking away from the girls. It’s wonderful. Perfect even.”
I wondered then if my sister or even my parents compared our lives. I was single while Megan was going on almost a decade of married bliss. And while this baby growing inside me would make three, meaning the number of children we had would match, each of my kids had a different father. I didn’t go to church and questioned if I even believed any of that shit anymore, while Meg was the exact opposite. And, sure, I could say I was involved with my daughter’s school, but certainly not in the way Meg was involved with her son’s. My life? Pure fucking chaos. Meg’s was idyllic.
But then I let it all wash over me. If Megan and I could trade lives, would I want to? Hell, no. Messy or not, I wanted my own life. At least it felt fucking real. I’d earned my scars. And I might have wanted a little peace, but I sure as shit didn’t want some phony fairy tale.
Did I hate my sister? No way. I had no grudge against her. I only wanted my family to stop silently judging me all the goddamned time.
Pulling me out of my self-reflection, Megan asked, “So what have you been up to lately? Are you still going to school?”
I fought to get my head in the right space. “Yeah, I am. I’m probably about halfway done after this semester.”
“So, what—another year or two?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s your major?”
“I’m not sure yet. It doesn’t help that I’ve enjoyed every subject in school so far. Actually, that’s not true. I hate math.”
“Who doesn’t?”
Justin. But I wasn’t going to think about him right now.
“Yeah. So I’m gravitating toward a couple of different areas, but I need to talk with an advisor.” I wasn’t going to address the fact that I was doing poorly in all my classes this semester and hadn’t as yet registered for spring classes.
But that was my own shit, and I wasn’t about to address any of my failures right now.
We were quiet for a minute as I tried to think of a good question to ask my sister—but she’d already given such a rundown of her life earlier that I wasn’t sure where to go. Before I could take that defensive maneuver, she pelted me with another question. “How are the kids doing?”
And fuck me. All that did was remind me that I’d missed my kids’ parent-teacher conferences. Add to it that subject touched closely on what had been going on with Sarah…and I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about that. So I simply said, “Doing okay, all things considered.”
My mother, of course, had other ideas. “How’s Sarah’s therapy going?”
Goddammit. There was that knot again, like a brick in my gut. I kept my eyes on the knife in my hand while focusing on keeping my voice steady and calm. “Going well, I think.”
But that answer didn’t cut my sister off at the pass.
“Wait. What happened? Why is she in therapy?”
Now that Megan had asked, I might as well talk about it. All the kids were off playing, Sarah included, so I didn’t have to worry about them overhearing something they shouldn’t. “You remember her behavior at Easter? It escalated in school, especially this fall, so we started taking her to counseling.” Wondering if I should say more, I placed some cucumber slices into the bowl my mother handed me. “We didn’t find out until then that her fifth grade teacher had been sexually abusing her.”
“Oh, no. How did you find out?”
“Through the psychotherapy. The psychologist managed to get it out of Sarah.”
Megan put down her knife and touched my arm. “You must be consumed with guilt.”
“You have no idea.”
My mother interjected. “But you said the therapy’s continuing to help?”
“It really is. I’m so grateful for her psychologist. But you’re right, Meg. I do feel guilty, like I’m the worst mother in the world. And I feel so powerless. Her teacher skipped town, so they can’t even bring him to trial. All I can do is continue taking her to her sessions. They have a warrant out for his arrest, but I doubt they’ll ever find him. I just…” I let out a breath of air and fought back tears. It was too much today.
“I�
�m so sorry. If there’s anything—”
I cut her off, because I wanted to make one thing as clear as possible. “Please don’t say anything to Sarah, and don’t treat her differently. She’s still the same little girl. It’s just going to take a while for her to heal.”
When Megan nodded and another shroud of silence descended upon us, I resumed cutting the last cucumber. “Sh—crap.”
“What happened?”
“I cut my finger.”
My mother said, “I’ll get a bandage.”
I went to the sink to run cool water over the cut and then grabbed a paper towel to dab the water off by the time my mom returned with the bandage. As I was wrapping it around my finger, Megan was tossing the salad, ready to resume our conversation. “So, Randi, mom tells me there’s a new man in your life.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. I definitely wasn’t ready to go there, not now. Any other day but today. I couldn’t imagine being able to talk about Justin without bursting into tears. It had been hard enough delivering the dry lie earlier that morning that Justin had things he had to do and couldn’t make it. Maybe, just for now, I could pretend like yesterday hadn’t happened. I could deal with the fallout at a later date. “His name is Justin.”
Megan set the salad tongs down. “Is he the guy you went to the funeral with last Christmas?”
Holy shit. She remembered that? Even mom and dad hadn’t made the connection when they’d been probing about my “date” with a “male friend.” But Megan remembered me going to Kansas with Justin to help bury his father.
Maybe I had to give my sister some credit.
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“So tell me about him.”
“We met in school. He’s studying to be a mechanic. Actually, he’s almost done.” Just thinking about him reminded me of how very much I loved him—which made his leaving all the more painful.
Devon’s voice behind me nearly made me jump. “Are you telling Aunt Megan about Justin, mom?”
“Yes. Did you need something, honey?”
“No. Just wondering when we get to eat. We’re starving!”
Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Page 25