Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series

by Pogue, Lindsey

  “I’m going to talk to your father about a divorce when he gets back from his trip. I can go part-time at the firm. I’d like to spend more time with Jesse before I lose him, like I’ve lost you.”

  This time, I wipe tears away for me and the mom I never had. For the woman in front of me who’s more broken than I ever could’ve imagined. The mother I’m seeing for the first time.

  “I understand if you don’t want to stay here any longer, but you will always have a home here, if you decide you want to come back.” She eyes my journal again. “I know things are difficult right now for you, that you’re worried about school and Jesse, and I don’t want you to struggle needlessly about a place to live. I will help you with your graduate program—your father will help you, too, no matter what he says. He’s too good not to, even if you’ve never seen that side of him before.”

  I nod, unable to formulate any words. In the past few minutes, I’ve learned that my parents are nothing like I’d always known—or thought I knew. That my brother truly is a black sheep in my father’s eyes, but not for the reasons I’ve always assumed. I’ve learned the true depths of my parents’ unhappiness, and I swallow a sob in my throat.

  My mom takes a sip of her wine and folds her arms over her chest again. “I know I’ve been absent from your life for years now, Bethany, but as your mother, no matter how much you hate me—”

  “I don’t hate you,” I hear myself say.

  Her face softens a little. “I’d like to request one thing.” She leans forward and rests her elbows on the countertop. “I’d like you to take that dyslexia screening—I want you to get help, for yourself. Not for me or your father.”

  I feel the creases in my brow deepen.

  “Let Mrs. Turner help you. She’s a good woman, and she’s better at the nurturing stuff than I am.” It’s a self-deprecating joke, but I can tell she’s trying.

  “I will,” I promise.

  She nods and takes another sip of her wine. A pause turns into a few breathes, and I wonder what she’s thinking as the silence stretches between us. The clock ticks. The laundry machine beeps in the other room, and a dog barks outside the house as we’re wrapped in shadows and darkness.

  “Now what?” I finally ask, wiping the moisture from my cheeks.

  “Well, I suppose I should let you get back to, whatever it is you do on a Tuesday night.”

  “Homework,” I tell her, and I step down from my stool.

  She stands up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Bethany,” she says, almost urgently. “I know what I’ve told you doesn’t fix anything. I know it might even make everything worse, but knowing what I do now . . . You deserve the truth.”

  It’s the longest, most honest conversation I’ve ever had with my mom, and it means more to me that she could ever know. “Thank you.”

  She nods, and I wonder when the last time was my mom had any physical contact. I walk over and wrap my arms around her. She’s rigid and unyielding at first, but only for a second before her arms wrap around me.

  “I love you,” she rasps.

  “I love you too.”

  She cries into my hair and squeezes me tighter.

  Her vulnerability speaks volumes, and for the first time in my life, I have hope that things between all of us might actually get better.

  Fifty-One

  Nick

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Professor Murray drones on with his condescending niceties, but I tune him out. Bethany isn’t in class today. She didn’t even text me, and I’m worried about what happened last night with her mom and that her absence has something to do with it.

  “—projects due in just under a week, but I’m certain you’re all quite prepared for that,” he says sarcastically. “Because we have a few more weeks until the end of the semester, I figured, why not cram in the Victorian Revival period and an exam before the semester is finished. Some of you will be graduating, after all. Consider this my parting gift to you.” His eyes meet mine, only briefly, and all I can do is shake my head in disbelief. This guy needs to get laid.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, anxious to see if it’s Bethany. I smile.

  Bethany: Sorry I didn’t make it to class. It’s a long story. Meet me outside after.

  I text her back, relieved.

  Me: With bells on.

  “Mr. Turner,” Professor Murray says. “Is there something more interesting than my lecture?”

  I smile at him, barely able to contain myself. “Sorry. I just got some great news about my project.”

  “Hmm. May I continue then?”

  “By all means.” He eyes me carefully, his brow lifted like he doesn’t know if I’m just being facetious or if I’m that excited. My smile broadens, and he finally gives up and continues to address the class.

  The next forty minutes feel like the longest and most drawn out of my life. Once class is finally over, I head to the bench where I’ve met Bethany once before. She’s nestled into the corner when I spot her, her hair up in a ponytail and her book bag at her feet. She hears my approach and glances at me, a smile parting her lips, and my heart flutters.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice unexpectedly soft. I lean down at kiss her lips, then push her bag out of the way and sit at her feet.

  “Hey you.” She’s freshly showered, her hair still damp and she smells of body wash or soap. I wrap my arm around her folded legs to pull her closer against me.

  Her eyes are a bit red, but given the night she’s likely had, I’m not entirely surprised. She lifts her phone and shakes her head. “Anna wanted me to play hooky today, but . . .” she shrugs.

  “Why am I not surprised?” I smile, but it quickly wanes. “So, how did it go with your mom?”

  Bethany takes in a deep, steady breath and her eyes shimmer a little. “It was . . . unexpected.”

  “Yeah? Are you okay?”

  Her head bobs in contemplation. “Yeah, I am. At least, I understand now why my parents are the way they are with one another, and why there’s always been a push and pull between my dad and Jesse.”

  I eye her, waiting patiently for her to continue.

  Bethany picks a piece of lint off the knee of her jeans before her eyes meet mine again. “Jesse is not my dad’s son,” she says.

  It takes a moment for the words to really sink in and for me to realize what that means. The age difference between Bethany and Jesse makes more sense now and the toxicity of their family becomes a bit more understandable. “I take it your dad knows, then,” I think aloud.

  Bethany’s chin inclines a bit and she smiles, but it’s not a real smile, it’s a saving-face smile, like she’s not sure what to believe or think. “He knows, and I’m pretty sure that’s why both of my parents work so much. I think it’s hard for them to be around each other. My dad being away from Jesse so much, though . . . it only puts more distance between them.”

  It makes sense, but I’m not sure what to say, so I sit silently and wait for her to continue.

  “My mom says they’re going to get a divorce, which I think is a good thing, for both of them—for Jesse,” she says thoughtfully.

  “And for you,” I add.

  She nods, but her thoughts are still somewhere else. “Jesse won’t understand, though,” she finally says, and her eyes meet mine again. “What if he thinks it’s his fault they’re separating? He doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t understand any of this. I’m not sure if my mom is going to tell him or if he should even know, at least not yet.”

  “I guess that’s something your mom is going to have to figure out for herself,” I tell her. My reflections about my own family drama have been in the forefront of my mind. “If my mom is any gauge, there’s only so much us kids can control.”

  Bethany takes my hand in hers. “Did you talk to you parents again?” she asks softly.

  “My dad,” I say with a nod. “It’s official, they’re getting a divorce too.” I let out a breath and realiz
e I’m actually relieved. “It feels right, strangely enough.” A few months ago, I would’ve been devastated. “I can’t believe how much has happened in the last few weeks.”

  Bethany squeezes my hand in hers. “At least there were some good things,” she says.

  I squeeze her hand back. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” I say playfully.

  This time, she winks at me.

  Fifty-Two

  Bethany

  After Wednesday’s classes, Nick and I head back to my house to begin packing my things. Part of me is weary to have him here, knowing my mom will be home after work. Then again, keeping Nick away from my family, as screwed up as we are, would only perpetuate their false ideas of him and make him seem like “just some guy,” which is the last thing Nick is to me.

  So, imagine my surprise when my mom came home early from work to help us pack and take a load of things to Anna’s. She and Nick have been cordial, if a little awkward, but seeing them interacting makes me unexpectedly happy.

  “You look more like your mom than your dad,” Nick tells me, studying a family photo on my dresser.

  “Yeah? I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  Nick glances between me and the photo. “It’s a good thing,” he clarifies. “Imagining you with a five o’clock shadow is more horrifying than sexy.”

  The front door opens and closes downstairs, and I assume my mom’s brought Jesse home from school.

  I pull the rest of my pajamas out of my dresser drawer as Nick picks up one of my bras from a clean pile of clothes and holds it up to his chest. His eyebrows waggle when he looks at me.

  I try not to smile, so not to encourage him. Instead, I shake my head. “Are you planning on helping at all or just distracting me?”

  With a laugh, Nick sets my bra back on my folded pile and heads for the door. “Helping, of course. I’ll grab you a few more boxes.” He disappears down the hallway.

  “Hey, kid,” I hear him say, and I imagine Jesse’s probably happy to see him. They chat for a bit, but I lose myself to the memories of this room, realizing that I might never sleep in it again. How many endless nights have I laid awake in here? How many tears have I cried? I stare at my journal, poking out of my book bag and wonder where I’ll be in five years and what that version of me will think when reading reflections of the past.

  “Hi,” Jesse says, and steps into my doorway with one of his favorite T. rex figurines.

  “Hey.” I finish folding a nightshirt. “How was school?”

  “Fine,” he says. “Ms. Harding gave me a gold star today for reading out loud.”

  “You read out loud? That’s pretty impressive. No wonder she gave you a gold star. Did you get to read whatever you wanted?”

  He nods slightly. I know he doesn’t want me to leave, but it’s not like I won’t still be around all the time. “Let me guess, you read out of your science encyclopedia?”

  He nods again and picks at the dinosaur’s tail.

  “Well, no wonder you did so well. You know it by heart.”

  When he doesn’t engage, I finally turn to him. “Don’t be sad, J. I’ll still see you every day, like I always have. I’m still going to pick you up from school and help you build your jungle—”

  “I’m working on a boat now.”

  Though to anyone else, it’s an insignificant thing, to me, it’s all the world. I’ve always wanted to build a boat, and finally, he’s letting go of the jungle and giving it a try. “All right, then. I’ll help you with your boat—but only if it has a mermaid,” I add.

  His face scrunches.

  “Hey,” I say and step over to him. I tug at his shirt. “This will be good for you and Mom. She wants to spend more time with you. Besides, this way I can be the bad influence and take you out for ice cream when you’re with me.”

  Jesse’s blue eyes finally find mine but only for an instant. “Promise?”

  I smile. “A cross-my-heart sort of promise. Okay?”

  He nods with a little enthusiasm this time and hands me his T. rex . “You can take him, if you want,” he says. “His tail’s broken, but—”

  “I would love to, J.” I kiss his cheek. “He’s always been my favorite.”

  “I know.” His eyes don’t leave the toy in my hand. “I was going to give you the triceratops, but . . .” The fact that he would part with any of his toys at all nearly brings tears to my eyes.

  “If you ever change your mind and want him back for a little while, you know where to find him. Okay?”

  He nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Do you think Nick wants one?”

  My eyes widen. “I think Nick would love one, if you want to part with another. You know how he feels about the classics. Dinosaurs are very classic.”

  That earns me a smile, and Jesse drops his hands to his sides. “If you each have one, you could keep them together.”

  “Yes, we could.” I eye him quizzically. Jesse might never say it, but it’s obvious he’s grown attached to Nick already, which makes me so happy. “Why don’t you go pick one out for him? You can give it to him when he comes back with more boxes.”

  Jesse turns without a word and shuffles into his bedroom. With a sigh and a happily aching heart, I turn back to my clothes scattered around and heave out a breath. I have a hundred things to do this week, including the GRE exam and finishing up Professor Murray’s project. I have work and a calendar filled with things to do with Jesse, not to mention unpacking at Anna’s. But, somehow it doesn’t feel overwhelming like it usually does. Maybe it’s the fact that I feel like, for the first time in my life, I’m not so alone. Maybe it’s the fact that I have Nick, and life, despite its craziness, finally feels . . . right.

  The floor creaks outside my bedroom, and I smile. “That was quick. Which one did you decide on?” I glance over my shoulder to find my dad, standing in the doorway this time. His hair is a little mussed, which I’m not sure I’ve ever seen, and his hands are in his pockets. There’s a darkness under his eyes I’ve never noticed until now, either.

  “You’re home,” I say. “I thought you didn’t come back until tomorrow?” I can’t remember the last time my dad was upstairs, let alone in my bedroom.

  His mouth draws into a regretful smile I don’t expect, and he nods. “Your mother and I spoke this morning about a few things, and I decided to come home early.”

  “Oh.” It’s surprising, but then again, so much about my dad is surprising the more I learn about him. I’m not sure if they talked about a divorce, my journal, Jesse, or all of the above.

  “I figured I should be here if my daughter’s moving out of my house.”

  I don’t say anything because I can’t think of anything worth saying. Yes. It’s true. It’s better this way. I honestly didn’t think you’d care. Nothing feels adequate.

  “Bethany,” he says in a low rumble. It’s beseeching in a way I’ve never heard from him. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

  Meeting his glassy gaze, I feel unwanted tears in the backs of my eyes. The fact that he’s even up here talking to me is huge. Now, an apology?

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you so much. I should’ve realized something was wrong and gotten you help with your schoolwork. Dyslexia—”

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You didn’t know.”

  He shakes his head and peers down at his feet. “No. It’s not.” The weight of his regret constricts my chest and burns the back of my throat, forcing me to swallow.

  Dropping my clothes on the bed, I turn to face him fully.

  “I’ve made a lot of assumptions about a lot of things, when I shouldn’t have. I should’ve been more curious and listened to you. I shouldn’t have assumed you were like—”

  “Mom?” I ask, understanding for the first time what a father’s fear might be, knowing his wife betrayed him and fearing his daughter might be headed down the same path. Though the betrayal I felt with Mike is nothing compar
ed to that of a husband and wife, I feel strangely closer to my dad, having had a glimpse of what he must’ve felt the day he found out and how it has haunted him every day since.

  “Mom told me,” I say without thought.

  When his eyes meet mine again, he looks confused.

  “About Jesse.” I nod down the hall, and it takes him a minute to understand what I’m saying. Then, realization deepens the creases around his eyes.

  When he can’t seem to take the silence anymore, his eyes shift around the room, landing on my half-packed boxes. “I met Nick,” he says. His gaze shifts to me. “He’s got a good handshake.”

  “Does he?” I smile. Even if he doesn’t say it, I know my dad will try to change, at least as much as he can.

  He nods, like it’s his way of approving of Nick, before the silence grows too heavy and he straightens. “I’ll let you get back to packing.”

  He retreats from the doorway almost instantly, but I continue to stare at it. I hadn’t expected him to come up here, let alone apologize, but apparently, I needed it. The heaviness that remained around my heart lifts a little bit more.

  Peering around my bedroom, I think about how much time we’ve all wasted, locked in a constant state of resentment. All it took was a couple difficult exchanges—a handful of words—and everything feels lighter. Better. Promising. When my eyes land on my journal again, I smile.

  Fifty-Three

  Bethany’s Journal

  April 25th

  Today is a good day. There’s a hum in the house, instead of a heaviness. It’s relief, I think. I can feel it all around me, and I’m grateful. While I don’t know what’s going to happen between my parents now that I know the truth, or with grad school, it feels like everything will be okay, like we might still have a chance to become an actual family. All the crap that’s led to this moment suddenly seems worth it. - B