Violet Ugly: A Contemporary Romance Novel (The Granite Harbor Series Book 2)

by J. Lynn Bailey

  My stomach drops. My brother. The one whose life isn’t falling apart. The brother who still has his senior year ahead of him. He has Grace. And prom. And a future.

  We’re fundamentally different now.

  Mom, I could really use your help right now, I pray quietly to myself.

  “Ryan’s here,” Eli says. “We’re going downtown.”

  Fuck. Shit. Not now. I’m not ready to face him. Not ready to tell him. Playing this game I’ve asked Ryan to play, the don’t tell my brother that we’re dating but kind of not dating game.

  Ryan’s life is about to change, too.

  I stand, dizzy, and I grab the counter to steady myself. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I wipe my nose on the back of my hand again. I grab the pregnancy test and examine it closer. Pregnant. “Shit.”

  I grab all the evidence of my life change and throw it in my purse, unlocking and opening the bathroom door. I drove all the way to Augusta to buy one. There’s not a chance in hell I’d buy a pregnancy test at Ring’s Pharmacy or Granite Harbor Grocery. I’d make the gossip ring in thirty minutes, tops.

  “Hey,” Ryan says from the hallway at the door of Eli’s bedroom.

  “Hey,” I say. I slip into my bedroom and shut the door behind me.

  There’s a knock. A soft knock.

  Ryan peeks his head in.

  Tears start to burn at the corners of my eyes, my back to the door.

  “Mer, you all right?”

  No.

  “I’m fine.” I hear the door quietly shut behind him.

  There’s hesitation in his steps.

  Don’t you dare cry, Merit. Stop it this instant.

  “Mer, what’s wrong?”

  I feel his hand slide up my arm. I wince.

  “Violet?”

  Please don’t call me that anymore, I want to say, and I’m not sure why I don’t want him to call me that anymore.

  I turn to face him. We’ve committed this act together. He has to know.

  “Ryan,” I sigh and reach into my purse. My hands shaking, I hand him the pregnancy test.

  He takes it in his hand and stares down at the test and back at me. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a positive pregnancy test, Ryan,” I whisper.

  He sits on my bed. Stares.

  He’ll make this okay. He’ll tell me everything will be all right now. He’ll take me in his arms. Tell me he loves me and that we’ll get married and that he’ll take shifts at the harbor during his senior year.

  “This can’t be right,” he says.

  “What?”

  “We wore a condom, Mer. This can’t be right.”

  I’ve had a whole three minutes to process this before he knew anything. A whole three minutes to figure out what I can’t seem to wrap my head around, so I’m no use in assisting with the understanding department.

  Any minute now, he’ll make this okay. Right?

  I’ll just wait.

  We don’t say a word.

  I join him on the bed. Not the same one that got us into this predicament. That was a bed of blankets at the harbor. In the darkness, below the moon’s light, where he pushed, and I took whatever he offered, unable to get enough.

  We shook when he finished.

  I didn’t know what an orgasm was until two days after we made love. When he used his fingers and then his tongue under my summer dress. It was just past noon, and we were in the shade of an old evergreen, a secluded place just past the harbor.

  Maybe I’m romanticizing the situation we’re in to avoid the current situation altogether.

  Ryan’s head rests on his hand, still staring at the positive pregnancy test. Silence fills us like air, consuming us. Questions we can’t answer. Answers that are just beyond our reach perhaps. A situation we shouldn’t be in. And yet the silence is too deafening to hear anything else. Not the sound of the blood pumping from my heart to other parts of my body. My thoughts, too, have become quiet.

  The silence turns eerie. Cold. Dark.

  Then, he says, “You’re sure it’s mine?”

  It takes several minutes for my brain to comprehend the question he asked. It takes me a minute to round up what’s in my head to answer the question I’m not sure he really asked in the first place.

  “What?”

  “You’re sure it’s mine? The baby.”

  My thoughts are just a step behind my mouth.

  “What do you mean?” Truly, I don’t understand what he’s asking.

  Is he asking if I’ve slept with someone else? Is he asking if there’s another father?

  Just a step behind.

  Disbelief can squander. Flounder. Like a fish out of water. It can flip and flop on an old deck, waiting for someone to do the right thing. Waiting for someone to understand the predicament and take action.

  But anger starts first. Just at the end of my spine and quickly reaches my chest and then my mouth. Then, it registers.

  “You’re asking if I had sex with someone else?” The disbelief meets my tongue, and reality pours in.

  He doesn’t answer. He knows the truth. He knows it. I know it. And God knows it.

  “I just want to be sure—”

  “What?” I’m still trying to register, compute.

  He shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

  I whisper my next words because I’m afraid, if I don’t, I’ll sound like I’m yelling. Even though I don’t want to yell. I keep calm for Eli’s sake. Because Eli doesn’t know a thing about Ryan and me.

  “Ryan, you were my first. And you think I’m just going to mess around with someone else?”

  Ryan shakes his head, placing his elbows on his knees, still holding the pregnancy test. “You’ve got to get an abortion. I can’t have a kid right now. I’m a junior in high school, Mer.”

  I can’t breathe.

  I need to throw up.

  The room spins.

  And I can’t manage a rational thought.

  I’m alone in this world full of people with a tiny seed inside me.

  The sound of my pulse can be heard in my ear.

  A loud ringing.

  “Besides,” I hear him say, “you’re not the only one I’m sleeping with, Mer. Come on, you know there are no guarantees in life.”

  It’s hard for an eighteen-year-old girl to hide pregnancy, especially living in a small town. Hiding the overindulgence in soda crackers and soda. Blaming it on a bad flu—in spring.

  I drove to Portland two days ago to do what I needed to do, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, large black sunglasses, and red lipstick. I couldn’t have a child on my own. I wasn’t ready for one. I hadn’t been to the doctor yet. Fear was my keeper. I couldn’t give this child the life it deserved.

  I sat in the parking lot, tears streaming down my face as I stared at the brick building.

  You understand right? I touch my stomach.

  I can’t give you the life you’re owed.

  I’m sorry.

  Looking in the rearview mirror, I wiped my mascara away, pushed my sunglasses over my eyes, and marched into the clinic.

  I didn’t expect the clinician to check for a heartbeat.

  She did.

  And hers—I just knew she was a girl—was strong.

  I wept quietly as I listened to the sound of her heart.

  The music of her beat.

  “Are you ready, Miss Young?” the clinician asked.

  I lay there, on the sterile chair, shirt up, my stomach exposed, listening to the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I believed this girl had been made with love. I believed this girl would overcome. And I believed she and I were meant to be.

  Tears rolled.

  My heart ached.

  I wanted so badly to do what I had come to do.

  But love won. A mother’s love won.

  Without a shred of fear, I said, “No. I’ve decided I can’t do this. I’m keeping my baby.”

  The clinician sat back. Smiled. “All right then. Let’s schedu
le your next checkup.”

  I began to wonder on my way back, with this child growing inside me, what clinicians felt when they were asked to do things like abortions.

  Do some women use it as a form of birth control?

  Do some women do it without a second thought?

  Are some women like me?

  I supposed we all wore a different conscience as people made by God. I supposed we all walked this world differently. But, when I heard that strong little heartbeat, I knew this little girl was my destiny. And, whatever that looked like, it didn’t matter because we’d figure things out together. I had to be her strength until she could stand on her own two feet.

  I drove two blocks down to Books Galore and bought a day-by-day pregnancy book. Without my mom, without Ryan, I’d navigate this on my own.

  Twenty-Four

  Ryan

  Granite Harbor, Maine

  Spring 2002

  Something’s wrong with Merit, I think when I see her ash-colored face coming from the bathroom.

  “Hey,” I say, fear building in my body.

  “Hey,” she says and walks into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

  Something’s definitely wrong.

  I tell Eli that I’ll meet him downtown, that I have to talk to Merit about a school project. We don’t even have the same classes. She’s in all the AP classes, the smart-kid classes, and she’s a senior, but I don’t care what he’s thinking right now. I need to check on Mer.

  Eli leaves, and I knock on her door before I enter. I’ve seen her naked, so if she’s changing, it would be all right. More than all right.

  “Mer, you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she lies.

  “Mer, what’s wrong?” Hesitantly, I walk to her, not knowing what she needs right now, but I take my hand and slide it up her arm. “Violet?”

  I feel her body flinch at the name. Something she’s never done.

  “Ryan,” she finally says, reaching into her purse. She hands me a white stick that looks like a thermometer.

  Does she have a fever? Is she sick?

  The problem with the thermometer is, it doesn’t have a place for numbers. I want to tell her that she needs to get her money back or get this one fixed, but I’m not sure what she’s trying to say with this.

  Oh. God.

  Just for clarification’s sake, I ask, “What’s this?”

  “It’s a positive pregnancy test, Ryan.”

  I need to sit. I need some stability behind me to hold me up because, all of a sudden, I feel light-headed. I manage to get to the bed and stare at the pregnancy test.

  “This can’t be right,” I say, grasping for reality. This cannot be reality right now.

  “What?”

  “We wore a condom, Mer. This can’t be right.”

  This isn’t bad. This is an okay thing. So badly, I want to pull Merit in my arms and tell her we’ll be just fine. That I can take my GED, and I’ll get another job. That we can find a place in Granite Harbor together. That we’ll have a life together. We’ll get married. And everything will be all right.

  But that’s not what she wants.

  She wants the West Coast.

  She wants college.

  She’s been dreaming of this since we were kids.

  I look at her open closet door and see pictures of the school she wants to attend in California. Marine animals. Otters. Whales. Dolphins. Exotic fish. Near her light switch, she has a University of San Diego pennant. The one Rebecca bought for her. I glance at her nightstand to see a picture of the Young family.

  This dream she’s worked for all her life. I can’t stand in the fucking way of all that. I won’t let anything hold her back from a life, a good life, that she’s been building with her smart-girl classes in high school. I won’t let anything stand in the way of that. Having a baby and staying in Granite Harbor would keep her here. And, as much as I want her to stay, she can’t.

  “You’re sure it’s mine?” Every fucking word kills me.

  Silence.

  I see her face contort as I try to stare her in the eyes, proving my question is valid. Real. It isn’t. I know Merit loves me.

  “What?”

  I see the pain written on her face. The insult. The sadness.

  “You’re sure it’s mine? The baby.” It rips me to shreds. Fight, Ryan. For her sake. “I just want to be sure—”

  “What do you mean?”

  Merit’s eyes meet mine. If hearts could crack, mine just did. All over the floor, making a mess of things.

  Turn off your love and lie to her fucking face. Because you owe her this.

  Heartbreak can be telling. Heartbreak can be seen and not heard.

  This I experience with Merit when she says, “Ryan, you were my first. And you think I’m just going to mess around with someone else?”

  I shake my head.

  Fucking fight for her future because she won’t do it, and you know how bad she wants this. Fight.

  “You’ve got to get an abortion. I can’t have a kid right now. I’m a junior in high school, Mer.”

  I see the walls go up. Her heart snaps shut. All in a matter of seconds.

  “Besides”—I put the nail in the coffin—“you’re not the only one I’m sleeping with, Mer. Come on, you know there are no guarantees in life.”

  I know this statement alone does its job. Does what I intended it to do. I see it in her face. The disbelief. The hurt. Sadness. Then, anger.

  This will be the last time Merit will face me again. I feel it in my gut.

  I follow her to Portland. Watch her as she sits in the car and cries.

  It will be a long road. But she’ll get to where she needs to. Merit Young always does.

  I watch her as she leaves the appointment, wiping her face dry, a few papers clasped in her hand. I wonder what they say.

  The truth is, I haven’t been sleeping with someone else. I could never do that to Merit. And I’ve never regretted telling that lie. I’ll take this information to the grave.

  I guess I have faith that life will work itself out. If I’m not meant to have Merit, then I’ll have to live with that. But I know she is meant to fulfill her ambition. Her goals that she’s dreamed about since we were kids.

  I watch as she gets into her Jeep and shuts the door.

  I wait.

  I follow her when she pulls away from the curb and drives to a bookstore not far from the clinic.

  She walks out with a book, but I can’t read the title.

  I hope it is a read that keeps her mind busy. Passes the time. Makes up for the heartbreak I’ve caused.

  This is for the better, I tell myself and pull away from the curb.

  Merit Young will be all right. Eventually.

  Twenty-Five

  Ryan

  Hallowell, Maine

  Present Day

  I jump awake.

  A dream she’s gone.

  I reach for her.

  But the warmth of her body is non-existent.

  There’s nothing left but her scent.

  The darkness is too blinding. I fumble for the light.

  All that’s left in her wake is a note.

  Two broken puzzle pieces will never fit together. We’re better left alone.

  Love,

  Violet

  My heart starts to hammer against my chest. My body starts to sweat. I grab my cell phone and throw it against the wall, fucking pissed at myself for allowing her to slip past me without a good-bye.

  Some things are better left alone.

  Some things are better left in the dark.

  And some memories are better left unremembered.

  I hear the swoosh of blood through my ears. I look down at my naked body, what it felt like to lie with her again. Feel her skin against mine. Feel myself inside her. Feeling her in my mouth. Fulfilling her needs in a way no other man can. I wanted to be gentle with her last night. Take my time. Show her things and do things to her tha
t I only wanted to do to her.

  But our hearts needed fixing.

  So, we both took what we needed.

  My dick grows hard almost instantly, knowing where it’s been. I don’t dare wash my body. Wash her remnants from me.

  I have to let her go.

  Again.

  I can’t fix this.

  Three Days Later

  It’s morning. The birds are chirping, and I want to tell them to shut the fuck up. But I don’t. Feeling almost hungover, I’m reminded of where Merit isn’t.

  It’s my first day back on the job. I arranged to get busy as soon as possible because I need to stay busy. Keep my mind moving forward, not allowing myself to think of her.

  I take a shower and remember Merit’s body on top of mine, moving in the moon’s light. Panting. Her hair dangling against my balls as I reached up and took her nipples between my fingers.

  I need relief.

  So, I lean forward and stroke myself with only thoughts of her until I come.

  This won’t make it better. The heartache. But it will keep my dick from hurting.

  I grab a towel. My phone starts to ring.

  Please, let it be Merit.

  I look at my phone. It’s Dubbs.

  “Dubbs?” I say.

  But there’s nobody on the line, just a lot of static.

  “Dubbs? Can you hear me?”

  The static grows louder and then click.

  Silence.

  I dial the number back. But it goes straight to an automated voice mail. I told Dubbs to get that set up a while ago when he got the damn smartphone. But he never listens.

  I try to shake the nerves that the phone call caused.

  Where the hell is he?

  Why couldn’t I hear him?

  Was it really him who hung up?

  Did he finally make it home?

  I make a mental note to check his house again on my way home. He’s probably on the boat. Fishing. But Ronan Fields’s name is at the back of my mind. I’ll also stop by The Angler’s Tavern and see if Felix has seen or heard anything.

  I’m on my way to a spot just south of Hallowell, about a half hour down the road. ATV accident. The driver was flown out just before two in the morning. They aren’t sure if the driver will make it.