“Jeff hated me talking about college. We had some huge fights about it, because I was determined. But then, toward the end of senior year, I got pregnant. We’d started having sex the summer before. We were careful. We always used a condom. Sometimes, he’d push in and try to get something started before he had it on, but I never let him get far with that. Far enough, though, I guess. At least once.
“I was devastated. Jeff was ecstatic, thinking he’d won. He wanted us to get married right after graduation. I said no. I said I wasn’t keeping the baby, that we were too young and stupid, too poor, and it wasn’t what I wanted. I was going to college. I knew I couldn’t get an abortion, partly because I couldn’t afford it, and partly because I’d come up in that church and just couldn’t imagine doing it. But as far as I was concerned, being pregnant was delaying my college plans, nothing more. I was giving the baby up.”
Telling all of it, remembering it, Shannon had begun to tremble. She took a long, deep breath and, for the first time since she’d started her story, she looked Show in the eyes. What she saw gave her some strength. She saw patience. He hadn’t judged her yet.
She took another breath and went on. “When Jeff couldn’t convince me, he told everybody—my family, his family, Reverend Allen. Within a couple of days, the whole town knew. And everybody was on Jeff’s side. Everybody. My brothers beat the hell out of him for soiling their baby sister, but they were on his side about what should happen next. We were the topic of Sunday sermons. Everywhere I turned, somebody was standing there, trying to change my mind. People were even dropping their babies in my arms, in the middle of the market or outside church. I guess so I’d feel how much I wanted to hold my own. Girls who’d been my friends told me how lucky I was, what a catch Jeff was, how jealous they were. When that didn’t work, they called me a selfish bitch. I swear, it was like the whole town was having planning meetings about how to get me to marry Jeff and raise his baby.
“Home was worse. My father was furious and disgusted. My mother was weepy. I’d dirtied my sister’s name. She never would have found herself in such a predicament. She was their angel, and I was unworthy to be her namesake. I had to do what was right and redeem myself. It was relentless. After a few weeks, it was obvious that no one was going to back off, ever. And I wasn’t going to marry Jeff. God, by then I hated him. So, I emptied out my little savings account, packed up my little beater car in the middle of the night, and left.”
Shannon stopped. She knew she had to finish, but she was exhausted. Show had barely moved while she’d spoken. She looked at him now and said, “I’ll tell the rest. But I need a break. Want a drink? Or something to eat? I have some leftover meatloaf I swiped from the kitchen. I could make meatloaf sandwiches.”
He didn’t answer right away. He stared steadily at her, his brow drawn slightly. Panic had started to creep back into Shannon’s head before he finally said, “Meatloaf sounds good. But Shannon, does this story end with you dumping your baby on the side of the road? Or in a dumpster? Anything like that?”
“What? No! God! She was adopted!”
“Then, hon, why are you so afraid? I don’t understand. I understand giving her up. And I’m sorry you got ganged up on like that. Why would you think I’d hate you?”
Her throat closed down and her eyes burned. Struggling to keep fresh tears away, she said, “They all did. And you—you’re the one who stays! You’re the one who toughs it out and always does the right thing! How can you not hate me?”
“How do you know giving her up wasn’t the right thing?”
She struggled against his hold, and this time he let her go. Standing up next to him, she said, “I’ll tell you the rest. I will. But I feel like I’m going to pass out. It’s too much. I need a break.”
Show nodded. When she turned and headed into her little kitchen, he followed. They made a light meal of meatloaf sandwiches and potato salad, and Shannon pulled two beers from the fridge. They barely talked as they put the meal together. Then they sat at the counter bar. Show put his hand on her knee and let it rest there as they quietly ate. She wasn’t sure if he meant it as affection or restraint.
When she was about halfway through her sandwich, she set it down and took a swallow of beer.
“I didn’t know where I was headed at first, but I eventually ended up going west on 44. My Aunt Bev and Uncle Don lived in Tulsa, and my dad and aunt had a chilly relationship. Not angry or anything. Just siblings that never really clicked, I guess. Anyway, I love Aunt Bev and Uncle Don, and I thought maybe they’d at least let me stay a couple of days until I could make a plan.
“Instead, they moved me in and helped me. Aunt Bev went with me to interview adoption agencies, and she listened while I worked out my choice. She and Uncle Don kept the family away. They were militant about it. It caused a huge rift, and it was more than five years before they all made up, but Bev and Don never wavered. I lived with them until I graduated college. They’re the only family I really have.”
“Good people.”
She laughed a little. “They really are.” Taking another drink, she continued, “So here’s the other part of the story. When I had her, they were supposed to take her right away. I wanted a closed adoption. It was really important to me not to have any contact afterward. Being pregnant, feeling her inside me, was hard. Every month, going to the doctor, listening to her heartbeat. All of it. It was so hard. But I’d made my choice. I had even less to offer her than I had in Karville. I was living in my aunt’s basement, for Pete’s sake.
“But they didn’t take her, not right away. A nurse handed her to me, and I held her. God, she was pretty. And—”
Shannon started to cry again, the memory more vivid than it had been in years. Through her tears, she continued her story.
“And I didn’t want to let her go. I stayed in that room for three hours, mostly alone with her, and I wanted to keep her. I changed my mind. I even thought of a name for her. But then I thought again about college and what I wanted in my life. And how I didn’t want to be a single mom, living off my aunt and uncle, or working some crappy job, having to put my baby in crappy daycare. I wanted more from my life. I wanted to make the life I wanted. So when they finally came for her, I handed her over. Because I wanted a life I chose. I am a selfish bitch.”
Show’s hand had remained on her leg. He was sitting quietly, not eating or drinking, his eyes fixed ahead. Shannon composed herself, sniffling and wiping her eyes, and still he was quiet.
“Show? Say something.”
“What about her father—Jeff? How’d you get him to agree to an adoption?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t put his name on the birth certificate. I told the agency that I didn’t know who the father was.”
He took his hand back, and Shannon’s heart fell when she realized that it was that he wouldn’t be able to forgive.
“You kept a man from his child.” Not a question.
“No—I…” She stuttered, not sure how to explain. The panic was back, stronger than before, but she sat and let it have her. She didn’t try to run. If she tried, this time he wouldn’t stop her. She could feel it. And they would be done. She didn’t want that. Now that she’d told her secret, she couldn’t lose him. But it was her secret that would make him go.
When she tried again to answer, she could only whisper. “I didn’t try to hide where I was. Aunt Bev wouldn’t allow that. She called my dad and told him where I was and that he was to stay away. But a few weeks later, Jeff was on the porch, demanding to see me. Uncle Don ran him off with his rifle. He came back about a month later—I was almost five months by then, I think. He came in the middle of the day, and I was home alone. I let him in, which is high on my list of stupid things I’ve done. His intention was not to leave without me, no matter what. When he couldn’t convince me, he tried to bully me. When he couldn’t bully me, he tried to knock me out. He got a couple of good punches in, but I managed to get outside, and I screamed my head off. He got spooked
and left. Bev called my dad that night, and I never heard from Jeff again.”
She had Show’s attention, at least, but she didn’t know whether the anger that had returned to his eyes was for her or for Jeff.
“So, yes. I lied about knowing the father. But I’m not sorry about that.” She swallowed. “Not unless it makes me lose you.”
He shook his head; she didn’t know what that meant. “Fuck, Shannon.”
She didn’t know what that meant, either.
He sighed and rubbed his head, shifting his beanie. “None of this explains your crazy earlier. Why are you so afraid to see her?”
That answer, Shannon had at the ready. It was a mantra that had filled her head for months—years—afterward. “What if she had a terrible life? What if she was abused? What if she was poor or hungry? What if her parents were junkies or criminals…”
Show raised his eyebrows at that, and she froze. Dammit. “No, I mean—”
“I know what you mean. Go on.”
She shrugged, exhausted. “I don’t want to know that I handed her off to a horrible fate. I can’t deal with that. I can’t.”
“Don’t think you have a choice anymore, hon. If it was a closed adoption, I’m not sure how she found you, but I damn sure know that’s her.”
“She hired a private detective. He found me in Tulsa last year. He must have finally traced me here.”
She could see it when the last dot connected in his head. “And that’s why you moved here. Was it the same? Did you just up and pack your bags then, too?”
“No. I stayed in Tulsa until I found a job. I just found one as fast as I could.”
“You knew your girl was looking for you, and you ran.” The statements he made were so much worse that the questions he asked. In those, she could hear the judgments forming.
Unable to meet his eyes, she instead looked at the unfinished sandwich on her plate. “I told you it was bad.”
He took a breath and blew it out, slowly. “You run. When things get hard, you run.”
“Not from you.”
With a bitter laugh, he said, “You were running from me an hour ago, hon.”
“No—no. That’s not—no. I was—” She had no way to explain, and she stopped trying.
“It comes to the same thing.” He stood. “I need to get my head straight. I’m gonna stay at the clubhouse tonight.”
He came around the back of his chair and put his hand on her neck, leaning down to kiss her head. “I hope you’re still around when I come back.”
Shaking, she grabbed his arm. She was losing him. She’d managed to make the man who stayed leave. “Please don’t go. I love you.”
“I need some time. I’ll be back.”
No, he wouldn’t. She knew.
He twisted his arm out of her grip and left her apartment.
He hadn’t stayed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As he rode, everything Show had learned about Shannon’s past careened wildly in his head. She’d given up her baby. She’d lied to keep the father out of it. And she’d run. She run from home, she’d run from Tulsa, she might be running right now. She was a runner.
She’d gotten pregnant when she hadn’t wanted to be, and she’d given the baby up. Now, she was afraid. Afraid that she’d made a mistake. Afraid that she’d left her daughter to an awful life. Afraid to face that possibility. Afraid to know. Running from it all.
In similar circumstances, Show and Holly had made a different choice. They’d married and had Daisy. And he didn’t have to wonder what kind of life his child had. He knew: far too short, and with a vicious, horrifying end. Maybe if they’d made the choice Shannon had, their daughter would be living a quiet, normal, safe life right now. Happy. She died because he was her father. There was no getting around that bare, brutal fact.
But if they’d given her up, he wouldn’t have known his Daze. If he hadn’t stuck it out with Holly, he wouldn’t have Rose and Iris, either. He could not sort his feelings out. He felt angry and guilty and sad and sorry. He felt grief and pity and fury and regret. He couldn’t figure out which fact went with which emotion. Was he angry at Shannon or at himself? Both? Was he angry at her for giving her girl up or for running from that choice? Both? Did he feel sorry for her fear or angry at her cowardice? Did he regret keeping Daisy? How could he regret keeping her? Because he hadn’t kept her safe—but did that make the years she’d lived meaningless?
Christ. His head screamed and rebelled.
Feeling confusion so acute it made him dizzy, Show walked into the clubhouse, blinded by the dimness after the bright sun of the spring afternoon. The place seemed deserted. He went behind the bar and grabbed an unopened bottle of Jack. Wrenching the top off where he stood, he tipped the bottle to his lips and drank the whiskey down in long swallows, like water. When he pulled the bottle away and wiped his hand across his mouth, he’d taken the amber liquid down by nearly a third. He grabbed another bottle and went back to his room. Thinking was off the menu for the rest of the day.
~oOo~
He woke before dawn, the intensity of his hangover shouldering his confusion and anger to the side, demanding all his attention. He wedged himself into the shower and tried to wash the drunk and pain away. Unsuccessful, but feeling slightly more human, he went back to bed and slept until the sun beamed across the pillows. Then he dressed and went out in search of coffee.
The clubhouse was empty—still, or again, he wasn’t sure. He’d been unconscious by the evening. He went to the coffeemaker behind the bar and started a pot. As soon as it began trickling out, he moved the carafe and pushed his mug under the stream. The hot, strong, black Colombian cleared his head, and he picked up the brooding he’d abandoned yesterday in favor of a full-on, whiskey-fueled drunk.
He looked across the room at the chess set. He and Isaac had been on the same game for weeks now, but he could see that Isaac had made his next move. Show walked over and studied the board, glad for something else to think about besides Shannon.
“Hey, brother.” Isaac was strolling across the Hall, apparently coming from the office.
“Hey.” Show took another swig of coffee.
“Surprised to see you. You didn’t stay with Shannon?”
“No.” Show nodded at the board. “You’re after the bishop.” He picked up the piece in question and moved it. “Back to you.” He looked up.
Isaac’s look was watchful. “I just moved twenty minutes ago. In all our years at this, I don’t think you’ve ever followed me so fast. You usually think more.”
Show shrugged. Since the accident, his shrugs tended to list to one side.
“What’s up, Show? Something on your mind?”
He shook his head. Yeah, something was on his mind. He didn’t want to talk, though. Talking would loosen the hold on his anger, and if he let that out, he wouldn’t be able to think anything through. He needed to keep a lid on it and make himself think. But damn, he didn’t want to. It hurt too fucking much.
He didn’t want to talk to Isaac. That’s not how they worked. Isaac talked to him. Isaac was the hothead. Show gave him advice, not the other way around. Consigliere—that was his job.
But that wasn’t entirely true, not any longer. Not since Daisy. Isaac had been strong support for him during his year of numbness. Isaac and Lilli. Turned out, Isaac had it more together than Show ever had.
“Yeah, there is. I need to work through some shit. Wouldn’t mind an ear.”
“You got mine, brother.” Isaac put his arm across Show’s shoulders, and they walked to the bar. Isaac went back and poured himself a cup of coffee. He, too, took it black.
When Isaac sat down next to him, Show said, “I know why Shannon won’t have anything to do with Gia.”
Isaac turned, his eyebrows up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” And Show told him everything he’d learned the day before. Almost everything. He left some details out. But the shit that had him so twisted up, he told. Isaac was quiet, sta
ring into his mug, while Show spoke. When he’d told it all, they both sat there quietly for a spell.
“Well, I knew there was something. So did you. What are you going to do?”
Show laughed. “I knew that, I wouldn’t’ve needed to talk. I’m so fucking pissed I can’t think. She was gonna run. Fuck, she might’ve run the minute after I left. For all I know, she’s on her way to fucking Canada or somewhere right now. I guess that’s what she does—runs.”
“You love her, though?”
“You know I do. She’s my fucking old lady.”
“You haven’t put ink on her.”
Show laughed. “No. Never even brought it up. Her skin—it’s so fucking smooth and perfect. Not a blemish, a mole, a birthmark, a scar. Nowhere. Can’t bring myself to mark her. Guess I should’ve.” He laughed again, feeling its sharpness in his throat. “Or maybe not.”
“There’s a lot in her story to get stuck on. Where are you?”
Show thought about that. His first answer would have been that he was stuck on all of it, but he realized that wasn’t true. Saying it all out loud to Isaac had calmed his head a great deal. Talking hadn’t loosened his hold on his anger, it had loosened his anger’s hold on him. He found he could sort out the truths and emotions that had been rioting through his mind. He understood where his real worry lay. What he could forgive, of Shannon and of himself. What he could live with, and what he could not.
“I get giving her baby up. Fuck, I even get lying about the dad, after he hit her. Asshole hits a pregnant woman doesn’t deserve to be a father. I can’t know what it’s like to be where she was. Don’t hold any of that against her. But she runs. I can’t—I don’t know how to live a life waiting for her to bolt if shit gets bad. Shit gets bad around here. It’s okay now, but you and I know it won’t always be. What’s gonna be the thing she can’t take? I can’t live like that. I’m tired of loss. I’m fucking tired of it.”
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