by Grace Greene
He grinned, and I knew he was reading my mind. He knew what I was really asking.
“No problem. They’re nice young ladies. They were interested in the carving.”
“I’m sure. Thanks.” I said to the girls, “Time to move on. Did you see what you wanted?”
It was probably my fault for phrasing it that way, but Bonnie giggled. Ellen elbowed her. I tried to keep my facial expression neutral.
“Come on, girls. Let’s get out of his way.” I gestured toward the cars. “Ellen, why don’t you come with me? Didn’t you have some shopping to do?”
Bonnie moved to her car but didn’t get in right away. Ellen came close to me.
“Mom, can’t Bonnie and I go together? I think I made you angry, but I don’t know why.”
“Yes, you can go with Bonnie, but listen carefully. I’m serious about this. Neither of you is to come out here without me present. Understand?”
“We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s not the point. This puts Liam in an awkward position, especially if—never mind what. Just know it isn’t fair to put a man who’s only trying to earn a living into a position where someone else could see you out here with him and suggest something inappropriate is going on.”
“That’s crazy, Mom.”
I cut my eyes over to Bonnie, then back to Ellen. “Are you sure?”
Ellen pressed her lips together and looked down at the ground. She shrugged, then shook her head. “No. I guess I see what you mean.”
“And that includes you. Promise?”
She nodded.
“Serious promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“What do you promise?”
“Mom, please. I promise not to come out here without you. Is that good enough?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you. You can take care of that shopping now. Use my card. But be home in time for supper.”
Her downcast look shifted in a heartbeat, and she smiled and hugged me. “Thanks, Mom.”
The girls drove away. I was tempted to speak with Liam again, but I took my own advice instead—have respect for a man who’d already had enough trouble in his life and give him a chance to get his work done. Never mind my own worries about his being here and Ellen hanging around.
I waved. He waved back, and I returned to my car and drove away. I didn’t get far before I pulled over and checked the location GPS on Ellen’s phone. The girls were already miles away. With a sigh, I put my phone back in my purse and drove home.
I couldn’t quite ditch the feeling that things were moving well beyond my ability to control them.
Soon, graduation. Two and a half months after that, Ellen would leave for college. I would miss her, but that was normal. We’d be back on track then, and this feeling of imminent dysfunction, this uncertain period, would be behind us.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Roger dropped by the house on Rose Lane. I’d been clearing out the closets and making big progress. One pile was for donations. The other was bound for the dump.
I opened the door. “Don’t mind the mess, please. I’m moving soon, you know,” I joked.
He held a folder of papers and wore an expression I couldn’t read. His eyes skipped right over the boxes and general disarray, and I knew his mind was on something other than our project.
“What’s wrong?”
“Here’s the paperwork for the fixtures. Please take a look at it. It’s past time to get this all ordered.”
“Roger?”
He shook his head. I pushed him toward the living room.
“Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Maybe tea?”
We made it into the living room, but he refused to sit. Instead, he moved his hands as if trying to find the right words, words that were eluding him.
“Just say it, please, Roger. Whatever the problem is, tell me.”
“Liam.”
“Liam?” Instantly, I thought of my secret. I thought of Ellen. “What about Liam?”
“The other day you seemed very friendly with him. Almost . . . cozy. Today, one of the workmen mentioned you’d been out there a lot, and he insinuated you were spending a lot of time on the porch.”
“On the porch? Does that mean with Liam?” I almost laughed. It was too close to what I’d warned Ellen about the day before. This was crazy. This was me. “What am I missing here? Am I not allowed to be friendly with other people? Why are you annoyed about Liam Bridger? You hired him, and I enjoyed talking to him. What’s the big deal?”
Roger’s expression was grim, his jaw tight. “You know I care for you. I have for a long time, but you’ve always kept me at arm’s length. I’ve tried to accept it.”
“Hold on, Roger. I have always appreciated your friendship, and I care about you, but you’ve had a few girlfriends over the years. I recall you were engaged to one.”
“It’s not a joke, Hannah.”
I drew in a deep breath before responding. “No, it’s not. I’d never want to hurt you. You must know that. But my first and most important job has been to take care of my daughter.”
“I respected your feelings early on, but I thought it would change. But the wall—the wall you built between you and the rest of us mortals—got taller and more impenetrable with each passing year.”
“Wall? We see each other almost every day.”
“As friends of a sort. And for business. I know Ellen approves of me. She’s told me. But you, Hannah Cooper? Sometimes I think you keep me dangling on the line, in case one day you’re desperate enough to need me. You don’t want me, but you won’t let me go.”
“Won’t let you go? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how whenever you need something, or something needs fixing, or you want to discuss something, you call me. You bring me back into your life.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to help. But between being summoned into your life, I start finding my own way, meeting other women. If I don’t have the same feelings for them that I have for you—then neither do they have the power to hurt me by treating me like a hired hand.”
My jaw moved, my lips worked, but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say. But the silence lasted too long, and finally, Roger said, “Let me go, Hannah. Turn me loose. Tell me you’ll never have that kind of feeling for me, not enough to make it worth your while to take down the wall and give us a chance.”
“Roger.” He wasn’t asking for a lot. Honesty and unselfishness. But I couldn’t give him even that, not when I had so much to protect.
He closed his eyes for a long second, then opened them as he shook his head. “See you later, Hannah.”
I let him go. Roger deserved better. I understood he suspected Liam was claiming some piece of my heart he’d never been allowed to touch. How could I explain my heart, my whole heart, had already been claimed long ago when a sweet, tiny newborn’s fist had seized my finger and held it tight?
Roger was barely out the door, and I was still struggling to deal with what he’d said when Ellen rushed in.
“What’s with Roger? He didn’t say hi or wave.” She sounded breathless. “It wasn’t about me, was it?”
“No. He and I had a chat, that’s all.” I frowned. “Why would it be about you?”
She stared at me with her dark-brown eyes, and I saw when she accepted what I’d said. But something more was troubling her.
Her voice trembled. “Oh, Mom, it’s Braden. Or rather, his father. He told Bonnie’s father that you and he used to date.”
“Yes, we went on a couple of dates a long, long time ago. We talked about this at the hospital, remember?”
“Sort of. That night is fuzzy. But the point is that when he told Bonnie’s dad about it, it started everyone talking.”
“Everyone?” The shimmery sensation returned. I touched my chest, wishing away the odd feeling, and reached out to a nearby chair to steady myself.
“My friends. Their parents . .
.”
It was just gossip, I told myself. Maybe Spencer’s pride had been a little wounded after the way I’d spoken to him.
“Sweetheart, I can’t see that they have much to talk about. It was nearly two decades ago.”
I moved into the kitchen, forcing her to follow and to give myself a moment to anticipate where this was leading.
“It was weird,” Ellen said. “And awkward. You know Spencer wasn’t married to Braden’s mom, right? At least not until a few years later, and then they divorced, so it was a mess, but Braden’s mom and Bonnie’s dad are cousins.”
“I still don’t see what’s bothering you. People date. It’s small-town drama.” I gave a little laugh to show how meaningless it all was. “It’ll blow over.”
“It’s not funny, Mom. This is about my father. I want to know about my father. When the others are talking about their parents . . . There are times when it’s wrong not to have your own info to share, like today, when people started making their remarks.” She looked away. “Did you know I make things up?”
I had no words. It was as if she were speaking a foreign language. I struggled to comprehend.
“I make up stuff about my dad. I tell the other kids about things he did, like being good at sports and how he was smart and all that. I’ve been doing it for years, Mom. I don’t want to keep doing it. I don’t like lying. Plus, it’s hard trying to remember what I’ve said and to whom. You never want to talk about him because it makes you sad. But Mom, when the other kids and parents are talking . . .”
I put up my hands. “Wait. Calm down, sweetheart. Let me catch my breath and you do the same?” I gripped the counter. “Take a seat in the living room. I’ll get us both iced tea, and we can talk.”
Ellen sat but stayed perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, her hands on her knees.
I placed the glasses on the coasters, sat next to her, and put my hands over hers, squeezing reassuringly.
“I can sympathize. My grandparents never wanted to discuss my mother and father. Of course, in later years I found out why, and now you know the story, too. I never wanted to do that to you. Never. I apologize for putting you in the same situation.”
“So tell me, Mom. Why don’t you want to talk about him? I know you weren’t together for long, but you must know more about him. However little, I need to know.”
I focused on the light filtering in through the glass panes in the door. The bright rays pierced through the bands of dust motes and touched the foyer table and the wooden floor. This was the same sunlight that touched every surface and every person in its turn, in its own good time.
“His hair was curly and unruly. Dark brown like yours. You got his hair color and my lack of curls.” I forced a soft laugh and smiled. “How I envied those curls.”
Ellen smiled in return.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reminding myself that sometimes it was more important to craft the story right than to speak the truth.
“I met him on a sunny day when I was at the river with friends.”
“The river?”
“The South Anna. We were down there for a barbecue.”
“Who was there?”
“Some friends. Friends of friends. Most of them I hardly knew, and they’ve all moved on now. People do, you know. But he was there that day and so was I, and we met.”
“Like a blind date?”
“A coincidence. No one was trying to set us up. But we hit it off right away. He was athletic, but I don’t recall we ever discussed . . .”
Her excitement, the light in her eyes, dimmed.
I added, “Wait a minute. He ran track in high school. I’d forgotten. So you and I must’ve discussed that before, since you mentioned he was good at sports, right? You remembered without realizing it.”
Her eyes lit up again, and I continued.
“Remember, we didn’t attend the same school for very long. He grew up elsewhere, and his family moved here, but they didn’t live here for more than a few months.”
“He died on a family vacation in Colorado.”
“That’s correct. He tripped on a hike and fell. It was an accident. No one did anything wrong.”
She nodded. “And they moved away after he died?”
“That’s right.”
“They didn’t know about me?”
“No, honey. I tried to find them. I should’ve tried harder, but I had my hands full with Gran. I intended to try again, but time passed. I asked Mr. Browne to help find them, and he tried, but to no avail.” The lies slipped past my lips so easily, and yet I felt a prickling along my hairline, as if I were about to break into a sweat, and my face felt a little wooden. I was practiced at avoidance, at misdirection, and when all that failed—outright manufacturing of lies. Lies and details were risky. The more there were, the more likely they were to fail.
I added, “It’s such a common name. It was hard to trace.”
Ellen said sadly, “I looked online, you know. I searched for him, for William Smith. But there were tons, everywhere I looked.”
I leaned forward and put my hand to my forehead. I had brought her to this. Who had those lies been intended to save? To protect?
“Mom? I know this is hard. You still care for him all these years later.” She wove her fingers through mine, then eased them apart. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, sweetheart. You have every right to know.”
“If you remember anything, please tell me. One day, I’ll search for them properly, and I’ll find them. I promised my father.”
“What?”
“I mean that sometimes I talk to him, you know? It’s silly. I know it is. It doesn’t mean that I’m not grateful for our life. You understand that, right?”
“I understand.” This was impossible. I wanted to end this, at least for the moment. I had to think. I pulled her close. “I’m sorry, Ellen.”
She smiled up at me despite her tearful eyes. How did I ever deserve this child?
“You’re right, Mom. You always are. I’m going to wash up. My face feels all teary. I’m going to read over my speech again, too.”
“You’re perfect. Your face and your speech both, but I understand. What would you like for supper? I’ll get it started.”
“A salad, maybe? I’m not very hungry.”
Ellen went down the hall to her room. I heard her moving around, shuffling back and forth, resuming her life. The storm had blown over. For her. Not for me. Everything was closing in around me.
I was chopping lettuce when Ellen came into the kitchen carrying her phone and wearing a sheepish expression.
“What’s up?” I paused with the knife held in midair.
“Bonnie texted.”
“Oh?”
“She wants me to come over.”
I looked down at the lettuce, at the knife, at the fridge, but there were no answers anywhere, only doubts and misgivings.
“Ellen, stay home this evening. I don’t like the idea of you being around these people right now, even if it is silly gossip. What they’re doing is mean.”
“No, Mom. You taught me to be brave. Besides, it’ll just be Bonnie. Her parents are going out tonight. She’ll be home alone. We’ll hang out and watch a movie or something.”
“Why don’t you invite her over here? I’ll make myself scarce, I promise.”
“Please, Mom. I want to talk to her. I’m going to tell her that my family business is my own, that the gossip and teasing hurt my feelings.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“If you insist, I’ll text her back and say I can’t.”
My sigh started at my toes and worked its way up to my lips. My stomach churned. Every instinct I owned warned against this, but the mercurial drama of teenager-hood mixed with the irrepressible recovery of youth was more than I could sort out tonight.
“It’ll be good, Mom. I’m an adult now, right? I should be able to handle things.”
I didn’t know wh
at else to do. I put the knife in the sink. “OK. Fine.”
She planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “Thanks. Bonnie’s picking up something for our dinner, and she’ll swing by and get me.”
“Wait.” I turned toward her. “Don’t you want to drive yourself? That way you can come home when you’re ready.”
“But she’s already on her way. No worries, Mom, right? It’ll work out, right?”
“Of course it will.” But as she closed the door behind her and they drove away, I knew better. Some things you just knew in your bones.
I lay down on the bed fully dressed. Prepared. I hoped I would feel foolish yet relieved when my sweet Ellen walked in before midnight, her usual happy self.
My apprehension probably wasn’t even about Ellen but a result of the day’s accumulated stress. I felt the way an emotional punching bag might. Had it been only a couple of hours since Roger had come by and basically broken up with me? Is that what he’d done? Or was it a sort of ultimatum? Or simple honesty, maybe.
I hadn’t had the opportunity to process what he’d said before Ellen came home begging to know more about her father.
I sat up in bed, pushing the pillows back against the headboard.
How dare these people put Ellen on the spot? Shame on them.
Despite the worries running through my brain, I dozed off, upright and all. I awoke to the sound of rain and a very distant rumble of thunder. The only light was from my phone screen, and as I noticed the time was eleven thirty, it rang. Ellen’s ring.
She was either on her way home or telling me she’d be late.
I picked it up and answered.
“Mom?” she said. Her voice sounded wrong. Shaky.
“Where are you?”
“I’m walking home. Could you come get me?”
“I’m on my way. Tell me where.”
“A few blocks from Bonnie’s house. I walked up to the main road to 522.”
“Stay off the road and don’t look like you’re hitchhiking. I’ll have my interior light on so you can see it’s me coming. I’m on my way.”