Our Finest Hour (The Time Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Millikin

  The night is pitch black, but it’s noisy. My neighbors are having a party. Judging by the giggles from girls and loud calls of bro, it’s either the high-school son or older, college-age boy. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It's a Saturday night. I'd care about the noise if Claire wasn't passed out harder than some of those partygoers will be later. And I certainly don't need quiet right now.

  Taking a sip of wine, I push off the ground once more, sending the swing into the air. I breathe in a deep breath through my nose and blow it out loudly. The swing slows on its own, until it comes to a stop. With my face upturned and my eyes closed, I let out an audible groan.

  “How did this happen?” The question slips out, joining the din next door. This whole day feels surreal. Maybe I’ll wake up and find it was just a dream.

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  My eyes fly open.

  Isaac is leaning against the brick post closest to me. He looks like Isaac from the night we first met. Jeans, a gray zip-up hoodie. His gaze is intense, and I find myself squirming beneath it.

  “Mind if I sit down?” he asks, but he’s already coming my way.

  I shake my head and scoot over. The swing moves when he settles beside me.

  “How did you find out where I live?” I concentrate on the intricate threading of ivy between the two posts. I can’t bear to look in his eyes.

  “I have a friend in admissions.”

  I nod, preparing myself for what I know is coming.

  “I went there after the surgery. I wanted to know Claire’s birthday.” He speaks slowly, his tone resolute.

  My breath sucks back into my throat and fills my lungs. If he hasn’t already figured it out, he’s right on the edge of knowing.

  “February second,” I whisper.

  “And nine months before that was May. I don’t know what you did for thirty out of thirty-one days that month, but I know what you did for one hour of it.”

  The nerves engulf my body. He deserves to know, I understand that, but what will happen once he does? I don’t have the perfect family, but what I do have is my own tiny slice of heaven. Will he take that from me?

  “Just ask the question you came here to ask.” I can’t take this. We need to get it over with so I can assess how much Isaac is going to threaten my way of life.

  He shakes his head. “I knew the answer the first time I looked into her eyes. I went to admissions for confirmation. Between her birthday and the fact that you’re the only parent listed on her paperwork, that was all I needed.”

  I look at him. He’s facing me. I don’t see anger on his face. His look is more…serene? No. Content? Maybe. More like pleased.

  “I tried to find you.” I feel the need to defend my actions, though he’s accused me of nothing. “Two weeks after I got a positive test. I went to your apartment. You’d already moved. I knew you were long gone, to wherever it was you were going—”

  “Africa.”

  “You went to Africa?”

  “For a while, yes. Then I extended my trip and went to different areas in South America.” He palms the stubble on his cheeks, throwing a glance at me. “I didn’t think there was much for me here. And there, in the places I went to, the kids needed help. I learned a lot. It’s why I was called today.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m beyond impressed, and in a way I feel like it’s a good thing I left his place that night. All those children needed him to fix them, and back home there was one child who needed him in a different way.

  “It’s good to know you tried to find me.” He says. “I didn’t leave much of a trail, though.”

  The image of the man who answered the door at Isaac’s old apartment flits through my mind. I shake my head and say, “I did what I could. After that, what was I supposed to do?”

  Isaac’s fists ball in his lap, then his fingers flex out. “I don’t know… This situation is so messed up. This morning I got a call about a little girl who was going to need emergency surgery. And you know what? That’s not uncommon. It’s actually typical.” He leans forward to rest his head in his hands. “But that’s when everything typical ended. And what am I supposed to tell my fiancée?”

  I knew it. I knew this was going to happen. He has a fiancée. He’s a doctor with a fiancée and a perfect life and they’re planning a beautiful wedding and he’s going to take my little girl every other weekend and some holidays.

  “You’re engaged?” I don’t know why it hurts, but in the middle of my chest, a twinge of pain creeps across my heart.

  “We’re getting married in June.”

  “That’s only a few months away,” I say, but he shakes his head.

  “Next June. It’s a long engagement.” An odd look passes over his face. I can’t place it for certain, but to me it looks like confusion. “She says there’s a lot to do. Big affair. She’s very traditional.”

  Of course she is. Ten bucks says she’s blond. Long hair. Tall. Skin like porcelain. Face like a painting.

  “Congratulations.” I murmur. It’s what I’m supposed to say.

  Isaac looks down at the ground and laughs, but the sound is empty. “Thanks.”

  I curl my feet beneath me and scoot on the swing until I’m pressed against the far corner of it.

  “So, what now?” I ask. Might as well get right to it. No need for pleasantries. No what have you been up to in the past five years.

  “Can I see her?” Isaac asks, his face hopeful.

  “Now, or always?”

  “Both.”

  I nod and unfold my legs, standing. “She’s asleep, but you can look in at her.”

  He follows me into the house. I lead him down the hall to Claire’s room, which is across from mine. It used to be my dad’s office, but he’s never complained about the loss.

  A big, oversize letter C hangs from a pink ribbon on her door. Gently I turn the handle and push, then step aside so Isaac can enter.

  He pauses in the doorway and looks back at me. He reaches for my hand, pulling me until I’m beside him. His eyes find Claire in her bed, her broken arm propped up on an extra pillow. His face takes on a peaceful quality I know well. Looking at Claire does that to me, too.

  He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine. He squeezes my hand. Our faces are only six inches apart, and even though I don’t know Isaac any better than I did that night, I feel like I do.

  I’m so conflicted right now. I know Isaac deserves to know his daughter. I know Claire deserves to know him. But I want to keep her all to myself in a place where I can protect her. I want all of her bedtime snuggles and Eskimo kisses.

  And the tough reality is that she no longer belongs to only me.

  If I don’t stop eating this ice cream, caramel cookie something or other, I’m going to be sick.

  Doesn’t really matter though. I’m a little sick right now anyway.

  If Jenna wakes up and sees me with this tub in my hand, she’s going to be appalled. My nervous eating bothers her.

  But first I’d have to confess why I’m standing here in my kitchen with a half-gallon of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other.

  Jenna, I have a daughter.

  No, I didn’t know about her. Not until today.

  It happened five years ago. Right before I left for Africa. One night. One hour, actually.

  One hour of Aubrey. Broken, sad Aubrey, who only wanted to forget about her pain.

  I did that for her. Made her forget. I made her eyes roll back in her head, her back arch, her legs stiffen. Her dark hair fanned out on my white sheets, an incredible contrast. Her lips swollen, because I could hardly move my mouth from hers, even when I knew the clock was ticking. When I kissed Aubrey, my whole world felt right. And on that night, the night I found out everything I grew up believing was wrong, Aubrey filled a void.

  But then she left an even bigger hole. I watched her go, and I wanted to stop her. We’d had an agreement, and she made her choice. I took from her, she took from
me, and when I let her slip out my door, we had no idea what we’d created.

  I’m not sure how Jenna’s going to take it.

  That’s not true. I can make a pretty educated guess.

  Jenna has a lot of expectations. She expects that everything will happen the way she plans it to. She expects that everyone will be just who she wants them to be. She expects problems will not arise, because she has created a world where problems do not exist.

  I love her, I really do. She’s been my friend since high school. When I ran into her two years ago at an industry event, it was like old times. We caught each other up on what’s happened since we parted ways after graduation. She teased me for not being a part of social media and hiding from our friends. One date turned into two dates, and then we were dating. She didn’t have any pain that needed healing, not like Aubrey. Jenna is a straight line. No fractures, no past wounds, just a whole body that’s never been broken. I love her. I wouldn’t be marrying her if I didn’t love her. But I’d be lying if I said there isn’t something missing.

  That missing element was easy to ignore—until today when Aubrey came hurtling into my life again. Her breathing sped up, and mine did too. Her pupils dilated, and I didn’t need a mirror to know mine did too. As a doctor I recognize the physical signs of excitement, but to feel them, to know the effect they have on the mind, is a different story. Right now those effects have me here in my kitchen, shoveling ice cream into my mouth and wondering if Jenna has ever made my pupils dilate.

  I know the answer, but I’m telling myself I’m wrong.

  What am I supposed to tell her? You don’t excite me like a practical stranger does, but I still proposed? I was sure about you, but now I’m not? They’re both true, but the second reason is more valid than the first. And it had nothing to do with Aubrey. When Jenna started buying Bride magazine, I started seeing things. Concerning things.

  The wedding planning—that’s when the veil was lifted, so to speak, when I finally saw just how many expectations Jenna has for her life.

  Table settings, centerpieces, beribboned chairs, they’re all just symptoms of the larger issue. This wedding is Jenna’s life, in one flawless day. She has everything planned out, right down to our children’s names. Nothing trendy, she told me. Classic. Elizabeth and David.

  The name Claire shouldn’t bother her then. But everything else about Claire will tear Jenna up.

  Because I’m flawless too. Jenna’s perfect surgeon fiancé.

  Who has a lovechild from a one-hour stand five years ago.

  Who eats ice cream from the carton in the middle of the night.

  And, of course, there’s that other thing that makes me imperfect, my invisible scar… Jenna doesn’t know about that. Nobody outside my family does.

  I shove another bite of ice cream in my mouth and toss the carton in the trash. Normally I would rinse the spoon and put it in the dishwasher and take out the trash—or at least bury the carton where she’d never find it. But not tonight.

  In the morning I’m going to tell Jenna about Claire. She might as well know about the ice cream too.

  “Hey, handsome.” Jenna’s honeyed voice filters down to me. “Why are you on the couch? Did you sleep here?”

  My sleepy eyes open to see her face hovering above me. She has white-blond hair, and it’s long. For the wedding, she told me. After the wedding its chop chop. Those were her words, accompanied by a scissoring motion.

  The bottom of her hair sweeps my shoulder as she brushes a kiss on my temple. Guilt parks itself in my core. I don’t know why I feel guilty. I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe it’s just because I know what I’m about to tell her and how it’s going to affect her. Or maybe it’s the fact that I woke up several times last night, and each time I thought about Aubrey.

  I sit up and Jenna moves away, giving me space to stand. Instead I stay seated, reach for my T-shirt, and pull it over my head.

  “I guess I fell asleep here.” After I finished the ice cream last night, I sat on the couch to think. In truth, I was avoiding my bed, where Jenna lay peacefully, probably dreaming of invitations and exquisite floral arrangements.

  Jenna smiles. “Sunday brunch? I haven’t eaten since I got on the plane last night.”

  She travels for work, every week to a different city to visit different doctors. But she’s always here on Sundays, the one day of the week we spend together. Soon she’ll move her stuff in here, and this will be her home.

  She’s dressed in workout clothes, but I know she hasn’t been to the gym. It’s her regular Sunday attire.

  “Jenna, we need to talk about something that happened to me at work yesterday.” I look her in the eyes and wonder what her first words will be after she knows.

  Confused wrinkles crease her forehead. “What happened?” She sinks down into a chair across from me.

  “I was called to Mercy for an emergency surgery. A little girl.” Claire’s face comes to mind, her brown eyes so dark and deep. And those curls. I know where she got both of those things. The shock of seeing Aubrey made it harder to focus on Claire, and knowing I had to go into surgery kept me from delving any deeper. Questions darted around my brain, but I had to shut them down. My patient came first. And my daughter. One and the same.

  “OK…” Jenna draws out the word.

  I take a deep breath. “It turns out I know the mother. She’s a woman I spent one night with a long time ago.”

  Jenna’s top lip curls. “I get you have a past. We all do, but spare me the dirty details.”

  “Listen, please.” I squeeze the back of my neck, trying to relieve the tension. When it doesn't immediately help, I drop my hand and say “I did the surgery, but something was bothering me. Afterwards I took another look at the patient’s file.” I keep my eyes on Jenna, because she deserves that much. Her chest rises slowly, she holds her breath for a long time, then slowly releases it. I think she knows what I’m about to say.

  “So?” she asks, her voice shaky.

  “Her birthday is nine months after the night I spent with this woman. The little girl is my daughter.”

  Jenna shakes her head vehemently. “It doesn’t have to mean that. It could be anybody. It doesn’t have to be yours.” Her breath draws in faster now, her chest heaving.

  I despise what I’m doing to her. I’ve never seen Jenna anything less than poised. Her composure means everything to her.

  “She’s mine, Jenna. I confirmed it.”

  “How?” She bangs a fist onto her knee.

  “Last night I went to see Aubrey.”

  Jenna’s face pales. “The mother is Aubrey? Or the little girl? Where did you see her?”

  “Aubrey is Claire’s mother.” I pause, letting Jenna have her reaction. She turns her head to the side like she wants to be sick.

  I forge ahead. “I went to their house. The file listed their home address.”

  Jenna sets her eyes back on me. “While I was flying here to get to you, you were going to see your…your…baby mama?”

  For a second I want to laugh. The words baby mama are so out of place coming from Jenna’s mouth. The feeling dies fast.

  “I needed to know for sure. I was already certain, but I needed to hear Aubrey say it.”

  “And she did?”

  I nod.

  “Well…uh…well,” She falters for words, another thing that’s very un-Jenna like. “She’s probably lying. She’s just found out her one night stand is a successful doctor and wants child support.”

  “Aubrey’s not like that.” I hear the defensiveness in my voice, and I know it’s only going to make this worse.

  “Oh, really? How would you know?” Jenna stands. She crosses the living room, taking care to walk on the far side of the coffee table, away from me.

  I’m up too, following her. She goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pushing stuff aside angrily. She slams the door shut, nothing in her hands. After moving on to the pantry, she stands in front of it, door open, fi
sts balled at her sides.

  “Aubrey didn’t want to tell me about Claire. I think she would have preferred if I didn’t know. She doesn’t know me, and she doesn’t know how I’m going to impact Claire’s life. She’s scared too.” I walk to the open pantry door and stand behind Jenna. Her shoulders are lifted and tense, and I can’t see her face. “Jenna, please. This is news to everybody—”

  “Everybody except Aubrey.” She whirls around. “Was she just saving this ace in her back pocket for the right time?”

  “No, no, not at all.” I rub my eyes, trying to figure out how to explain this to Jenna. “When Aubrey found out she was pregnant, she couldn’t tell me. It happened right before I left for Africa. And…” I hesitate, embarrassment coming over me. “We didn’t exchange a whole lot of information about each other that night. Including last names.” My neck feels hot.

  Jenna’s jaw drops a few inches. “You had sex with someone whose last name you did not know?”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t appreciate being judged, but right now isn’t the time to point that out.

  “Don’t get hung up on that. It was a long time ago.”

  “Isaac—”

  “Just understand, please. You’re not perfect.” But isn’t she? Never a hair out of place. I’m not even allowed to touch her hair after a certain time of day. Does she have a fault? I’m not so sure. We never fight. Ever. Except right now. And it’s not even a real fight. I’m basically just tossing shocking information at her, the equivalent of cold water, and telling her to deal with it.

  She takes a deep breath. “OK. What now?” Her voice has returned to a normal volume, but the stress she’s feeling strains it.

  “I’m going to see Claire this afternoon. Aubrey said I could come over.”

  “What?” Jenna's face hardens. “Are you kidding? Sunday is our day. I leave again on Tuesday.”

  “Claire has school during the week. I’m lucky Aubrey is even letting me see her. She doesn’t have to, you know. I have no right to her yet.” But I will. It’s something I’m going to see about.

  I sigh and study my fiancée’s face. The shock is still there in her dazed, bugged out eyes. I can’t blame her for that, but shocked or not, I need to know where she stands. “Are you with me in this, Jenna? We need to be a team.”