Our Finest Hour (The Time Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Millikin

I put down the crayon and meet his gaze. Ignoring his question, I answer the one that started this whole conversation. The question he asked silently, using the other questions as a front. “I make enough at Bridgewater for Claire and I to live comfortably. I’m very lucky that my friend Britt’s dad is a managing director there. He hired both of us right after graduation.”

  “Is that the same friend from that night? The one who made me text her?”

  “The one and only.” I grin, my mood lightened when I think of Britt.

  Isaac glances at Claire, then back to me. “What was it like? Learning about Claire, I mean.”

  My lips twist, and I look at Claire too. She’s focused on her coloring, her tongue poking out of the right side of her mouth, but I can’t risk her hearing me. I pull up a game app and hand her my phone. With technology in front of her, she’s as good as asleep.

  When I’m confident she’s immersed, I lean forward, my chest pressed to the table. Isaac mimics my movement, except when he does it, he takes up so much more of the table.

  “My first thought was that there was no way it was happening to me. I went through both tests, then bought another pack. All positive.” I take a deep breath as I think back on the final test, a result as positive as all the others. “I was scared, of course. Terrified, actually. But from the moment I was certain, I felt… whole.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth I’m embarrassed. I’ve said too much. Isaac might as well be a stranger. But, of course, he’s not a stranger. Not by a long shot.

  Isaac reaches across the table and covers my hand with his own. His light squeeze tugs at my heart.

  With pained eyes, he says, “I wish I’d known, Aubrey, so I could—”

  “So you could’ve made an honest woman out of me?” I mean it as a joke, but Isaac’s serious.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. But I mean, I would’ve helped. Financially. Physically. Emotionally. I would have been there.” His words rush out, and he takes a deep breath to recover.

  Would’ve, could've, should’ve. I'm filled with the same thoughts. We could’ve exchanged last names. He should've brought his phone and then his number would've been in Britt's phone. “That’s not how it worked out. Sometimes, things don’t go the way you imagine they will.”

  “Like ending up pregnant and not being able to tell the father?”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  He squeezes my hand again, tighter this time. “I’m here now. And I’m going to be here as much as you’ll let me. More, even.” His eyes are bright, intense.

  How is it that one person can want another person so much? I know, because I’m a mother. I carried Claire inside my body, fed her from my breast, and have never spent a night apart from her in five years.

  But Isaac? He barely knows us. How is it that he can say he’ll stay? That he wants to?

  People leave. That’s what I know. And I need to protect Claire. How much should I allow Isaac into our lives? But how can I possibly keep him out?

  He looks like he means what he says. The planes of his face are fixed, strong. His eyes shine with conviction.

  It’s impossible not to remember her in this moment. My mother with her long, brown hair. Her soft laugh, spilling from her throat as she tipped her head back. How she would brush my hair and say Fair Aubrey, the prettiest girl in all the land. It’s one of my only memories of her. One of the only good ones, anyway.

  I know what leaving looks like. And it’s my job to keep Claire from ever knowing how that feels.

  “Aubrey?” Isaac’s eyes search mine. “I’m not her. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

  My chest constricts. He remembers. Even though we haven’t spoken about what sent me to the bar that night, have hardly spoken of that night at all, he remembers what I told him.

  And I still don’t know why he was there. But there was something, some reason he’d gone to a honky-tonk all alone.

  The rough clearing of a throat breaks through our heavy conversation. Jenna stands next to the table. Her face is a mask of sculpted cheeks and rosy lips, but her eyes swim with emotion. She’s looking down at the tabletop, at our intertwined fingers. It was innocent, a gesture to go along with Isaac’s heartfelt declaration. He pulls away slowly, as if he knows that snatching his hand away will make it look like he was doing something wrong.

  Isaac lets her in, his hand on her hip as though she needs the guidance, and right behind him is the arrival of our dinner. I turn my attention to Claire, to the temperature of her food, because I need something to take my mind off whatever the heck is happening across the booth.

  When dinner is over we don’t linger. I give the excuse of it being a school night, and quickly say goodbye. Claire hugs Isaac, but stays away from Jenna. She’s obviously mad, and Claire has picked up on it.

  Through bath time and story time, and all the way until I nod off to sleep, I think of Jenna and Isaac, and how I hadn’t factored an evil step-mother into the equation. Until now.

  I wish I could use Claire as an escape, like Aubrey did as soon as dinner was over. The whole ride home Jenna was silent, seething in her seat, her body rigid. Now I’m sitting on my couch, just waiting for the pot to boil over.

  She stalks around the kitchen, opening cabinets and closing them, accomplishing nothing.

  At last, she says “You shouldn't have invited me tonight.” Her tone is flat. Devoid of any emotion.

  “I wouldn't have, if I’d known you were going to make it your mission to be awkward.” I can see her in the reflection of the black TV screen. She leaves the kitchen and walks closer.

  “I tried,” she insists, coming to stand in front of the couch. “But then I saw how futile it was. How pointless it was for me to be there. You like her, Isaac. You have feelings for her.”

  My denial is automatic, even though her accusation is nothing but the truth. Liking Aubrey doesn't feel like a choice. I have no say in the matter. But that doesn't mean I have to follow those feelings. They don’t need to make the decisions for me.

  “Isaac, don’t sit there and shake your head. I know what I saw.”

  “I wasn’t holding her hand when you came back to the table. Not in a romantic way. I was telling her that I would've been there for her had I known about Claire.” The downward spiral of this conversation is beginning. I know where this is all going, but I have to at least put up a fight. “That’s all it was, Jenna.”

  She waves a hand, pushing aside my defense. “I don’t care that you held Aubrey’s hand. Not at all, actually. It was more…” She pauses, lips twisting in thought. “Your body language. You leaned into her every chance you got, and I don’t think you even knew you were doing it. And the way you looked at her. It was like your eyes wanted to absorb every part of her.” Her breath comes out in a short, irritated sound. “You’ve never looked at me like that.”

  “Jenna—”

  “Don’t bother.” She stops me with an outstretched palm. “I tried, Isaac. I think I could’ve handled Claire, everything might have worked out if it was just her I had to accept.” Her head moves slowly back and forth. “I won’t watch you want Aubrey. I won’t be the runner-up. And I won’t fight a losing battle.”

  There are so many things I’m supposed to say right now. Half-hearted attempts to dissuade her stream through my mind. I let them all pass, because she’s right.

  She leaves quickly, taking only her purse. I get up to follow her out, to say good-bye, but she doesn't turn around.

  I can’t breathe.

  My mom’s arms wrap around me, constricting my chest, until I croak out a reminder. “Mom.”

  “That’s the best news ever,” she says, releasing me.

  I knew she was going to be happy, but she could hide her total elation at least a little. I give her my stern look.

  “Sorry, sorry. What I meant to say was I’m so sorry to hear the news. How are you holding up?” She takes another step back, but she can’t stop the smile that pulls at her lips. “I wish y
our father were home. He’d be happy about the news too.” Turning abruptly, she says “Follow me to the kitchen.”

  She’s walking away, and I’ve yet to move. There’s still one more bombshell I need to drop on her, and I don’t know if I should do it when she has knives at her disposal.

  “Isaac, come on.” She turns and sends me a questioning look from her spot seven feet away. When she sees me moving, she starts again.

  Once we’re in the kitchen she grabs a head of lettuce from the fridge and tosses it to me. I’m tearing it for a salad when I ask, “Aren’t you going to ask why Jenna and I broke it off? We were engaged, you know.” As if she needs the reminder.

  My mom reaches past me and flicks on the faucet, so the water washes the leaves I’ve dropped into the colander.

  “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.” She snickers like she’s just made the funniest joke ever.

  I can’t help but laugh. My mom liked Jenna well enough in high school, but when I ran back into her and brought her to my parents’ house, I could tell right away Mom wasn’t rekindling fond memories the way I was. Maybe it was the way Jenna asked for cream and sugar when my mom served her coffee. My mother is more of a double shot of espresso, no-nonsense lady. Love pours from her, even when she's pissed and cussing in Spanish and her black eyebrows are pulled so close together she starts looking like Frida Kahlo.

  Mom managed to keep her opinion to herself, or at least from me, and I assumed she’d grown to like Jenna.

  I guess I was wrong.

  What I want to say is Jenna left me because she thinks I have feelings for another woman. Who? Oh, just this girl I got pregnant five years ago. Now I have a daughter I found out about when I was her emergency surgeon.

  As priceless as the look on her face would be, I can’t do that to her.

  Shifting the lettuce in the colander, I start what is surely to be a long, painful, and possibly embarrassing conversation. “Jenna and I broke up because something I did in the past came back to the present.”

  My mom’s hand stills, poised with a peeler pressed to a carrot.

  “And what might that be?”

  Her eyes are careful, as if she knows she’s treading into dangerous waters.

  I turn off the faucet and dry my hands on a kitchen towel, then toss it on the counter between us. “After that night, five years ago, the night that…”

  “No reminder needed,” she says softly. “Go on.”

  “I went to a bar. And I met a woman. Aubrey.” Twenty-one-year-old Aubrey fills my head. She was so beautiful, but with an air of sadness. Maybe that was part of the instant attraction when I spotted her sitting alone at that table. The sadness in me saw her, needed her, wanted a person to hurt with.

  “She was upset that night too. About her ex-boyfriend and her mother.” Unwilling to air Aubrey’s dirty laundry, I don’t offer any more explanation than that. “We went back to my place.” My cheeks heat, but thanks to my tanned skin, I don’t redden.

  Still, my mom somehow knows I’m flustered. “It’s OK. Sex is normal. Besides, you’re thirty-five.” She winks at me. “So, you ran into Aubrey while you were with Jenna? That hardly seems like a reason to end an engagement.”

  “Jenna left because she couldn’t handle what Aubrey and I created that night.” I really should just spit it out. My mom’s eyes narrow, the pieces of the puzzle shifting, so I put it out there. “Aubrey got pregnant that night, and she had no way to tell me. By the time she took a test, I was in Africa.”

  Fingers pressed to her lips, my mom drags in a shocked breath. “Did she have the baby?”

  I nod. Despite the seriousness of our conversation, I smile.

  “I’m a grandma?”

  I nod again. Still smiling. And so is she.

  “Oh my god.” Her fingers curl away from her lips, except for one, which stays poised on her top lip. “I need to meet her. Or him?”

  “Her. Claire.”

  “Now I really wish your dad were home. This is so exciting. I can’t wait to meet Claire. When? She can come over here. I’ll need…” She starts listing things, ticking her fingers up one at a time. “Toys. Dolls. Does she like dolls? Crayons and coloring books.”

  I place a hand on her shoulder. “Mom, slow down. This is new. Aubrey is…” I pause, thinking. What is Aubrey? Hesitant? Guarded? Defensive? Yes, yes, and yes. “This is a lot for her. She’s been on her own with Claire. She’s already been accommodating. I don’t want to push her too hard.”

  I think my words bring my mom back down to reality. “How are you handling this? Wait, how did you find out about Claire?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but she cuts me off with another question.

  “Are you going to file for custody? Shared, I’m sure.”

  It would be a lie to say I haven’t thought a lot about it, but Aubrey’s been flexible so far, and I don’t want to burn any bridges.

  “Not immediately. Eventually, we’ll have to get the legal aspect figured out. But right now, I’m only interested in learning about Claire.”

  “What about Aubrey?”

  “What about her?” I know what my mom’s getting at, and it pulls up Jenna’s words from my memory. The way you looked at her. You’ve never looked at me like that.

  Aubrey’s beautiful and strong. The moment I saw her again I felt that same pull in my chest as I had five years ago. Like there’s a tether tying me to her. Pulling back that curtain and finding those blue eyes staring back at me, it was as if my heart was reaching out to hers. And then I’d managed to look past her, to the tiny patient in the big bed, and my heart had faltered.

  “Think about it, Isaac. You and Aubrey have a one-night stand without enough information to find each other later, and then she shows up out of nowhere—”

  “Not nowhere. At the hospital.” I interject. “Claire broke her arm playing soccer, and yours truly was her surgeon.”

  She gasps, but then the sound keeps going so I’m not really sure what to call it. “Isaac, it’s meant to be. Fated. Written in the stars.” Her eyes are big, excited. It’s all I can do not to roll mine.

  “Mom, this isn’t one of your telanovelas. It’s real life.” I point to my chest. “My life.”

  “Come on.” She’s not one to keep her eye rolls on the inside. “Maybe she’s your person. El que tu corazon desea.”

  I cross my arms, like maybe it will keep her words from affecting me any more than they already have.

  “Jenna and I just broke up, Mom.”

  “You look devastated.” Her tone is flat. Sarcastic.

  “I am.” It’s a lie. I’m not. And the fact that I’m not says more about my feelings for Jenna than words ever could. Four days have passed since the dinner and she hasn't come to mind nearly as much as I would've thought. I’m defending my relationship with her because… well, isn’t it what I’m supposed to do? Honestly, what I feel more than anything is guilt. Which only makes me feel guiltier.

  My mom throws up her hands. “Fine. Whatever you say. Let’s talk about Claire. When do I get to meet this grandbaby of mine?” She purses her lips and claps her hands quietly. Her excitement is back. She’s somewhere up in the stars again, dreaming of running through meadows of wildflowers with Claire by her side.

  “Lucia?” My dad yells from the living room.

  My mom hurries from the room, yelling “Paul,” as she goes.

  I walk after her, my pace slow. I’m not in a hurry to drop another bomb on someone today. If I even get to. My mom’s probably too excited to wait for me.

  I knew she’d be happy. She hasn’t made it a secret she wishes for grandchildren. Or that she wants me to find the right woman. Who she obviously believed wasn’t Jenna.

  I’m thirty-five, and I still wish my mom weren’t right all the time. And if she really is right all time, I have much bigger problems.

  El que tu corazon desea. The one your heart desires.

  Is that Aubrey?

  A dark apartment
is just what I need following an afternoon spent inundated by questions and thoughts and opinions, punctuated by my mom’s random hand-tossing when her elation bubbled over. My sister arrived too, called in by my mother, and I knew I was in for it.

  Lauren delighted in my news in a strange, competitive sibling way. She’d excused herself to the bathroom, and then my phone dinged with a message.

  Lauren: Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  I ignored her.

  Another one.

  The sun doesn’t shine out of your ass anymore.

  And another.

  Vacancy: Favorite wanted.

  She came back from the bathroom grinning.

  “Are you done?” I asked her.

  “Almost. I just have to call you a man-whore, and then I’ll be finished.” She laughed at her own joke.

  After dinner I told them I had to get up early tomorrow. It’s mostly true. I’ll set my alarm for six and go for a run, just to make it true.

  Home sweet home, I think as I climb from my car.

  Once my key is in the lock, I realize there’s no need for it. My door is unlocked.

  Unless I’m being burglarized, there’s only one person who has a key to my place. I’m so sure I know who it is that I don’t even turn around to look for her car.

  “Hello,” I say to her back when I find her. She’s in my closet, pulling clothes from hangers.

  Jenna startles, clutching her chest. “God, Isaac, you should wear a bell around your neck.”

  “And alert the cat burglar that the owner is home?”

  She snakes a hand through her hair and grabs one of the shirts draped across her forearm. She folds it clumsily, which I know pisses her off. Shirts with crisp lines and sweaters with soft folds bring Jenna peace.

  I grab the shirt from her and fold it. The guilt makes me want to help her. It’s not her fault we’re in this situation.

  Her thank-you is reluctant. She’s pissed.

  When the other shirts have been placed in the duffle bag at her feet, I back out of the small space.

  “Check the bathroom,” I say. “There may be some things under the sink.”

  She goes in one direction and I go in another. When she emerges a few minutes later, I’m seated on the couch.