Preston's Honor

by Mia Sheridan

  Oh God, it would kill Preston if I took Hudson from him after all he’d lost. But how could I live without my baby—even if it was only across town?

  But I had to escape this misery. I had to figure out what was wrong with me and try to heal. Living here was slowly killing me.

  I loved Preston. Even though it wasn’t enough, I still loved him. Leaving might hurt him, but then again, maybe he’d feel relieved. But taking Hudson away would devastate him. And the truth was, I’d rather kill myself than bring Preston more anguish.

  And maybe this was best for Hudson, too. Perhaps me being gone would be better for everyone.

  I left the house quietly, rolling my car out of the driveway and down the very slight incline of the road, not turning on my lights until I got far enough away that they wouldn’t be seen from the farmhouse. Desolation threatened to knock me over, but I clutched the wheel and drove the short distance to my mama’s apartment in town.

  When I unlocked the door, my mama was still up, sitting in her chair in front of the television. “It’s late, Mama. Why are you still up?”

  She glanced up at me and her eyes lingered on my face for several seconds, which was longer than she usually looked at me. “The rain woke me up.”

  “Ah. The rain.”

  “A miracle, yes? Preston must be happy for his farm.”

  “Yes, Preston is happy for his farm.” My voice sounded dull even to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  My mother glanced at me again. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you here?”

  I went to her and sank down on my knees in front of her, so desperate for affection, for love that I felt like begging her for it. Would it matter?

  “Mama,” I said, and then the tears did start, rolling slowly down my cheeks. “I know we’ve never been very close but . . . did you ever love me, Mama? Is there something lovable about me? Something more than the devil eyes that have reminded you of him all my life? Is there, Mama?” Oh please tell me there’s something good in me. I need it so badly.

  Her expression was wary and slightly stunned as she stared at me on my knees in front of her. Her hand lifted from her lap and fluttered in the air for a second as if she was going to touch me and my breath caught with the hope that maybe it would be with tenderness, with the love I craved so desperately from someone, anyone, but mostly from her. But then it dropped again and she looked away from me. “In the morning he went away, but he left me with his eyes. Devil eyes to watch and curse me all the rest of my days,” she muttered, as if to herself more than in answer to my question. But it had been my answer all the same. An ache took up deep inside, making me feel as if I were a thousand years old. I pulled myself to my feet slowly, grimacing as if I’d been beaten, as if the pain might actually be physical. And maybe it was. I couldn’t tell anymore.

  Something was wrong with me. Very, very wrong.

  And I wouldn’t get better here either.

  My eyes moved slowly to the table next to Mama’s chair and I stepped around her as if in a trance. I opened the drawer, my gaze catching on the small, shiny knife my mama had always kept near her for protection, lingering, lingering . . . before I tore my eyes from it, ripped my mind from the thought it’d been moving toward, reaching to the back of the drawer where my mother kept the letters from my aunt. I stared at them for a moment, my heart thumping as I took them all, putting them in the pocket of my jacket.

  My Mama remained silent, watching me. “I’m going away for a while. If Preston comes by, tell him I’ve gone, but please don’t tell him where.” I didn’t wait for her answer before pulling the door closed behind me.

  I didn’t dare glance back at Linmoor as I drove away. My heart wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

  The memory of that night propelled me up and out of bed. But not because thinking about it depressed me—although it did—but because there was something else there . . . something I hadn’t seen all those months I’d been away. When I’d remembered it, I’d remembered the pain, the way the hasty sex against the wall in the foyer had made me feel used and unloved, and the way I’d already been drowning, and that night had seemed like the final shove underwater.

  But now, after talking to Preston the day before, I was seeing that night in a different light. I hadn’t known about the fight with Cole. I hadn’t known that Preston had carried the responsibility for Cole’s death on his shoulders all that time in addition to all the other anguish he’d held inside. He was a man with a deeply protective nature. How had it tormented him to feel he was at fault for a situation that caused so much suffering?

  I wished we had been in a place where we could have talked about it, but there were so many reasons why we hadn’t. Grief, guilt, confusion, the baby, the farm. I’d never been good at opening up and sharing what was inside me, and the circumstances under which we’d been living certainly didn’t help to encourage what would have been new and terrifying.

  But Preston was good at stuffing his own feelings inside, too. Maybe it was part of being one half of a whole, the half that had always seemed content to stay out of the spotlight, to let his twin take the stage. Perhaps he just came by it naturally. Maybe it was part of being a man. I didn’t exactly know. What I did know was that together, we were a recipe for misunderstandings and unresolved hurt. But what I also knew was that if we identified the problem, maybe, oh, maybe we could fix it. At least we could try.

  Do you think there’s a chance for us, Lia?

  Hope surged inside me.

  Make a fuss, mi amor. Make a fuss.

  Rosa’s words came back to me, the way she’d said them with such earnest intensity. And a small spark ignited in a place that had never held light or warmth before. I knew what she meant, though she had just been talking about a nametag. She’d meant stand up for yourself, believe in your value. I’d been trying to find it in everyone’s eyes except my own and that’s why it was so easily taken away.

  Oh God, I was going to have to figure out how to do that if things were going to work between Preston and me. I was going to have to try, and it scared me half to death because all I knew was how to focus on other people’s needs—even to the detriment of my own. But that hadn’t ever worked for anyone, not really. My mama had become a hermit, hiding away in our apartment unless I dragged her out almost by force, and Preston and I had drifted so far apart, I didn’t know if we could come back together or not.

  That was the result of trying to suck it up, trying to please, trying to fade into the background so no one had to be bothered by me, embarrassed by me, forced to associate with me. I sighed. That wasn’t the example I wanted for my son. I wanted to be strong, to make him proud . . . and if at all possible, I wanted to fight to give him a family.

  The rain was letting up and the sun was shining through the slats of the blinds on the windows of the apartment, softening the drab ugliness. My mama was stirring, and I moved quickly to the bathroom so I could shower before she got up. I dried my hair and braided it loosely for the sake of ease and then applied a bit of makeup.

  I got dressed and went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, taking a cup back to my mama where she had moved to her chair. “I’m going to spend the day with Preston and Hudson, Mama. And then I’m going to come back here and make us dinner. I’m going to tell you all about your sister because I think you want to know even though you won’t ask. You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to, but I’m going to talk and . . . well, that’s that.”

  She looked annoyed but her foot bounced the way it did when she was nervous. She didn’t say anything as she took her coffee from my hand and took a sip, looking at me skeptically over the rim of the cup, but not saying no. “Okay then,” I murmured.

  I grabbed my purse and left the apartment, making the familiar drive to Preston’s. It was a beautiful early spring day. It was my baby boy’s first birthday.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Preston

  My mother breezed into the office
where I sat going over some paperwork. “Where’s Hudson?”

  I glanced over at the long drapes and nodded my head toward them, raising one eyebrow. “I have no idea,” I said loudly. “He was here a minute ago.”

  My mom grinned, taking a step toward the curtains where there was obvious rustling and a baby laugh. “Hmm. Well it seems as if he’s disappeared. You really should watch him more closely. Now I’m going to have to look for him.” Another giggle and more rustling.

  My mom took several minutes to pretend to look for him as I went back to my paperwork. Finally she pulled back the curtain and gasped as if in surprise. Hudson let out a delighted burst of laughter. She picked him up and kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetness.”

  I smiled up at them. My mom could be a snob and a pain in the ass, but she loved her grandson. There was no denying that.

  “What are your plans for today?”

  “Lia’s coming over, and we’re going to spend the day with her.” I’d actually asked Tracie to come over for a couple of hours and stay with Hudson while he napped so I could take Lia out.

  My mom gave me a displeased stare. “Is that really a good idea? What if the baby gets attached to her and she leaves again? Oh Preston, you have to think of your son.”

  I let out a breath. If things were going to work with Lia and me, it was past time I put up some boundaries with my mother. “I am thinking of him. I’m thinking of all three of us.” Like I should have been all along.

  I looked at her for a moment, her lips pressed together, that haughty look on her face she wore so well. “Mom, Hudson is Lia’s son, and I won’t have you undermining her role in his life. I think you did that even while she was here, trying her best, and I should have seen it. I should have seen what was happening and I didn’t. I was blind to everything except my own pain, and Lia suffered because of it. Probably more than I’ve even come to realize.”

  “Don’t you think I was in pain, too?” Her voice rose in sound and in octave.

  “Yes. We were all in pain, and we all made mistakes—some bigger than others. But it was my responsibility to protect my family, and I fell down on the job.”

  “You didn’t fall down on the job. You saved the farm. What was more important than that?”

  Lia. Hudson. They should have been more important than that. I sighed. “All I’m asking is that you try to find some forgiveness and understanding for the reasons Lia left, and maybe even consider that you held some responsibility in making her feel unwelcome here.”

  “What was I supposed to do? I hardly had the strength to put up objections to her moving in. She showed up here pregnant during the worst time of my whole life—”

  “Who do you think got her pregnant?”

  “Don’t be crass. And for all you know, she got pregnant on purpose to get out of that tiny apartment you told me she lived in in town.”

  Crass? “Jesus, Mom. She didn’t get pregnant on purpose. I needed her here so I could focus on the farm.”

  “And how was I supposed to say no to that?”

  I paused as the picture became clear. I’d told my mother I needed Lia here if I was going to put the time in on the farm that was necessary to try to save it and in doing so, I’d helped myself, but condemned Annalia to living as an unwelcome guest. “This is what you did to her, isn’t it? All those months you made her feel like she’d forced herself on us purposefully. You made sure she knew she was unwanted?” Dirty. Just like she’d felt that day at school when Alicia Bardua had called her disgusting when she’d seen bedbugs on her.

  My mom looked away but not before I’d seen the truth in her eyes. Oh, Christ. And right here, right under my nose. A stab of guilt made me wince. “I love my grandson,” she said, kissing the top of Hudson’s head. He was playing with the locket she wore around her throat and at her kiss, looked up and smiled.

  “I know you do, Mom. And we can’t change the past—like I said, we all made mistakes. I’m going to try my damnedest to fix what I can, and I hope you’ll do the same. An apology to Lia wouldn’t be out of line.”

  “An apology? She owes us an apology.” My mother looked indignant for a moment but then she sighed and put Hudson, who was squirming in her arms, on the floor. He crawled to me and I pulled him onto my lap where he started grabbing for things on the desk.

  My building irritation with my mother almost caused me to miss the soft knock on our front door. “There’s your mama,” I said, standing up with Hudson and heading toward the door. “We can talk more later, Mom.” My mom followed behind me, grabbing a sweater off the coat tree in the foyer.

  I opened the door and Lia was there, beautiful in a white flowy skirt and a black tank top. Her hair was braided again, and she smiled brightly when she saw Hudson in my arms. “Happy birthday, little man.”

  “Hi, Lia,” my mother said as she scooted past me. “I hope you all have a nice day.”

  “Mrs. Sawyer,” Lia said, turning to watch her walk down the steps.

  “Come on in.” I handed Hudson to her and her smile grew. We walked into the family room and when we got there, he took her face in his chubby hands so she couldn’t look away and jabbered something nonsensical that sounded like, hasni mabashka. She laughed out a small sound and her eyes moved to mine, eyebrows raised as a happy but helpless look took over her expression.

  I laughed, too. “Your guess is as good as mine on that one.”

  I walked over to them. “What are you trying to tell Mama?” Hudson kept his hands on Lia’s cheeks but turned his eyes to me, repeating the same incomprehensible statement. Lia looked at me as well, her eyes shiny with tears, her expression full of what looked like gratitude—I assumed because I’d referred to her as Mama in front of Hudson.

  I looked back and forth from one to the other, two pairs of stunning light green eyes focused on me and the sight hit me low in my gut. Those beautiful, expressive eyes that I’d loved all my life were now looking back at me from my son’s face and the power of that suddenly overwhelmed me with a mixture of possessiveness and wonder. They were mine. This woman and this child. Mine.

  Hudson looked back at Lia and repeated himself one final time, letting go of her face and pointing at his new train table. “Tay,” he said very seriously.

  Lia laughed and brought him to his train table and stood him in front of it. I watched as they played trains together for a while, my heart squeezing at the sight of the two of them together. I soaked it in, realizing I’d never really watched them together—I’d left so much of his care to her those first six months because I’d been so obsessed with the farm, and then so exhausted at the end of each day.

  But I realized now that the times I had seen her, she’d never had the light in her eyes that she did right now. I’d written it off to the exhaustion of new parenthood. I’d known she was probably as tired as I was, and I’d told myself I would be able to help her more once the farm was doing better. After all, I’d been trying to save the farm for them as well—it wasn’t only my family legacy, it was my livelihood, the way I put food on the table and a roof over all our heads. I was working as hard as I was to care for them. Only Lia had needed more—she had needed emotional care, too, and I hadn’t taken the time to acknowledge that.

  I got down on the floor with them after a few minutes, and watched Hudson chatter happily as he moved his train around the tracks. “Hey, Lia, I asked Tracie to come over so you and I could get out for a little bit. Is that okay?”

  She looked at me, her eyes moving over my face. She looked slightly troubled. “We could bring Hudson with us.” She pushed his hair back from his forehead as he played.

  “He’ll need a nap soon, and I’d like to spend some time with you. I think it’s important.”

  Her eyes softened and she nodded. “All right.”

  We played with Hudson a little longer and then fed him his lunch together. Tracie arrived just as Lia was cleaning up, and she greeted Tracie just a little warily, the same way she had at H
udson’s party the day before. I saw the remoteness in her eyes. I knew that look. As I thought of all the other instances I’d seen that same look throughout our lives, I realized it was there to hide hurt.

  Ah, Lia. I thought I understood you so clearly. I had so much to learn, didn’t I? I still do. I hope you’ll let me.

  Tracie took Hudson upstairs, smiling and telling us to have a good time. I turned to Lia. “What do you think about making it like old times and walking over to the creek where we used to cool off?”

  I’d been planning to take her into town for lunch, but I suddenly just wanted to be completely alone with her, and something inside told me we needed to start again—from the beginning. I wanted to go back in time and do things over, ask the right questions, demand things I’d never felt comfortable insisting upon. I couldn’t do that in actuality, but in a way we were starting over now, even though we had a baby together and had lived in the same house for nearly a year.

  “Is there water in it?”

  “I think so. I can’t be sure because I haven’t been there this season, but there should at least be some.”

  She shrugged one shoulder, smiling a slight smile. “Okay.”

  We stepped outside into the warm spring day and went around the house to the other side of the fence, taking the familiar route to the creek. We walked past the mailboxes at the end of the road where the two alternate routes started, and I took Lia’s hand pulling her toward the one I’d taken on that day Cole and I had raced for her long ago. It somehow seemed apropos.

  But Lia pulled back gently on my hand and nodded her head toward the trees in the middle. “Let’s take the shortcut.”

  I frowned as we both stopped walking. “Shortcut? It’s all forest in there—it’ll take longer to make our way through it.”