“Oh, I do!” Kendall grabbed her hand. “I love him so much.”
“I know. It’s just . . . there’s more to think about now. Where you are going to live, how to support yourself, and most of all, you have to think about the baby. Even before Joel. Your child has to come first.” Did Kendall see Joel rising to the challenge of fatherhood? Saffron didn’t, but she could be wrong.
Kendall nodded. “Right. And I want my baby to have both parents.”
Saffron hugged her. “I’ll help.”
“Sorry about Mom. I can’t believe she didn’t even seem happy to see you.”
“I never thought she’d kill the fatted calf or anything.”
That brought a smile. “I’m so glad you came back.”
“Me too.”
But Saffron couldn’t help thinking about what might have happened today if her mother had given her a hug and started crying. A show of regret wouldn’t have changed the past, but it might have made things easier.
11
Halla waited in the sitting room on the couch until Saffron’s mother returned from her confrontation with Saffron in the hallway. Naked agony and hopelessness marked the woman’s face, which evoked the first bit of hope Halla had felt since their cool reception. Maybe there was something more to the woman than rigid control.
Even as she had the thought, Veronica glanced in her direction, visibly pulling herself together. She took in the green pants and the dressy white top that, in honor of this meeting, Halla had worn instead of her usual camo pants and black tank. She’d chosen the clothes not to impress the woman but to give Saffron one less thing to worry about in regards to her mother.
Veronica finished her appraisal and stared at Halla questioningly. Halla half expected her to call the police as she’d threatened. Instead, she sank into her chair. Halla didn’t know if it was the tight stuffing or shock that made her sit so stiffly.
“I’m sorry you have to see this,” Veronica said in a voice that invited commiseration.
“Actually, it was rather less than what I expected,” Halla said. “If I ever see my parents again, the police probably will be called.”
Veronica grimaced, so it was the wrong thing to say, but Halla wasn’t here to please her.
“Anyway,” Halla said. “I’m only here for moral support.”
“And how do you know Rosalyn?”
Halla debated what to tell her. She certainly wasn’t going to spill Saffron’s story, but maybe a little nudge or two in the right direction would be all right. She’d be gentle, though, because the woman was still looking a little battered, despite the rigid set of her back.
“We spent time in the same foster home,” Halla said. “We’re both from the original girls who were with our foster mother before she was licensed and officially opened her home to teen girls. All of us became good friends. I love Saffron like a sister.” Halla didn’t have any biological sisters to compare, but some of the others did and they said that all the time.
“I see.” Veronica relaxed marginally. “And what home was that?”
“Lily’s House in Phoenix.” That shouldn’t be too much information to give her. Saffron had stayed on at the foster home to help Lily even after she’d turned eighteen, but she hadn’t lived at Lily’s House for at least four or five years.
“I see.” Questions churned in the woman’s eyes, but Halla guessed she was too proud to voice them. Was she relieved that Saffron had found help? Or was she angry someone had interfered with her punishment?
“She makes jewelry?”
Halla didn’t remember that coming up in the conversation earlier, and Veronica had seemed surprised when they’d appeared on her doorstep, so it was doubtful Kendall had said anything. But there seemed no harm in answering. “Yes. She’s really good at it too.”
“She always had an eye for design. If she hadn’t been so hung up on that boy, she might have done something with it.”
“She did do something with it.”
Veronica gave a dismissive wave. “Jewelry making is better left to the large companies.”
“Not really.” Halla leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees. “Indie art brings an originality that is missing in mass-produced items. Just like music and books. There is some really great work out there that would never have come to light with a big company.”
“And really terrible work as well.”
“Granted, but overall we have more choices, instead of having a producer or publisher or company limit the art that’s released. I like choices. Of course, none of it’s possible without the Internet. Thirty percent of my fifty thousand blog followers are from out of the country.”
“I see.” Veronica seemed to be reevaluating her. Halla held her stare, wishing Saffron would appear so they could either finish their confrontation or leave. Halla debated waiting in the car, but she might have to throw herself between Veronica and Saffron as Kendall had before dropping her little bomb.
After long moments of silence, Veronica’s blue eyes fixed on her, glittering with anticipation. “Tell me about my grandchild.”
Oh, no. She wasn’t getting off that easily. What, did she suddenly want to start sending birthday cards? Maybe now that Kendall was defective, she thought she might find someone else to focus on. Halla shook her head. “Look, you really need to talk to Saffron.”
“I’m talking to you.”
Halla stood. “And it’s been a nice chat. You have a lovely home, Mrs. Brenwood.”
“I want to know.” Her voice compelled, demanded.
“Then talk to your daughter.” Halla debated what the woman might do if she went to look for Saffron. She might decide to call the police after all.
Veronica rose from her chair and stepped toward Halla. Internally, Halla cringed, a stubborn remnant from her long-ago days living with abusive parents, but she firmed her face so nothing would show. “Mrs. Brenwood, I won’t—”
“I’m glad my Rosalyn found Lily’s House, and I’m glad she has a friend like you.”
Okay, that was surprising.
“I am too.” Halla heard footsteps in the hallway. “But if you want a relationship with your daughter, you might begin by calling her Saffron. It’s her legal name now.”
Saffron entered before Veronica could respond. “Come on, Halla,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Halla wondered if Veronica would say something, but she simply stood there as they left the sitting room and made their way out of the house.
Halla fished the car key from her pocket, handing it to Saffron. She waited until they were in the car to say, “So that went well.”
Saffron gave her a funny stare.
“Seriously,” Halla insisted. “I expected more fireworks.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. Maybe next time.” Saffron sighed with resignation. “This isn’t over yet.”
“How’s Kendall?”
“Confused. Terrified.” Saffron started the engine and pulled away from the curb a little too quickly. “You know how we kind of don’t like Joel? Well, I think she’s worried, too, but won’t say.”
“It’s hard to voice any worry with your mother ready to pounce.”
“Exactly. But I can see her point. I don’t know that either of them are ready to become parents. I think Kendall will be, though.”
They were nearly at the hotel when Saffron said, “I wonder if I was ever as young as Kendall? I mean I had to be, but looking at her, I don’t feel like I was.”
“And?” Halla could hear there was more.
“I wonder if I saw myself and Tyson then—would I think the same thing about him as I do Joel?”
“Was he like Joel?”
“Not at all. He was going places even back then.” She frowned at the road, and her sadness tore at Halla’s heart. “But maybe if I’d stayed, he wouldn’t be a doctor today, like my mom said. Maybe what happened was better for him.”
“Ah, don’t say that. His opportunities would have been differe
nt, but not necessarily worse. If you’d stayed, what would you be doing now?”
Saffron pulled into the packed parking lot at the inn. “Jewelry has always fascinated me, and even back then I wanted to design it. Well, there was a year or two after I left home that I couldn’t stand to look at beads because they reminded me of all the awful things I’d been through. But if I’d stayed, I think I might have gone into interior design . . . like her.”
“Your mother? Ah, that explains the cool furniture and paintings. And the awesome wallpaper.”
“Yeah. Our house always looked like it was ready for a magazine photo shoot.”
“I guess you inherited her ability. Or an aspect of it.”
“I guess so.” Saffron spied a free parking space and pulled into it.
Halla reached out to touch her arm. “You did good this afternoon. I know it was hard and that there was a lot more you needed to say to her, but it’s a start.”
“I don’t know that anything I can say will make a difference.”
“It will. It will make a difference to Kendall and to you. And I think to her too.”
“She threatened to call the police.”
“Yeah, but when you were out of the room, she also asked about you. She knows you make jewelry, and when I told her how good you are, she wasn’t surprised. I don’t know how she knew, but she did.”
“Kendall wouldn’t have told her.” Saffron’s eyes widened. “Wait. You didn’t tell her about—”
“No. I told her only that we knew each other from Lily’s house and for the rest, she’d have to ask you. But however she knew about the jewelry, she’s had a shock today, what with you showing up and with Kendall’s announcement.”
“I hate it that a part of me still cares what she does.”
“It’s hard to help caring.” Halla opened the door and waited until Saffron came around the car to say, “Look, let’s go change and then get ice cream. Ice cream solves everything.”
That produced a smile. “It’s a date,” Saffron said. “We’ll have it for an early dinner.”
“What would Lily say?” Halla faked horror.
“You kidding? If her kids weren’t around, she’d probably join us.”
Halla was feeling happy about lightening the mood, but Saffron’s smile vanished as she glanced toward the inn. “Oh, no,” Saffron murmured, “I think you’re about to get your fireworks.”
Halla followed her gaze to see Tyson emerging from the inn. He stopped when he saw them, staring. Even from this distance, Halla could see determination in the set of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”
Saffron’s eyes met hers. “It’s what I came for, though, isn’t it? I have to know.”
“I meant you don’t have to do this now. But I’m game if you are.”
“Thanks, but I think I need to do this alone.”
“You sure? Because last night when you saw him it didn’t go so well.”
“I was taken by surprise. But after facing my mom, I’m full of adrenalin I didn’t use on her.” Saffron’s chuckle was convincing—or would have been if her eyes didn’t look so frightened. “I’ll text you if I need you.”
Halla searched Saffron’s face and saw that she was determined. It was just as well, because sooner or later Saffron and Tyson would need to say things that couldn’t be said in front of any friend or sister, no matter how close. “Okay, but I’ll keep checking my phone for messages.”
“Here, take the car key in case you want to go somewhere. Don’t wreck Vaughn’s car, though, or he’ll kill me.”
“No, he won’t. He’s in love with you, remember?”
“I’m not so sure about that. I mean, he likes me, of course, but it’s creeping into friendship territory now.”
Halla rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.”
When Saffron didn’t respond or move toward Tyson, Halla added, “Go ahead. I’ll wait here for a minute just in case it doesn’t go well.”
Saffron hugged her. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Halla watched Saffron walk across the parking lot to where Tyson waited, hoping Saffron was ready to face these particular fireworks.
12
Saffron strode toward Tyson, trying to summon all the indignant anger she’d felt last night, but the words he’d spoken then made it difficult. Something happened eight and a half years ago, something that had put the betrayed expression in his eyes.
Now those eyes, dark and compelling, didn’t leave her face and made her think of those days when she knew he loved her more than life. If anything, he looked better than he had last night. Just don’t smile, she thought.
Then he did just that. Her stomach did a crazy little flip-flop as it had when she was sixteen. Stupid.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “Afterwards, I talked to my mother. She told me things . . .” He shook his head. “I had it wrong, and I should have known better. Please, can we talk?”
Her eyes couldn’t help taking in his face—the defined shape of his nose, the little scar on his cheekbone that he’d earned on the football field, the dark lashes that had limited his selection of sunglasses because they were so long. And, of course, the smile.
“Well?”
Right. She should say something about now. “Sure. Let me change out of this skirt, and I’ll meet you down here.”
“If you don’t mind, I can walk with you.”
She gave a little snort. “I’m not going to run away.”
His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You always used to do that when you thought something was funny. I’ve missed that sound.”
I missed your smile, your smell, your hand on mine. She shook herself a little. “Okay, you can walk with me.”
They were quiet until they entered the elevator and he said, “Kendall’s a nice kid.”
Saffron let the door slide shut. “She’s pregnant.”
“What?” He shook his head. “That idiot Joel. What’s she going to do?”
“They’re apparently getting married. Or at least Kendall thinks so.” The elevator door to her floor glided open and she stepped out. “What’s he like? I mean I’ve met him, but how’s he at work?”
Tyson’s mouth twisted in a way she remembered it did when he had mixed feelings about something. “He’s really skilled in woodworking. And he works really hard—as long as he’s supervised. Otherwise, I’m sorry to say he’s not all that dependable. I’ve been trying to help him develop good habits.”
Saffron felt no joy at being right about Joel—and especially that her mother was right about him. But what should she do about Kendall?
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Tyson said softly.
Saffron stopped walking and faced him, surprised at the anger welling up inside her. “It’s not the same as with us.”
“No. I’m certainly nothing like Joel. And you were always much more capable than Kendall.”
Saffron didn’t know if that was a compliment or a revisiting of last night’s accusations, but her anger was already flowing away. “I’ll be there for her, no matter what. My mother won’t force her into running away.”
Tyson reached out and caught her hand. “Is that what happened?”
Warmth slid from his hand to hers, working up her entire arm. He still felt familiar. “I tried to call you.”
“Your mother called mine. Told her you were getting an abortion and that she needed to keep me away from you. So my mother deleted your calls. She let me believe it was your choice.”
Years of hurt and heartache filled Saffron. She blinked back tears. “You knew me better!”
His face crumpled and his jaw shook as he tried to speak. “I know. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have looked for you. I knew something was off—at least I see that now. I should have confronted your mother. Somehow I should have known.” His head swung back and forth, his eyes deep and hopeless. “I don’t know how I can ever make it right.”
&nbs
p; He couldn’t. He couldn’t because their baby was dead, and that would never change. Saffron knew his pain would increase once he knew the whole truth, and she almost wished she could hide it from him. But hiding from the truth only brought more pain and loneliness. Even though she’d accepted her son’s death years ago, she was still lonely.
A couple emerged from a room down the hall, and Saffron started walking, rubbing a tear from her cheek. When she arrived at her door, she turned to Tyson, who had followed her. “I’ll just be a moment.”
“Okay.” He leaned against the wall, his face normal now, except for the remorse in his eyes.
If only she’d known their mothers had talked. But immediately, she shook the thought away. If there was one thing Lily had taught her, it was that there was no changing the past. Only the future.
He loved me, she thought. He didn’t abandon me. He might not have been her hero, but he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Like her, he’d been sixteen—young and scared.
She changed into jean shorts and a blouse that was barely a step above a T-shirt. Pausing, she took a deep breath, staring at herself in the mirror next to the television, astonished that she didn’t look as beaten and battered as she felt inside. Funny how a few words with Tyson had torn her apart much more than her confrontation with her mother.
Rubbing away a bit of smeared mascara, she started for the door. At the last second, she turned back and removed her little white jewelry box from the top drawer of the nightstand next to her bed. For a moment, she clutched it to her chest. Then she opened it and removed one of the pictures of her baby.
“He’ll finally know about you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” She kissed her finger and touched the tiny face before wrapping it inside the little blue shirt and slipping it back inside. The box wouldn’t fit into her purse, so she dug out a beach bag from her suitcase, wrapping the box first in her towel for protection.
Broken Lies Page 11