Picket Fence Surprise

by Kris Fletcher

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” He squatted and began wiping.

  “Not from what I hear.”

  “Darce, why don’t you tell me what you’ve heard, and what you know, and what you’re trying to trick me into admitting. Then I’ll know where I stand.” He flipped the rag over and continued to mop up the soup. “Because believe it or not, I actually wouldn’t mind being able to talk, but it’s not my call. Most of it, anyway.”

  Darcy gave him the look that meant she was trying to read him. Let her. She wasn’t going to have much luck.

  “Fine,” she said at last. “Here’s what I know. You’re having another baby—something that made you kind of anxious and concerned, but still, I could tell you were happy about it. Things were mostly hunky-dory for a while. Then last week you got hauled away by the cops for something that you didn’t do, but which left Millie very worried. And, according to what Millie told Brynn, Heather was pretty upset by it, too.”

  Heather had been upset?

  But his burst of hope died down as quickly as it had sprung up. Of course she’d had a hard time. She’d told him so herself. But it was because she’d been dragged back through her lousy memories. Because she had convinced herself that the past was a guaranteed rerun.

  “I also know that you told Hank there had been something between you and Heather, but that there wasn’t anymore.”

  He knew he shouldn’t have said that.

  “And for the last week, you haven’t been yourself. You’ve been quiet. You’re not laughing. You’re glad to be with Cady, and I know you’re taking care of her, so I’m not worried about that.” Darcy stopped swirling her rag through the spill long enough to place a hand on his arm. “But you’re more than just Cady’s father, Xander. You’re my friend, too. And Ian and I—Well, he doesn’t have all the pieces I do, but even he said something the other day about you not being yourself. I love the man beyond reason, but he’s not always the most insightful, you know? So for him to notice something was off, you know it has to be bad.”

  “I think you’re giving him too much credit.”

  “Nope. He came out with it all on his own. He thinks you got blindsided by the thing with the police, and you’re bummed that people would believe the worst. I let him think that.” She sat back. “But given everything else I’ve heard, I have a hunch there’s more to it.”

  Was there any point in pretending?

  “Fine.” He tossed the dirty rags into the bucket and eased into a sitting position. “But not a word of this to anyone. Not Ian, not Brynn, nobody.”

  “How about Lulu?”

  “What, so I can be the topic of the month at the dog park, too?”

  She grinned, tossed her own rags into the bucket, then sat against the wall with her legs straight in front of her. “It’s Heather, isn’t it?”

  He gave a quick nod.

  “And she broke up with you. Probably for some reason to do with the police, but I haven’t been able to figure that one out yet.”

  “Because she thinks it’s going to happen again.”

  “But why would she... I mean, I can understand being worried that this would happen to you again, but why would that make her end things?”

  “Because she’s scared for Millie.” He slumped lower. “And herself. She’s not worried about me.”

  Then, because he could see the questions building in Darcy’s face, he told her as much as he dared. Not about Heather herself, but her brother, and the way she couldn’t seem to give Xander the benefit of the doubt.

  “So she broke up with you because she thinks it’s guaranteed that you’re going to end up in jail again.”

  “Or at least spending a lot of time in the back of a police car.”

  “And what did you do when she said that?”

  “What do you mean? I told her she was wrong.”

  “And then...?”

  For the life of him, he wasn’t sure.

  “I wasn’t taking notes, Darce.”

  “Did you tell her you would never do anything that would take you away from her, because you love her? Or did you tell her she was wrong and get in a snit and walk out?”

  His jaw sagged, as suddenly as if he were a puppet and someone had cut his strings. “How did you know that?”

  “Which part? That you got into a snit, or that you love her?”

  “Uh, both, I guess.”

  “Oh please.” She waved dismissively. “You’re obviously head over heels for her. You’ve spent the last week looking like you’d had the life sucked out of you.”

  “And the—what did you call it? The snit?”

  “I know you, Xander.”

  There was no way to answer that so he didn’t even bother to try.

  “Look. The woman you love basically said she didn’t believe in you. You had a right to be pissed off.”

  He might be clueless, but he didn’t miss the careful way she phrased it. “Had. Not have.”

  “Precisely.”

  “You think I’m overreacting?”

  “Maybe not at the time. You’d been through a hell of a lousy ordeal, and she was too caught up in her own fears to help you. You were allowed to be put out.”

  “But you think I should suck it up and move on?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “Doesn’t sound exactly fair to me, Darce.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. It’s not. But neither is it fair for you to expect a woman who has been through what she’s been through—not just in the past, but in the last, oh, few weeks—to have a lot of emotional energy left to handle one more thing. Especially something that not only hit her where she lives, but that also made her kid freak out.”

  All true. But...

  “Xander, remember when you first showed up and found out about Cady?”

  Oh yeah. He would never forget that day.

  “When I found out where you’d been for all of Cady’s life, I had those same fears. Frankly, I was terrified. And I was only dealing with the surprise of you showing up.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how Heather is even staying coherent right now.”

  He remembered the careful way she had formed her words. “Trust me. She’s managing that part just fine.”

  Darcy’s laugh faded as she stared at him. Taking his measure, he was pretty sure, and not because she planned on giving him a sweater for Christmas.

  “Tell me, Xander. What’s driving you right now?”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means... Why are you talking to me? Because you lost Heather? Or because you’re hurt that she didn’t believe in you?”

  He wanted to say it was the loss, pure and simple. But the guilty twinge in his gut made that impossible.

  “Both, I guess.” He tilted his head at the sound of Cady’s giggles from upstairs. “I think we could have built something, Darce. I think we could have made it work. But this...it all comes down to trust, you know? She didn’t even wait to hear my side. She just backed away. Assumed I was in the wrong, even though I was—”

  His words were interrupted by a loud peal of laughter. He was pretty sure it wasn’t the “I’m laughing with you” variety.

  “Seriously, Xander? You’re going to play the Mr. Innocent card?”

  “Hell yeah. I had nothing to do with that stash. The only reason the police came after me was because I have a record—”

  “And because they found an item that belonged to you on the scene.” She leveled a very maternal finger at him. “You didn’t rob anybody, but you trespassed. More than once. And, hello, you did take part in that lovely hacking scheme.”

  “But that was...” Oh hell. Her meaning was sinking in. Painfully, like a flu shot.

  “You didn’t do this. But Xa
nder, you have done other things. And even though I know you try to twist them to focus on the results, like how Cady wouldn’t be here and all that, the truth is, you did do them. You can’t make those facts go away.”

  She was right. And it hurt.

  Especially because he was pretty sure Heather had said something along those same lines, but he’d been too busy wallowing to hear the message behind the words.

  “Xander, listen to me, okay? I get the feeling you’re telling me only part of why Heather was so freaked by the police. That’s fine, really. I don’t need to know it all.”

  Not that she would stop him if he decided to spill everything, he knew.

  “But when it comes to things like laws, and jail and stuff, then she’s not going to react like a rational adult. She’s going to come at that like a little kid. Because that’s where it hits her. Right in the scared little kid who watched her big brother get taken away in front of her.”

  Was Darcy right?

  “But she never said anything about being scared for herself. It was always about Millie. Millie and the baby.”

  “Because that scared little girl is a mom now, and she doesn’t want her kid to feel what she can still feel way down deep.”

  When Heather was talking to him...she kept rubbing those papers between her fingers. The way Cady rubbed the edges of her blankie when she needed comfort.

  “If you want another chance with her, Xander, I would suggest that you stop trying to reason with her. She doesn’t need logic. She needs to believe that you’re always going to be there for her, and she needs to see it, not just hear it.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? This isn’t Back to the Future. I can’t hop into my DeLorean and show her how things are going to work out.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Come on, Darce. Don’t bail on me now.”

  This time her laugh was far more sympathetic. “I don’t have the answer, Xander. But you do. Because I know what an awesome father you are.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Easy. Figure out how you would help Cady. That will show you what to do next.”

  * * *

  ON THE LAST Saturday in October, Heather was awakened by the sound of her daughter belting out a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday.” Heather groaned and pulled the covers over her head. Mills might be smart and funny, but she had definitely inherited her parents’ ability to carry a tune—which meant that the song sounded more like a punishment than a promise.

  However, since Millie’s discordant wishes were directed at herself, it was okay.

  Heather groaned. Could she stay in bed a few more minutes? She stuck one hand out from between the blankets, peeked at the time and let out a gasp.

  “Almost nine?”

  Sure, Saturday mornings were made for sleeping in, but in Heather’s world, that usually meant six thirty or seven. It seemed that pregnancy was draining more of her energy than she’d realized.

  Or you could be exhausted from fighting the urge to call Xander.

  No, that wasn’t it.

  She tried to throw back the blankets, but her limbs refused to obey the command. She had to get up. Make Millie’s birthday breakfast and shower her with birthday kisses, one for each year, topped off with a playful pinch to grow an inch. They had a full day ahead. Homework, of course, then out to lunch and an afternoon movie before Mills went to Hank’s to celebrate with him. Lots of fun. Plenty of reasons to get up.

  But the bed was so warm and cozy...

  “Five minutes,” she told herself. The truth was that the baby would probably have her heading for the bathroom before that time was up, but there was something so delightfully decadent about the thought of lingering a little longer. She closed her eyes and listened to Millie moving around. “Happy Birthday” had been replaced by something Heather thought she had heard on the radio, but with Mills massacring the tune, it was hard to be certain.

  Mommy, I’ve decided what I want for my birthday.

  When Millie had made her request, Heather had thought it proof that miracles could happen. Now the big day had arrived. Millie’s voice filled the house, the way it had most nights this past week. And Heather was aware, in a way deeper than she would have believed possible back in June, that Millie’s presence here was mostly due to another miracle. One of forgiveness and determination.

  One that she probably didn’t deserve, but which had been given because Hank was able to see beyond the past.

  What about our miracle?

  Her hand settled low over the barely there rise in her abdomen.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “I can’t remember if you have ears yet, but just in case, I want to tell you a few things. I’m your mom. And I know I’ve just been going through the motions so far, drinking extra milk and eating my veggies for you, but I want you to know...you’re growing on me, kiddo. I’m getting used to the idea of you. I’m still not sure of a lot of things about you, and how we’ll manage with your...your dad, but I promise you this—I will always be the best mom I can to you. And you will always, always be loved.”

  “Mom?” Millie’s voice came through the closed bedroom door. “Do we have any pancake mix?”

  “Nope. You finished it yesterday.” Which was totally not true. But Heather was pretty sure Millie would forgive her for hiding the pancake mix once she saw the cinnamon rolls that were to be part of the real birthday breakfast. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Have an orange while you wait.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yes, I’ll eat an orange for you,” she said to her stomach. “And an egg.”

  She checked the clock again. Still two minutes left in the five she had promised herself. But her own thoughts were starting to feel like dangerous company, so she grabbed her phone for a quick email check.

  She blinked against the brightness of the screen and scanned the list. Ads. Ads. A cartoon from Leah. Something from a greeting card website that she was half sure was spam until she opened it, spotted the ducks dancing across the screen and read the message.

  Millie—Don’t know if you have an email address yet, but I’m pretty sure your mom will make sure you see this. Hope you have a great birthday. Maybe next year we could spend it together. Love, Uncle Travis.

  Sorrow pushed at the back of Heather’s eyes. “Don’t get me started, Trav,” she whispered.

  She closed the message and grabbed the covers, ready to get into the shower before the tears could catch her. But as she fumbled to shut down her email with her free hand, another message appeared in her inbox.

  Xander.

  She froze, both hands cradling the phone. This was the first contact she’d had from him since she told him it was over. Well, the first that he had initiated. She had sent him a quick note telling him that her next checkup had been rescheduled, but other than an Okay, she’d had no response.

  But now he was emailing her.

  And she didn’t know if she dared see why.

  The subject line—FYI—held no clue. She stared at it for a full minute, trying to think of what he might have written, until impatience with her own cowardice made her toss aside the blankets and sit up straight.

  It’s just an email. It won’t bite.

  But as she skimmed the words on the screen, she changed her mind.

  Heather—I’m sorry for the way things turned out that night. I was angry and hurt, yeah, but you were too. I still wish—well, that doesn’t matter.

  He still wished what? That she hadn’t been so scared? That she hadn’t been so quick to end it? That she had Hank’s ability to see beyond the past, no matter how hard that might be?

  I guess the main thing now is to make sure we do right by our little one. And BTW, thanks for keeping me up-to-date about the appointments. That m
eans a lot.

  “Least I could do,” she whispered, a lump in her throat.

  Anyway, I looked at the schedule you set out. I had some thoughts (attached). They’re not in legalese or anything, but I think you’ll understand what I’m going for.

  I guess I’ll see you Tuesday at the doctor. If you need me before then, you know where to find me.

  Yeah. She knew. And if not for Millie singing in the kitchen, Heather might be jumping in the car this minute.

  But Millie was here. And Heather needed to be rational.

  At least, she thought she did.

  But being rational meant opening the attachment. And she knew that looking at what he’d sent—reading what he might have added or changed—would be another step toward sharing custody, but not lives. Toward sharing calendars, but not laughter. Toward sharing a child, but not hearts.

  Dear God. No wonder Xander had been so broken when she gave him the schedule.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the screen. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  Except maybe she shouldn’t have been thinking. Maybe she should have been feeling.

  Nothing will ever hurt her the way you did.

  Hank was right. Millie had already been put through one of the worst things that could happen to a child, all because Heather had been scared and clueless and unwilling to admit the truth.

  Now she was scared again. And quite probably clueless again. But this time, at least, she was willing to admit to it.

  Or was she?

  She hadn’t told Xander that she had been frightened. She’d gone on and on about Millie, about protecting her, when the truth was that Heather had been terrified that she was going to lose Xander. Not because she was so certain he would follow in Travis’s footsteps, but because she loved him. So she had backed away. Retreated to the safety of schedules and timetables, all those things she could control. Tried to cut him out of her life.

  Just like she ran when she thought she lost Millie.

  He’s having a baby with someone who walked out on her last kid. How do you think that feels?

  “Oh God, Xander.”

  Enough. Enough hiding and running and pretending. Hiding behind the excuse of her kid—kids—wasn’t the act of a good mother, no matter what she might have believed from too many episodes of Little House on the Prairie. It was the act of a coward.