Chapter Thirty
The next morning before Peter left for work he came and sat next to me on the couch. I had been up for hours already, unable to sleep even though sheer exhaustion wove through every fiber of my being. My mind had taken charge and was refusing my body the rest it so desperately craved. It was bent on torturing me with not only a lack of sleep, but every fear I had about where I truly belonged in this world. It almost had me convinced I belonged with no one and nowhere. Then Peter wrapped his arms around me.
“I missed waking up to you.”
My head fell on his shoulder.
“Baby, I’m sorry about last night. I’ve decided to stay offline.”
I had already scoured the web this morning. Retractions about yesterday’s story were being run with pathetic excuses like after further investigation, we discovered Mr. Pen’s claims to be false, in fact, blah, blah, blah. Why didn’t they further investigate before they ran the story? LH Ink had posted a scathing retort on their site and Autumn Moone’s site calling out shoddy journalism practices. I noted a hint of Joan’s voice in it.
I closed my eyes, too tired to say anything, though I thought it was a good idea for him to say goodbye to Google.
“Maybe it will be good, getting away for a while,” he threw out there when I didn’t respond.
“You know this isn’t going to be like a vacation. Prying eyes and questions will be everywhere.”
He rubbed my bare arm. “I know, but we’ll be together, and I’ll get to see my wife in action. How’s your address coming?”
“It’s coming.”
Peter tipped my chin up. “You don’t sound well. Are you coming down with something?”
“Just tired.”
“You’ve been working too hard.”
“We both have.”
His hand ran through my hair. “I’m trying to do what I can for James before I leave. I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you in the process, but for the next three weeks all my focus is going to be on you.”
I gave him a tired smile.
“There’s the smile I love.” He skimmed my lips. “Baby, please forgive me for being an idiot.”
I nodded and for that I was rewarded with a longer, meaningful kiss. No parting of lips, but I could feel the love he tried to convey as he pressed his lips against mine and held them steady.
“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered against my mouth. I think more for his benefit than mine. He had no idea, though, how much I wanted to believe him, and perhaps for a foolish second, I did.
In between bouts of nodding off while typing, I managed to get some of my thoughts about the importance of romance novels organized for the address I was supposed to deliver in five days. My bullet points so far:
It has been widely accepted that romance novels are the ultimate form of escapism, but beyond that, they provide the reader a palatable way to deal with complex issues like divorce, abuse, sexism, forgiveness, etc.
It could also be argued that they are a form of therapy, as people often explore their own emotions and choices while reading a character’s journey through similar circumstances.
Romance novels also offer hope that even when it might seem impossible, things can work out.
While I managed to get that done, Joan sent me a clip of the infamous Tyler Pen running from his house to his car with a towel over his head trying to avoid reporters. Served him right. I got a much-needed laugh out of it. I was quoted as saying, “I will let the truth speak for itself.” And by me, I meant Joan.
I even got a shower in but ended up right back on the couch glued to my laptop until Peter came home. Like him, I too was ready to get away, even though I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I hoped maybe the time together in new cities sharing this adventure would do us some good. Perhaps we could see the other side of this monster called fame, and hopefully the other side was a big, fat, giant, fuzzy teddy bear. I wasn’t holding my breath, but I had to hope things would get better from here.
Peter walked in earlier than he had been as of late. I expected to smell dinner per this being our normal takeout night, but Peter came in empty handed. I didn’t mention it because I wasn’t all that hungry; the stress had killed my appetite, and Peter was staring at me with a dazed expression. Not only that, but he opened his mouth to speak several times, but nothing came out.
I looked over my laptop. “How was your day?”
He blinked several times. “Fine.”
“My kind of fine, or fine, fine?”
“It was fine.” His tone bordered on curt.
“Okay.” I was confused by his lack of enthusiasm, food, and kisses. Not to mention his tone. “Did something happen today?”
His feet shifted. “The women’s shelter director came in and got the donations.”
“Krista? She’s great, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled loudly. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Something was off. I wondered if he’d already fallen off the wagon and was searching the web for stories about us. I was about to chase after him, but my phone rang. It was Fiona, so I had to answer it. I had been waiting to hear back from her about whether Peter and I should rent a car when we got to Atlanta tomorrow or if LH Ink was taking care of that. There had been some confusion. Either way, we were getting a car. Neither Peter nor I liked the thought of being in Georgia for eight days without a way to get ourselves around. We were hoping we could sneak in some sightseeing here and there.
“Hey, Fiona, what’s the verdict?”
“You’re all set. I made the reservation and you should be getting the confirmation by email any minute now.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“One more thing.” She hesitated. “I was checking your fan mail today and one of the emails I came across was, well, maybe personal; if not, it might be considered stalking in nature. I’m not sure, but I wanted to run it by you before I flagged it and sent it off to be investigated.”
I braced myself for another ridiculous made-up scandal or half-truth. Or maybe it was someone claiming to be my long-lost relative in need of money. There had been several of those already. “Lay it on me.” I sounded braver than I felt. I was too tired to deal with any more nonsense.
She cleared her throat.
Dearest Delanie,
Weird they used my real name.
We’re not sure if this is the correct way to contact you, so we hope you receive this. We’ve been looking for you for some time now, but weren’t exactly sure you would find this welcome, though we would love nothing more than to see you again. There is also someone else who would love to meet you. We know you wanted to cut all ties to ease your pain, but maybe now since some time has passed and you have obviously gone on to do great things in your life, we thought you might have changed your mind.
We will be forever grateful to you for the beautiful gift you bestowed upon us nine years ago and would love to share part of it with you as we had intended. It has come to our attention that you will be touring the country and stopping not far from our new residence in Savannah. We are willing to meet you anywhere—name the time and day. Please feel free to call us at 555-287-9064 or email us at this address.
Most sincerely,
Anna and Henry
I dropped my phone, unable to catch a breath.
“Del, are you there?” Fiona called out.
This couldn’t be happening now. I needed more time. Peter needed more time.
“Del.”
I picked up my phone, shaking as I never had before. “Fiona, please forward me the email, but don’t tell anyone about it.”
“No problem. Do you know these people? What gift are they talking about?”
Yeah, I knew them. And they were talking about her. My baby. “Please just send me the email.”
I hung up so I could have my nervous breakdown. I got up and paced around the family room feeling like I was going to vomit, possibly pass out. How was I going to go upstairs and tell my husband about her? And how could I meet her after all this time, after giving her away?
I had to tell Peter the truth. He had to hear it from me first. Who knew if Anna and Henry had told anyone who I was. They weren’t the type who would, in fact, they were the loveliest of people, but I took nothing and no one for granted anymore. I’d been burned too many times the last few weeks not to be cautious and question everyone’s motives.
Peter was reasonable and kind, I tried to comfort myself. When he heard the story, he would understand why I had kept her from him, from everyone I could. But what if he didn’t? I grabbed my heart. It didn’t matter now. I had no choice.
I gripped the railing up the staircase to keep me steady. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, and on top of the nausea, I thought I was going to pass out. My entire body had to be forced up the stairs as if each limb knew the danger we faced. By the time I made it up the stairs, I was already in tears. I tried to wipe them away to at least not alarm Peter right away, but it was no use.
When I padded into our room, I found that Peter hadn’t showered yet. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in the semi-dark with his eyes closed and hands folded as if he’d been praying. I took a long look at him and said a prayer of my own that went something like, “Please don’t let me lose him.” I had no idea if God was there. He hadn’t answered any of my other pleadings, but if I only ever got one prayer answered, this would be the one I would choose.
I walked into the bedroom slowly, knelt in front of my husband, and took his clasped hands.
He opened his eyes and stared hard at me. He didn’t ask me why I was crying; it was almost as if he had expected to see the tears. His hands didn’t take mine; instead, they were stiff, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted me to touch him. Did he already know? How could he? This would be major news if it had already gotten out. Despite his behavior, I had to proceed.
“Peter.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I have something I need to tell you.”
He sat up straighter, pulled his hands away, and waited.
“Please listen to me before you say anything.”
His eyes frosted over, and I felt the cold wash over me.
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a breath before I could go on and meet his frigid gaze. “Peter, I . . . I . . . had a baby a little over nine years ago, a daughter. A beautiful daughter,” I cried.
The way his eyes popped told me that wasn’t what he expected at all, which made me wonder even more why he was behaving so coolly toward me.
He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a large breath. “You had a baby?”
I nodded. “I gave her up for adoption.”
He stood up, making me falter to the side. I had to catch myself before I fell over. He paced across our bedroom, rubbing his neck and taking big intakes of breath and forcibly breathing out. “When were you going to tell me about this?”
I stayed on my knees, pleading with him to understand. “I’m not sure. Believe me, I’ve wanted to.”
“You’re not sure? You’ve had over four years to tell me, Delanie,” he raised his voice. “That’s not a good enough answer for me, but maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. You love to keep secrets, don’t you?”
“Peter, I didn’t want to keep this from you, but I felt like I had to. Will you please listen to me?”
“The only thing I’m going to listen to you tell me right now is what you’ve been doing on Wednesday nights for the past few months. We’ll go from there.” Even in the dark I could see his eyes blazing with fury.
I shook my head, unsure. “What are you talking about? And what does that have to do with anything right now?”
He looked at me not only in disbelief, but as if he loathed me. “It has everything to do with what we’re talking about. I don’t even know who I’m married to anymore,” he yelled. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and think of any other plausible reason you’ve been lying to me for months—make that years—but you don’t deserve it. Tell me, Delanie, where have you been going on Wednesday nights?”
Amid the gut wrenching pain he was inflicting on my soul, I was more and more confused. “You know I’ve been going to the shelter except for the last couple weeks I’ve been here.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Oh, I know you go there. Krista says you are one of her best volunteers.” His tone was mocking and cynical. “Imagine my surprise when I agreed with her and told her how proud I was of you even though I missed you because many of those nights you didn’t get home until after ten sometimes. She laughed at me and told me she couldn’t be to blame because they closed the campus at eight every night. No one goes in or out after that, according to her. Explain that to me,” he dared me to contradict him in the most unrelenting manner.
I sank farther to the floor. My head rested against the bed. Tears soaked my cheeks. “What are you accusing me of, Peter?” I looked up at him but saw a stranger instead of the man I loved, from his crimson face to his clenched fists.
“Just tell me the truth. Tell me what you’ve been doing,” he demanded.
In that moment, I realized if he didn’t know me well enough to know I would never be unfaithful to him, what did it matter where I was? Or that I was trying to do something for him by taking those damn classes. I lifted my head and, for the seconds it took me to say what I knew spelled our goodbye, my tears stopped. I accepted defeat. “It appears I was wasting my time.”
My head fell back against the bed while he shook his head at me in disgust.
“I never thought I would say this, but my mom was right. I should have been careful about a woman who keeps secrets.” He stomped off and slammed the door.
I found myself once again not belonging anywhere and wishing I could fly to the moon.