MICHELLE
Russell's stupid mustard-yellow car is sitting in my driveway when David turns onto my street. The back door swings open as we pull up beside him and Claire tumbles out, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, her face still wet with tears. Instead of her overnight bag, she has a plastic grocery bag clutched to her chest, the clothes I packed for her bubbling out the top as she struggles to close the door. I'm out of the car before David has it in park. My heart pounds its way up my throat as I race to Claire and swoop her up, pushing the door shut for her before I turn my back and bounce and shush her like I used to do when she was an infant.
"It's okay, baby." I pat and rub her back. "Calm down. I've got you."
Claire gasps and hiccups and behind me, tires squeal. Russell’s gone, and good riddance. David’s car door thumps shut and he comes to stand beside me, a silent sentinel, watching and waiting as I comfort my daughter.
"What happened, Bear?" I run my hand through her hair. "Tell me all about it."
"Please don't make me go back there." Her voice sounds so small. "Please."
Fear clamps down on my throat. "What happened?" I choke on the question, making eye contact with David over her head. I swear to God, if he hurt her even a little bit…
Claire tightens her grip on my back. "He's not nice. He yells at me every time I do anything. And his house stinks. And I had to sleep on an itchy couch but I couldn't sleep because they stayed up late watching loud movies. And when he saw me touching my pen spot, he got really mad and screamed at me and then scrubbed it until it came off." Claire buries her face against my neck.
Relief floods through me. None of that is ideal and I hate that she had to live through it, but it could have been so much worse. I hug her and rub her back and whisper reassurances until Claire's sobs grow quiet and then stop altogether.
We don't have a booster seat. The one David gave Russell is still in his car. I climb into the backseat of the truck with Claire and hold her on my lap for the ride back to Carmichael Farms. We feed her and draw her a bath, and then I read to her from Tailchaser's Song until she's sound asleep. I creep from her room and find David waiting for me in the hallway.
"You're a good mom," he says.
"I don't know about that." I fiddle with the edges of the book. "Stuff like tonight wouldn't happen if I was the kind of mom she deserved." I swallow hard and lick my lips. "What if Russell wants to try again? What if he wants her to come back for another weekend?" Panic settles into my hollowed-out stomach and the tears I've been holding back since Claire left yesterday burn my eyes. “As bad as this visit was, Russell is capable of so much worse. How can I send her back there after this?” I get a flash of those tears streaking down her swollen face and my stomach boils.
David leads me away from her door and towards what I’ve come to think of as our room. "I've been thinking about that." He pauses at the doorway gesturing for me to enter first.
I perch on the edge of the bed and rest my elbows on my knees. "I don't know what to do. I can't keep sending her over there."
The mattress compresses as David sits beside me. "The only way we can keep her from him is if you have full custody."
I drop my head into my hands. "I know." I take a long breath. "I hate feeling this helpless. I hate feeling trapped. I've gotten so used to life being wonderful with you that I forgot what it's like to live like without choices."
"You aren't helpless, darlin', and I promise you, you have choices." David puts a hand on my back. Rubs it back and forth and I find solace in the rustling of his skin against the fabric of my shirt.
"I feel pretty damn helpless. I don't have the law on my side unless he hurts her, and I can't even imagine what I'd do if something like that happened."
"We won't let it get that far."
I lift my head from my hands. "How? The only thing you can expect from crazy is more crazy. And Russell? He’s crazy."
"Time and money, babe. It all comes down to time and money." David cups my face between his palms. "My experience with Becky taught me all about the power of a good lawyer and I've still got the number for mine in my phone. We'll call him first thing Monday morning and make you an appointment."
"What do you mean?" I can’t make sense of his words over the buzzing in my head.
David looks deep into my eyes, his jaw set, his mouth hard, a warrior preparing for battle. "I mean we're going to take his ass back to court and get you full custody of your daughter. Nothing like this will ever happen to her again."
* * *
Over the next few weeks, Russell disappears but my anxiety doesn’t. Nausea lurches around in my stomach like a drunken stowaway on a ship navigating stormy waters. Every time I see Claire, a jolt of panic slams through my body. Her smile is back in place, quick and easy like it was before her visit with her dad. They say kids are resilient, that they snap back from hardship faster than adults. But they also say that scars drawn across the heart are the hardest to erase. That sticks and stones may break the bones but words have the power to destroy us.
I expect my anxiety to lessen with each day that passes without a call from Russell,. It doesn’t. It grows like a weed in a spring garden, unwelcome and unsightly. Fatigue sets in. I’m happy with David, but feel worse than I have in a long time. As days become a week and a week becomes two, a new worry takes root.
I might be pregnant.
Every instinct I have tells me that I am pregnant. The nausea. The fatigue. The tenderness in my suddenly plump breasts. That voice that whispers to me, the one every woman has, the one that knows there’s life in her belly long before the signs make themselves known to the rest of the world.
I can’t ignore it any longer. I need to know for sure because all the questions about what might happen if I am pregnant only worsen the anxiety and nausea. On my way to work, I stop at a drugstore and buy a test, take it in the bathroom at the studio, and then stare at the plus sign in the window until I’m late for class.
I’m pregnant. With David’s child. The flicker of happiness that lights up my heart is smothered by the reality of the situation. Babies cost money and I don’t have any. My marriage to Russell came about because of a surprise pregnancy and David’s disastrous union with Becky happened for the same reason. Can our relationship survive this kind of déjà vu? Are we living out some self-destructive pattern together? Will the beauty of us fall to pieces under the weight of the echoes of our past tragedies?
Class passes in a series of distracted and disjointed lessons. Try as I might to give my focus to my students, my attention is riveted on the tiny spark of life growing in my belly. David’s child. Under the right circumstances, I would be ecstatic. A union with the man I love more than anything in the world? Carrying his child? Knowing that he will love this little one as much as I love this little one? It’s the answer to everything. The meaning of life is wrapped up in there somewhere. My grandmother always said you can’t always explain right but you know it when you experience it. When I strip away all the challenges of our situation—the money, the timing, our pasts—being the mother of his child is right.
But our situation is wrong.
I end class with a weak smile and drop into my car only to sit there as students stream out of the studio and climb into waiting vehicles to head home. When the last family has vacated the premises and Nan—the sweet woman who runs the front desk—turns out the lights and locks the place up, I have yet to move. Uncertainty has me rooted in place.
David will be in bed when I get to the farm. He pretends to be asleep when I pull back the sheets each night, but I know he’s awake every time. As much as I’d like to talk to him at the end of my day, to wrap my arm around his strong chest and tuck myself against his sleep-warmed body, I stay quiet. His early mornings mean he needs his sleep and I love him enough not to steal his rest simply because I crave the sound of his voice.
Can I be so generous tonight? Can I crawl into bed beside him, knowing about the life in my belly, worrying about the way he’ll react? Can I be silent when I need him so much but am so afraid of what he’ll say? Or do I tell him the moment I see him and risk today being the start of our unhappy ending? My time at Carmichael Farms has been a fairy tale and Lexi had it right all those weeks ago at Smitty’s. Not everyone gets their prince.
I drop my head to my steering wheel and wrap my hands around the cheap plastic coating, rubbing my thumbs back and forth over the frayed seams. After a few deep breaths, I slide my key into the ignition and bring the car to life. The person I used to be would hide. She would keep the secret to herself, bearing the weight of it alone until there was no chance of covering it up any longer. The thought of displeasing David would be enough to scare me into solitude. I’d retreat until he walked away and I’d be alone, left holding more than I’m strong enough to carry.
I’m not that person anymore. I’m stronger, damn it. And sometimes strength means admitting that I can’t carry the load myself. David deserves to know. He deserves to be part of the plans for whatever happens next. And if it’s too much for him? Too much for us? If our relationship crumbles under the weight of this reality? Well, at least I will know now instead of later. At least I will have spoken up instead of stayed quiet.
With my heart in my throat and my hands trembling on the wheel, I pull out of the parking lot and make my way to him.