Chapter Thirty

Lena

A knock on the door jolts my thoughts from the past and my gaze from the window.

"Come in," I say.

It opens and Ollie enters holding a tray with a steaming mug and a plateful of pretzels. Judging from the smell, it's hot chocolate. I can catch a whiff of vanilla, too, though, and when she sets the tray down on the bedside table, I understand why. There's ice cream on top of the hot chocolate. Vanilla ice cream. My favorite.

She hands me the mug and I take it in both my hands. "Thanks."

"Feel better now?" she asks.

I nod.

I feel much better now that I'm here with her in Nebraska, here in my sister's cozy guest room. This house is by no means as big or as grand as the mansion, but I can feel the warmth emanating from its walls. I can sense the memories etched into the furniture. Now, this is a haven. A home.

"Good." My sister smiles as she touches my cheek.

I've told her everything, well, except for the sex in that room at the inn. I just said that Riley followed me but we fought and then he left. I don't know. Maybe I still find it hard to talk to Ollie about sex. Or maybe that memory is still too fresh and painful.

And I'm not talking about the physical pain, which I can no longer remember. It's not the fact that he was rough that bothers me. It's the pain that I could feel from him as we had sex. Yes, there was anger, there was lust, but there was also pain.

Riley was hurting. Even as he walked away, I could tell he was hurting.

If only he'd put his arms around me, if only he'd apologized, I would have embraced him and let him cry on my shoulder. I would have tried to take away the hurt.

Instead, he left and said we were through.

I take a spoonful of the ice cream and shove it past my lips before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. The warmth flows down my throat and seeps into my chest.

I lick my lips. "You always were good at making hot chocolate."

"Yeah." My sister nods. "Lizzie keeps telling me so. And by the way, she made this for you."

Ollie hands me a card made of paper with pink and purple hearts and a drawing of a girl that I guess is supposed to be me. In yellow crayon, only one word is scribbled--'Smile'.

And indeed, the corners of my mouth turn up.

"She's so sweet," I say.

"Yeah," Ollie agrees. "They're still sweet at this age. Just wait until they get older, though. They get all feisty and hot-tempered."

"You mean like me?" I ask her.

She ruffles my hair. "You were always a good girl. Maybe just a bit of a crybaby, which I don't think has changed."

I chuckle.

"There." She caresses my cheek. "That's what I'd like to see. The old Lena. The real Lena."

"The Lena who didn't foolishly fall for the first man she got to know," I add.

Ollie grins, but then her expression turns serious. "Do you regret it?"

I shrug as I stir my hot chocolate.

"Sorry." She touches my arm. "I shouldn't have asked that. You should stop thinking about him for now. Just focus on getting better first, on healing. Focus on yourself and then you can decide what you're going to do about him. After all, you can't make important decisions unless you can think clearly."

And I'm aware that I have important decisions to make.

"You mean I'll just think about the divorce papers when they come?" I ask her.

Ollie nods. "When they do, we'll go to my friend who's a lawyer so she can make sure everything's fair and square."

"And that the papers are real," I joke.

"Yeah. That too."

I take another sip of my hot chocolate. "Does Dad know?"

"That you're here? Yes. About the divorce? No. I was thinking we'll just tell him when everything's official."

"So he doesn't even know that Riley and I fought?"

"No," Ollie answers as she strokes my hair. "I'll leave it to you to tell him."

~

But how do I tell my father that I had a fight with my husband?

I mull over the question as I sit on the swing in the garden. It sways slowly while golden sunlight spills down through the gaps in the wooden boards above.

Strange. I've always been able to tell my father everything. Well, maybe not always. When my mom was around, she was my confidante, but after she left, I turned to Dad. I told him everything, even when I had my first period. He was always ready to listen and offer me his advice.

Yet now, I can't seem to find the words to tell him what's going on with me. Maybe because I'm still confused myself. Or maybe because I'm scared of what he'll say.

A tap on my shoulder jolts me out of my thoughts.

I turn my head and see my father standing next to the swing with a smile. I didn't even hear him coming, even though I have perfect hearing.

I pat the space next to me on the swing and he sits. He pats my thigh and begins to sign.

Are you okay, Lena?

I should have known he'd know that I'm not. That's the only time he asks this question.

I draw a deep breath. What if I say no, Dad?

He frowns. Why? What's wrong? Did you and Riley have a fight?

I grin because he's read my mind. I nod.

What about?

I shrug. We're just not getting along. He's too busy to take care of me.

And are you taking care of him?

Like I said, he's busy. I barely see him.

But when he's home, you make time for him?

Come to think of it, I don't.

I'm tired. He's tired.

My father shakes his head. That shouldn't be the case. Even if both of you are tired, one must pretend not to be, or work just a little bit harder so both of you can spend time with each other. Otherwise, the marriage will fall apart.

Yeah. It is already falling apart.

But you can still put it back together.

I look at him. I don't know, Dad. It's not just that. There's also the rumors.

You mean those silly stories?

My eyebrows arch. So my father has seen them, too?

He grasps my chin. Why must you let other people tear you and your husband apart? If you give up, they win.

I sigh. But sometimes, you just have to give up because it's too hard, right?

My father throws me an expression of disappointment as he shakes his head.

It's when things are hardest that you must not give up.

I look away because I'm at a loss for words.

He grabs my hand. You still love him, right?

I shrug. I don't know, Dad.

He points to my hand. But you're still wearing your wedding ring.

I glance at my hand. Sure enough, the golden band is still on my finger. Strange, I didn't even feel it there. I thought I removed it.

Wait. I did remove it at the inn, before my shower, and I must have forgotten that I put it back on because I was tired. But now I remember that I put it back on because I didn't know where to keep it and I didn't want to lose it. Even if Riley and I are over, I still don't want to misplace it.

I guess it's been there all this time.

The golden band glistens under the sunlight. I stroke it.

I didn't realize I was still wearing it.

But that's how it is when you love someone. It just grows on you and becomes a part of you and before you know it, you can't do without it.

He squeezes my hand.

As long as you and Riley love each other, you can make things work.

Maybe. But I'm not sure if he loves me. If he ever did. I'm not even sure if I love him anymore.

Before I can sign anything, though, my father starts again.

You know, I never told you this, but I regret giving up on your mother.

My eyes grow wide. But she gave up on you. She was the one who left.

Yes, but she came back. You and Olivia don't know it, but she did. She asked me for another chance. I didn't give it to her. I just let her go. She hurt me, yes, but I was the one who gave up on her.

My lips curve into a frown. All these years, I never knew my father felt this way.

I regret it, you know, not just because I deprived you and your sister of your mother, but because frankly, it's lonely growing old alone. I miss her more than ever. If I could take back time, I'd undo that mistake. I'd take her back in a heartbeat.

I swallow as I hold back tears.

My father touches my cheek.

People make mistakes Lena, even the ones we love, especially the ones we love. But mistakes can be lessons if we learn from them and they can make us stronger. They can make love stronger. They only remain as mistakes when you give up. Worse, they turn into regrets. But if you keep trying, if you keep loving, if you forgive, everything will work out.

I grab his hand and place it against my cheek. A fresh tear leaks out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh, Daddy..."

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight. As always, he gives such good advice. Already, his words are clearing my mind and filling me with hope, giving me strength. A part of me wants to run back to Riley already and make things right, not just for our baby, but for us both.

But what if it's too late? What if he's already signed the divorce papers?