CHAPTER NINE
LILY
I’m not sure who is driving me more insane—my mom or Calder.
It’s been a week since my mom showed up at the estate—but it feels more like a lifetime. I still don’t know quite how I feel about her. Yes, she’s apologized. Yes, she’s shown some remorse. But I’m not convinced that, given the choice, she wouldn’t do exactly the same thing again. She might be sorry that she hurt me, but is she sorry that she left?
It doesn’t help that her continued presence here has put a strain on my relationship with Calder. I know he’s only looking out for me, but damn it, if he isn’t the most pigheaded man that ever lived. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I need to be coddled. He needs to accept that I’m strong enough to deal with this.
At least that’s what I tell myself. Sometimes I feel my resolve melting, find myself thinking that he might be right—and honestly, it would be easier if my mom weren’t around, and not just because she seems to have an opinion about everything in my life. She’s put everyone on edge—even Lou and Ward, though they’re too kind to say anything—with some of her tactless comments and questions. Maybe it’s unfair to ask the others to accept her.
But then I look at her and I see the woman I once knew—the one who used to make me breakfast in her curlers and tuck me in with a story every night. In my memories, she’s gentle, loving, giving. Where did that woman go?
She’s hurting just as much as you are, I keep telling myself. She’s lost. She needs my help, and I’m in a position to help her. I can’t abandon her when she needs me the most. She just needs a little assistance getting back on her feet—and the sooner I help her do that, the sooner she’s out of my hair.
Now I just need to make sure Calder doesn’t murder her before we get to that point.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave her here with me?” he asks as I’m getting ready to head in to work. He’s working from home today, but I have to oversee a couple of things at the Center.
“I’m not leaving her alone with you,” I tell him.
“I just don’t like the idea of you being stuck with her all day. And frankly, I don’t even think you should be driving in this condition.”
“We’ve had this conversation before,” I say, crossing my arms. “As long as I can reach the pedals, I’m going to drive. I’m perfectly capable of operating a car in this condition. And as for my mom, she’s already agreed that she’ll make herself busy while I work. In fact, she was talking about using my computer to look for an apartment in Barberville.”
I assumed he would see this as good news—after all, it would get her out of our home—but instead, his dark eyes sharpen.
“So she plans to make herself a permanent fixture in our lives?” he says.
“What else would you have her do? Move to a city where she doesn’t know anyone?” I put my hands over my face, trying to calm my emotions. It’s not even eight in the morning and already my body aches all over. I’m not in the mood for another fight.
I hear a step, then two, and then Calder’s arms are around me. In spite of my anger, I let myself sink against his chest, burying my face in his shirt. Why can’t we just forget everything else today and curl up in each other’s arms?
“I’m sorry, Lily,” he says against my hair. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
“Why do you insist on hating her?” I ask, my voice muffled by his shirt. It’s an unfair question, but I don’t care. I’m exhausted. Why is it that now, when I’m only a handful of weeks from becoming a mother, I feel like such a child? I don’t know whether to blame the hormones or my mom or my own immature fears, but I hate it.
Calder lets out a sigh, his hand running up the length of my back.
“I don’t hate her,” he says gently. “But you have to remember, Lily, that I only know what I see.” His fingers thread themselves in my hair. “I know that she left you and your father when you were quite young, and that it wounded you deeply. I know she returned here without warning, and with the barest of explanations. I know she keeps questioning you about your life and choices, even though she hardly knows you, let alone what might be best for you.” His fingers still. “And, most importantly, I know that she’s bringing you pain and confusion. I see it every day in your eyes, Lily, so don’t try to deny it.”
I cling to his shirt. “Don’t ask me to make her go.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. And then, “You see the parts of her I don’t. You have memories of her as a person you loved, and I see only who she is now. I understand that. But that doesn’t mean I’m having an easy time accepting it.”
“She’ll be out of the house soon,” I say into his shirt. “And then Bubble will be here and she’ll be the last thing on our mind.”
Despite everything, his chest rumbles with a laugh. “We really do need to come up with a real name for him.”
“He’ll be Bubble forever in my heart.”
He laughs again as he pulls back, but when he looks down at me, his smile drops. In its place is a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
“Be careful today,” he says, his voice rough.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” I lift my mouth to his, kissing him good-bye.
He kisses me back, but the look he gives me as I leave tells me he doesn’t believe things are fine at all.
* * *
It’s obvious that my mom doesn’t understand why the Frazer Center is so important to me and Dad, but she puts on a pleasant face as I show her through the facility.
“I’m glad you’ve found a job that makes you happy,” she says. “But trust me—when the baby gets here, you’re going to have to make some choices. You aren’t going to be able to do as much as you’re used to.”
I know that on some level she’s right—that we can’t anticipate how much work Bubble is going to be until he gets here—but I don’t admit that to her. She might have felt like she had to choose between raising a child and having a life of her own, but I refuse to think that’s my only option.
I get her settled into my office as soon as I can. She glances around.
“What a cute little space you have here,” she says. “Lots going on.”
I’ve never been the sort of girl who kept a super clean, minimalist office. I’ve always been the girl with a hundred things tacked up on the walls, sticky notes everywhere, and piles of paper on every surface.
“You’re just like your dad,” my mom says. “He always had a messy office, too.”
Something about her tone prickles at me. “It’s not messy. I know where everything is.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says. “It’s still messy, even if you think you can find things.” She glances around again. “This is what happens when you don’t have a woman around to teach you how to keep things tidy.”
She says the last bit almost to herself, but whether or not she intends me to hear it doesn’t matter.
“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you left us,” I say. “Good luck with your apartment search. I have things to do.” I don’t wait for her response. I spin around and march down the hall toward the classrooms.
Why didn’t I listen to Calder and leave her at home? I ask myself. It’s going to be a long day—my back already hurts, and my shoes are pinching my swollen feet. I can’t deal with her little comments about my life.
But another part of me feels like I’m being too hard on her. She just wants to make sure you’re okay. She’s trying to make up for the time she’s lost.
Well, that’s another thing she should have thought of before she walked out the door.
I stop at the first classroom and rub my eyes. My headache has started early today, and I can already tell it’s going to be a bad one—I’ll be lucky if I make it to lunch without getting sick. I hate feeling like this—it’s like my body has turned on itself. All I want to do is keep living my life, but Bubble insists on making things difficult.
Only a couple weeks more, I remind myself. Then your son will be in your arms and all of this will be a memory. Hopefully by then my mom will have her own apartment, too. Then things won’t be quite so complicated. Reuniting with my mom was always going to be hard, no matter when or how it happened. I just need to stay strong. Be patient.
And come to a compromise with Calder. The last thing I want is to be constantly arguing in the last couple of weeks before our son’s birth.
I glance through the window into the classroom beyond. Our summer art camps are currently in session, and this particular classroom houses our youngest group—some are hardly out of preschool.
What will you be like, Bubble? I think. Will you take after your father? In my mind I see a little boy with a mop of dark hair and those deep Cunningham eyes. Will he be as serious as Calder? Or will he be wild and silly like that little boy in the classroom who’s currently trying to paint his own hair? Either way, I can’t wait to meet him.
I take a deep breath, composing myself, and walk into the classroom.
I love my work—always have. And I didn’t think it was possible, but I love it even more now that I run my own branch of the Frazer Center. I built this place—took my dad’s dream and expanded it to fill my own. Over the next hour, I go from classroom to classroom, chatting with the teachers and students and overseeing the various projects. There’s nothing like watching a child’s face light up as she creates something with her bare hands.
I’m just leaving the final classroom when I hear a familiar voice coming down the hall.
“Good to see you too,” I hear my dad say. “And you better call me about the game later.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. I love my dad, but he’s the last person I want to see right now—especially with my mom just down the hall in my office.
He doesn’t know about her return yet. I know I should have called him the moment she walked back into my life, but I didn’t know quite how to break it to him. I didn’t want to make an already awkward situation even more complicated. And then the days started ticking by and it felt like I’d waited too long.
My dad just got engaged to Regina, the woman he’s been seeing for the last couple of years. The last thing he needs is my mom coming back and mucking things up. Because I have no doubt that she’ll be just as tactless with him as she has been with me.
“Sweetheart,” he says when he sees me, his face brightening. “You’re glowing today.”
He’s just flattering me, I know. I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep, and my head is still throbbing—but the ache has subsided to a slightly more manageable level. My back still hurts, though, and I try not to let it show as I waddle over to him.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, praying that my mom doesn’t hear us. I throw a glance over my shoulder toward my office, but so far the coast is clear. “I wasn’t expecting a visit from you today.”
“I know,” he says, looking a little shamefaced. “I meant to call you, but I’ve been a little spacey recently. Regina has been running me ragged all week. She wants to get the caterer and the flowers and the music all settled by Friday, and there was some big mix-up with the invitations, and there’s some drama with her second cousin or something. Now I understand why you kept your wedding so small.” He rubs the back of his head. “Who’d have thought I’d be dealing with all of this again at my age? But my lady knows what she wants.”
I smile. Regina has been a good thing for my dad—it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this happy. All the more reason to get him out of here before he sees Mom.
“How have you been, honey?” he asks.
“Just fine, Dad.” We’ve reached the end of the hall, and I glance around, trying to decide where to lead him next.
“You’re taking care of yourself, I hope. The little one is doing well?”
“Of course.” I rub my belly. “He still likes to kick me at all hours of the night. He’s a strong one, that’s for sure.”
“That’s good.” His smile spreads. “You were pretty energetic at that stage yourself, I remember.” He doesn’t mention my mom—he never does, and I’ve always just pretended I don’t notice.
I throw another glance down the hall. Dad needs to know what’s going on, but not here and now, when she’s only fifty feet away.
“Is there a particular reason you stopped by today?” I ask him.
His cheeks color a little. “Honestly, I just needed a little break. I don’t mind helping with all the wedding stuff, you know, but after a while it all just starts to blur together. I decided to leave it to Regina for today and get a little change of scenery.”
Normally I’d be happy for his company, but not today. Why, why, why didn’t I listen to Calder and leave her back at the estate?
“Well, I’m sure Regina has it under control,” I say. I need to figure out how to get him out of here without being rude. “Hey—do you mind running a couple of errands for me? There are some supplies we need and I’m swamped.” I feel a twinge of guilt for lying to him, but I don’t know how else to handle the situation gracefully. There’s been enough drama around my mom already.
“Sure,” he says. “Anything you need, honey. Should I grab us lunch later?”
“I—”
“Sweetheart, is that you I hear?” My mom’s voice floats down the hall. “I need help with—” She stops dead still, her eyes widening when she sees my dad.
Dad looks just as stunned. His mouth has fallen open slightly and his bushy eyebrows twitch.
“David?” my mom says. “Is that you?”
“Michelle?” My dad’s voice is strangely breathless. He looks stunned. Confused.
And before I can make any explanations, the confusion in his eyes turns to anger. He spins towards me. “What is she doing here?”
“Oh, David,” my mom says, stepping closer. “Don’t get mad at her.”
“I’m not mad at her,” he snaps. “I’m merely wondering what you said to weasel your way back into her life.”
I hold out my arms, trying to keep the two of them apart. “You guys, let’s take this back into my office.”
“Yes,” my mom says. “Let’s not cause a scene, David. This is our daughter’s place of work.”
“I know that,” my dad says. “I know that much better than you, in fact. I helped her open this place. What have you been doing all this time? Gallivanting with some used-car salesman and getting your nails done?”
It’s strange to see my dad so angry. He rarely loses his temper. I’ve never heard him speak with such venom in his voice, and I’ve definitely never seen the look he has in his eyes right now.
“David,” my mom says. “It wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that. I tried to tell you—”
“So now it’s my fault? You left because I wasn’t a good listener?”
“Guys,” I say again. “Please, let’s discuss this somewhere a little more private.”
“I’m not the one making this difficult,” my mom says, but she turns and walks back down the hall toward my office.
My dad is fuming beside me. His ears are bright red, and the twitch in his eyebrow has grown violent.
“How long have you been in contact with her?” he asks me. His voice is strangely quiet.
“She showed up at the estate about a week and a half ago,” I tell him. “She said she had nowhere else to go. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You should have told me,” he says. His jaw is rigid, and I can tell he’s trying very hard not to turn his anger on me, but he’s having trouble. “You should have called.”
“I know.” And now it’s coming back to bite me in the ass. He shouldn’t have had to find out this way. “But I was trying to understand… I didn’t know what I was feeling. I was just trying to make sense of it all, and I knew you’d be upset, and—”
“Damn right I’m upset! That woman had no right to—” He lets out a sigh, and when he speaks again he’s managed to calm himself. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. This is just a lot to handle.” He tilts his head slightly, looking me over. “How are you doing? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” I say, letting my hand drift across my stomach. Bubble is moving again. He doesn’t like people fighting. “I’m just confused. And trying to do the right thing.” And my head is throbbing again, and my back hurts, and I just want to lie down and nap until this all goes away.
My dad lets out another sigh. “I suppose we should go talk to her, then.”
We follow her down the hall. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I knew this inevitable meeting was going to be awkward, but I never expected it to escalate so quickly. For all that I’ve been trying to deal with this on my own, I desperately wish Calder were here to help me handle these two. I might not agree with him about what to do, but I know he’d get it done.
When we reach my office, I pull the door closed behind us. It’s probably better if we aren’t interrupted.
“Are you both prepared to talk about this like adults?” I say.
That earns me glares from both of them, but I just cross my arms. They might be my parents, but they’re the ones who just got into a fight out in the hall.
“I’m fine,” my mom says. “It’s David you should worry about.”
My dad starts to rise out of his chair. “Now, just you wait—”
“Guys,” I say. “No provoking each other.” I smooth my hand across my belly, trying to pacify Bubble. God, my whole body aches. “Look, I owe both of you an apology. Dad, I should have told you that Mom was back. And Mom, we should have had a discussion about Dad. I didn’t know he was coming in today, but I should’ve made it clear that he’s still a big part of my life and that there was a chance we would be seeing him. Now, let’s start over.”
For a moment, the two of them just glare at each other. But at least they aren’t shouting—something for which my throbbing skull is eternally grateful.
Finally, my mom straightens and folds her manicured hands in her lap.
“I’m sorry, David,” she says. “I should have contacted you myself. You were never very good at dealing with surprises.”
My dad’s lips press into a hard line. “This has nothing to do with how well I deal with surprises,” he says, and though his voice is calm I can tell it’s taking all of his effort. “It has everything to do with the fact that you think it’s okay to just waltz back into our lives on a whim.”
“I know I hurt you, David. But I don’t think—”
“It’s not me I’m concerned with,” he says. “It’s our daughter.”
“And I’m trying to make up for that,” my mom says. “I love her. I want to make this right. And believe it or not, I still love you—”
“Don’t give me that shit,” my dad says, actually rising out of his chair this time. “If you loved us, you wouldn’t have walked away like you did. You wouldn’t have gone twenty years without sending word to either of us. This is not about loving us or doing the right thing. This is about easing your conscience, nothing more.” He sighs and sinks back down. “You’ve always been flighty, Michelle. I should have seen it coming. But I wanted to believe the best in you.”
My mother’s back is straight, her hands still carefully folded. She raises her chin slightly. “Well, you weren’t exactly a saint, either.”
“Let’s try to keep this civil,” I say. I sit on the edge of my desk and try to keep my breathing steady. Bubble keeps jabbing me with his foot, and he’s strong enough these days that it actually kind of hurts. “Yes, this is awkward. Yes, this is confusing and emotional. But we have time to figure it out. We don’t have to sort out all of our feelings today.”
My dad looks sharply at me. “What do you mean by that? You intend to let her be a part of your life?”
“I’m looking to move to Barberville,” my mom says. “I plan to stay here for a while.”
“I don’t believe a word you say about your intentions,” my dad says. “You told me you loved me and wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. You told me you wanted half a dozen kids. You told me a lot of things, Michelle, and most of them turned out to be lies.”
“Really, David—just because our marriage didn’t work out doesn’t mean I’m lying now.”
“Forgive me if I think that’s a load of crap.”
“Guys,” I say. “Maybe it’s better if we just leave this for now. Give this a chance to sink in and let everyone have a little time to think this through.” Is it just me, or did it suddenly get unbearably warm in this room? My head is pounding so hard I can hardly think straight, and Bubble refuses to sit still. I know, I think to him. I don’t like this, either. The pain in my lower back is spreading, and all of this just feels like too much work. I’m so tired, so achy, so… depleted.
“All the time in the world won’t change my mind on this,” my dad is saying. He looks over at me. “I know she’s your mom, sweetheart, and I know you’re an adult, but I suggest you think long and hard about the decision to let her back into your life. This woman is a master of emotional manipulation.”
For the first time, some emotion flickers across my mom’s face. “I am not emotionally manipulating her, David. I resent that accusation.” Her gaze turns to me. “If anyone is an emotional manipulator here, honey, it’s your dad. I spent so long—”
“Don’t you dare call her honey,” Dad says. “You lost the right to treat her like your daughter when you walked out the door.”
Shut up! I want to scream. Both of you, just shut up! Bubble throws another punch at my ribs, and I grit my teeth as I grip the edge of the desk. Between the headache and the lower back pain I’m starting to feel nauseated again. I think I might be sick right here in the middle of my office.
Calder, I wish you were here… He would make all of this go away.
Meanwhile, my parents keep going at it.
“How dare you—”
“If you think—”
“The nerve of you—”
“Do you have any idea—”
The nausea rises in my chest, and I reach for the cup of water on my desk. There’s a tightening in my abdomen, an ache that’s growing more insistent by the second.
“Hush,” I whisper to Bubble. “It’s all right, little one. It’s all right.”
But all the soothing words in the world can’t stop the wave of angry, resentful energy coming from the two people in front of me.
“I spent so many years—”
“I can’t believe that you—”
“I’m disgusted—”
“How can you even think that—”
The pain in my lower body is growing sharper, tightening almost unbearably. My hand begins to shake, and I set the water back down before I spill it everywhere.
“You guys,” I say, but my shaking voice is lost beneath the arguing.
“If you knew what—”
“Me? Why don’t you—”
“You guys.” This can’t be happening. Not here. Not yet. I try to hold onto the desk for support, but I only end up knocking my water to the floor. The cup crashes against the linoleum.
Both of my parents instantly go silent. They turn to me, and I can tell by the way both of their faces suddenly change that I must look as bad as I feel.
“Guys, I—” Suddenly, everything seems to be closing in on me. My ears are ringing. My heart is beating too fast. I feel like I can’t breathe. Panic has taken over.
Both of them leap toward me at once.
“Honey.”
“Sweetheart.”
Their hands are on me, but I don’t have the presence of mind to tell which hand belongs to which parent. I don’t have the presence of mind for anything at all. My panic is getting worse, cutting off my air and making my heart gallop faster and faster.
And as the fear settles in, all I can think of over and over again is, I need Calder.