CHAPTER TWELVE
CALDER
It’s two days before I can get Lily’s mother alone.
Two days of trying to keep that woman from upsetting my wife even more. Two days of tension between Lily and me. Two days of Lily trying to convince herself that everything will be okay.
I finally corner the woman out in the garden. The sky is rather gray today—the weather’s been dreary all week—and there’s an unseasonable chill in the air. A cold front is moving in, and the news reports are predicting quite a storm tonight. For now, though, the sky is dry.
For a moment, I just watch Lily’s mother from afar, trying to read her. She’s been quiet since Lily’s incident, and I can’t tell whether that’s a good or a bad sign.
After a couple of minutes, she looks up and sees me.
“Why, good afternoon, Calder,” she says. She gives me a smile I’ve seen before, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Everything about this woman seems disingenuous—the too-red hair, the fake nails, the bright makeup. I don’t like it. “What brings you out here?”
“There’s something I wish to speak with you about,” I say.
“Is it Lily?” To her credit, she seems genuinely concerned. But just because some part of her still cares for her daughter doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want anything from us. I frown as I cross the distance between us. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to say to this woman, but now that I’m here, now that I finally have her alone, I’m having trouble finding the words.
This woman is Lily’s mother. Sometimes, at the right angle, I can see it—something in her eyes, in the shape of her cheekbones, in the set of her shoulders. Once or twice I’ve even heard it in her voice. There are pieces of Lily in this woman. Whether I like it or not, they share something. I’ve made plenty of ultimatums and driven many a hard bargain in my life, but this feels infinitely more personal. It almost makes me second-guess my plan.
But then I think about Lily upstairs in our bed and how fragile and exhausted she looked this morning. This is all for her.
I stop a few feet in front of her. “Why are you here?”
She gives a dismissive laugh, and her beaded bracelets rattle as she flicks her wrist. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because it’s still not clear to anyone,” I say. “I think it’s a fair question. Why did you suddenly decide to return to Lily’s life? Why now?”
“I’ve told you that already,” she says. “And Lily. I’ve just come out of a bad relationship, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“And what exactly are you looking for here?” I ask. “What do you want from us? What do you want from Lily?”
She almost looks offended. “I want what any mother wants—I want to spend time with my child.”
I refuse to let her brush off my questions the way she’s brushed off Lily’s. “You didn’t want to spend time with her twenty years ago. You’ve taken your time reviving your motherly instincts.”
“I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve made some mistakes,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love my daughter. I just want to make things right again.” She looks at me, and for a split second, I think I see true emotion in her eyes. “But you wouldn’t understand. You’re not trying to understand.”
Do I have it wrong? As Louisa pointed out, there’s only one way to learn the truth once and for all. “How much do you want?”
She blinks. For a moment, I see Lily in her again.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I think I’m being quite clear,” I say. “How much money do you want? How much will it take to get you out of our lives?”
Her lips part. “Is that what you think I want? Money?”
“Isn’t it?” I don’t let her escape my gaze. “Can you honestly tell me you don’t want any financial assistance from us? That you just happened to show up after all this time only a handful of months after your daughter moved into a mansion?”
“It’s not like that,” she says, her eyes drifting away from me. She suddenly seems less sure of herself. “I’ll admit I was hoping for a little help… but…”
“Then what’s your number?” I press. “I’m afraid I’m not a billionaire anymore. We don’t have millions of dollars to throw your way. But I’ll do what I can if you agree to walk away before you hurt Lily again. So what will it be—five thousand? Ten?”
“I…” For once, this woman seems to be at a loss for words.
I guess I hit the nail on the head. Part of me feels validated, but the rest of me is just disgusted.
“I can’t do this on my own,” she says.
“Tell me your price,” I say. There’s no need to drag this out. I’d give anything to protect Lily. Trade my soul to the Devil himself if it would get her and our son safely through this pregnancy. “I can write you a check this very moment.” The sooner she’s gone, the better.
There’s something strange in her eyes now, but I can’t tell if it’s shame or surprise. Did she really expect us to believe that she was only here to make nice? But whatever emotions she’s experiencing, she hides them again quickly. She presses her bright red lips together as she straightens her shoulders.
“Do you really think you can buy me off?” she says. “That you can pay me to stay away from my daughter?”
“Yes, I do.”
I don’t think she expected me to call her bluff. She looks around before meeting my gaze again.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” she says, and the words tumble over each other. “I really did want to reconnect with Lily.”
“If that’s what you want, then you have time to do it after the baby gets here. In the meantime, you have a choice. I won’t have you causing stress for her any longer.”
“You act like it’s my fault she’s stuck in bed,” she says.
“Isn’t it? What did you think would happen when you walked back into her life? You don’t get over something like your mother abandoning you. And it certainly doesn’t help that you seem to have no problem commenting on every aspect of her life—on me, on her job, on the choices she and I have made together.”
“I’m her mother. I just want to make sure she’s safe and happy. That’s my job.”
“You quit that job long ago. And you’re a fool if you don’t think that left a scar on her.” I’ve seen it in Lily’s eyes every day since this woman walked into our lives, felt it beneath my hands as I’ve held her. I’m going to heal that scar, even if it takes me the rest of my life to do so—but first I have to deal with the problem causing the wound at the heart of it all.
“You don’t understand what I’ve been through,” she says softly. “Leaving her was the hardest choice I’ve ever made in my life. I know that from the outside it looked like a selfish decision, but if I’d stayed there, I would have been miserable. I never would have been the mother she needed me to be, and I would have only come to resent her. Better for her to have no mother at all than to experience that.”
“All I know is that nothing would ever induce me to leave my child,” I say, thinking of the miracle I’ve felt moving inside of Lily. “Nothing. When you bring a child into the world, they are your responsibility. You get over yourself and do what’s best for them. And that’s what I’m asking you to do now.”
“So leaving her when she was younger was a crime, but leaving her now is a gift?” She gives a bitter laugh. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“I’m asking you one more time,” I say. “What is your price?”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she says, but the indecision is clear on her face.
“This is your final chance,” I tell her. “Tell me what you want and leave, or I swear, you’ll never see a penny out of us.”
She’s silent for a long moment, and then she turns her face away from me. I wait patiently, and I suspect she’s going over the numbers in her head, trying to guess how high I’m willing to go.
When she looks back at me, her eyes are shining with tears. She raises a hand to her cheek and flicks one of the drops away before speaking.
“It’s been clear to me from the moment we met that you love her very deeply,” she says. “So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s come to this.”
I have to admit, I’m a bit taken aback by her words. “Excuse me?”
“You’d do anything for her. I see that.” She gives a sad smile. “No one has ever loved me like that. In fact, I was beginning to think that sort of love didn’t even exist. I can’t say I agree with how you’re handling things, but I also can’t say that I don’t understand.” She pauses, letting out a long breath. “Yes, I was going to ask you two for money. But not until after the baby was here. And not for the reasons you think.” Her eyes rise to mine again. “I’m sick.”
To say I’m surprised by her little speech is an understatement. But now I’m struggling to keep up. “Sick?”
She nods. “Cancer. My doctor says I might have a year—and that’s being optimistic. He says my chances are slightly better if I opt for surgery and chemo, but I think I’d rather spend the last year of my life enjoying myself rather than suffering through one treatment after another.”
I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. “So that story about your boyfriend stealing your money was a lie?”
She shrugs. “Part of that story is true. I was with someone, and he wasn’t a very nice man by the end of things. I knew he was stealing from me, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care, not after I found out about the cancer.” She spreads her hands. “He wouldn’t have stuck by me through my treatment. And I decided I had better things to do with the rest of my life.”
Like trying to reconnect with her daughter.
This changes everything. Or at least, it changes how I feel about this woman and her motives. But if this is the truth, then why the hell didn’t she just tell us so from the beginning?
She seems to read my thoughts. “I know this is a lot to dump on someone at once, especially after I’ve been gone for so long. That’s why I didn’t say anything to Lily. I didn’t want to worry her. I know I don’t deserve it, but I wanted to spend a little bit of time with her before…”
I rub the side of my nose. How the hell do I deal with this? I knew what to do when I thought this woman was trying to take advantage of us, but now I have an entirely new crisis on my hands.
What would Lily want? I ask myself. That’s easy—even though it would upset her, she’d want to know the truth. But the thought of Lily losing her mother so quickly, from something like this… It makes my heart ache for her. This is the last thing she needs.
Still, I want to do the right thing by my wife. Knowing the truth would put her heart at ease, at least.
“We need to tell Lily,” I say.
But Michelle—somehow, suddenly, she’s not just that woman anymore—shakes her head. “She’ll just want me to get the treatment. She’ll make me fight it.”
“Of course she will.” Because Lily has the biggest heart of anyone I know. Because she’ll fight for the life of anyone, even someone who’s hurt her deeply.
Michelle doesn’t seem particularly thrilled by my response. “Even if I wanted to fight it, I couldn’t. I don’t have the money, and my insurance only covers part of the treatment.”
“We can help you.” We’ll figure it out somehow, I’m sure. I’ll be damned if I let Lily suffer through the death of her mother, not if I can prevent it. “But first we need to tell Lily everything.”
Michelle only shakes her head again. “Not until after the baby is here. She has enough to worry about.”
I want to argue with her, but damn her, she’s right.
“And one more thing,” she says. “Maybe you were right about getting out of your hair for the time being—it might be best if I go stay at a hotel in Barberville for a little while.”
Now that I know the truth, so many things are starting to make sense—the way she avoided talking about her life, the way she poked and prodded into Lily’s choices, even the way she tried to pick up her relationship with Lily right where they’d left off—and I’m starting to believe that I misjudged her after all. But even though I understand why Michelle has been behaving the way she has, I still believe that it will be in Lily’s best interest to deal with all of this after our son has arrived.
“I can take you into town,” I say.
She folds her hands in front of her, and I find myself looking for traces of Lily in her face.
“I might have to borrow some money,” she says, looking a little embarrassed. “I have a little tucked away in a secret account, but not enough for a couple of weeks at a hotel.”
“I’ll get you whatever you need,” I say.
One way or another, I’m going to do what’s right for this family. Give Lily the peace of mind she needs as she enters the final phase of her pregnancy.
As for what we’ll do after the baby is here—well, we’ll figure that out when the time comes.
* * *
Less than two hours later, Michelle and I are in Barberville and I’ve got her set up at a modest little extended stay hotel just outside of downtown. I’ve prepaid for a two-week stay, and after that, I’ll reassess the situation and figure out the best course of action. Michelle told Lily that she was looking for a job in the area, but since learning the truth about her health, I’m not sure whether that was an empty claim or not. Either way, though, now is not the time to be making any rash decisions. Lily comes first. We’ll deal with Michelle after the baby is here.
I’m getting ready to leave when a thought occurs to me.
“Lily will have lots of questions when she learns the truth. And she’ll want you to start treatment as soon as possible.”
She starts to protest. “I still don’t think I want treatment—”
“At the very least, will you go talk to a doctor here in town? Explore your options? I’ll pay for your visit, of course.”
She hesitates, then nods. “All right.”
I turn to go, then pause again, pulling out my wallet.
“I know you said you had enough money to cover your food, but here’s a credit card just in case,” I say. “And for that doctor.”
She hesitates again, and I wonder if I’ve offended her somehow. Finally, though, almost reluctantly, she reaches out and takes the card.
“Thank you,” she says. As I turn once more, she adds, “Lily is lucky to have you.”
I pause with my hand on the door. “I would do anything for her.”
When I get outside, the rain has started. It’s just a drizzle, but the dark clouds on the horizon suggest that this is only the beginning. I duck my head and run across the parking lot to my car.
I’m not looking forward to the conversation I’m going to have with Lily when I get home. She was asleep when Michelle and I left, and I decided it was better not to wake her. She would only have tried to keep us from leaving. I’m still not sure what I’m going to say to her—Michelle insists that she doesn’t want to tell Lily the truth, not yet. And since it’s her secret to tell, I’m inclined to respect her wishes. Still, I hate the idea of misleading Lily in any way—especially when, without the truth, there’s no way Lily will understand that this was the best option.
The doubts only get worse as I get closer to home. I’m still trying to process everything I discovered today. It’s a lot to handle at one time—learning that I misjudged Michelle, that she’s dying, that there might not be anything we can do—and I confess that I was expecting our conversation to go in an entirely different direction. I’d considered Michelle to be a difficult, tactless woman, but after she told me the truth, she became so understanding and reasonable about the situation with Lily. It was almost easy to get her into town.
Too easy.
You’re just overthinking things, I tell myself. The emotion on her face was genuine—I’ve seen what her fake expressions look like—and I don’t doubt that she’s truly sick. But something just isn’t sitting right with me.
She didn’t jump on the money, I remind myself. If she was trying to take advantage of you, she would have just accepted your offer.
Still, there’s something more about this whole situation that’s bothering me—but for the life of me, I can’t put my finger on what. It’s a dark feeling in my gut, a knot of warning. Maybe it’s just that this news about Michelle’s cancer is still so new, so unexpected. Or maybe I’m just having a hard time getting past my first impression of her. She’s out of our house for the time being. That’s a good thing.
So why do I feel like the sky is about to fall?
The rain is coming down harder now, pounding against my windshield. In the distance, I hear the first rumble of thunder. This storm is rolling in fast. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and force myself to focus on the road.
Just when I’m nearing the wooded road up to the estate, however, my phone rings. I hit the button on my steering wheel to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Yes, is this Mr. Cunningham?” comes a woman’s voice through my speakers. “This is Penny from the credit card division of Barberville Regional Bank. We noticed some suspicious activity on your card and wished to verify it with you.”
I nearly steer the car off the road.
“What kind of activity?” I demand. Maybe this is just about the hotel. It’s probably unusual for someone to book a two-week stay at a hotel in the town where he lives.
“It’s our policy to notify customers whenever we see charges over a certain threshold in a short period of time,” Penny says. “I’m seeing a charge of eleven hundred and thirteen dollars and sixty-eight cents for the Barberville Extended Stay Deluxe. Is this charge correct?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Yes.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ve marked that charge as correct. Next I’m seeing a charge for seventeen hundred and ninety-two dollars and twenty-four cents for TransOceanic Airways.”
I slam on my brakes. Oh, God—she’s running.
That can’t be right. I only left the hotel twenty minutes ago. Would Michelle really turn around the moment my back was turned and use my own credit card to run away again? After everything she told me? This has to be a mistake.
For the life of me, though, I can’t think of any other explanation.
“That’s a fraudulent charge,” I tell the woman on the phone. “Anything after the hotel is a fraudulent charge. Freeze the card.”
I don’t wait for her response. I hang up and immediately turn the car around.
It hasn’t been that long, I tell myself. She probably made that charge from the hotel. Part of me is still hoping this is all a mistake, but my gut tells me otherwise. Now all I have to do is get back to the hotel before she leaves for the airport.
I’m driving too fast for these weather conditions, but I don’t care—I need to find that woman. Now.
My car weaves through traffic, blowing through lights and earning me a number of angry honks. It’s a miracle I make it to the hotel without killing myself. I leap out of the car, not even bothering to lock it behind me as I run into the lobby.
I don’t wait for the elevator. I run up the steps two at a time to the fourth floor, and though I’m out of breath, I don’t even pause for a second at the top. I rush down the hall and pound on her door.
“It’s Calder!” I say. “Open up!”
There’s no response.
“I mean it, Michelle. What’s going on here?”
Again, there’s no response—except for the woman in the room next door poking her head out and frowning at me.
I should have known she wouldn’t answer. But the room is under my credit card, which means I should have no trouble getting another key.
I rush back down to the lobby and up to the front desk. It’s a different woman than the one who was here when we checked in, and she looks rather startled by my appearance. I know I must look deranged, but that’s the least of my worries right now.
“I need another key to Room 417,” I tell her.
She frowns, then types something into her computer. After a second, she says, “What was your name?”
“Calder Cunningham,” I tell her. “The room is under my name.”
She does a double-take when I say my name, looking at me a little more closely. My family’s name is well-known in this area—and in most of the country, thanks to the tabloids—but I know I don’t look like myself right now, soaked and desperate as I am.
“I need that key,” I press.
She straightens, apparently remembering her job. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cunningham, but I’m afraid the woman in that room just checked out.”
“What do you mean she checked out? She checked in less than an hour ago!”
The woman shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sir. She said something came up and she couldn’t stay after all. I can make sure you aren’t charged for the room, but there will still be a cancellation and cleaning fee—”
“I don’t care about the fees!” I say. “Just tell me where she went.”
Her frown deepens. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cunningham. Sir. She didn’t say. And it’s not our policy to ask—”
“Never mind,” I tell her. This is just wasting time. I turn and stalk back toward the door.
“Um, Mr. Cunningham?” she calls after me. “She did leave a note.”
Then why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place? I turn around and march back up to the desk, grabbing the envelope she holds out.
Inside, I find a note scrawled on hotel stationery:
Calder—
I know you’re going to think I’m a coward, but trust me, it’s better this way. I got to thinking after you left, and I believe it’s best for all of us that I just leave now. There is no easy path going forward. All of my options end with the same result—with Lily getting hurt.
She would have insisted I get treatment. She would have given me all the money you had to try to make things better. But it comes down to this—I don’t want to spend the last days of my life with my daughter watching me die. She should be focused on the new life that’s coming, on your precious little child—not on death.
And, honestly, I’d rather spend my last few months having adventures in Europe, not enduring endless chemo treatments. I don’t want to fight the cancer, and that would have been another point of contention between Lily and me. I don’t want to argue with her, not about this.
I rest easy knowing that she has you—a man who would give her anything. Keep her safe. Bring her joy. And love her with your whole heart, the way I should have.
If I had my say, I’d prefer that you not tell her about the cancer. I’d rather have her anger than her sadness, as I trust that my mistakes will only make her a stronger, better mother than I ever was to her.
All the best,
Michelle
P.S. I apologize for the charges on your credit card, but I trust that they come out to far less than that check you intended to write me.
I stand there staring at the note for a long time after I finish. Rain drips from my hair onto the stationery.
I should have seen this coming. How the hell did I not see this coming?
She’s right—I do think she took the coward’s way out. If she wants to leave, then fine—but not without explaining things to Lily. Not without saying good-bye. This will crush Lily, whether or not she learns about the cancer. I’m not going to let that woman abandon her daughter a second time.
I glance at my watch. If Michelle booked an international flight, there’s probably still time to catch her at the airport. If I hurry.
I shove the letter into my pocket and run out the door into the rain, sprinting all the way to my car. It’s pouring even harder now, pounding on the roof of the car and obscuring everything through the windshield. I left my phone on the center console, and when I glance down at it, I see the flashing icon that indicates a missed call.
From Lily.
How the hell am I going to break this news to her?
But I know the answer to that—I’m not. At least not until I’ve found Michelle. Then I’m going to let her do the explaining.
I’m sorry, Lily, I think. I promise I’m doing all of this for you.
And then I crank on my car and go.