“Of course not. I’ll drive her,” he said softly.
I plummeted from the height of the driver’s seat and met Pete at the trunk. He ducked under the rising hatch and began pulling out our junk. I draped the damp towels over the picket fence and returned for the small cooler.
“I got this, sweetheart.”
“I’m not made of china. I can help.”
“It’s my job to take care of you.” I rolled my eyes. “And I like my job,” he added, pecking my cheek.
I was about to climb back on my you are domineering and manipulative high-horse when something struck me as off. I walked over to the empty space that should have been filled with something ugly. “Pete, where’s Myrtle?” I quickly glanced around the property, but my arch-nemesis was nowhere to be seen.
He set our large canvas tote on the cement but didn’t answer.
“Pete,” I said, touching his shoulder, “Where’s Myrtle?”
“We didn’t need four cars,” he said, kicking an errant shell into the grass, “so I sold her.”
My arms fell limply to my sides, and I gaped at him in utter shock. “You sold her? You sold the love of your life?” I was simply dumbfounded.
“She…well, she just wasn’t practical anymore.”
“She’s never been practical! She’s fifty years old, has no shocks, is poorly aligned, and completely falling apart. But you love her!”
“I know.”
“You couldn’t have gotten any money for her. I know she’s an antique, technically, but not a nice one.”
“My cousin’s been wantin’ her for some time. He likes restorin’ old cars. He’ll take good care of her, and she’ll stay in the family. Unless he sells her,” he muttered, his face darkening even in the floodlights. “It’s fine.”
A gray sadness overtook me suddenly. Things were changing too quickly. “I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I whispered.
At that, he burst out laughing. “You mean ya didn’t get to kick her one last time. Oh, c’mon, you are not cryin’ over Myrtle.” He wiped a stray tear and pulled me to his chest.
“I can’t help it. She…she holds memories.”
“Not pleasant ones. Not for you, anyway,” he said, still chuckling.
“We rode in her on our first date.”
“That wasn’t a date, and you know it.”
“It was kind of a date. I’ve known her nearly as long as I’ve known you,” I retorted.
“You’ve hated her nearly as long as you’ve known me. I tell ya what, tomorrow we’ll go over to Sammy’s and you can say goodbye properly. How’s that?”
“Deal.”
“Why are you still cryin’?”
“I don’t know,” I snuffled.
Pete picked me up in his arms and kissed me solidly. As he carried me up the stairs, I said, “I suppose we could name it Myrtle Two.”
“That doesn’t seem right, somehow.” Then a wide grin spread across his face. “Ya know, I was thinkin’ that if we have a little girl, maybe we could name her Myrtle.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You are so messed up.”
He gently laid me on the bed and kissed my neck. “Yeah, but you love me, anyway.”
I snorted. “Unfortunately, I do.”
36
So, a Girl Walks into a Bar
It was late in the day when I left downtown Charlotte. Globally tired, I had a solid six hour-drive home. Mom’s house was only ninety minutes away, so I steered The Beast—the name I’d finally settled on, towards I-40, set the cruise control, and engaged the extra lumbar support to ease my aching back. I knew I still had a long road to travel before this pregnancy thing was over, but already it was sucking the life from me.
When I pulled into the driveway, her car was gone. With the hidden key, I let myself in, and after a large glass of disgustingly sweet iced-tea, collapsed onto my old bed. The sweet perfume of late summer roses wafted in through the open window, reminding me of childhood. The next thing I knew, I was being gently shaken.
“Susie, are you alright?”
“Huh?”
“Pete called. It got late, and he was worried.”
I looked into her eyes for a full moment. “Mom, he’s changing.”
♥
Nibbling candied pecans in the sunroom, I slid the glider back and forth in time with Mom’s creaking rocker. “That sure is some kind of automobile,” she finally remarked, breaking our companionable silence.
“It’s just one of a thousand things. I’ve got nearly four months to go, and Pete’s already obsessing over the baby’s safety. Last week he started babyproofing the house. He bought gates for every room. He regularly beats himself up for designing our home with so many flights of stairs. There are two car seats waiting in the garage, and that beast out in the driveway—? It has the most safety features of any car available. I’m surprised it’s not bulletproof, though considering his current state of mind, it probably is,” I muttered. “And did he pick its color for some rational reason, like, maybe it’s my favorite? Nooo. He chose white because it’s the safest color on the road. He showed me the flippin’ studies! I’m telling you, Mom, he’s completely lost it.”
Because she adored him, I fully expected her to champion his cause. Instead, she remained silent, a deep frown creasing her profile. Finally, she spoke. “Men change around babies. They’re the fathers, the…creators. Some lose sight of reality and take their responsibilities well beyond proper limits.”
I knew she was speaking of my father—a man who’d stopped at nothing to indulge and protect me. His zeal had irreparably marred a marriage that could have been filled with love. I shuddered at the thought of how my mother had suffered.
“Pete isn’t Daddy. He would never—”
“Don’t underestimate what a father is capable of. No matter how much you think he loves you, he’ll likely love that baby more.”
“Mom, he does love me.”
“’Course he does. All I’m sayin’ is keep a watchful eye.”
I wanted to be angry with her for underscoring my naïveté, but I realized that wasn’t her primary intention. She was reaching out, and I needed that right now—needed a friend, a confidant, a sage. With a shock, I realized I needed her.
“I loved your daddy, and I always believed that one day he’d realize it and love me back like he had when we were datin’, but that never happened. Even after you left home…” Mom sighed mightily and became quiet again, the squeak of her rocking chair the only sound in the room.
“Pete’s a good man,” she finally said. “It’s clear he plans on taking care of you, but remember, you’re livin’ in his world down there, with his relatives and friends surrounding you. If things get bad, we both know whose side they’ll take.”
Was I shocked by her warning? Absolutely. Was it valid? I thought about those last few days in Havelock before I’d left him and moved to Ohio, and how the entire community had jumped to his side and treated me with blatant hostility…yes.
“I’m here,” she added quickly. “You can come home anytime you need to. I’ll protect you. You know that, right?”
I nodded.
“You need more tea.” She hopped up and disappeared from the room.
I never thought this day would come—never even considered that this woman, who had birthed and fed and scolded me, would become something other. But here she was, speaking to me as a friend, and I was thunderstruck.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. With abandon, I devoured the feast she’d laid out—one she’d clearly gotten up before dawn to prepare. I’d always resented her ways, hated the prickle of guilt she dressed everything in. Now I wondered if my feelings had been self-imposed, and perhaps what I’d viewed as martyrdom was actually a simple act of love.
I gently hugged her goodbye. “I’ll try to get home more often.”
“I love you, Susie. Drive safe.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
My lips quivered when I gla
nced in the rearview mirror and saw her wiping her eyes. I finally understood why.
♥
If I’d ever needed a drink, now was the time. Though I’d physically left Quarterlies in Philly, the echoes of Kirsten’s disparaging remarks still reverberated within me, and the judgmental looks hurled from all directions had left nearly visible bruises. We were a highly vain lot, forever scanning one another for flaws, intolerant of weakness. And now that it was apparent to anyone with eyes that I was unquestionably pregnant and, quite frankly, slovenly because of it, to the bulk of them, I’d become just…sad.
What irked me even more than the relentless questions about when I was taking leave—evidently, North Carolina had become a hot commodity, or at least a viable stepping stone—was the right the curious felt they had to rub my stomach as if I’d suddenly become a happy golden Buddha statue.
“Whisky, neat,” I ordered.
Hunter gave me a blazing smile as he slid my amber salvation across the counter. I reached for it longingly, but a steel arm shot out, stopping the drink in its tracks, sloshing half a dram over the glass’ lip. I glared at Jimbo.
At this point, the Pete’s Gonna be a Daddy Society watched me like a hawk. One wrong move and the news exploded in all directions like a violent tsunami. I’d already met too many raised blond eyebrows, and I expected yet another set any minute.
“Club soda,” he barked. “Are you just stupid, boy?”
Hunter, eyes widened to the whites, nearly ran into the soda dispenser. Unsure of what he’d done to piss off his boss this time, he timidly asked, “Do ya want a twist of lime with that?” He glanced at Jimbo rather than me, wincing as if waiting to be smacked.
I shook my head then met the proprietor’s stubborn, crystal blue eyes. “This is a bar, you know.”
Jimbo’s lips turned up in an arrogant smirk. Without looking at Hunter, he growled, “How many times do I need to tell you? She’s cut off for the foreseeable future.”
“I wasn’t aware you even knew the word ‘foreseeable’,” I hissed, crossing the uneven floor while muttering mean things into my pointless drink.
“So, I need to start planning things out for when you’re on maternity leave.” Mona chirped, all sunshine and blue skies, as I wormed onto the cushioned bench, trying to get comfortable.
“I already told you, like, a thousand times, I’m not taking leave.”
“Well, ya have to. You’ll need time to recover and such. Everybody knows that.”
“I’m taking two weeks of vacation. That’s all I’ll need.” She slipped on her reproachful look—the same one she wore every time we visited this topic. “Mona, if I take it, I’ll lose the district. The head of HR and I discussed it in detail this week. INTech’s legally required to offer me paid leave, but I’m not legally required to take it. Besides, from all I’ve read, giving birth doesn’t have to be a big deal. You go in, have the baby, stay home for a week or two, and then you’re good to go.”
She made a scoffing sound.
“What?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“Sure it is. Look, I exercise, I’m healthy…it’ll be fine. I’ll work from home when I can, and bring the baby to the office when necessary. Besides, I can’t afford to take time off. I’ll be giving birth three weeks before year-end meetings. Rumors of cutbacks are already floating around, and I need to come out swinging. Missing budget negotiations would severely handicap the district, and I can’t let that happen again. We’ve suffered enough.” Then my demon surfaced, and I smiled broadly. “Unless you want to go in my place..?” Her horrified expression said it all. “See?” I said smugly. “No choice.”
Just then Pete nudged in beside me. “So, whiskey, huh? Last time it was, let me see…vodka tonic, right?”
“A girl can dream.”
“You’re gonna get Hunter fired.”
“I’d like to get Jimbo fired,” I muttered. Mona’s giggle fizzed like my drink.
“Jimbo’s the only one here keepin’ you out of trouble,” Pete admonished.
Mona nodded with her own brand of satisfaction. She’d put Jimbo on so high a pedestal I was surprised he could even breathe at that altitude. Of course, his only saving grace in my book was that the pedestal he’d set her on was in outer space.
“My choices aren’t anyone’s concern, but mine.”
“They’re mine, too, I’d like to think,” he retorted, pointedly raising a brow.
“I’d like to think I was CEO of INTech, but that doesn’t make it so, now does it?” I quipped, still annoyed by what I’d come home to earlier that evening.
Pete hadn’t done anything as audacious as buying me a stupid car. No, this week he’d only transformed one of our guest rooms into a full-service nursery, complete with bassinette, crib, rocking chair, Winnie-the-Pooh-themed wallpaper with matching curtains—handmade by one of his aunts, of course—and a mobile that played the movie’s theme song. I had pleasant visions of strangling him in his sleep with said mobile. Adding insult to injury, I didn’t even like Winnie-the-Pooh.
Mona quickly changed topics before the bloodletting began. “We need to set a date for the baby shower.”
A roomful of estrogen-charged, baby-crazed women did not sound appealing in the least. “Can’t we have it after the baby’s born?”
“No! Ya have to have it before. There’s a lot of stuff you’re gonna need, and you surely won’t be able to go out and shop for it after the baby arrives.” She pulled a small planner from her purse. “First, are y’all gonna find out the gender?”
I arched a brow. “Have we met?” I asked, sticking out my hand. “Hi, I’m Susan Wade, control freak.”
“Walsh,” Pete corrected.
“Whatever,” I snapped. “Of course we’re finding out the sex.”
Pete made a coughing bullshit noise, and I glared at him.
My husband loved surprises almost as much as I hated them. He was hoping we’d wait until it was born and celebrate accordingly. Well, he could hope on. We were supposed to have the exam at week eighteen, but I’d been so busy with work and getting ready for Quarterlies that I’d rescheduled twice. The doctor had strongly advised me not to put it off any longer, and unfortunately, Pete had been in the car with me when he called.
“The ultrasound’s Wednesday,” he said, returning my look with an air of belligerence.
“Yes, it is,” I said to Mona. “I’ll call you as soon as we find out.”
“Okay, then,” Mona said, flipping pages. “How does the first Sunday in October sound? If you’re gonna find out—oh, and I so hope it’s a girl,” she gushed, “then, that’ll give everyone plenty of time to buy the right color or knit her somethin’.”
“And I guess I’ll have time to repaint the nursery,” Pete grumbled.
Even if he chose to leave the room during the ultrasound, I was going to find out, and then taunt him with it! Why? Because this whole pregnancy was his damn fault. Stupid sperm,stupid men, stupid Winnie-the-Pooh!
♥
Pete’s office hadn’t changed one bit since we’d met, with one exception…
“Hi, Susan!” Laney’s smile was nothing short of miraculous.
“Wow. You have teeth!”
“Your observations never cease to amaze me,” she snarked.
“It’s just, you look so different.”
She raised one shoulder, trying, I assume, to regain the aloof, perma-grump expression for which she was famous. I gloried in the fact that she was failing miserably. “Were you in Washington this weekend, by chance?”
Her smile grew brighter.
“How’s Lexi?”
“Fantastic.” Another word I’d never heard her utter.
“Please tell her I said hello next time you see her.”
I tiptoed down the hall and peered into Pete’s office. He was standing at his drafting table, hunched over a scroll. The sunshine spilling from the ceiling’s skylight crowned his golden waves as it always di
d, casting the very image of an angel. But rather than the unholy looks he used to give me when he caught me staring, his smile now matched the vision.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“I was wondering if you had a date for lunch,” I said.
“Well, ya know, I’m a very busy man.” He yelled up the hall. “Hey, Laney, do I have a lunch appointment today?”
“I’m not your fucking secretary!” she yelled back.
He grinned at me. “I might just have an opening. Why do you ask?”
“I rarely mix business with pleasure,” I said, twisting my hair around my finger, “but I find you attractive. I was just thinking we might…date.”
He shook his head. “That’s a nice offer, sweet pea, but I’m already married.”
“Married?! You knock me up and then tell me you’re married?”
He set down his mechanical pencil and kissed me with smiling lips. “Ready to go?”
“Are you?”
“Not in the slightest. You sure you don’t want it to be a surprise?”
“Not how I’m wired. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
37
Modesty
“You okay?” I asked Pete. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet during the short drive over. And though his hand was wrapped tightly around mine, his mind was elsewhere.
“I’m just…. We’re gonna find out a lot today. I’m—it’s gonna be okay. It’s all—everything’s gonna be just, just perfect.”
The doubt in his voice, the anxiety… He wasn’t alone. Though I wasn’t in the high-risk zone, yet, I wasn’t twenty either. There were real concerns, and the percentage of developmental issues was certainly higher.
Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3) Page 26
