“That would be lovely, thank you. And I apologize for popping by unannounced, but I was in the area, so I just thought…”
“It’s no problem,” I replied, leading her up the walk to the front door. “I’m always happy to see you.”
I let us in and set my satchel on the bench in the foyer. There was no sign of Bev or Leo, so I assumed she’d taken him to the park.
“Why don’t you come into the kitchen and we’ll talk while I put the kettle on.”
Barbara peeked into the living room. “This house is still as cozy as ever. It was a very good purchase, Claire.”
Surprised at the compliment, I spoke over my shoulder as I led the way to the kitchen. “I always thought so. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”
Barbara sat down at the table while I moved around the kitchen to fill the kettle and set out a couple of mugs, milk and sugar.
“Wes told me your sister moved in with you,” Barbara said. “That she’s expecting a child next month?”
“Yes, that’s right. It worked out well, since I was here all alone and had plenty of space.”
Barbara nodded politely. “Of course. It makes perfect sense.”
Neither of us said anything more while I opened the box of tea and set the teabags into the mugs. I carried them to the table and decided to sit down while I waited for the water to boil.
“You’re probably wondering what I’m really doing here,” Barbara said, rather sheepishly.
“A little… Yes. I haven’t spoken to you in a while. Not since Wes left. I wasn’t sure where you stood in all of that. You never called.”
She raised her chin and sat up straighter. “No, I didn’t, and I’m sorry for that. It just seemed very awkward. I wasn’t proud of what he did to you, Claire.”
I cupped my empty mug in my hands and watched her intently from across the table. “I see.”
“That’s why I’m here today. To tell you how sorry I am for everything. And I want you to know that we don’t blame you. We always loved you, and I don’t know what Wes was thinking when he did what he did. I can’t say I’ve been proud of him over the past few months.”
The kettle began to boil, so I stood up and moved to turn off the burner. My hands trembled as I reached for the kettle and picked it up. I wasn’t sure why. I suppose it was just the whirlwind of my emotions—so many of them all at once. I still didn’t know what Barbara wanted from me. Nor did I know what I wanted for myself. But I knew I had to figure it out, soon.
I turned and carried the kettle to the table where I poured the steaming water into our mugs.
“Thank you,” Barbara said, reaching for the little jar of milk and pouring some into her cup.
“Obviously,” I said, “you must be aware that Wes came here last night?”
“Oh, yes. I was the one who talked him into coming home and trying to put your marriage back together.”
“You were?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I didn’t want Wes to simply be following someone else’s instructions. If we were going to make this marriage work, he had to want it for himself.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, as if reading my mind. “I didn’t have to talk him into it. He was miserable, but he was convinced you’d never take him back. I simply suggested that he shouldn’t make any assumptions until he spoke to you, face to face.”
I felt nervous all of a sudden, and cleared my throat because I didn’t know what to say.
“Claire…” Barbara reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “He told me about your fertility issues. Why didn’t you come to us?”
My eyes lifted and I felt a surge of anger because I had wanted to go to them from the beginning, but Wes wouldn’t hear of it.
“I wanted to,” I told her. “I begged him to tell you, but I think it was my pushiness that drove him over the edge. He didn’t want to ask you for money because he was afraid George would say ‘I told you so.’”
Barbara nodded. “Wes is very proud. Too proud. And my husband might very well have said just that, because let’s face it, he can be a snob sometimes. But now he’s had to face the reality that his son was a disgrace for running off with some random woman who clearly seduced him.”
I took pleasure in the fact that Barbara referred to Angie as “some random woman.” I was glad they hadn’t fallen in love with her and preferred her over me.
“She was our neighbor across the street, and my friend,” I explained. “Or so I thought.”
“Oh, I know all about it,” Barbara replied with disapproval. “She must have been a gold digger.”
I raised my mug to my lips and took a sip. “I don’t know about that. Wes and I didn’t know about the trust fund, and besides, her own husband had plenty of money, so that couldn’t have been her motivation. I think she’s just a very unhappy person with some personal issues.”
Barbara rolled her eyes. “Well…I don’t know what she was thinking, breaking up your marriage. Obviously she’s not a good person, and I think Wes realizes it now.”
I nodded and took another sip of my tea.
“So what is it that you want, Barbara?” I asked. “Are you here to try and convince me to take him back?”
She regarded me steadily. “Yes, that is exactly what I want. I also want you to know that George and I are in support of a reconciliation, and that we want nothing more than to see the two of you get back together, and whatever you need financially, we’re here for you. I’m aware that Wes told you about the trust fund, which will cover any fertility treatments you need, or even if you wanted to adopt a child from some other country, we would support that and help you in any way we can. I just want you to know that I still consider you my daughter-in-law, and I want you be a part of our family again. I want everything to go back to the way it was. I only pray it’s not too late.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat because I was touched by her kind words, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure I could reconcile with her son. I was still scarred by what he had done to me, and I was confused about what I wanted for myself and my future.
“Thank you for saying all that,” I replied. “But I can’t make any promises. What he did really hurt me, Barbara, because I loved him with all my heart and I trusted him. I can’t simply forget about it at the drop of a hat.”
Barbara looked down at her tea. “I understand, and I don’t blame you. I just want there to be no doubt that we would welcome you back with loving, open arms, if you could find it in yourself to forgive our son.”
As I sat there watching my mother-in-law from across the table, it was clear to me that she was terribly ashamed of Wes.
I was sympathetic, but I still couldn’t make any promises.
“I will think about it, Barbara. I give you my word. But I need some time.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need. We’ll be here, waiting.”
She finished her tea, rose from the table, and I walked her out.
Chapter Twenty-seven
When Bev came home from the park and we prepared supper together, I told her about Barbara’s visit.
Though Bev had nothing against Barbara personally, she was unsympathetic toward Barbara’s anguish and believed they were trying to put pressure on me—to make me feel guilty for not forgiving Wes.
Bev also suggested that they were dangling money in front of me as a way to convince me not to divorce their son.
“Maybe they’re afraid you’ll go after his trust fund in the divorce,” Bev suggested.
I couldn’t discount that as a possibility.
“How much is it anyway?” Bev asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied as I stirred the chicken soup we had taken out of the freezer. “He never told me.”
“You have a right to know,” Bev replied. “You’re still married to him, and I’m no lawyer, but if you do get a divorce, I’m pretty sure you’d be entitled to half of it. Although the Radcliffe’s might fight you on that. I’m sure
they have high-powered lawyers.”
I sighed. “That’s the last thing I want—to go through a vicious, ugly divorce. I don’t want his money. I just want out.”
Bev turned to me, looking pleased. “Really? Have you decided then?”
I let out a breath and stirred the soup again. “I don’t know. That just came out. I haven’t made up my mind yet. I need more time to think about it.”
Bev didn’t push the issue. She said nothing more as she set rolls and the butter dish on the table. When everything was nearly ready, she turned to me again. “Should we call Scott and invite him over? There’s enough here for the three of us.”
I turned off the burner and shook my head. “I don’t think we should. It was a bit strange last night.”
“How?”
“Well…” I paused and dipped the soup ladle into the pot. “When he came over after Wes left, I cried and he hugged me, and it kind of felt like there was something happening between us. I’m not sure what to make of it. I mean, we’ve been very close since Angie and Wes left, and there’s been a certain intimacy with Scott that I don’t feel with anyone else, but last night, it was really nice to be held in his arms. He’s just so… I don’t know… I felt so comfortable and safe. And he smelled so good.”
“Finally,” Bev replied with a hint of frustration. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”
“Yes, I know.”
“He’s a wonderful man, Claire, and I’m one hundred percent certain he feels the same way about you. I can tell by the way he looks at you. He’s in love with you, but he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows you’re gun-shy after what happened, and you’re both still married, and he doesn’t want to behave dishonorably.”
I held up a hand. “Please stop. Things are complicated.”
Bev flopped down onto a chair at the table and spoke gently. “I know, but I can see what’s happening here, Claire. You’ve always been a tough nut to crack when it comes to love, because of what happened with Dad, and I could absolutely brain Wes for knowing about that and then doing what he did to you. But don’t let that scare you off from love forever. Remember, the worst thing did happen to you with Wes. Your worst fear came true, but you survived it and you’re okay. Focus on that, and be brave and open when it comes to what might be happening between you and Scott.”
I considered that for a moment. “I get it. But he’s just as confused and unsure as I am. And who’s to say Angie hasn’t called him today and done the same thing Wes did last night? Maybe she’s already asked him to forgive her and take her back.”
“And how would you feel about that?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. “Horrible. I’d probably want to scratch her eyes out.”
Bev squeezed my shoulder. “Now we’re talking.”
I served up two bowls of soup and carried them to the table. “Let’s just have dinner with the two of us tonight, until I figure all this out.”
“Fine,” Bev replied, “but I don’t want to see you lose out because you were indecisive. Don’t let Angie beat you to the real prize.”
I sat down to eat. “It’s not a race. Whatever is meant to be, will be.”
“Oh, please,” Bev said. “Don’t give me that. You can’t just sit there and wait for destiny to choose your future for you.”
I sighed. “That’s easy for you to say, but I’ve been knocked around a bit lately and I don’t know which way is up.”
“Well, I know which way is up.” Bev pointed across the street. “It’s that way.”
I thanked her for her opinion, and picked up my soup spoon.
* * *
Wes texted me a number of times over the next few days, and then he called, just to ask how I was doing. I wasn’t rude to him on the phone, but I was clear about the fact that I still wasn’t sure how much I could forgive. I asked him to give me more time.
He then changed the subject and told me he was trying to get his old job back. I offered no encouragement, because I had no idea if the school would be willing to hire him back, and I certainly wasn’t about to ask. Finding a job was his problem.
Then he mentioned that he was considering going back to school for a law degree now that he had the trust fund.
“It could be a new start for us,” he said. “And if we had a baby, we could afford for you to stay home and be a full-time mom, even while I was going to school. If that’s what you wanted, of course.”
I couldn’t help but feel that he was dangling carrots in front of my face, saying all the things he thought I wanted to hear, but I wasn’t biting. I didn’t want this to be about money or status in any way, shape, or form. Besides, I loved teaching.
That night, Scott sent me an email from across the street:
How are you doing? I’ve been thinking about you. I’m here if you want to talk about anything.
I replied and told him that I’d been thinking about him as well, but I hadn’t made any firm decisions.
Then I couldn’t help but ask if he had spoken to Angie, because that was my biggest fear—that she, too, had realized her mistake and wanted her husband back. What woman wouldn’t want Scott?
He responded to my email with this: Not a peep from Toronto.
I was overwhelmingly relieved.
Another three days went by, and I was surprised when Wes left me alone completely. He didn’t call or text. At first I thought he was giving me the space I’d asked him for, but when I woke up on the fourth day to discover that he had sent me a long-winded email at three in the morning, I sat down immediately to read it, because I knew something was up.
As soon as I read it, I felt sick.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Did you know?” I asked Scott ten minutes later when he invited me into his house.
It was seven in the morning, and he was wearing his bathrobe. I was still in my pajamas because I hadn’t wanted to take the time to get dressed after reading Wes’s email.
I still couldn’t believe it.
Angie was pregnant.
“I had no idea,” Scott replied as he led me into his kitchen where the morning sun was streaming in through the back windows. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.”
He poured me a cup of coffee.
“Why not?”
“Because it sounds like something Angie would do. She is master manipulator, and her timing is impeccable.”
I sat down at the breakfast bar with my coffee and buried my face in my hands. “Do you think it’s true?”
Scott sat down on the stool beside me. “I don’t know, but you must have known this might happen. I’ve been expecting it every day since they left. I’m surprised it didn’t happen before now.”
I lowered my hands. “Me, too, I suppose. But when he came home and it looked like things hadn’t worked out between them, I thought that possibility had passed. She told him she only found out two days ago, when she took a test. And guess when she’s due.”
Scott waited for me to tell him.
“Three days before Christmas.”
I let my forehead fall forward onto the breakfast bar and tapped it three times, then turned to Scott again. “How wonderful for them. They’ll be home just in time to change the first diaper in a pretty new nursery, and then Santa will come down the chimney and bring all sorts of cute little toys for baby. Imagine the ornaments they’ll get for gifts. They’ll all say ‘Baby’s First Christmas.’”
I sighed because I had been dreaming of a special Christmas like that for eons. Each holiday season, I had high hopes that everything would work out for Wes and me. But it never did. Even so, I never gave up hope that maybe next year would be the year. Next year, I’d have my Christmas miracle. It was always a year away.
I regarded Scott intently. “You don’t think she’s lying, do you? Just to get him back? Because it sounds almost too perfect.”
Scott exhaled heavily. “Honestly, Claire, I don’t know. It’s quite poss
ible. One thing I do know for sure… Angie doesn’t like to lose.”
I swiveled around on the breakfast bar stool and held my coffee mug with both hands. I found myself staring blankly at the stone fireplace on the other side of the living room.
“Are you okay?” Scott asked, gently rubbing my shoulder.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “Strangely, yes. This may sound crazy, but a part of me is relieved. Even though my husband is about to walk out on me a second time and go back to Toronto to be with my arch nemesis—who has given him a child when I couldn’t—it leaves me exactly where I was a week ago.”
I turned to Scott, who was more ruggedly handsome than ever with tousled hair and a shadow of morning stubble on his jaw.
“And a week ago,” I continued, “I was feeling pretty good about my single life and all the possibilities for the future.” I sipped my coffee and lounged back on the stool while I took a moment to think about everything. “If I’m being perfectly honest, the past few days have been pure hell since Wes came back. I was putting so much pressure on myself to decide what to do, and his mother was putting pressure on me to forgive him, and Bev was pressuring me not to. Now the decision has been taken out of my hands, and all my instincts are telling me that this is exactly what is meant to be.”
Scott nodded, and we continued to sip our coffees.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you okay? She’s still your wife, and now she’s pregnant with another man’s child.”
He set his cup down on the breakfast bar. “We don’t know that for sure yet, but even if it’s true…yes, I’m fine. Surprisingly. As far as I’m concerned, they deserve each other.”
I found myself chuckling, which was an odd response to all this.
“Did he tell you what they were going to do?” Scott asked. “Is he going to marry her?”
I tried to recall the details in Wes’s rambling email—the groveling and the apologies and the regret for putting me through this not once, but twice.
“He said he was going to make every effort to make things work between them and take responsibility for his actions, so I guess that means he intends to marry her. But he has to divorce me first.”
The Color of a Christmas Miracle: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Color of Heaven Series) Page 13
