A moment later, Beth opened her lids and took a breath. She held out her palm and gently took the file folder from Sarah. “I guess I should write this information down so I can try later.” She set the folder in her lap. Digging in her purse for a pen gave her something to do with her nervous energy. Once she found a ballpoint, she scribbled the family’s address and phone number on the back of a Gymboree receipt. “I wish you could be with me when I finally make contact.”
Sarah nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Me, too.”
“Like you were there for me all of those years ago. I owe you a lot.”
“Don’t mention it. I admire your courage.”
“Courage,” Beth repeated, unable to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
“Hey, this is a big deal.” Sarah slung her purse across her shoulder. “You know. Reaching out to the Taylors and all. It’s too bad it’s under these circumstances.”
Beth’s teeth worried along her lower lip some more, causing the delicate skin to crack and bleed. She had to tell her daughter that she might die by the time she turned forty. She had to tell her daughter that her father didn’t even know she existed. Pressing on her temples, she let out a sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just hate this.”
“How does Drew feel about it? Is he supportive?”
Beth picked up the folder and clutched it to her chest. “I didn’t tell him.”
“About today or about the baby?”
“Any of it. After we’d been dating a while, he complained about how his sister got pregnant in high school and put the infant up for adoption. He said he couldn’t believe she’d given away his niece as if she were a puppy. It didn’t seem to faze her at all. She kept her second baby, Emma, but she’s not that devoted to her, either. By that time, I was in love with Drew and didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“But you’re different than her. You agonized over this.”
“I don’t know. Part of me was relieved that someone else was able to take over. I wanted my baby to have the best life and I wasn’t ready to make the sacrifices to do that. I wanted to be a carefree college student.”
Sarah tipped her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me, but you were never a carefree college student. As I recall, you studied more than anyone else I knew.”
“I was the first one in my family not to go to a Christian college. Do you know how much pressure that was? My parents would’ve been heartbroken to find out I’d blown it my freshman year. So, in a way, giving my baby away was me being selfish.”
“Bethany, you are not selfish. You’re raising Drew’s niece and I can tell you love her as if she were your own.”
”Definitely.” Harboring sixteen years of shame, Beth allowed all of Sarah’s compliments to roll off her back. “But that doesn’t change the past.”
“If you want a future with Drew, you have to tell him about this.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I will.”
# # #
When her home phone rang at 11:15 that night, Beth’s pulse quickened. She grabbed the receiver so the ringing wouldn’t wake Drew and Emma upstairs, who had been already asleep when she arrived home. She thought it might be the Taylors, but knew it couldn’t be. While driving home, she’d picked up her cell several times to call, but never dialed. Confronting her past proved amazingly difficult. More difficult than saying “no” to the tub of chocolate ice cream that Drew had left in the freezer.
Ivy’s frantic voice came over the line. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
Panic flooded Beth’s brain. Had the Huntington’s already incapacitated Parker? No, she thought it progressed slowly. “What’s wrong?”
“I think Parker’s going to kill himself.”
“What?” She sprang to her feet.
“I found all of these books about suicide. Different ways to off yourself. They were hidden in his closet.”
The closet. That’s where Beth hid her secrets, too. “Calm down. Just because he has some books doesn’t mean anything. Parker’s strong. He didn’t seem suicidal when I saw him at the reunion.” Although he had left the party in order to get drunk in his hotel room. Did suicidal people actually announce their plans?
“Something’s different about him.” Ivy sounded convinced. “At first I thought it was just a mid-life crisis, but now I think it’s because he found out he has Huntington’s. He didn’t even tell me. I found out the same time you did—at the banquet. Did you know his father had to go into a nursing home when he was in his forties? Parker always insisted on visiting his dad alone, which makes me think it must’ve been pretty bad.”
Beth swallowed and sat back on the couch. “Ivy, I’m so sorry.”
“I remember you took all of those psychology classes so I thought you’d know what to do.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Beth tried to remember the right thing to say. The weight of life and death pressed on her. Surely Parker would never—but what if she were wrong? “I’m no expert, but I suggest you confront Parker about the books you found. Try to figure out how serious he is.”
“I’m afraid.” Her sobs came like tiny hiccups through the long-distance wires. Ivy even cried gracefully.
“He probably needs to know that you’ll love him no matter what. You can help him through this.”
“I...I don’t know if I can. I’m not a nurse. I’m not good at that kind of thing.”
Beth groaned. “Ivy, this is your husband. You need to do this whether you’re comfortable or not. It’s time to buck up and be a good wife.”
“I am a good wife.” The crying dissipated. “You don’t know how he neglects me. He’s always at the office. He almost didn’t come to the Leadership Club banquet which I arranged in his honor.” Shallow breaths came over the line. “He’s supposed to take care of me, not the other way around.”
“Says who?” Parker needed help and Ivy wanted to whine about how unfair life was! Beth sighed with frustration.
“You know how my dad was. He traveled the country playing guitar, leaving me at home with mom to live off of government assistance. It was humiliating to eat free lunches at school. I swore when I grew up, I’d be smart. I’d marry a man better than my dad.”
Beth swallowed her criticism of Ivy. Childhood scars were so hard to heal. In Ivy’s twenty-something mind, Parker must’ve looked like a good provider, the complete opposite of her father. It had probably never occurred to her that she would get the short end of the stick. “How much do you know about the disease?”
“Not much.”
“Maybe you should talk to his doctor. Get some advice on what to expect and how to help Parker if he becomes depressed. It all could be connected.” She bit her lip. It was still difficult to believe that charismatic, determined Parker would ever consider taking his own life. “Does he have a gun?”
“Yes. For protection. You never know who might want to break-in and steal from us.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “I’d hide the gun. Give it to someone to hold for you. Just in case. I mean, I don’t think Parker would hurt himself, but it’s hard to know what anyone would do if they had a terminal illness.”
“I was hoping seeing all of his old friends would cheer him up. Lately he seems obsessed with all of the things he never did. The Peace Corps, climbing mountains, having kids. I don’t know what to do.”
Words lodged in Beth’s throat. Parker was depressed partly because he never had kids. But he did have one. Doubt twisted in her gut. If she had told him the truth all of those years ago, would he be fine now? Did she have the power to pull him out of this downward spiral? Did she have a moral obligation to tell him, like Sarah said?
She looked out at the night sky. It was easier to self-disclose in a dark room, she remembered from one of her psych classes. Maybe she should turn out the lights and surround herself with blackness. “Ivy, where is Parker now?” Could she just tell him over th
e phone and hang up? Her palms grew slick with sweat. Her breath drew up short.
“He’s at the office. I told you, he’s always working.”
Her eyes glanced at the clock, which read 11:23. It was awfully late for Parker to be working. “You don’t think he might do something tonight, do you?” She pressed her palm to her frantically beating heart.
“No. He called a little bit ago to tell me not to wait up. He’s working on some paperwork that has to be completed by tomorrow.”
Relief coursed through her body. “How about I come by for a visit? I could talk to him and try to figure out how serious he is. Try to change his mind.” And maybe, just maybe come clean.
“Oh, Beth, that would be great! You would do that for me? For us?”
“Yes, of course.” Not that she could afford to take another day off of work. She had research to do on her vitamin spray idea. But she needed to make time for this. She could finally reveal her secret to Parker, which might give him the will to carry on. Plus she could let him take responsibility for telling their daughter about the Huntington’s. Yes, this would unburden her while solving two major problems. “How about Friday?”
“Yes, I think I think I can keep an eye on him until then.”
“Good. Tell him I’m coming…and that I have something important to share.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amy, who usually had a smile on her face, looked worried when Beth stepped into the daycare center. Wavy lines creased Amy’s forehead and her thin eyebrows tilted in a pleading expression. “I’m so sorry. Emma snuck into my purse at naptime and took a piece of gum.”
“That’s okay.” She didn’t believe Emma was old enough to chew gum, but she knew Missy let her have it. Beth’s gaze scanned the room full of children playing on a carpet that looked like a street. One boy ran a fire engine along the dotted lines, making a siren noise. Two nearby girls sat cross-legged on the floor, putting together puzzles. Behind them, a few leftover cupcakes and crumbs sat on a table, probably brought in for somebody’s birthday. Beth swore she could smell—and practically taste—the cream cheese frosting from here.
Forcing herself to look away, she saw her niece coming toward her, wrestling to put her arm in her lilac jacket.
Amy knelt down to help Emma with her sleeve, then looked at Beth. “We tried to get it out, but we couldn’t.”
Seeing Emma’s hair, Beth gasped. A wad of gum was stuck in the ends of Emma’s long blonde curls.
“I keep my purse in my desk drawer. I don’t have any way to lock it.” Amy continued, her words rushing together. “She must’ve snuck over there when I was pouring the milk for snack time. Again, I’m so sorry.”
Beth stared at Emma. She didn’t know what to say.
Emma smiled at her and exclaimed, “Aunt Beth!” as if Beth’s mere presence was the best gift she could’ve been given.
They hugged like they always did after daycare. Beth hated to leave the little girl there for nine hours a day, but she had no choice. She’d always told herself that Emma liked playing with other kids and was well cared-for by the conscientious and attentive Amy. But now? What if Emma had found a nail file or a bottle of aspirin in Amy’s purse?
Gnawing on her thumbnail, Amy seemed to be waiting for Beth’s reaction. “I tried everything to get it out, but nothing worked.”
Beth knew Amy was looking to ease her guilt, but the words wouldn’t come. She dug in her purse for a small comb, then worked the teeth through Emma’s hair, starting at the bottom, as if it were a simple knot. When that failed, she tried using her fingers to gently separate the glued-together strands.
“Ow!” Emma cried.
Beth persisted with the tip of the comb. It was a gooey mess. Emma’s beautiful hair would be ruined for sure.
After seeing a few children off with their parents, Amy returned her attention to Beth. “I tried everything I could think of. I’m so sorry.”
Beth didn’t respond, her mind going to the one solution left. Cutting it out. But Beth loved the curls at the end of Emma’s locks. It would be a crime to shear them. “We’d better go.” She offered Amy a slight smile before taking Emma’s hand and exiting the room.
As they walked down the hall, she grilled Emma as to what had happened.
“You never let me have gum and I love gum.”
Beth shook her head. “How did it end up in your hair?”
“Don’t know. I fell asleep at naptime.”
“This is why you’re not old enough for gum, sweetie.” Beth had intended to head home and cook dinner, but now she had to swing by one of those drop-in hair salons. She flashed back to Emma’s meltdown the last time Beth hadn’t taken her straight home for a snack, and exhaled. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be episode number two.
Before exiting the building, she stopped by the vending machine but it displayed an “out of order” sign on its glass. She shook her head and grabbed Emma’s hand. Fifteen minutes later, Beth parked her Chevy in a strip mall lot.
“What are we doing? Are we going to a restaurant?” Emma pressed her hand against the window, adding to its many smudges.
Beth let out one short burst of a laugh. “I wish. We’re going to see what can be done about your hair.”
“Oh.” Emma didn’t seem concerned. Perhaps she didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. That was all right. Beth wanted to ride the wave of Emma’s cluelessness for as long as it lasted.
When they walked in the little shop, the chemical smell of a permanent made Beth’s nostrils burn. Since it was a weeknight, the place was empty of customers except for an elderly woman whose gray hair was wrapped in tight rollers. A young hairstylist, with streaks of purple in her blonde hair, greeted them at the counter. A moment later, Emma perched on a booster seat in the woman’s workstation. Emma smiled at their reflections in the big mirror. “Pretty. Can I get my hair purple, too?”
“No.” Beth sometimes struggled with that word, but not in this case. She faced the hair stylist. “Do your best to make it look normal please.”
The girl nodded. “Gum in the hair. Used to happen to me all the time when I was a kid.” She winked at Emma and the toddler smiled back.
Beth adored how Emma’s innocent blue eyes and big grin won over people in an instant. The child was adorable. And attractiveness could open a lot of doors. Beth hoped to teach the little girl the importance of education so that she impressed the people who were drawn initially by her looks. What a powerful combination. Beauty and brains.
The stylist wrapped a vinyl cape around Emma’s neck and sprayed her hair with a squirt bottle. She started combing the loose sections of hair, leaving the wad alone. No need for tears, Beth assumed.
As Beth found a seat, her mind took her back to a fifth grade slumber party. She’d invited some girls over to her house for a sleepover, figuring they’d talk about boys and braid each other’s hair and become best friends. She’d been so excited when Layla, the most popular girl in her class, had accepted her offer. But the day before her party every single one of the girls backed out. Some claimed they weren’t feeling well and others admitted that they’d been invited to Layla’s house for a party. And no one could turn down Layla. She had a cute brother they all had a crush on and her parents didn’t mind if they made prank calls or TP’ed the neighbors. That’s what it was like to be the fat PK—preacher’s kid. Your house was always a last resort.
The stylist waved, trying to get her attention. Beth stood and walked over to the workstation.
“I could do a bob.” The purple-haired woman indicated that she could trim just below Emma’s chin.
“That’s fine. Whatever you think.”
“It’s a shame to cut these cute curls, but I don’t see any other way. Unless you want an asymmetrical cut.”
Beth shook her head. The kid was three years old! “A bob sounds good.”
When the stylist was finished ten minutes later, she dusted the loose hairs off Emma’s shoulders and removed th
e cape. Emma studied herself in the mirror. “I look like a boy!” She started to wail.
The stylist’s eyes grew wide as if she’d never seen a child cry before. “I could put some temporary purple color in her hair.”
Beth didn’t like that idea, but Emma did. Her tears seemed to dry instantly. “Pleeeeease, Aunt Beth?”
Beth shook her head and helped Emma out of the big chair. She paid as quickly as possible while Emma sobbed and stomped her feet. Thank goodness the place was so empty.
On the way out the door, Beth told Emma she looked like Kit, her American Girl doll. Emma didn’t care. In the car Beth sang, “You are my Sunshine” to her, but the little girl didn’t chime in. Finally, out of desperation, Beth took her for some ice cream.
Beth knew this would ruin Emma’s appetite for a healthy dinner, but she didn’t have the energy to cook now anyway. On the ride home after the treat, Emma’s tears dried.
Everything was looking up until Beth spotted the familiar rusty Pontiac in her driveway.
She unlocked the door to the house, bracing herself for Emma’s mother. Missy, a fiery redhead, opened her arms wide and Emma ran into them. The woman’s clothes smelled like cigarette smoke.
A second later, Missy drew back and surveyed Emma. “What happened to your beautiful hair?”
“Aunt Beth made me cut it. I hate it.”
Beth stepped forward, feeling the need to defend herself. “She got gum stuck in it. I had no choice.”
Missy lowered her eyebrows at Beth. A cubic zirconia twinkled near her left nostril. “Her curls were her best feature. I can’t believe you cut her hair without checking with me first. I’m her mother, not you.”
A slap might as well have hit Beth’s cheek. She hated for Missy to disrespect her like this in front of Emma. It was hard enough trying to handle the strong-willed child. Beth had the ant farm to prove it. “If you’d have seen it, you’d understand that it had to be cut.”
A Weekend Getaway Page 8
