A Weekend Getaway

by Karen Lenfestey

  Shaking away those thoughts, she made her way to the kitchen. When she searched the pantry, she found Bisquick, but no chips. She scratched her head, and then decided to use M & M’s from Emma’s stash. “Why don’t you turn off the TV and help me mix the pancakes?” Even though they didn’t have to rush like usual, she hated for Emma to overload on TV. Amy, the daycare director, had told her she could see differences in kids’ abilities to focus and entertain themselves depending on the amount of screen time exposure.

  “I wanna watch Dora!” Emma said.

  Beth pulled open the fridge. “I’ll let you crack the egg.” Bribery remained the main tool in her parenting toolbox and she hated that. If she were going to stay and help raise Emma, she’d have to start making the tough stands. She placed the carton of eggs and the gallon of milk on the counter. She walked over and turned off the set.

  Emma let out a scream.

  Beth flinched. “That’s enough Dora for now. Come help me make breakfast. It’ll be fun.”

  Emma went over and turned the TV back on.

  This was her moment. She would not let Emma be a spoiled brat. After she turned off the TV, Beth pointed to the corner. “Go to the time out chair.”

  “No!” Emma stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and crossed her arms.

  At least she didn’t defy Beth by hitting the power button again. Beth swallowed and stood her ground. “You do not talk to grown-ups like that. Now you’ll have to sit for another minute.”

  Captain Kirk sang the “Bad boys” chorus from the TV show “Cops.”

  “Shut up!” Beth shouted at the parrot.

  Emma burst into tears. “You yelled. You never yell.”

  Remorse wrenched Beth’s chest. She’d lost her temper and Sarah Homemaker’s website warned against that. Discipline should be doled out in an even voice.

  Someone stomped down the stairs. “What’s going on?” It was Missy. Her red hair looked wild and her face pale. A cigarette balanced between two of her fingers.

  Emma ran to her mother and clung to her legs. “Aunt Beth was mean to me.”

  Beth felt her cheeks warm. “I wasn’t mean. She was disrespectful. I told her to take a time out.”

  Missy cradled Emma’s head with one hand, the cigarette in the other. “You are not to discipline my daughter. You are not to say or do anything to Emma without checking with me first.” A small baby bump protruded beneath her robe.

  Missy was still smoking even though she was pregnant! Beth bit back her words, knowing it was best not to argue in front of Emma. Looking up at the ceiling, Beth turned toward the kitchen.

  “Do not roll your eyes at me!” Missy said. “I know about your big secret. You always act like you’re better than me. Well, you’re not. And if my brother is dumb enough to take you back, that doesn’t mean I will make nice-nice. This is my house now, too. I think it’s best you keep to yourself and Emma and I will keep to ourselves.”

  The muscles in Beth’s neck and back clenched. She faced Missy’s scowling face and regretted the stressed tilt to Emma’s blonde eyebrows. Like she had to choose between her teddy bear and her American Girl doll.

  Beth forced a slow breath. “You live here now?”

  “Yep.” A triumphant smile spread across Missy’s lips. “Drew invited us.” She touched her round belly and took a drag on her cigarette.

  Beth’s mind raced. This was a good thing for Emma, having Drew provide stability and yet having her mother there, too. But this arrangement definitely would not work for Beth. Once again, she was the redundant mother. The one making the room too-crowded. Chewing on her lower lip, she concentrated on measuring the ingredients for breakfast. “I bet Emma loves having you around.”

  “I’ve always been here for my daughter. Unlike you.”

  Beth bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood. Her chest heaved as she wrestled to hold back her anger. Dropping the measuring cup, she spilled powder on the countertop. “You know what? You can make Emma breakfast. I need to go.” She stole another glance at poor, caught-in-the-middle Emma as she marched toward the stairs.

  After the quickest shower ever, Beth assembled her “I’ve been fired” outfit of jeans and a sweater. Not too polished, but not too sad, either. She paused at Drew’s dresser, staring at the jeweler’s box that held the diamond tie tack. When she picked it up, she saw that dust had formed a square around it. She tucked it in her purse.

  She scurried down the stairs and stopped when she saw Emma sitting cross-legged in front of Dora the Explorer. The pancake breakfast had not been completed and Missy was nowhere in sight—only the dirty smell of her cigarette remained.

  Beth pressed her palm to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. This was it. She could no longer live here. She would no longer drive Emma to and from daycare. She would no longer buy her little sailor dresses with matching navy tights. She would no longer make every decision based upon what was best for a three-year-old child.

  A lump stuck in her throat. This house held Drew’s family, but she could finally admit it would never hold hers.

  Licking her tender lips, she forced herself forward. She squatted down and hugged Emma whose gaze remained on the screen. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that. I love you like you were my own.” Oh, how she adored the sweet, strawberry smell her hair.

  Emma cocked her head and scrunched up her forehead. “What’s wrong, Aunt Beth?”

  Suddenly, Beth’s eyes burned. She squeezed her lids tight to fight the impending tears. But she quickly opened them so she could take in this cherub’s face. “Nothing. Tell me. Who’s my little sunshine?”

  Emma grinned. “I am!”

  “That’s right.” She started singing “You are my Sunshine” and Emma joined in. Once the song ended, Beth forced herself to accept this. After all, she’d had her shot at motherhood and she’d given it away. She’d tried to fill in for Missy, but Emma needed her real mother. She deserved to grow up with her. Hopefully Missy would appreciate what a great opportunity she had. What a great kid she had. Beth had to believe that.

  One more hug. A kiss on Emma’s cheek, too. “Love you. Bye.”

  Emma waved and turned back to the screen, content to follow Dora on another adventure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  At dusk, Parker searched for his house key while he heard Ivy playing arpeggios and warming up her voice inside. Her fingers kept making mistakes, hitting the wrong notes on the piano. Her voice sounded a little flat. He’d hoped she wouldn’t be here. She slammed her palms against the keys making a terrible cacophony.

  He walked in to see her head hanging low. She jerked it up as he approached. Mascara had smeared around her brown eyes. Her red lipstick had faded. She blinked several times, as if willing her face to appear normal.

  He would not fall for her tears this time. “Ivy.”

  Her hands fiddled with her short curls as she walked toward him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  Wanting to keep his distance, he put his hand up. “I’m not staying. I don’t know why it took me so long to admit it, but you and I are majorly screwed up.”

  “But this is what we do. We fight, then we kiss and make-up.”

  He crossed his arms. “Not this time.” Suddenly he realized she never forgot to freshen her lipstick. If these were staged tears, her makeup would be flawless. Something must truly be wrong.

  But he had to stay strong. She’d cheated on him. She’d tried to ruin things with Hannah. If he stayed, she would destroy every last shred of self-respect he had. He took a breath. “I don’t know how much time I have left, but I refuse to spend it in an unhappy marriage. Go. Be with your boyfriend.”

  Her mouth gaped. “I don’t love him. I love you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “What will I do without you?”

  “That’s your problem. I’ll let you keep this house, but you’re going to have to start paying your own bills.”

  She fake coughed. “What? We’ve
been married for years. What’s yours is mine.”

  “Not necessarily. Most of the bank accounts are in my name alone. All of our assets are because I inherited from my family and because of the business I started.”

  “Don’t talk like this. I made a mistake. I know that. But we can work this out.” She glanced up at his eyes and must’ve noticed a steely resolve. As if realizing she needed to try harder, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Please. You can’t leave me. Not now.”

  He didn’t return her embrace. “Why not?”

  “Because. . . I’m pregnant.”

  He backed away. “What? Is it mine? No, it can’t be.” He hadn’t made love to her in forever. Except for that time at the reunion. Could it be? A strong pulse throbbed in his neck.

  She reached for a tissue on a nearby glass table and dabbed at her eyes. “You always said you wanted children. Here’s your chance.”

  Cracking his knuckles, he strode across the white carpet to the wall of windows. He stared at Lake Michigan. Waves lapped at the sand.

  He had Hannah, but he’d missed out on seeing her grow up. Part of being a father meant teaching your child about the world. The truth was he didn’t feel like a dad. A baby would provide that opportunity. But something about this scene struck him as deja-vu—a surprise pregnancy which forces him to re-commit to Ivy. “Tell me something, Ivy. All of those years ago, when you were pregnant. . . . Did you really have a miscarriage or did you have an abortion?”

  “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  He fisted his hands and looked at her. “Because I have to know. I’m dying. I deserve the truth. Was our whole marriage based upon a lie?”

  She stepped beside him and gazed out at the pink sky instead of making eye contact. “Because of you, I’ve lived a charmed life. Every morning I awake to this beautiful view. I’ve traveled the world. I’ve eaten caviar. You saved me from a life like my mother had. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably hate music.”

  He grabbed her shoulders so the two of them stood face-to-face. They were uncomfortably close. “Tell me.” He hated that his voice wavered in its sternness.

  She licked her lips nervously. “I already told you. I had a miscarriage. That’s the truth.” Her palm raised in oath. “I swear to God.”

  “But you were happy about it.”

  A gasp escaped her lips.

  He was right about that anyway. That’s why she’d never been willing to discuss adoption.

  Her manicured hands covered her face. “Okay. I’ll admit it. I was relieved. I was young. I thought my career was on the verge of taking off. The last thing I wanted was to be pregnant.”

  “But you didn’t get rid of the baby?”

  “No. Honestly. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything. You never answered me.” His gaze dropped to her flat stomach. “Is it mine?”

  She blinked rapidly, perhaps fighting off more tears. “Parker, I’m scared. Please stay. We can raise it as yours. We can be a family.”

  He started pacing, stroking his five o’clock shadow. Part of him had hoped that Ivy was growing his baby. But because of the Huntington’s, it was a blessing that she wasn’t.

  A minute later he paused. He looked at her. “Here’s the deal. I was going to screw you out of every last penny. But that’s not right. We did spend our entire adult lives together. And I like to think at least some of those years were good.”

  “Most of them.” She smiled a tight-lipped smile. “We should try couples counseling.”

  “It’s too late for that.”

  Her willowy frame dropped onto the off-white couch. Maybe she should’ve tried an acting career instead of singing.

  He continued with the speech he hadn’t prepared. “I took a vow to love, honor and cherish you. Just because things didn’t turn out the way I’d expected. . . it isn’t all your fault. Maybe I worked harder at my business than I did at us.” He shook his head. “Who’s to say? But I owe you. . .and your unborn child something.”

  He cracked his knuckles and became entranced with the water again. The ebb and flow was hypnotic. “I’ll divide the assets up fairly.” His shoulders heaved with a sigh. “That’s all I’m willing to do.”

  # # #

  With her head held low, Beth slunk in to her cubicle and quietly started filling up a box she’d brought. Around the corner she heard the buzz of the call center. Voices saying, “Thank you for calling Healthy Habits Vitamins and Herbs,” “How may I help you?” “Did I resolve your problem satisfactorily?”

  Those friendly, patient voices had all been trained by her. Sure, she’d longed for a promotion, but she took pride in how well she’d run things so far.

  She picked up the studio picture of Emma tearing open a pretend Christmas gift and studied it. It was the last picture before Emma had been forced to cut off her lovely curls. Why hadn’t Beth thought to save a lock from the salon floor?

  Sighing with regret, she straightened the papers on her desk and stared at her black computer screen. Should she log on just to make sure there weren’t any important e-mails? If so, she’d need to pass them on to Luke. But who cared if there was something critical waiting to be handled? This place had tossed her aside. Thirteen years of devotion meant nothing.

  She opened her bottom drawer to check for any personal items. Chap stick, Healthy Habits Diet snack bars and a pack of sugar-free mints. All crutches for an emotional eater. A case of bottled water she’d purchased filled most of the break room fridge, too. Talking to customers all day dried out one’s mouth, so she’d always kept extra water for herself and anyone else who needed it. She decided to leave it for the staff.

  Her gaze returned to the blank screen. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave the company in a lurch. With another sigh, she plopped down in her chair and logged on. Several hundred e-mails greeted her. Automatically, she started responding and forwarding on customer complaints. Always with a smile and empathetic heart.

  “What are you doing?” her boss—her former boss—asked from behind.

  Her breathing stopped momentarily. Why did her cheeks feel flushed? She faced him. “I was uh, just cleaning out my desk and realized no one knew my password. I figured I’d take care of whatever I could before I left.”

  “I’d like to talk to you in my office.” His timbre sounded serious. She hesitated a moment before following him to his private space down the hall.

  As he closed the door behind her, she envied him that option. She’d been in a cubicle for her entire tenure with the company. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she watched him sit behind his big desk. He gestured for her to also select a chair.

  Sitting on the edge of one, she picked at her cuticles. “I wasn’t doing anything vicious to the computer. I was just checking e-mail.”

  He shook his head. “Things were crazy while you were gone. The phones were ringing off the hook, orders were messed up, it was terrible.”

  “I hate that I couldn’t be here, but I. . . .I just couldn’t.”

  He leaned forward and gently raked the Zen sandbox on his desk. “In all of the years you’ve worked here, you’ve never taken a personal day until recently. Rarely a sick day. I checked.”

  She nodded. “It was an unusual situation.” The last thing she wanted to do was share her dirty laundry with him. Especially since he’d fired her when she was at her most vulnerable. So she said nothing.

  “You know what I realized when you were gone?”

  A shrug. Why was he doing this? Was this some sort of exit interview required by human resources?

  “This company needs you. I tried to fill in and run the call center, but I know I didn’t have your finesse. No one else has been trained to supervise customer service.”

  Oh. He wanted her crib notes before she left. “That’s because I’ve done it for so long.”

  “That’s not right. We need to do some cross-training. It will be better for the company and
it will help promote symbiotic, understanding relationships. Running a company is like running a marathon. You have to train before you do it. You might feel like you run the race alone, but you depend on the expertise of others to eat right, stretch, know when to push yourself and know when to ease up.” He made a few more crosshatches in the sand, and then put down the miniature rake. “Bethany, you are one of the experts at Healthy Habits. We can’t afford to lose you without training a replacement.”

  She crossed her arms. So they’d keep her on the payroll until she taught someone else all of her secrets. “No thanks. You fired me. I’ll get my things and go now.” She rose.

  He stood as well. “No, no.” His fingers splayed, signaling for her to calm down. To sit down. “That’s not what I meant.”

  She sat, but her spine remained stiff.

  “I checked out the on-line art portfolio you sent me.”

  Hannah’s photography. Her spirits lifted a bit. “What did you think?”

  “I loved it. I think you’re on to something. Keep the bottles and glam up the label. A cheap solution with big impact.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Hooray for Hannah!

  “I want you to come back. I overreacted when you took off just when we really needed you here. But in all honesty, you had the time coming.” He steepled his fingers. “I want you to train your replacement in customer service so you can start working in the marketing department. Would you like that?”

  She gave in to the full smile. Marketing could be fun. She understood the customer needs like no one else and she was a little burned out on apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. “Would I get my own office?” Boy, she was bold today, especially considering she was unemployed five minutes ago.