by Brinda Berry
Instead of finishing her sentence, she inhales deeply and gives me a stiff smile, the corners of her mouth pulling up with obvious effort.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be a father.” I reach across and take her cool fingers in both my hands.
“I know. I’ve had a few more days than you to process it.”
“You can’t be up here alone. Plus we have a lot to talk about. I need the name and the address of our doctor. You can move in with me. We’ll—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up.” She tugs her hands from mine and gets to her feet. “Did you think that I’d suddenly want to move in with you and play house especially after you just gave me all the reasons why we can’t be together. Come on Dane. You made your feelings on a family very clear to me.”
“That’s not really fair.”
“Fair? This is not about fair.” Her voice drops to a whisper and I know her throat is tight. Like Pavlov’s dog, mine tightens in response to her emotions. What have I done?
“Don’t shut me out.”
She straightens her spine and tips her chin up. “I have someone else to think about now besides myself, and you’ve just told me your true feelings when nothing else was in the way to influence them.”
“Butterfly, I said all that before. You deserve better than me. But now you have me whether that’s best or not.”
Josie rolls her eyes at me. “If you want to be in this baby’s life, I’m not going to deny you. But I won’t have you hanging around because of some feeling of responsibility. I can take care of this child.”
“I can help. I am invested in this baby’s life. Please don’t make decisions without me.”
She wraps her arms around her chest and shivers. “I’m freezing in here.”
I sense she’s changed the subject on purpose, but I get to my feet and hurry to the wood that we brought inside.
Josie walks to the sofa and sits, pulling a blanket over herself. She silently watches me make a fire in the stove from a safe distance. I glance over at her several times. “You know, you’re going to make me crazy.”
“Yeah, and how’s that?”
“You said you were thinking about someone else now. The baby. But you’re doing things that are dangerous. You can’t just rush out to the middle of nowhere without telling people what’s going on. Especially me.”
“I’m capable of taking a trip alone.” She tucks the blanket under her chin as if she would like nothing more than to burrow underneath it.
I close the front access door of the wood stove. “No one would ever call you helpless. But I’m here now so talk to me.”
“You wouldn’t understand all the things I’m worried about at this moment.”
“Try me.” What’s happening to us? I get that she’s freaking out. But Josie tells me everything.
She purses her lips and blows out a long breath. “I keep wishing Mom were alive to support me, to advise me, to be happy about this.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and she dabs the corners of her eyes with her knuckles. One sniffle and a too-wide smile crosses her lips. “Quit looking at me like that. I’m fine.”
But she’s not. She’s holding everything inside. I’m the person she needs to confide in. The instinct to comfort her—in spite of her declaration of strength—gets the best of me.
I stroll over and sit on the sofa. Pulling the edge of the blanket up and scooting closer to her. “Your folks were great. They would be really happy. Well, after your dad shot me, they’d be really happy.”
“Who are you kidding?” she asks. “They were crazy about you.” She drops her head back on the sofa. “You’re the first person to know. Actually, Harper suspects. She’s the one who bought me a pharmacy pregnancy test.”
I tug her feet onto my lap, wrap my fingers around her small ankles and caress the soft skin above her socks. My chest aches and panic threatens, but I know I have to be honest. It’s time. “I have something to tell you. Something about me and you’re going to say it doesn’t matter, but it does.”
“You’re scared of babies.” She traces the pattern on the blanket and chuckles low. Her fingertip moves round and round on the circles of a quilt pattern. “Oh wait. That’s me.”
“No. That’s not it.” I grab her hand to still its dizzying motion. Her anxiety only feeds my own. Josie has known I’m adopted. All my friends know. This shouldn’t be hard to say. Just get it over with. “I found my real mother and let’s just say some things are better left unknown.”
Josie sits up, pulling her feet away. “I thought she was dead.”
“Me too, until a year ago.” I wish Josie would leave her feet in my lap because I miss the warmth of her touch.
“So, how’d you find out?” Her soft voice eases my worry that she’ll not understand why it’s a big deal.
“My parents got stranded out of town when it iced over one time. Dad asked me to get some paperwork out of the safe at their house. I wasn’t snooping, but there was this contract that fell out when I was looking for what Dad wanted.”
“And you read it.”
“It had my name on it. I couldn’t stop myself.” I pause, something big and horrible pressing in on my chest like it did that day.
“What kind of contract?”
“Ellen Philips—my birth mother—lives in Nashville. She signed legal documents agreeing to never see me again. Never contact me.”
“Oh, Dane. I’m so sorry.”
“Well, my parents were right to do it. I didn’t think it at the time, but I was hurt and confused. So, I looked her up and I’ve regretted it since.”
Tiny lines mar her forehead. “Why?”
“Let’s just say she’s not what I imagined. I don’t know how to explain it. She’s…well…she’s different from other people. I had this dumb idea that we’d meet and I’d see myself in her. That we’d have this immediate bond and I’d have that missing thing. That’s what it was like when I thought she was dead. A mysterious something that I’d wonder about on holidays or a birthday.”
She’s silent and trying to read her mind is like breaking World War II codes. My palms perspire, but I forge on in hopes that she’ll say something. Anything. “And I didn’t want someone in my life to have to deal with Ellen because she’s…”
I wet my lips as if it will aid the words in sliding past them.
“She’s what?” Josie tilts her head.
I picture the last time I saw Ellen. She’d called and said it was an emergency. When I arrived, she stood on her sidewalk in front of her apartment, hands on her hips and narrowed eyes. “Stop stealing my mail,” she’d said. “Don’t ever take my things again. I can put a hit out on you. I know people in the mafia.”
She turned in one movement and left me standing with my mouth open.
I hate that my mind jumps to all the bad times with Ellen and not the good. It shouldn’t be that way.
“Josie,” I say as evenly as I can. “Ellen is mentally unstable. Sick. It’s not something that can be cured with a pill or a shot. She’s fine most of the time, but she relapses. And now that I know she’s my birth mother, I can’t turn my back on her. It’s funny because I don’t even really know her after a year.”
I pause, expecting Josie to comment. But she doesn’t say a word and stares at me wordlessly.
I link my fingers behind my head in frustration, looking at the floor for a moment and then back up to her. “What if I’m like that someday? What if I pass the gene on to my kids? This is why I declared myself a bachelor for life. This is what almost caused me to lose my best friend and child.”
She looks away to the window. “I’ll always be your best friend.”
I gently take her chin and tilt her face toward me. “Just say you’ll give me a chance to take back what I said to you earlier. Please.”
“I appreciate your honesty. Really. I get it that this whole thing with your birth mother has you confused and angry. I wish you’d confided in me sooner. All this tells me that
maybe we haven’t been as close this year as I thought. When you told me why we couldn’t be together, I think you said things that you actually feel, deep down in your bones. The last thing I want is for a baby to be the whole reason you want me.” She tucks her lips into her mouth and her eyebrows knit together.
Reaching one arm around her, I shake my head. Her shoulders tense underneath me. “No, you’re wrong. You’re so wrong,” I say.
Then she does the unexpected by dropping her head onto my chest. “We’ll figure all this out. But I can’t make the decision today. I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear that. Today, I’m trying to find a calm place to rest. I’ve been a wreck.”
“You’re right. We have plenty of time to talk. Rest now. Close your eyes. I’ve got you, Butterfly.”
“I know.” With that, her breathing slows and she snuggles in closer. “I’m sorry, Dane. I know you never wanted this.”
“Hush. I messed up earlier, with what I said.” I kiss the top of her head, reveling in the feel of her silky hair. I’m going to be a father to Butterfly’s baby. Unexpected. Hell yes. Unwanted? Never.
I simply have to prove how I really feel about her.
And prove my adoptive parents raised a son capable of real love and devotion.
It isn’t long before her steady breathing tells me she’s sound asleep. She curls her body into mine, a posture full of trust and affection that I wish we could stay like this for days.
We’ll return to the real world soon enough, and I’ll repair the damage I’ve done with my words.
Chapter Seven
Secrets
Josie
Kindergartners shouldn’t corner the market on naps. Stretching my arms forward like a waking cat, I sigh happily and breathe in a heady scent of fresh laundry with an undertone of cedar. My left cheek scrapes against the rough fabric of my pillow. A hard, bumpy pillow…as if I’ve fallen asleep on a flashlight.
“I didn’t think you would ever wake up,” a deep voice states from above my head.
I scramble into a seated position. I’m lucky I didn’t start a cabin fire from the friction of my retreat. I give a teeny grunt of displeasure as I glance across at Dane. “How long have I been out?" I ask.
“You must’ve been really tired. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours. Do you feel better?”
“Um…yeah. Thanks.”
He gives me a smile, then tugs at the material over his thighs. “I should’ve moved you off my lap. You have a crease across your cheek from lying on my…”
Lovely. I drooled on his junk during my nap.
“Sorry about ...” I murmur. “Uh, yeah. You have this wet spot where my spit…” I motion toward his jeans.
The corner of his mouth twitches and he suppresses a smile. “Drool anytime. I like it.”
I shake my head and turn to stare at the far wall. “Well, moving past this totally awkward moment…”
Dane rubs his hands together and looks toward the window. Getting to his feet, he strides to the cabin door. “I’m going to grab some things from the truck.”
“I can just say bye now and you can be on your way.” I shove the sofa blanket to the side. “What time is it anyway?”
“I’m not leaving until you leave. You stay snug as a bug, and I’ll be back in a few.” He opens the door without waiting for my response and closes it softly behind him.
I stand and face the closed door. A mirror above the sofa reflects my pale face. I look sick in my pajamas and makeup-free face. He can’t stay because I came here to relax. Except…I did relax this morning. The mark across my cheek caused by Dane’s rigid lap pillow proves it.
I’ll just have to make him leave whether he wants to or not. I spot my cell phone on the table across the room and retrieve it. Once I check the display, I’m frustrated to discover that I still don’t have a signal.
Leo would’ve tried to contact me by now. Sometimes, it’s maddening to have such an overprotective twin. But we’re as connected as any two siblings can be, an extrasensory mojo we have between us. He’ll be feeling crazy due to my stress, as I do anytime he has life problems.
Telling him I’m pregnant will be a load of fun. He’s the planner. The worrier. The responsible one. All the things I need to become.
Instead of worrying any longer about something I can’t control, I walk into the kitchen area and look through the cupboards for something to eat. Yesterday, my stop for supplies was a good move. Maybe I’m more responsible than I give myself credit.
I busy myself making tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Something easy and quick. Something I know Dane enjoys. Not that it matters. He is an uninvited guest.
The door opens and Dane enters with a leather satchel. He toes off his boots and walks to the sofa, depositing what I assume is his work bag. “I have plenty to do while you get some rest.”
I shake my head at him. There’s no way he’s sleeping here tonight. “I’m making some lunch, and then you can be on your way.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you. Lunch smells good.” He comes to stand beside me and opens a cabinet door curiously. “Did you go grocery shopping before you came?”
“Yeah. I’m smart like that.”
“How long did you plan to stay? Are we moving up here?” He picks up a package of chocolate chip cookie mix. “These are my favorite.”
“They’re mine, too. Put those back.”
Dane turns and rests his hip on the counter. Folding his arms over his chest, he nods slowly to himself. What does that mean? “So I feel like you’re not in the mood to talk about the baby.”
I flip the grilled cheese sandwich in the skillet to brown the other side. “You got that right.”
“Can we talk about you moving in with me?”
“Nope. I have a house and have no reason to shack up with you.” I turn the gas heat down on the burner just for something to do.
“I can help with our baby. If we live together, I can arrange my schedule so I work fewer hours. When I get in later than you, I’ll be there when he cries in the middle of the night and needs…” he trails off and his brows draw together, “…a bottle or something? Financially, it only makes sense for you to sell your house and let me cover all the living expenses. Then you can stay home and hire a manager for the bookstore until you’re ready to go back to work. That’s even if you even want to return…”
His words drone into background noise for me. He’s so practical. No words of love or adoration from this guy. How did I ever think he was the perfect guy for me?
I hold up my hand violently. “I don’t need your financial help. I’m going to work. I can support me and the baby. Maybe we shouldn’t talk at all.”
His nostrils flare. I’m getting to him. Good. He can take his woodsy man smell and sexist attitude back to Nashville. He reaches across and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I swat him away a second too late.
Dane stares down at the floor and shakes his head. A soft chuckle escapes his lips. He obviously doesn’t know that I’m about to throttle him.
“No laughing. This is my serious face.” I widen my eyes and flatten my lips into a stern line. “My serious, I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass face.”
“I know. It’s like old times up at the cabin when we were teenagers. We drove your parents crazy with our fighting. If I said it’s black, you’d say white.”
“That’s because you were always wrong.”
“If I suggested you, Leo and I needed to swim, you’d say you wanted to play Scrabble.”
“Because you picked swimming every single day.”
He tilts his head to the side and looks at me as if I’m being obtuse. “Because you were in a bikini.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh yeah, right.”
Dane hands me the squeeze bottle of margarine. I apply some on one side of the grilled cheese and flip it over in the skillet. “I’m serious. I wanted you, even back then.”
I flip the grilled cheese sandwich so ha
rd it flies to tilt against the side of the skillet. Dane reaches over to tip it up with one finger. My heart slams against my ribs and my lungs struggle to pull in enough oxygen.
Then I remember our circumstances. He’s had a million chances to tell me this in the past. More than a million. I exhale and lick my dry lips. “I don't mean to call you a liar. But, Dane, you’re a big fat liar. Our circumstances make you say things you normally wouldn’t.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
A nervous snort escapes me, the unflattering sound followed by a hollow laugh. “You didn’t tell me about Ellen.” I shakily remove the grilled cheese sandwiches from the skillet before they turn into a black smoking mess.
We’re both silent because it’s true. I thought I knew all Dane’s secrets. Obviously not.
Dane turns off the gas burner. “We’re getting honest today, like we’ve never been in the past. I’ve never given myself permission to think of more between us. First, it seemed wrong because you are my best friend. Second, you’re Leo’s sister. Third…Ellen. But the baby changes all this.”
He can justify all the reasons why he wants to be with me now, but it doesn’t change a simple fact. Friendship doesn’t equal romantic love—the kind I need.
“Can we drop the conversation and eat?”
Dane shakes his head ruefully and picks up both plates with grilled cheese sandwiches. “You don’t get it. Suddenly, I’m free to tell you everything I want to. Go ahead and ask me anything.”
“Tell me some more about your birth mother.”
His brow furrows in a cautious line. “What do you want to know?”
“So she’s not well. What exactly does that mean?”
Dane’s expression grows somber, his lips tightly pressed together. He parts them several times, on the verge of saying something, then stops. Finally, he shakes his head. “She might seem normal one day and crazy next week. She takes medication and has regular checkups."
“Medication for what?”
“She’s schizophrenic, Butterfly.”
