Sheila grimaces. “Well, at least you were honorable.”
Then I cap it off with the rest of the story. “And while we were married, she had four abortions.”
Her brow shoots down into a deep “V.” “What?” I just nod. “First she tricked you by telling you she was pregnant so you’d marry her, and then she had four abortions? What the hell? Why on earth did she do that? I mean, did you want her to? Had you told her you never wanted kids?”
“No! I never said that to her, and I never knew about them. I don’t know why she did it. I guess she just didn’t want them. And when she showed up with Morris, that was like plunging in a knife and drawing it out, only to plunge it in again. She’d aborted four fetuses that I assumed were mine, and yet when she decides to not abort one, she runs away and doesn’t come back for all these years. And the kid she comes back with and tries to stick me with isn’t even mine. I have no idea what was going on in her head.”
“Oh my god, Steffen, now I see why you were so upset with her.”
“Yeah.” My fingers rub tight little circles on my temples because my head feels so tight that I think my brain’s going to explode just from talking about it all. “When I said I forgot about her, I think what I was trying to say was that it was all too painful for me to remember. I tried to block it out because it hurt so much. She dumped all of that delightful info on me and then disappeared the next week. And I had no idea when she left that she was pregnant. None.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry.” She takes my hand and holds it tight, and I want to just hug her to me and never let go. “Why do you think she came back?”
“She said because she found out that I was happy and she wanted to ruin it for me. I still don’t understand that, why she’d even care after all that time. Or why she’d hate me that much, for that matter. I was always good to her.”
“How long is she in for?”
I shake my head. “I think eighteen months. I’m not sure. It’s not a long time, but it’ll buy Clint time to sue for custody and win.” Our eyes meet and I say something I don’t want to say, but I have to. “I think I need to go to the detention facility and talk to her.” Sheila’s eyes question. “I have to at least go and try to make things right with her as far as my behavior was concerned. We were married for all those years and I never once told her that I loved her. That had to be a real personality-bending mindfuck for her, and I do regret that. I just feel the need to own up to my portion of the disaster.”
“I can appreciate that.” She looks around for the server, and I’m guessing she wants our check. “I need to go home. My head is splitting from that damn drug and I’m worn out. Why don’t you take me home and then go to the facility?”
I nod. “Like bad medicine – just swallow it down and get it over with. Yeah, I already took the day off from work and today’s as good a time as any.” Right now, clearing up anything left over before we start a life together is my number one goal.
Chapter Eleven
“It’ll just take a few minutes and the guard will bring her in. You can go ahead and have a seat.”
“Thanks.” I sit down in a chair by the window. It’s a comfortable room, more like a den than a visitation room in a detention facility, cheerful even. There are pictures taped to the walls that I assume are drawings or pages torn from coloring books and sent in by inmates’ children. It’s a nice touch to an already nice room.
The door opens and as soon as she sees me, Adele glares at me from the corner of her eye. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Keeping my face passive and my voice calm, I give her a tiny smile. “I just came to talk to you, that’s all. I have some things I need to say to you.”
She sits down across from me warily, and I understand her hesitation. With no idea what I want, she probably thinks I want to blast her again. “What could you possibly want to say to me except to give me a hard time? Don’t you think I’ve got enough of that around here?” She just continues to stare at me, then drops her gaze to her hands in her lap.
“Adele.” She just sits there, eyes down. “Adele, please look at me.” Her eyes finally rotate upward, and I say, “I’m sorry.”
The glare she gives me is wild-eyed and she snorts out, “For what?”
“For all the years we were married and I never told you I loved you. And I did, you know.”
Now her eyes are sad, and it pains me to know I’m the reason. “No, I didn’t know. You never told me.”
“I know.” I move to sit beside her on the sofa, and she doesn’t make a move to get up and move away. “That was wrong of me. In my defense, I’d never told anyone that I loved them. When I was growing up, my dad made me believe that real men didn’t say that, so I just bit it back, even though I wanted to tell you, I really did.”
“You did?” I see her tremble slightly, and I know she’s wondering what I’m going to say next.
“Yes, I did. I did love you, and I wanted to tell you, I really did. But I just couldn’t.”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “So what changed?”
I close my eyes; it hurts to even think about it. “Losing Sheila. I had to really think about what had happened and my role in all of it. And then when you said that at my house that morning, about why you did what you did, I had to admit to myself that you were right. You needed to hear those three words, and I’d withheld them the whole time we were together. But please, can you tell me, why did you do what you did?”
“You mean with the abortions?” My heart breaks when I see that tear roll down her cheek.
“Yeah, why? I just don’t understand.”
“Because you didn’t love me. And I couldn’t have a child with someone who didn’t love me.”
Now I’m really confused. “But then why did you run away and have Morris when you found out you were pregnant again?”
“Because.” She takes a deep breath and lets out a long, harsh sigh. “Because I wanted a child so badly, and I decided that I’d be better off to raise it by myself than to raise it in a home with someone who didn’t love me, us.”
The ache of grief in my chest doubles. “But I still don’t understand. If that was the case, why did you come back?”
I’ve never seen a face as sad as hers when she answers me, her eyes lonely and haunted. “I’d been raising him alone all that time. I was tired and lonely and broke. I lost my job and I’d run out of money. I sold my house and I’d been spending what I had from it just to have a place to stay. I’m not sure what I thought would happen when I showed up here, but when I found out that you were seeing someone and you were happy, I was furious. I wanted it to be me, but I was so stuck that I just couldn’t even hope for any happiness. I wanted someone else to be as miserable as I was.” She looks back down at her lap. “I know what you think of me. I know you think I’m trash, that I’m a slut, but I don’t care. I like sex. And I like a lot of variety. But I never meant to hurt you, Steffen, honestly, I didn’t. But when you just wouldn’t, well, you know . . . oh, I’m so confused.” For reasons I can’t understand, the sound of her despair really gets to me. It may be the culmination of all of the things that have been and are going on with me, but I’m truly sad for her.
It’s quiet for a few minutes before I say, “Adele, I really am sorry. And I hope you get all of this worked out for your own good. I’m sorry you’ve been separated from Morris too, but you had to know what you were doing and weren’t doing for and with him was wrong.”
“I swear, Steffen, I didn’t know he was Clint’s.” I have a really hard time believing that. Then she adds, “He looks a lot like my father, so I thought he just favored after that part of the family.” Her dad’s face flashes in my mind and she’s right – Morris does look a good deal like her dad. I can definitely see how she’d think that.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s Clint’s child, and now he’s with Clint and Trish and he’s fine.”
“Is his wife a nice lady?”
“Sh
e’s an angel. His girls love her. She’s really good to them.” The muscles in her face relax just a little. “Morris is in very good hands.”
“Good.” Her voice gets very small. “I always liked Clint. He was a good guy. I took advantage of the fact that he was hurting and alone, and I’m not proud of that.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that and to know you’re willing to take some responsibility for the things you’ve done. Truthfully, Adele, I don’t wish anything bad on you. I hope you can get your life together. And I can tell you that I believe Clint will ask to have something worked out so you can come and see Morris. He doesn’t want to keep you from your son. He just wants to make sure his son is taken care of properly. They enrolled him in school and he loves it. He’s a little behind, but his sisters are helping him get caught up. He’s a good kid. You did a great job of raising him alone.”
She looks up at me and a tear trails down each cheek. “Wow. Thanks, Steffen. I appreciate that.” After a pause, she says, “And thank you for coming here today to talk to me. I feel like we’ve made a little progress toward something other than being sworn enemies.”
“Me too, Adele. Me too. Now I want you to concentrate on getting some help so you can get back on your feet. I don’t want to see you down like this. I’ll always be civil to you, but frankly, I really want you to just stay away from us. You’ve caused us enough grief. Sheila almost got herself hurt badly because of all of that, and it can’t happen again. Now, I’ve gotta go – she’s waiting for me at home – but if I can help you in some way, please let me know. No matter what you think, I’m not your enemy, but I can’t ever be your best friend.”
When I stand to go, I’m shocked when she stands too and hugs me, and I give her a firm squeeze back. “Thanks again. I appreciate you coming to see me.” I nod and before I can say anything else, she adds, “Oh, and I signed the divorce papers.”
Ah – I feel a huge burden float off of my shoulders. “Thanks, Adele. I appreciate that. Stay out of trouble and I wish you the best.” She waves at me until I’m out of sight, and I sigh and shake my head. I’ll never understand that woman if I live to be one hundred and nineteen. Of course, if I could understand her, everyone would have reason to worry about me.
All the way home I think about the things we talked about, and I understand exactly why she did what she did; I don’t agree with it, but I understand it. It’s hard to know what to do when you feel like your options are so limited, and she didn’t think I was an option as a father. That makes me wonder – am I an option as a father? I mean, what if Sheila accidentally got pregnant and we had a child. Would I be a decent father? Could I do a good job of raising a kid?
I drop my car keys in the bowl beside the front door and go looking for Sheila. She’s not in the bed, and I can’t find her, but I know she’s here somewhere because her bag is by the front door. I find her in the back yard, sitting on the old metal glider I rescued from my grandmother’s estate, and I sit down with her. “Well, that’s done.”
“How is she?”
“You won’t believe it. She’s very contrite. Explained to me why she did what she did and, honestly, I can understand it. I can’t say I was all to blame, but I most definitely wasn’t faultless. We both played our own roles in the breakdown. I told her she’s done a great job of raising Morris alone, and that I’m pretty sure Clint’s going to ask that she have some kind of visitation with him when she gets out. I almost feel sorry for her – almost.” I pat her knee. “But now it’s over. I move forward. And I want that to be with you.” Her eyes are red and tear-filled. “What, baby? What’s wrong?”
“Steffen? Will you just hold me?”
God, I’ve missed this. “Come here, baby girl.” She climbs into my lap, turned sideways, and I pull her into my body and clutch her tight. The fragrance of that beautiful hair fills the air around me, and I’m overwhelmed with her touch, her sigh, her very presence. I had no idea that I could love a woman this way, but she fills every empty place in my heart and soul. We sit there in the fresh air and sunshine for awhile, just enjoying being together. I think my upside-down, topsy-turvy world has righted itself, and I couldn’t be happier.
Well, yeah, actually, I could. But that can wait. We’ve got some work to do first. After about ten minutes, I loosen my grip around her and push her back enough to be able to see her face. “You need to call in for a couple of days, and so do I. There are some things we need to work out up front.” There’s a look of dread on her face until I say, “No, no, no! It’s good, really! I just think we need to talk about some stuff, you know, each of us come to an understanding about where the other one wants the relationship to go and what they expect, goals, wishes, fears, all of that. We need to talk about that at length. And we don’t need to be disturbed. I’ve got plenty of sick leave.”
“Me too.”
“Then call in tomorrow morning. At least two days.”
“I’ll make it three. That’ll give us the weekend too.” She gives me a soft smile that just turns everything inside me to mush.
“Three it is.”
After the calls the next morning, we go to the café down the street for pancakes. When we get back, we sit down to talk about things I never thought I’d discuss with a woman. No, neither of us are interested in a total power exchange, and neither wants a full-time D/s relationship either, but we want to bring in the elements we like. She wants to be collared; I don’t want to restrain the free spirit inside that beautiful body, so we agree on a pretty chain with a lock and a couple of charms that mean something to us. Then the conversation goes into territory I’ve never even considered.
Kids. Do we want kids? How many? How soon? The things she says surprise me. I was pretty sure I knew what she’d say, but I was completely wrong, and I discover she’s far more in line with my thinking than I ever dreamed. Our ideas on parenting, education, activities, all of that, they’re all so similar it’s kind of frightening – and exciting. We talk about long-term birth control. We talk about mealtimes, combining our households, sharing a space, and what that will be like. Do we need to move? What will she do with her house – sell it or become a landlord? A yard? A dog?
In between, we eat takeout or cook. We take naps and, for three days, unless we go out, and we have to a couple of times briefly, we’re in pajamas. For the first time ever, she lets me shower with her, and I decide right then it’ll be the last time too. What a shower hog, and she must have fifteen elbows, all of which wind up in my midsection. The sex is fun, but not enough fun for the trouble we’d go to, so if it happens spontaneously, great, but otherwise, we won’t plan it. After all, we don’t have to be soaking wet to get off.
And we decide planning sex is important. Regularly scheduled date nights to have time to sit and talk, enjoy ourselves, with or without kids, are really important to us. We’ll have one night a week when all we do is cuddle, no sex. I laugh and say that doesn’t rule out mid-afternoon fucking sprints, and she laughs and hits me in the face with a throw pillow, so I’m not sure that’s worked out, but whatever. Small beans compared to everything else we iron out in those three days.
Day four is Saturday, so we take the day to go out and walk along the shoreline at one of the state parks. We eat at the lodge, then drive to a secluded little area and make out in the car. I feel like a high school kid, and I love it. We role play that I’m the cool guy who bagged the cheerleader, and it’s awesome. But I never realized how long my legs really are until the car. And they are. Really, really long.
Sunday we spend in bed, and I don’t just mean screwing. We giggle and cuddle. We watch TV and eat popcorn. We talk about things we did when we were kids, insecurities we had, awards we won in grade school, first crushes that broke our hearts.
And with every passing minute, I’m more in love with this woman. She loves me, she really does. I’m overwhelmed with what I feel for her and how she responds to me. We’re a couple.
I’ve found the love of my life. I
saved her from the clutches of an evil Dom. And she saved me from myself.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as I lean down and give my mother a peck on the cheek.
“Oh, just tired, honey.” She draws the fuzzy throw I gave her for Christmas one year a little tighter around her thin legs. “I’m just tired.”
The chair adjacent to her sofa is my favorite spot, and I sit down and lean forward toward her, elbows on thighs. “So is there anything I can do to help?”
She chuckles. “You? The hand-tool-impaired son?” After a pause, she says, “Well, yeah, I could stand having a couple of the light bulbs in my bathroom replaced.”
I have to laugh. “I think even your handyman-wannabe son can handle that.” It seems unbelievable that in a few months, I won’t have a mom. “Anything else I can do?”
“Can’t think of a thing except to sit down and talk to me for awhile.” I change the light bulbs she mentioned, and then I sit on the sofa next to her chair, and she reaches for my hand. “How are you doing, son?”
“I’m good, Mom, real good.”
She waits, and I know what she’s wondering about. After ten minutes of me sitting quietly and not being at all forthcoming, she finally asks, “So, what about Sheila?”
“What about her?” I’m trying hard to keep a straight face.
“Is she still around?”
“Yeah, Mom, she’s still around. We had a little hiccup in the road, but we’re back on track now.”
“Good. She’s a sweet girl. All couples have little hiccups. They move forward, go on with their relationships, work to make things better. Look at me and your father. We had plenty of hard years, but we had good years too.”
“Speaking of which,” I say, then stop for a few seconds before continuing. “Mom, did Dad ever tell you that he loved you?”
Unforgettable You (Me, You, and Us Book 2) Page 19
