It scared me.
It had taken my mom a long time to drag herself out of the pit of depression after Henry’s death, and she still wasn’t on solid ground. I didn’t know if she could ever fully come back from something like that, but she’d at least been making headway at functioning again. After watching her this morning, I was really afraid she’d slide back down once we left Sacramento.
We were leaving for home in less than twenty-four hours, and I had no idea when we’d be able to see Etta again. She was one of ours, yes, but her life was here, with her mom. This little girl didn’t belong to Kate or Anita, who would both go out of their way to make sure she had a relationship with my mom. Etta belonged to Morgan, a woman my parents barely knew. She had no sense of loyalty or dedication to us; she had her own family.
“Me wike bananas,” Etta said as she came sauntering back into the room, her blond hair floating back and forth as she walked. She had a banana in her hand and a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Henrietta,” Morgan called sternly, making her daughter pause. “Come back in here.”
Etta glanced behind her, and I could see with absolute clarity the moment when she decided to completely ignore her mother’s order. My mom shifted on the couch, but before she could stand up, I was out of my seat and lifting Etta into my arms. I hadn’t been sure what my mom’s plan was, but could only imagine her playing the doting grandma by ignoring Morgan’s wishes.
“You’re supposed to be at the table,” Stan said to Etta, tilting his head like he was disappointed.
“No table,” Etta replied, her body stiffening.
“Come on,” I said softly, ignoring her attempt to get down as I walked her into the kitchen. “Your mama wants you to eat that in here.”
“No table,” Etta screeched, kicking me in the side.
“Henrietta,” Morgan said warningly, her voice stern. “Knock it off.”
The mom voice didn’t seem to faze my niece in the slightest. She continued to struggle as I handed her to Morgan.
Just as I made the handoff, Etta threw her half-eaten banana on the floor and completely lost it in a temper tantrum that was so loud I was pretty sure my ears popped.
“I’m so sorry,” Morgan said, her voice barely audible beyond Etta’s screams. “Jesus.”
“What happened?” my mom asked, coming around the corner out of breath like she’d been running.
“She’s okay,” Morgan said, embarrassment making her cheeks a deep red.
She moved around us and hurried down the hall while Etta shoved and pushed at her shoulders.
“What happened?” my mom asked again, clearly freaked out.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s throwing a fit.”
“That wasn’t a fit. Children don’t scream like that unless they’re hurt. Something is clearly wrong.”
Even though I thought she was overreacting, I tried to keep my voice even when I replied. “She didn’t want to sit and eat,” I said, picking up Etta’s banana off the floor.
“That wasn’t a normal fit,” my mom argued. “Kids don’t just—”
“Yes,” I interrupted. “They do. I’ve seen Keller do the same damn thing.”
“Keller also lost his mother,” my mom snapped, not willing to let the conversation go.
“I watched him do it before Rachel died,” I snapped, tossing the banana in the garbage. “You’re looking for something that isn’t there.”
“Oh, because you know so well what goes on in this house?” Mom hissed, making me freeze in surprise.
“What exactly are you insinuating?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
My mom scoffed and left the room without another word while I grabbed a paper towel to wipe the banana residue off the floor. I was still crouched low when I realized that Morgan had walked back into the room and was silently watching me.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
“No problem.” I was irritated but trying not to let it show in my voice or body language.
“What’s she looking for?” she asked, her voice still just as quiet.
“What?”
“Your mom. What’s she looking for?”
I looked up to find that Morgan had wrapped her arms around her waist and was shifting her weight almost imperceptibly from one foot to the other.
“She’s just overprotective,” I replied vaguely, getting to my feet again. “Too many years taking care of troubled kids.”
“She thinks Etta is troubled?” she asked, her spine stiffening.
“No.” I shook my head as I tossed the paper towel in the trash. “I just mean she’s oversensitive.”
“What, does she think I hurt her?” Morgan asked, her voice getting higher. “That something’s wrong with her?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head again in denial. I had no idea what was going on in my mom’s mind, but I knew with absolute certainty that if she spooked Morgan now, we’d probably never be welcome to see Etta again. “No. Morgan.”
“Do you think that? You’ve barely even looked at me today.”
“You know that doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on today,” I replied, lowering my voice.
“I don’t know anything,” she said, her eyes wide. “Was this all your plan? Did you come here to check me out? Try to find me doing something wrong?”
“What are you—”
“Like having sex while my kid’s asleep in the next room,” she said drily, shaking her head slowly from side to side.
I wanted to snap at her that she was being ridiculous, because she was, but as I took a closer look at her face, my stomach dropped. She was genuinely terrified. I didn’t know what had triggered the fear, but it was clear as day.
“I think you’re an awesome mom,” I said quietly, taking a small step forward.
“Your mother doesn’t,” she replied, glancing toward the living room. “Kids throw fits, okay? Especially kids who are dramatic on a good day.”
She was shaking.
“I know that.”
“It doesn’t mean that I’m a shitty parent.”
“Morgan,” I said, trying to find the words to calm her down. “No one thinks you’re a bad parent.”
“Think they’re leaving,” Stan said, ambling into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure how much he’d heard, but it was enough to make him stand closer than usual to his daughter.
“It sounds like Etta’s done,” Morgan said, swallowing hard. “I’ll go get her so she can say good-bye.”
She spun and left the room, and I watched her disappear down the hall until Stan’s voice got my attention.
“Not sure what you people are doing here,” he said, shaking his head. He lifted his hand to stop me when I opened my mouth to reply. “But she don’t give no second chances, so you may want to watch yourself.”
“My parents just wanted to meet their granddaughter,” I said when he’d finished.
“Well, they’ve done that,” he said with a hum.
He walked away and I went to where my parents were standing in the entryway, waiting for me. They didn’t look like they were in a hurry to leave, but the decision to go had clearly already been made.
“All better,” Morgan said with forced brightness as she carried Etta toward us. “Sometimes we have a hard time when we have to do things we don’t want to do, right, Etta?”
“Don’t we all,” my dad said jokingly. “Thanks again for having us.”
“My pleasure,” Morgan said, trying and failing to hide how uncomfortable she was.
My mom moved forward and kissed Etta on the top of her head, then smiled thinly at Morgan.
“Mike and I were wondering if you and Etta would like to come and visit us soon,” she said. “Just think about it, and we can talk later.”
Mom smiled again and then followed Dad out of the house, leaving Morgan and me standing there dumbfounded. How my mom had thought it was appropriate to ask Morgan to visit after the last few min
utes was completely beyond me, and I could tell that Morgan was confused, too.
“I’ll talk to her,” I said quietly, meeting Morgan’s eyes.
“Thanks for coming to visit the munchkin,” she said kindly, dismissing me. “She had an awesome time.”
I nodded and tickled Etta’s side gently, then left the house. That was that.
* * *
We left Sacramento the next morning. I spent the entire drive home trying to tune out my mom and dad while they talked about Morgan and Etta, the trip, and the proposed visit. I had no idea why they thought Morgan would agree to come to Oregon after they’d made things so uncomfortable for her the day before, but I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t about to start an argument when we’d be stuck in the car for hours. They barely shut up, but thankfully we were home by dinnertime.
I’d made the decision to take a step back from my relationship with Morgan, but as each month passed, it got harder to keep my distance. I’d spent the early years of my life trying everything I could to make people like me and welcome me into their lives, and I refused to do that as an adult. Frankly, I had too much respect for myself ever to go down that road again.
Life slowly went back to how it had been before my first trip to Anaheim. I went to work, hung out with my cousins, and debated getting a dog. It was as if nothing had changed, even though, for me, everything had.
I didn’t expect to hear from Morgan again.
Chapter 12
Morgan
Charity will ring you up,” I said, grinning at the eighteen-year-old girls who’d come in to get matching nose rings and were currently beaming with happiness at their new hardware. “Jesse?” I called into the little waiting room. “You’re up, man!”
My fears of leaving all of my regular customers and their referrals behind had been for nothing. The new shop I’d found, with a little help from Olly, was busy all on its own. Their reputation was so solid the customers coming in didn’t even care which piercer they ended up with. They knew they were in good hands, and I was making a steady income on commission. We hadn’t had any slow days since I’d started.
Thank God, life was finally getting back into a somewhat normal routine again. Etta was staying with my aunt Lorraine while I worked and she wouldn’t even let me pay her, so I was building up a pretty sweet little nest egg. Everything was working out far better than I’d envisioned.
There was only one snag in my happy ending, and it was shaped like a muscly logger with a beard that I could still feel in my palms if I was daydreaming hard enough. I ignored the voice in my head begging me to call and apologize for the shitty way I’d treated him.
I’d handled that situation badly and I was too much of a coward to do anything about it. I just kept remembering the look on his face when I’d said it was a mistake. Jesus. I may as well have kicked him in the balls.
It didn’t help that his mom had been so weird the next day. If anything, her behavior had only confirmed my opinion at the time. It was only later, after I’d cooled down and stopped freaking out and I’d received the first of many friendly texts from Ellie, that I’d realized how badly I’d messed up.
I knew I was too worried about what people would think. I hadn’t always been that way. For a long time, I’d done whatever the hell I’d wanted and damned other people’s opinions. However, as soon as I’d had Etta, all of that had changed.
Old fears had risen to the surface with the birth of my daughter. I knew how lives could be turned upside down due to prejudices. I’d seen it during the long year when my dad had fought to get us back.
There wasn’t any part of me that thought Trevor would sit idly by if his mom decided to cause problems for me. However, I couldn’t be sure. He was a self-admitted mama’s boy.
So instead of calling or even texting, I completely cut contact.
To my surprise, I really missed him. I missed the texts throughout the day and the random phone calls at night. I missed being able to send photos of Etta doing something funny to someone other than my sister. I also missed the sex. Even though it had happened only once, and I’d gone a long time without before, it was as if my body was constantly primed for it now.
After finishing up Jesse’s bridge piercing with a barbell that sat right between his eyes, I sent him off to pay and cleaned my station from top to bottom. He was my last client and I was looking forward to picking Etta up and grabbing some dinner. I loved what I did, but my back ached like crazy from leaning over people all day.
I said good-bye and left the shop with a little bounce in my step. Sure, I was still debating what to do about Trevor, and I’d been fielding texts and calls from his mom all week, but life was still looking up. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about Etta’s visiting her grandparents, but so far Ellie seemed to be giving me a little space to figure it out. Most of the contact we’d had revolved around how Etta and I were doing. She didn’t pressure me to choose a time when we could see them again, but the question was always there, right beneath the surface conversation. No matter how kind Ellie was to me now, I couldn’t get past the way she’d looked at me and the comments she’d made to Trevor when they’d come to visit. I wasn’t sure when I’d be ready to spend any real time with her again. Thankfully, I didn’t have to make any decisions about that tonight.
As I debated between the sushi place near our house and delivery pizza, my phone rang in my purse.
I almost ignored it. If Etta had been with me, I would have.
Thank God I didn’t.
When I answered, my sister’s voice came through the line and my stomach twisted.
“Morgan,” she rasped, hiccupping like she couldn’t catch her breath. “I think I did something stupid.”
“Are you okay?” I asked in alarm. “Ranna? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice wobbling.
I gritted my teeth as I quickly opened my door and climbed inside.
“Are you hurt? Where are you?” Throwing my car into reverse, I held my phone with my shoulder and backed out of my parking space.
“I’m not hurt,” she said, sniffling. “I don’t think I’m hurt.”
“What do you mean, you don’t think you’re hurt?” I snapped frantically as I raced toward my aunt and uncle’s house.
“Can you come to Bend?” she asked, not clarifying. “I’m sorry. I know you just started that new job and—”
“Of course,” I said, not thinking it through. “I’m on my way.”
She started to cry and my eyes filled with tears. I’d never been able to stay calm when my sister was upset. Ever since we were little kids, I’d felt her pain almost as acutely as my own.
I had no idea what was going on and no idea why she needed me, but it didn’t matter. She’d never asked me to come to her before. Sure, there had been times when her homesickness had made it almost impossible for her to stay in Oregon at college, and two years before, she’d broken up with her boyfriend and had called every night because she was so lonesome, but she’d never asked me to come to Oregon. Not once.
“I’m on my way home from work,” I said soothingly as she cried. “I just have to get Etta and pack and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Don’t tell Dad,” she said frantically, her words garbled and nasally.
“Ranna, I have to tell him we’re leaving,” I argued as I pulled onto my aunt’s street. “We live with him.”
“Don’t tell him why. Please, Mor.”
The sick feeling in my belly turned into something else as I pulled to a stop and stared out the windshield. Whatever had happened to Ranna must have been ugly if she didn’t want our dad to know. We told him almost everything. When Miranda had called to tell me that she was having a bad high from some weed she’d scored off a friend, I’d called my dad to pick her up. When I’d found out I was pregnant from a guy I knew I didn’t have a future with, I’d called my dad as soon as I’d hung up with Miranda. We kept personal things to ourselves, but we
didn’t keep secrets in our family. Not without reason. And the only reason I could think of that Miranda would refuse to tell our dad that she was upset was if she thought he’d do something that would land him back in prison.
“Okay,” I said finally. “I won’t tell him why.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
I glanced at the house and saw Etta waving excitedly in the front window.
“I’m at Danny and Lorraine’s,” I told Miranda. “I’m going to go in and get Etta. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m on the road.”
“Okay.”
As I climbed out of the car, I realized that she’d never answered one of my questions.
“Where are you?” I asked, jerking to a stop.
“In my dorm.”
“You’re safe?”
“Yeah.”
I ground my teeth at her short answers.
“Lock your door and stay there,” I ordered.
“I’m okay, Mor,” she said, her breath hitching as the crying stopped.
“No you’re not,” I argued, my nose stinging. “But I’ll be there soon, okay?”
Once we were off the phone, I hurried to get Etta. It was a nightmare trying to leave my aunt in any kind of rush. Usually I stayed for coffee and visited for a few minutes, but I could barely carry a conversation with the questions and fears running through my head.
The two hours it took between Miranda’s phone call and the minute we started north in my car were some of the longest of my life. I’d succeeded in convincing my dad that I had a few days off for a surprise visit to see my sister, and barely talked him out of riding along, but after that I’d still had to pack, feed Etta dinner, and grab some energy drinks at the corner store before we could get on the road.
By the time we started north on Interstate 5, the sun was starting to set and Etta was getting drowsy in the backseat. I was thankful that she was such an easy kid to travel with, because we’d be driving all night in order to reach my sister as quickly as possible.
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