Plan Cee (Secrets, Lies, and Second Chances Book 2)

by Hilary Grossman

  He looked into my eyes and smiled slightly.

  “Keep reading, please.”

  “Okay,” he looked back down and continued. “What does shock me is the fact you are actually reading my words. When I decided to write you, I didn’t know if you’d ever be willing to hear me out. Of course, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t want to have anything to do with me. After all, I know I don’t deserve anything from you. I was never there for you; I was never your father. As I prepare to go to my grave, I’m dying with the guilt I missed out on being part of your life, and my grandchildren’s lives, all because of my ego and stupidity.”

  He paused for a moment. I’d bet he looked over at me, but I had my eyes closed as I tried to picture my father’s face. Bryce resumed reading. “I can’t even imagine what must have gone through your sweet little head when I left. You were so young and so innocent. I never intended to walk out on you, when I left your mother, but every time I tried to see you, the pain was too much for me. I was juvenile and childish. I put my own selfish feelings before the needs of my baby girl. When I finally worked up the nerve to spend time with you, when Delanie was a toddler, I made a mess of that meeting too. I’m sure you hate me, and I know I deserve it. If it makes you feel any better, I hate myself too.”

  “I hate him for what he did to you,” Bryce said softly.

  “Thanks,” I gave him a small, closed mouth smile. “Just keep reading, okay?”

  “Sure,” he returned his attention to the pages on his lap. “It seems strange now, but I did have reasons for my actions, reasons that made sense to me at the time. Now, looking back, I know I was a foolish idiot. If I could change the past, I would change it in a second. But I can’t. I can only hope and pray by telling you the reasons for my actions you’ll get some closure. I want you never did anything to make me stop loving you. I always loved you, I just never could show it.”

  He took a deep breath before continuing, “I hate to dredge up the past, especially since Judith is gone and can’t defend herself, but I have to. I thought your mom and I had a perfect life together. Unfortunately, I was completely wrong. She clearly wasn’t happy with me, because she sought out comfort with another man, your stepfather, David.”

  He let out a little gasp and I nodded my head. “I never knew. I always assumed they met after the split. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to remember exactly when I first met David, but I can’t. I know it was soon after my dad left. I just don’t know how soon. It never dawned on me they were involved before the breakup.”

  “Why would you?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and he resumed reading, “I have no idea how long Judith and David’s affair went on before I found out, but I guess they were seeing each other for quite some time. When I learned, I went ballistic! I couldn’t believe she cheated on me. The fight you woke up to, on the morning I left, was when I confronted her about David. She didn’t deny the relationship. Instead, she actually defended it! She rationalized her reasons for wanting to be with him instead of me. So I gave her what she wanted. I packed my bags and tossed them in my car. I was so upset about the finger paint. Not because my suit was ruined, but in order to change clothes I’d have to rummage through my suitcases to find something else to wear.”

  “Come here,” he said as he held out his arm. I leaned in and he kissed the top of my head. He knew how the finger paint episode had haunted me, I had told him the story so many times.

  “When I left the house that day, I fully intended to see you again. You have to believe me. I didn’t handle the situation well. My self-esteem was destroyed. I turned to the bottle. I didn’t want you to see me the way I was. It was bad, Cecelia. It was very, very bad. I started showing up to work in a drunken stupor. It didn’t take long for them to fire me. With no income, I lost the little apartment I rented. I had to move in with my brother, Michael, and his wife. Eventually, they helped get me cleaned up and back on my feet. Then I met Sarah, Delanie’s mom, and we married. And while I loved her, I didn’t feel the same way about her as I did about your mother. Despite everything, Judith was the love of my life.”

  “I bet you can relate to my dad.”

  Bryce took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “I never thought I’d say this, but I sort of can.”

  “Yeah, wonderful. Keep reading.”

  “I always kept a picture of you in my wallet. It was taken at your fourth birthday party, right before you were going to blow out the candles on your Raggedy Ann cake. It’s funny, you and I have the same face, but you had Judith’s red hair. Every time I looked at your picture, or thought of you, I saw her. And my heart shattered again. The pain was intense. What a fool I was! I threw out a relationship with my daughter because she reminded me of my cheating wife.”

  “I don’t believe this shit!”

  I started to shake, “Bryce, no matter how much you hate me, promise me one thing. Swear you’ll never stop loving our boys because they look like me.”

  “Me not loving our sons is one thing you never have to worry about,” He gently stroked my hair, “Should I go on?”

  “Yes,” my voice was barely a whisper.

  “Sarah, God bless her soul, begged me to see you again. She convinced me I was making a terrible mistake by not being part of your life. So at her urging, I called you. Years had passed by then, and you were no longer a child. You turned into a gorgeous young woman, and your resemblance to your mother was remarkable. I couldn’t cope. So, like always, I made a mess of the afternoon. I doted on Delanie and ignored you. You looked so sad and hurt, because of me. I confessed to Sarah how badly I behaved. She was so disappointed in me. I was disappointed in me. Sarah kept trying to get me to see you again, but I couldn’t. I rationalized you were better off without me in your life. You had your mother, David, and your half sister. I told myself if you spent time with me, I would just keep hurting you. I lied to myself. The truth was I didn’t want to keep hurting myself. I was a selfish, stupid, fool.”

  “You got that right,” he muttered.

  “Please.” I sniffed, “Just finish the letter.”

  “Okay,” he glanced at the sheet of paper. I was thankful he was almost at the end. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, or even understand. I just hope and pray you can now see my departure had nothing to do with you. It was all me. I wish you and Delanie had the chance to become true sisters, friends. I wish you had the opportunity to have met Sarah. She would have doted on you, and I think you would have loved her too. Like I said, at the beginning of this letter, if I could live my life over I would do everything differently. I would’ve been the father you deserved, a father you’d always be able to count on, in good times and bad. I would’ve been a father you knew always loved and cherished you, because Cecelia, I did. I do. Love, Jack – The man who wishes he were your daddy.”

  “Wow,” Bryce said as he folded the letter back up, put it in the envelope and placed it on the coffee table. Turning to me, “How does this make you feel?”

  “Sad,” I sighed deeply. “I’ve read it so many times in the past few days, and every time I do, I cry. I also feel like nothing in my childhood was as I thought it was. I always felt sorry for my mom because he abandoned us. It was her fault he left. She pushed him away, just like I pushed you away. I followed exactly in her footsteps, without knowing it.” I blew my nose. “Like my dad, I was a foolish asshole. I can’t say I understand his actions because I don’t. And I probably never will understand. As a mom, I can’t fathom not wanting to have anything to do with my child, especially for such a superficial reason. Clearly, the man had issues…a lot of them. I really don’t think he was rational. And I do believe in his own messed up way he thought he loved me. I think finally, I am able to see I didn’t do anything wrong as a little girl. Nothing was my fault. I just wish I could have realized this sooner though.”

  “Yeah, me too. But I guess late is better than never.”

  “Speaking of late,” I reached for his hand, and h
e let me take it. “Is it too late for us? Do you… Can you ever forgive me?”

  He didn’t answer right away. I just stared at him and prayed.

  “Bryce?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t help it, every time I look at you, I can’t stop imagining you naked, in his arms. The thought of what you two have done kills me, Cee. It feels like someone took a knife and stabbed me in the heart. The pain is real. But it’s not all black and white. I guess nothing in life ever is.” He exhaled slowly, “When I look at you I also still see the girl I fell in love with, the woman I always expected to spend the rest of my life with. So can I forgive you? I don’t know. I think over time I may be able to move past this and put your infidelity behind us. I think I may even be able to forgive you. I don’t know if I will ever be able to trust you again. And a relationship, especially a marriage, is worthless without trust.”

  “So there may be some hope? Can you come home?”

  “No, it’s too soon. I think we both need time apart, time to regroup and time to really think things through.”

  “We can think together. Besides, you can’t live above your office forever.”

  “I’m not planning to,” he took a sip of his drink.

  “Oh. Wow. You sure didn’t waste time finding a place. Please tell me you’re renting something short term.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh. Did you buy something?” My heart was beating so fast in my chest.

  “No,” he looked around the room and smirked. “I’m actually going to stay here.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “When Anna and Cole go up to Boston, I’m going to move in. They want to keep the house until they’re comfortable making Massachusetts their home. So rather than have it sit empty or rent it out to a stranger, they offered it to me.”

  “Oh, I had no idea. Anna didn’t say anything to me.”

  “I asked her not to. I figured it was something I was better off telling you myself.”

  “So you did plan on speaking to me, eventually.”

  “Yeah, eventually,” he smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t let me wait forever.”

  “So what happens now?”

  He shrugged his shoulders as he stood up. He leaned over and reached for my hand. I rose to my feet. “We go into the dining room and get something to eat. Did I ever tell you about my fourth-grade teacher?”

  THE END

  GO ON GIRL - A SNEAK PEEK

  (Content subject to change in editing)

  If I could travel back in time, I would strangle whoever had the idiotic idea to invent text messages. Back in the day, when people had to rely on the telephone, they were forced to hold back their inner crazy, even if just a bit. But now, with the ease of a few keystrokes, everyone was able to share their thoughts and opinions at rapid speed, without any thought as to how it’d make them look. Not to mention how it would make other people feel.

  “They are all freaking crazy!” Disgusted, I tossed my new iPhone across the kitchen table with a bit too much force. It landed right on the edge—it dangled precariously and narrowly escaped a sudden death.

  My husband, Craig, rescued the device and turned it face down in front of him. It beeped in rapid succession alerting me to at least three new incoming text messages. He took a sip of coffee.

  “At this rate, I am going to have to change my alert tone, again,” I muttered. A few months back, after my phone exploded from a similar incessant group text, I had to switch the sound because every time I heard the chime, it stressed me out. Last week, I was in the supermarket, and the women in front of me at the deli counter had my old tone. When she received a text, it gave me palpitations. It was like some technologically provoked posttraumatic stress disorder.

  “What is it this time?” My husband asked as he coated his pumpernickel bagel with cream cheese.

  “A major calamity, apparently,” I rolled my eyes. “I never realized organizing a carpool could be so cut throat. But that’s what I’m dealing with.”

  He raised his eyebrow, curiously.

  “I don’t understand what is wrong with people,” I stood up and walked to the kitchen counter to refill my coffee cup. I paused and gazed out the window. “We’re supposed to be adults, but everyone is acting like petulant children.” I pointed at Amanda, our six-year-old daughter who was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the den, surrounded by fifteen Barbie dolls, most of which were naked. “She has more maturity in her little pinky than most of the mothers of her classmates.”

  “She does take after me, you know,” Craig beamed.

  It took everything in me not to throw my spoon at him. I’m normally not so angry on a Sunday morning in the summer, but today my blood was boiling. My next-door neighbor warned me about this inevitable drama, but I didn’t believe her. I was positive she was exaggerating. I should have trusted her though; after all, while they were now in high school, she did raise three kids in this crazy town.

  “Come on, Sydney,” Craig mumbled as he chewed his bagel. “Are you going to tell me what is eating at you?” My husband asked with a mouth full of bagel.

  Before I could say a word, my phone exploded once more, “Ugh! Can they stop for five seconds?”

  Craig picked up my phone and waved it towards my face, “Want to check it? If I give it to you, you’ve got to promise me I won’t be fishing it out of the toilet in fifteen minutes?”

  I shook my head, “I can’t make any promises. You better hold on to it.”

  “Very well,” he answered as he powered it down and put it in his back pocket. “So spill it.”

  I took a deep breath, “So school starts in just two weeks. Right before kindergarten ended a bunch of us organized a carpool schedule, which was no easy feat mind you. After all, apparently it is almost impossible to juggle around long-standing manicure appointments, personal trainers, and yoga classes.” I pointed at my chest, “I work, and I was the most flexible! Eventually, we sorted everything out, even though it took three weeks, and probably countless Xanax. But now everything is up in smoke because two of the moms, Donna and Jackie, got into a huge fight last week at a Pilates class.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, well that sort of makes two of us. After they had this knock-down screaming match, Jackie went home and called the other mom’s in the carpool and invited them over for lunch.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Um, nope. Unlike them, I work for a living,” A small smile crept on my face as I thought about our babysitter. “I’m actually surprised Jackie didn’t call Sally and have her join the rant session. That way at least someone from the Clayton household could have represented.”

  “Sally would have enjoyed it,” we both knew she was quite the gossip. We never worried about missing out on anything that happened in the neighborhood with Sally around. She had the inside scoop on everyone.

  “I know. So, anyway Jackie filled them all in on the fight. She told them she wanted nothing more to do with Donna unless she apologized. She rallied all the other mom’s with macaroons from La Petite Boulangerie and champagne, and they took her side.”

  “What did Donna do anyway?”

  I waved my hand in the air, “Believe me; you don’t even want to know.” I rolled my eyes, “It is all so petty and stupid.”

  “I know I will regret this, but tell me what happened.”

  “Oh, you’ll regret it all right,” I smirked as I went over to the counter and carried a box of chocolate chip cookies to the table. “Have a cookie; you’ll need it,” I put one on my napkin, but didn’t take a bite. “So Donna and Jackie both have girls in fifth grade, and they are part of a tight-knit clique. Right as the school year ended, Jackie’s older daughter got into a fight with one of the other girls. Instead of letting the battle blow over, this girl’s mother decided she’d make sure the girls weren’t in the same class come September.”

  “Okay, how?” Craig mumbled with a mouthful of cookie.

 
“She apparently called the school psychologist and told him the girls were having issues and requested they be separated.”

  “That’s not so terrible.”

  “No, it’s not. But she didn’t stop there. She called all the other mothers and offered to take their children on a Caribbean cruise in order to convince them to contact the school’s psychologist and tell him their girls couldn’t get along with Jackie’s child. The women made the calls just as quickly as they packed their kids bags. This mother’s manipulative tactics guaranteed her daughter was placed with all her friends while Jackie’s daughter was left out, alone. Jackie and Donna have been joined at the hip for years since their daughters met in nursery school, so Jackie felt beyond betrayed when she learned Donna jumped on the badmouthing bandwagon. Now, the latest is Jackie refuses to participate in the carpool if Donna’s daughter is in it. And of course, her posse is supporting her.”

  “Which one is Donna’s daughter again?” Craig knew all the guys, but he struggled to keep the kids and their mother’s straight, probably because most of the local ladies all looked alike. Almost everyone resembled a living Barbie Doll. They were perfectly toned, meticulously made up, and they had chemically created long light locks. Only one other mom had dark brown hair, like me.

  “Julia. You know, Amanda’s best friend.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Yep, Donna is a sweet woman. Not too bright, but sweet. And while I really don’t care that she’s,” I made air quotes, “out of the carpool, I feel sorry for Julia. She didn’t do anything wrong, and now she’s going to have to pay the price for her older sister’s fight and her stupid mother’s actions. If the moms aren’t accepting her into their cars will they invite her over for play dates, sleepovers?” I got up and started to pace around the kitchen, “She’s Amanda’s best friend, and they are in the same first-grade class. I know Amanda is going to want to pal around with her. Do we have to worry these other kids are going to shun her because of their nursery school mentality mothers? What is wrong with people?”