If You Must Know

by Beck, Jamie

  “Did he agree?”

  “We haven’t actually spoken.” Amanda barely met my gaze. “I’ve left messages.”

  This kept getting stranger, and the lack of alarm in her voice had my bells clanging.

  “How do you know nothing bad has happened? I mean, even under the circumstances, isn’t he at least keeping tabs on the baby? Maybe you should call Rodri.” Rodrigo, my high school buddy turned cop, might be able to get to Lyle faster than we could.

  “We’re not involving the cops in our family’s private business. The affair, the loan. Good God, Erin. Think for once,” Mom snapped.

  That was rich coming from the woman who’d handed her savings over to Lyle, but I let it pass. If I had to be the punching bag for her stress, so be it. “I can’t believe that bast—sorry—guy took Dad’s blood money.”

  “It isn’t blood money.” Mom bugged her eyes. “If your father were alive, he would’ve helped your sister, too. Lyle’s business success would secure Amanda’s and my granddaughter’s future, so I helped.”

  Despite the certain tone, she fiddled with her sleeve and pursed her lips.

  Maybe I’d crossed a line, but frustration shook me. And contrary to our mom’s opinion, my poor dad would be furious about this situation. He’d never much trusted Lyle, either. Maybe he hadn’t said it in so many words, but he hadn’t disagreed when I’d told him I thought Amanda marrying Lyle was a mistake. In any case, that money had been for Mom’s comfortable retirement, period. “How much?”

  “None of your business.” After a lifetime of my hearing the fierce tone she’d used to control every kid in town, the hollowness in this attempt echoed.

  My hackles rose. “That nonanswer tells me I don’t even want to know what you might lose on this investment.”

  “It’s not an investment. It’s a loan. We have a loan document.” Mom’s stab at looking smug also failed.

  “Oh, I see.” I rubbed an eyelid. “We’re going with the fail-proof ‘wait and hope that everything turns out okay’ plan.”

  “Not exactly. Kevin’s sending a private investigator tomorrow.” Amanda’s cheeks glowed like embers.

  I raised my brows. “I’m surprised he didn’t insist on the cops.”

  “Affairs and loans aren’t crimes, no matter what you two think. It hurts that neither of my siblings support my marriage.” Amanda’s voice cracked as she rubbed her belly.

  Support her marriage? I’d kicked Max out for way less than this. Then again, my silence this winter had helped create this whole mess, so I could hardly be indignant.

  As if no one else were in the room, Amanda yammered while staring into space. “One day I had a life that made sense. The next, it vanished. I’m still in shock . . . like I’m falling into a bottomless pit with nothing to grab on to. Rage collects in my chest and then bursts like big sorrow bombs. I’m humiliated . . .” She paused, then snapped her gaze to me. “But if Lyle wants to come home, I’ll consider it. He didn’t grow up like us, with a good example of family and commitment, so maybe he’s freaking out about becoming a dad, or he doubts my love and this is his way of testing my commitment. I mean, I have been a little obsessed about the baby lately, so he might’ve felt ignored. I don’t know what comes next, but unlike you, my love doesn’t just die. And I can’t believe his has, either.” Her voice broke on that last sentence as she pushed out of her chair, then tore up the stairs as fast as her big belly allowed.

  My mom hung her head, but her shakiness appeared to be about more than Amanda’s little breakdown. “Why can’t you ever be supportive of your sister? This is a terrible time for her. She’s pregnant and scared, yet you have to make everything harder.”

  “Mom, that’s not fair.” I would scream about how she put the worst interpretation on everything I did, but no one needed something more to worry about.

  Mom’s eyes got misty, making me the total heel. “Everything’s always so easy for you. A big game. You have all the answers.”

  Anyone paying attention would raise an eyebrow. A woman in my shoes—very tattered ones at that—hardly had all the answers. But I did know a few things about life and people. “You’ve had a few days to process this. Did you expect me to simply smile and ask for seconds?”

  My mom closed her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “We promised Kevin we’d fill you in. What’s done is done. I don’t have to answer to you or him, but if your father were here, he’d expect you both to support your sister. I know my opinion never mattered much to you, but his did, so I hope you’ll think about that.”

  She marched off to check on Amanda. I scratched my head, literally, unsure how I’d become the bad guy when clearly Lyle deserved that title. If anything, this conversation—this blame when I’d done nothing wrong tonight—confirmed my decision not to breathe a word about what I’d witnessed this past winter. Better I find some way to make Lyle pay for what he’d done than to stick my own neck in the noose.

  And yet knowing that they’d never forgive me for my silence irked me because Amanda was already angling to forgive Lyle. Quite ironic—or hypocritical. If I wanted to cast up her mistakes, I could go all the way back to third grade, when then-sixth-grade mean girl Missy Pendleton teased me for dressing in the orphan look from Anastasia. Instead of sticking up for me, Amanda kept quiet. She never, ever made waves. In that particular case, it could’ve been because she’d agreed with them or because she’d wanted to be part of that cool crowd more than she’d cared about my feelings.

  Not sure. Never asked.

  My appetite had long fled, so I wrapped my food in foil for later, loaded my dish into the dishwasher, and walked out the door.

  Tonight sure had screwed up any zen I’d found at the retreat. Getting away from this side of town and home to Mo and my Etsy stuff couldn’t happen fast enough. The ride flew with my legs pumping hard enough to burn off the energy I might’ve turned on Lyle and Ebba had they been around.

  Mo greeted me with his good cheer despite having no idea how badly I needed those sloppy kisses. Once he settled, I went to the crate where I stored the coconut oil, then hefted a five-pound bag of sugar, some food coloring, and a variety of essential oils onto the table. Before locating the measuring cups and spoons, I went to my room to pick some music—maybe Bowie.

  I flung open the armoire—and then my heart stopped.

  Empty!

  All my albums were gone, along with all Max’s clothes.

  No. No, no, no, no!

  I sprinted back to the kitchen to find my phone and then dialed Max. Not shocking that he didn’t answer. My fist hurt from beating out a steady rhythm on the counter while waiting for the flippin’ beep.

  “Max, if this is some idea of a joke, I’m not laughing. You’d better bring my albums back over here right now or I will call the cops.” I was not my sister, in case that wasn’t already clear.

  I hung up. The pulse point at the base of my neck throbbed like the opening of Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher.”

  I began tearing the apartment apart, looking under tables and the bed, inside other drawers, behind the curtains. Anyplace I could think where he might’ve hidden the records to mess with me.

  It took only about ten minutes—one benefit of a shoebox-size apartment—to confirm that Max hadn’t merely pulled a prank. He still hadn’t returned my call, either. Tears backed up on me, making my throat ache. My albums. My one lasting comfort and connection to my dad and what he loved. I pictured him up in heaven, shaking his head at all of us.

  I flopped onto the couch. Mo jumped up beside me, seeking another belly rub. Mindlessly, I indulged him. It’d be awesome if a belly rub could fix all my problems.

  If Max didn’t call me by morning, I’d ask Rodri to have him arrested. Truthfully, though, if Max scratched any of those records, I might be the one who ended up in jail.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AMANDA

  Little Laticia Nelson pressed so close to me she was practically sitting in my lap. She flipped ba
ck to the first page of Olivia. “Mrs. Foster, read it again.”

  Mrs. Foster. The name I’d proudly taken two years ago might be usurped by Ebba. Bitterness bloomed.

  “How do we ask nicely?” I nudged gently, redirecting my thoughts. All around us, boys and girls played on the checkerboard carpet or colored at the art table beside the reading nook.

  “Please!” She clapped her hands together and quivered as if forced to trap all her energy in her body.

  Someday not long from now, my own daughter might also love to be read to over and over. The anxiety of becoming a single parent tainted that joyful thought. So did sorrow that my daughter might not ever live under the same roof with her father. And shame for not seeing any of it coming.

  I looked at page one and began. “This is Olivia . . .”

  “Okay, kids, let’s clean up,” Darlene Silvestri, my coteacher, called out. “It’s time to go.”

  A quick glance through the classroom door’s window revealed parents waiting to collect their kids. Now and then a dad showed up instead of a mom or other caregiver. With Lyle’s being his own boss, I’d been anticipating picking up our daughter together and having lunch before he returned to work. Would that be another dream lost? “Sorry, sweet pea. We’ll read it again on Wednesday. Please go put this back on the shelf so we know where to find it, okay?”

  “Okay.” Laticia slid off the bench with the book in both hands and marched directly to the shelf, where she neatly slipped it into place.

  I smiled. I’d been like her—a lover of books, a good listener, a neatnik. Those habits had mostly served me well, but Lyle’s recent about-face had me questioning everything. None of my ways had secured his affection or my future. Meanwhile selfish people like him, and reckless ones like Erin, had all the fun.

  “Are you okay?” Darlene asked when she came over to reorganize the puzzles.

  “What?” I blinked before standing and straightening my shirt.

  “You’ve been a little absent today. Are you tired? I remember how hard it gets to sleep as you get bigger.” She laughed. “And once the baby comes, it’s harder for different reasons.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been out of it. A lot on my mind, I guess. I’ll pull my weight on Wednesday.” I couldn’t bear Darlene thinking less of me as a teaching partner. But lying had never come easy, so pretending my life wasn’t falling apart posed a tremendous challenge. The hives on my neck should have been a giveaway, but she hadn’t noticed.

  “No worries at all. I’m only checking in to see if you need anything.” She looked at the door. “We’d better let the parents grab their kids.”

  Before I answered, Darlene had crossed the carpeted area and reached the door. Even if I’d wanted to confide in her, I couldn’t stand it if my colleagues ridiculed me the way Kevin and Erin had.

  As usual, the kids lined up, bouncing on toes or outright jumping up to catch their parents’ attention. I waved at my neighbor Barb, while Darlene released the children one at a time. If my marriage ended, perhaps Barb would share single-parenting advice. The reality of it hurt so much I pushed it aside. For now, I breathed a sigh of relief that my job had ended for the day. I’d done my best for my students, even if I hadn’t been at the top of my game.

  “Want to grab a quick lunch and a little gossip?” Darlene asked as we did one final sweep of the room. “I guess you’ve already heard that Susan Miller’s new baby isn’t her husband’s. Now he’s threatening to sue for custody of Sadie. I mean, I do feel bad for him, but how can he not have known sooner?” She grimaced while tossing two broken crayons.

  Sadie was an adorable four-year-old in another classroom here at the Tot Spot. It ripped me up to think of her as a pawn in her parents’ battle. Worse to know that if my marriage ended, I’d be the subject of such “friendly” gossip.

  “That’s tragic for all of them. Sorry, I can’t join you for lunch, though. I’ve got errands and an appointment.” My dismissiveness should stanch further questions. I had no intention of discussing my upcoming appointment with the private investigator, Stan Whittaker. Lord only knew what he must think of me. But with Lyle’s disappearing act, the need to locate my husband had intensified. Still, I didn’t want Darlene’s radar going up, so I said, “Rain check?”

  “Sure.” She smiled. “Have a good afternoon.”

  I waved goodbye and then went straight to my car, closed my eyes, and let my head fall back while inhaling slowly. When my phone rang, I jerked before grabbing for my purse to dig it out. An unfamiliar number. “Hello?”

  “Amanda, it’s me.”

  “Lyle?” I choked on his name, but the surge of relief from the sound of his voice made everything else fall away. “Why haven’t you called sooner? I’ve been so upset. Everyone’s so upset.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d hoped my letter would buy some time to sort through things before we spoke. I went to Abaco for a few days to sniff out redevelopment opportunities. Service there is spotty, then my phone dropped out of my shirt pocket into the sea when I was tying up to the dock.”

  I couldn’t focus on his words with all the things I wanted to say competing for my attention. Mostly I considered the nights I’d spent crying while he’d apparently been cruising the Bahamas. Fury climbed up my throat. “When did you become a man who’d treat a whore to a vacation on my mother’s dime while your daughter and I were heartsick at home?”

  He heaved the kind of sigh one breathed in the face of a petulant child. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk yet. If we can’t be civil, there’s no point.”

  “No point?” I stared at the arborvitae that edged the parking lot, processing a remark that reduced the past few years of my life to nothingness.

  “You know what I mean. Amanda, it kills me to have hurt you like this, but, please, let’s not say things we can’t take back.” The soothing tone that usually worked on me sounded patronizing.

  “I think I’m entitled to some anger, Lyle. You’ve made me question everything I believed in. Meanwhile, my mother is a nervous wreck about her money. I’ve been agonizing all weekend while you’ve been dallying in the Caribbean. To top it off, Kevin and Erin are breathing down my back, ready to call the cops.”

  “Of course they are. Kevin’s paranoid, and Erin never liked me no matter how much I did for you and your parents over the years.”

  Kevin was shrewd, not paranoid, although Lyle was right about Erin. When he’d mowed the lawn for Dad that summer after his knee replacement, Erin had practically choked on her thank-you. And anytime Lyle gave me a piece of jewelry or pretty new outfit, she’d made it seem like it had more to do with his ego than with his love for me. Then again, unlike my sister, I’d totally missed Lyle’s potential to do harm.

  “Erin thought you were a phony, and your affair proves her right. You’re a liar and a coward.” Hurling insults didn’t feel as good as I’d hoped, nor would they change the facts or remind Lyle of the happy life we’d had together.

  “If that’s how you feel, you must want a divorce.”

  The chilling lack of remorse in his voice made me feel like I’d been thrown into the bay on a cold March day. “Don’t twist my words around to put this on me. You’re the one who broke our vows.” A sob broke apart before I could stifle it. “Why? Why did you do that?”

  “I didn’t plan it, Amanda.” He now sounded sorry, but I didn’t quite trust anything he said or did. And his feelings were beside the point. “I don’t know what else to say that won’t hurt you more.”

  My hopes of reconciliation dimmed. “Please. I need to understand what happened, Lyle. Where did I go wrong?”

  I closed my eyes, pressing my skull against the headrest as if its support would somehow cushion the blow.

  “It’s a lot of pressure to live up to—your standards of perfection and thoughtfulness. Plus the work of keeping you on the pedestal your sister kicked you off of with your dad. And you’re content to live the rest of your life in your hometown. At first it
was charming—so different from my childhood—but after working with Ebba on some commercial deals, something changed. She’s adventuresome and shares my sense of humor. She’s not set on living the rest of her life in Potomac Point. With her I can imagine a different kind of future. One with infinite possibilities and no moral high ground.”

  Each of his words exploded in my chest like copper-tipped bullets. I looked down, expecting to see blood. With shallow breaths, I wondered if this was what my dad’s heart attack had felt like and if heartbreak could cause cardiac arrest. “But when we met, you craved a home and a family where you felt loved and secure because of your childhood. My parents welcomed you in and tried to fill that void. I’ve been giving you exactly what you said you wanted . . .”

  “You did and I’m grateful. You healed me, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Amanda. I never wanted that. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

  If I’d healed him, why was he leaving me? “Don’t you love me anymore?”

  The silent pause said more than any words could. A sour taste flooded my mouth. My body broke into a cold sweat.

  “It’s complicated. Part of me will always love you, but now I’m in love with her, too. No matter who I choose, I’ll have some regrets and hurt someone. As for you and me, it’s hard to imagine that you could really forgive me for Ebba.”

  On one hand, I wanted to shout at him to stop saying her name. On the other, it was no wonder Lyle couldn’t conceive of the forgiveness and love I offered. His mother had walked away from him rather than fight for her family. His dad had then blamed him, making him feel more unwanted.

  “It won’t be easy, but when I think of everything we have . . . or had . . . If you come home, I’m willing to try—for us and for our daughter. Doesn’t she deserve the stability you didn’t have growing up?”

  “Yes.” His tone scraped with a raw edge it held whenever he thought of his family. “But we don’t always get what we deserve.”