If You Must Know

by Beck, Jamie

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AMANDA

  The last time I’d been to Sugar Momma’s had been the day I’d gotten my first inkling about Lyle’s lies. Now, despite its welcoming yellow-and-blue-striped awning snapping cheerfully in the breeze, the little shop resembled a crime scene more than a haven.

  Townsfolk milled around the local stores and bistros, enjoying the warm weather, oblivious to the ways my life had fallen apart. When I got out of my car, I kept my gaze down, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone familiar who might question me about Lyle and wish us well with our baby.

  That thought shot heat to my cheeks.

  My phone rang on my way to the door, so I huddled outside the entrance. “Hello?”

  “Amanda, it’s Stan again. We got so caught up in our conversation about Lyle’s whereabouts that I forgot to tell you that I confirmed his mom died when he was twelve, and he did marry a Deanna Parker, who got an annulment a year later. Mr. Foster Sr. pays his bills on time and has held a job at Chrysler for twenty-plus years. He lives a quiet life, frequents a local social club, and likes to go on fishing trips.”

  Like my dad. Perhaps Willa could have a grandfather in her life after all.

  I settled one hand on my stomach, my head rising with hope. “Are you saying nothing about Mr. Foster gives you pause?”

  “From all accounts, he’s a stand-up guy living his life in the same community where he grew up.”

  A man who appreciated truth, roots, and the comfort of home. Exactly the kind of person I could relate to. “Thank you so much. Is that all?”

  “Pretty much. I’ll be back in touch when we have everything together to take to the FBI.”

  “Don’t contact the authorities just yet. My mother and I . . . well, we’re weighing all options.”

  A heavy sigh came through the line. “Your options are pretty limited. But you know, there may be a legal way to get the title to that boat transferred before Lyle is arrested. I was speaking with a buddy, and he said the FBI sometimes authorizes an OIA—otherwise illegal activity. They might be willing to do that with regard to Lyle in order to get a confession and button up their case.”

  Me, an operative? No one would believe it, least of all Lyle. “How would it work?”

  “Basically they’d ‘deputize’ you for a limited purpose. You’d probably wear a wire and confront Lyle with the proposed deal—the boat title in exchange for not pressing charges. If you get him talking, he might confess, but even if he doesn’t confess, if he takes your deal and signs over the boat, it’s a stronger case.”

  “But won’t they seize the boat as soon as they arrest him?”

  “Not from what I’m told. It’d be your mom’s to sell. They might seize his other assets, which would include your house.”

  “Couldn’t I wrap my house and custody into that deal?”

  “’Fraid not.”

  I should jump at this for my mom’s sake, although the greedy part of me remained heartsick that I wouldn’t get what I needed. I’d give up ten years of my life span to make sure Lyle never had any say in Willa’s life. “It’s something to consider.”

  “In these situations, it’s best to set your emotions aside and let the authorities do their jobs. The sooner we alert them, the better.”

  “I know.” But he didn’t understand how impossible it would be to force my mother to face public shame a second time—especially when she couldn’t easily move to a new community and start over like she had as a child. I’d gone my entire life without crossing her. If she didn’t give me her blessing, I wasn’t sure I could kick off my first time with something so permanent. “I’m about to enter a store. Can we talk later?”

  “Sure thing. Have a good day.”

  A good day? I hadn’t had one in weeks, and probably wouldn’t have one for months to come.

  Uncertainty gnawed at me, leaving me raw. I probably should’ve turned around rather than open the shop door.

  Inside, lively chatter competed with the background music. A teenage couple stood in front of me in line. The lanky boy’s hand sank into the petite girl’s back jean pocket. She leaned against his side, laughing at something he said.

  A month ago they would’ve made me grin. I might’ve even thought sweet things about Lyle as a result of seeing young love in full bloom, blissfully clueless about the truth of my life.

  When I reached the counter, I faked a smile as big as the frown I’d been sporting a moment ago. Yet my head buzzed from the fever pitch of my disillusionment. “Hey, Hannah. I’m hoping you might be interested in doing a small community favor.”

  “A community favor?” She motioned with her hands. “Go ahead. Hit me.”

  “The preschool where I work is having a little fair and bake sale tomorrow to raise money for new books and things. While I like to cook, I don’t make anything as delicious as what you sell. Would you be willing to donate some cookies and muffins to the cause? I’d advertise your shop and hand out business cards at the fair.” I flashed my best hard-up-teacher smile.

  Hannah nodded, flicking her wrist. “Sure, dear. I’ve got grandkids. You can never have too many crayons and books in those classrooms. Is three dozen enough?”

  “More than enough. Thank you so much. You’ve really helped me out of a bind today.” And then I overcame my insecurities long enough to do something I had never done before: put her on the spot. If I were being honest, this was the real reason I’d come. “You know, it surprised me the other week when you mentioned that Lyle stops in often.”

  “Really? He’ll pick up goodies for the office. Other times he’ll stop in with clients to kill time between showings.” She tied up the second box she’d filled.

  “Hm.” For weeks I’d been swallowing my feelings, ashamed and hiding. But something snapped now, making me glad that no one had come in behind me. Lowering my voice didn’t prevent it from emerging with a bitter edge. “I’m guessing one of those ‘clients’ was a young, buxom blonde.”

  She gave me a look, as if my intimation confirmed something she’d suspected. When she handed me the bagful of free baked goods and some business cards, she pointed at my stomach. “Now you go on and take care of what you’re cooking in there. Nothing matters more than that. Kids are where our true happiness lives.” She patted the spot over her heart.

  My face must’ve been cherry red, so I appreciated that she neither pitied me nor gossiped about whatever she’d seen Lyle do. “Thank you for the treats. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

  The sting of grateful tears pricked my eyes, so I threw a ten-dollar tip on the counter before turning to dash out of the store. Although I regretted putting her in that position, numbness spread through me like mildew.

  When I arrived at the house I was soon to lose, I stood in the middle of my kitchen, blinking into the emptiness. This home no longer felt like mine. Neither did my life. I couldn’t stomach being there, surrounded by reminders of my marriage.

  I climbed the stairs, determined to scrub Lyle from the house. One by one, I folded and stacked his winter sweaters and slacks, the various brown and black leather shoes and loafers he’d worn, silk ties, dress and casual shirts, and cuff links, and then loaded them into clear plastic garbage bags. The task revealed what was missing from his wardrobe: bathing suits and sandals, the Tommy Bahama shorts and shirts we’d bought in Naples last year, both pairs of his Maui Jim sunglasses. More clues that, had I been paying attention when he’d packed, might’ve tipped me off about his “business” trip.

  Instead, I’d sweetly kissed him goodbye, wished him luck, and waved as the Uber pulled away for the airport, having had no idea that it would be the last time I’d ever smile at him, kiss his lips, and feel whole and happy.

  I growled and then strode to our bathroom to empty his vanity of soaps and colognes and every other personal item that reminded me of him, tossing each one in the trash.

  When I’d finished, I sat on the edge of our bed, trying that yoga
breathing Erin preached about, but it didn’t bring peace—just noisy breath. Getting rid of Lyle’s personal things hadn’t helped, either. The bed, the linens, the paint on the wall—everything we’d picked and purchased still threw him and all my failed dreams in my face.

  I rubbed at my sore throat, choked by loneliness and sorrow. None of the pretty things—the marble counters and high-end fixtures, the reclaimed hardwood, the huge windows—muted the pain. Sharing a roof with my mom and sister might be a little awkward now, but it would beat being alone, surrounded by Lyle’s memory. Even my old twin bed, the 1990s decor, and a messy roommate would be heaven compared with this cold palace.

  I returned to our closet to pack two bags for myself.

  While sorting through my own things, I remembered Mr. Foster—a man who deserved to know that he’d be a grandfather.

  Sitting on the tufted bench in our closet, I scrolled through my phone history, my thumb hovering over Mr. Foster’s number. Mom would warn me not to involve a stranger, but I had to do the right thing—for Mr. Foster’s sake and for Willa’s. Little girls needed a father’s love, and without hers or mine around to fill that role, I couldn’t deny my daughter her only living grandfather. The artery in my neck throbbed, but I pressed “Call.”

  He picked up on the second ring. “Hell-o.”

  The cheerful greeting made me picture a man happily watching ESPN with a beer or a burger.

  “Mr. Foster, it’s Amanda. Lyle’s wife.”

  “Oh, I didn’t expect to hear from you again.” The matter-of-fact delivery gave no hint of his feelings about me.

  “Well, I have more information for you . . .” I stalled, uncertain about where to begin.

  “If it’s all the same to lyou, maybe you could spare me the details. It doesn’t feel good—hearing how my son uses lies about his mom and me to hurt other people. If I’d met you before you got married, maybe I could’ve helped, but I can’t be much use to you now.”

  His pain put mine in a different perspective. No parent ever imagines him- or herself in those powerless shoes. “I can see where it would be hard on you.”

  “Ignorance is bliss, you know? I hadn’t been ashamed of any new trouble for years until you called.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is important. I actually have good news, but first I need to ask something. If Lyle would reach out for help to avoid consequences, could you do the right thing even if it would hurt him?” I bit my lip.

  “Hurt him how?”

  My heart thumped. “Fines. Possibly prison.”

  “Jesus. What’d he do?”

  “He’s defrauded my mother out of a substantial amount of money and fled with his mistress.” How easily my new reality could be reduced to one bitter sentence. “I’ll share details another time, but I need an answer. If he contacts you, would you help him hide?”

  I waited out a long silence.

  He coughed. “Parenting has never been easy, and this kind of decision makes you question everything you think you know about yourself and love and fairness.”

  “I’m very sorry.” He wasn’t the only father with a child who’d turned into someone no parent could respect. Still, I couldn’t imagine that Willa would grow up to be a monster, even if she had her father’s DNA. “Yet I need an answer.”

  My foot jiggled for what seemed like forever while Mr. Foster seriously contemplated his heart and conscience. “I wouldn’t break the law to protect him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I took that to mean he’d lend emotional support and maybe help with lawyers but wouldn’t help him hide or escape. Good news for me, and for him, because now he could learn about Willa.

  “I’m glad you said that, because I’m pregnant with your grandchild. Coming up on seven months. It’s a girl. I’m planning to name her Willa for my late father.”

  I’m not sure what reaction I expected, but I got silence.

  “Mr. Foster?”

  “Maybe you should call me Richard.”

  I smiled. “Okay, Richard. Did you hear what I said?”

  “I’m going to be a grandfather?” I recognized a familiar sound in his voice—awe mingled with a sort of terrified joy, as if letting the excitement in might somehow put it at risk. “Seven months, you say? Things between Lyle and me are bad, but I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.” He fell silent a moment. “He obviously took my warnings to heart after Deanna, but I meant it when I said I’d never lie for him like his mother did.”

  I vaguely wondered what Lyle had done to Deanna, but that was pointless. “My daughter won’t be able to count on her father, but I’m hopeful you’ll be a man she can respect and love who will love her back. If you want to be that for her, then you’re welcome to come meet us in August, after she’s born.”

  “Wow.” His voice broke apart a bit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect all this. From one extreme to another . . . I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

  “I understand. I didn’t mention Willa the last time we spoke because I was reeling from all Lyle’s lies and needed to verify what we’d discussed. The PI checked into your background a bit, too. I’m not proud of that, but I needed to protect Willa. I hope you understand.”

  “Of course.” He clucked. “I’ve gotten used to being alone—looking ahead and seeing myself getting old here in this living room all by myself. Never gave grandkids a thought. This is welcome news for sure.”

  For the first time all day, a genuine smile split my face. Willa would have a man who could dote on her because he had no wife or other grandkids to divide his attention. That might help her to be confident like Erin. “I’m glad.”

  A beat of silence passed. “Does Lyle know you’ve called me?”

  “No. He still thinks I believe that he’s in Florida working on the business deal my mother lent him the money for. He’ll be unhappy that I contacted you, but I’m well past caring. He’s left me unable to afford to keep my house, yet unable to sell it without his signature. I’ll probably need to file for bankruptcy on top of finding a better-paying job as a single, working parent.”

  I covered my mouth with my free hand, stunned by my flippant tone and careless confession. I’d been acting more like Erin than myself lately. Although I’d never admit it aloud, this bold streak made me feel the best I had in weeks.

  “I’m sorry my son has caused you and your family so much pain and trouble. I’m not a rich man, but I can help with some of the childcare costs . . .”

  My nose tingled. The amount didn’t matter; his kindness brought on fresh tears. “That’s very sweet, thank you, but that’s not why I called. Please don’t worry about me. One way or another, I’ll solve my own problems.”

  I had to learn to stand on my own, for Willa’s sake.

  “You’re giving me a chance to be a grandfather after what my son has done, and that’s priceless. Truly. I want to help, for both your sakes.”

  “Let’s discuss that later. I’ve got more pressing things to address before Willa’s born.”

  “Okay. I look forward to meeting you both. If Meggie were still alive, she would’ve been tickled to have had a baby girl to spoil.” And then, as if realizing the implications of what he’d said, he fell silent again. “May I ask . . . what kind of time is Lyle looking at?”

  “I’m not sure. We haven’t gone to the cops yet. It’s complicated, especially with Lyle having fled the country. We’ve considered negotiating to get him to agree to return the money if we don’t press charges.”

  “Sounds risky.”

  “Yes.” My willingness to consider bending the law to suit my needs—or my mother’s needs—nagged. I’d never before believed in an “ends justifies the means” philosophy, but neither could I pretend that my innate sense of fairness was overly troubled by the alternative.

  “If you need help, call me. Maybe I could finally make Lyle do the right thing.”

  I tried to picture Lyle’s reaction to seeing his father and me, arm in arm, boarding his stupid yacht w
ith the only deal that could keep him out of prison. How utterly magnificent it would be to wipe that smug look off his face, and to witness Ebba’s crestfallen expression when she learned she hadn’t won anything worth having. Better yet, I’d leave them reeling and penniless, the ultimate victory and justice. A delicious, vengeful giddiness bubbled inside.

  “Thanks, but, again, I only called to tell you about Willa.”

  “Will you keep in touch during the pregnancy?”

  “Sure.” I gave my head a little shake at our surreal situation. “Listen, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to run.”

  “Okay. You take care.”

  “You too.” I sat there with the phone in my hands, almost disbelieving what I’d done. He’d been thoughtful and kind and generous, which should make it easier on my mother when she found out.

  I stood and surveyed Lyle’s things, which lay in garbage bags all around me. Time to take out the trash.

  After I dropped Lyle’s belongings at the consignment store, I mulled the OIA over during the drive to my mother’s. The specter of public disgrace terrified me, as did the threat of mandatory visitation for Willa while Lyle remained in prison. But breaking the law wasn’t something I would’ve ever considered before my husband betrayed me, and I did not want him to fundamentally change who I was.

  My life would be worse if, once I worked through my sorrow—and someday I would—I couldn’t recognize myself anymore. With each mile the answer became obvious. If only doing the right thing wouldn’t put me at serious odds with my mother for the first time in my life.

  Once I pulled the car into the driveway, I sat in the front seat and stared at the place that, for better or worse, had molded me.

  Being the middle child made me invisible for much of my childhood. Even when I’d proudly pedaled my tricycle on the driveway, Kevin would whiz past on his two-wheeler, drawing “attaboys” from my parents. After Erin was born, evenings entailed my mother helping Kev with his second-grade homework while my dad bathed Erin and read to her before putting her down. Each night I’d quietly played with my dolls and waited for someone to notice me, which typically occurred only after I’d gone out of my way to do something thoughtful for my parents.