“It does,” I say, finally responding to her original statement about the baby. “I’m terrified, but incredibly happy.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Well, the doctors will know what to look out for this time around,” she tells me, patting my hand comfortingly. “It’ll all be fine.”
I smile very slightly. “That’s what Matt keeps saying,” I tell her softly.
“Maybe you ought to listen to him, then,” she suggests gently. We sit quietly for a few minutes before she clears her throat and I look over at her. “I was going to come see you in the next couple days.”
“Oh?”
Bonnie nods, sighing. “I’m going to have to cut back on my time at the store,” she says. “I’ve got a few medical issues that need to be dealt with and are apparently a bit time consuming.”
My eyebrows shoot up in concern. “Is everything okay?” I ask in a whisper.
She waves me off. “It’s nothing,” she says dismissively. “My point is I need someone I trust to keep an eye on the place and while I could probably find someone in the town to do it for me, I was hoping you might be interested.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I’d love to, but are you sure?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Of course I’m sure, Samantha,” she says sternly. “Much time as you’ve spent in this place over the years, you know it as well as I do. And you won’t have to do it all alone; I can still do a few hours a day for now. Anyway, I know you’ll get bored in that house while Matt’s at work and Tyler’s at school. And I’m sure you’ll want a distraction from the wedding and baby preparations… What do you think?”
I grin at her, hardly knowing how to respond aside from walking around the counter and hugging her tightly. She chuckles and hugs me back. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she tells me. “Excellent. Come on, I’ll get you familiarized with everything before those boys of yours come home…:”
––––-o––––-
As I pull up to my parking space at home, I almost wish I was back at work so I won’t have to have the conversation with Samantha that I know we have to have. The rest of my day was nothing but a giant cluster fuck of frustration and anger. I feel betrayed and confused and angry, and I’m not entirely sure who those feelings are directed towards. I certainly don’t want to take everything out on my fiancée; we’ve had enough arguments in the last several weeks to hold us over for years. My father certainly deserves the brunt of my ire if for no other reason than his assumption that I’m marrying Samantha because of her pregnancy. Though deep down, I’d been expecting that reaction from several people. They don’t know why Sam and I broke up to begin with and this is all incredibly quick from an outsider’s point of view; naturally that will be their first reaction. But they couldn’t possibly be anymore wrong.
And as for Samantha supposedly blackmailing my father… I’m disgusted he would even suggest something so horrible about the woman I love. He never even attempted to get to know her; from the moment he set eyes on her, he assumed the worst. It didn’t seem to matter how often I told him I loved her and that I wanted to spend my life with her; he never cared. He wanted me under his thumb at every turn; he wanted to make my decisions for me; he wanted to mold me into becoming him. I almost hate him for it. But when it comes down to it, he’s my father and I love him. Doesn’t mean I have to like him…
Running a hand roughly down my face, I remove the keys from the ignition, grab my laptop bag, and get out of the car. Maybe what I really need right now is to be with my family. I smile at the thought. How often over the last five years had I come home from work to an empty house and wished desperately I’d done things differently? Of course I know, despite everything I’ve developed over the years, even I haven’t figured out time travel, and therefore, there’s no point dwelling on the past. All I can do is ensure my family’s happiness in the future.
Inside the house, I’m met with silence and for the very briefest of minutes, I panic at the thought I’d dreamed up the last several months and that Samantha and Tyler are still in Omaha. There’s a shriek out in the backyard and I begin breathing again at the sight of my son running around the jungle gym I bought for him, playing some imaginary game with himself. I then laugh at my apparent overreaction. Even I couldn’t dream something so vivid as punching out a guy in a bar because he was hitting on my pregnant girlfriend…
Feeling relieved, I can suddenly hear humming coming from the kitchen and, grinning to myself, I head in that direction to find my wonderful fiancée standing at the stove oblivious to the world around her. The radio plays softly in the background and she’s singing under her breath as she stirs what I assume to be dinner. Unable to maintain the distance between us any longer, I enter the kitchen, walk up behind her, wrap my arms around her middle, and chuckle softly at her jumpiness. It only takes her a moment to get over her apparent scare and she leans her head back on my shoulder, smiling at me.
“Hi,” she whispers as I bend down for a kiss. “You’re late.”
I snort a laugh. “I know. I’m sorry,” I tell her sincerely. “I got a little caught up in some things at the office.”
“It’s okay. Ty and I were late getting home too,” she says, looking back down to the stove.
“Why?” I ask curiously, resting my chin on her head and softly rubbing her belly with my hands.
“Visiting Bonnie,” she says, sounding utterly content to be in my arms. I smile to myself. “That took up a couple hours, then we went to the grocery store.”
I nod in acknowledgment and we fall into a comfortable silence together as she finishes cooking dinner, neither of us willing to move away from our embrace. Eventually it becomes a necessity, as she has to remove the baked chicken from the oven. Even still, I’m reluctant to leave the room to change or play with my son before dinner. I’m not sure why I’m suddenly feeling clingier than usual to Samantha; maybe because of the confrontation with my father today; maybe because of my brief panic when I walked in the door and didn’t hear anybody. Whatever the cause, Samantha is starting to realize something’s off.
She turns around briefly. “How was your day?” she asks quietly.
My entire body tenses at her question and I glance around the kitchen with the hope of finding an answer to pacify her for now. Dinnertime is not the best time for this conversation, especially since I know it will upset Samantha and I don’t want Tyler to have to see that if I can help it. “It was fine,” I lie. “Busy.”
Her brow furrows and I realize I can’t lie to her. “Matt…” she whispers, looking at me with an almost pleading expression. “I thought we—”
I don’t know what it was she had been about to say; Tyler enters and immediately locates me, wrapping his arms around my legs and looking up at me toothily. I grin, reaching down to pick him up as he tells me all about his day in very fine detail. Catching a glimpse of Samantha as we leave the set the table, I know we’ll be having a very in-depth conversation later on.
––––-o––––-
After Tyler is tucked into bed, I make my way back through the house to find Matthew. Though our evening was carefree while we entertained our son and I once again felt the wave of guilt over having kept these two separated for so long, my mind was preoccupied by the thought that something is bothering Matthew. We went through this phase eight years ago—something would upset him, but he didn’t want me to worry about whatever it was, so he kept it to himself. I can’t even remember the number of arguments we had because of this tendency. I wanted to know him better, to share in whatever was on his mind; he wanted to protect me from the world. It was maddening. Eventually we came to an understanding that if we wanted our relationship to succeed, we needed to act like mutual partners. There were still some things he couldn’t tell me for any number of reasons, but he was much more open to me than we’d ever been. With five years between us, I can understand his reticence to share things with me, especially as we’re still trying to get to know one
another again after so long of keeping things to ourselves. He’s so accustomed to bottling things up—so am I for that matter—and I know if we keep on like this, it will only lead to arguments.
“Hey,” I say quietly, entering the basement. Matthew is sitting on the edge of the couch, head bowed as though he’s in prayer, a glass of what I assume to be bourbon between his hands. His eyes snap up to meet mine and he gives me a small smile, patting the cushion beside him in invitation. Setting aside his drink, he instead wraps his arms around me before I’m even sitting down completely. I chuckle, resting my head on his shoulder and feel his entire body relaxing. As much as I want to keep the tension away from him, we need to talk and I really have no idea how to broach the subject without seeming like I’m prying.
Like always, though, Matthew has a sixth sense of what I’m thinking and feeling. He sighs heavily, tightening the arms around my waist before he begins to speak quietly. “My father came to see me today.”
It’s my turn to tense up. Of course that would be the reason for his bad mood. The mere mention of his father is enough to ruin my contentment of being in Matthew’s arms. “Oh?” I say quietly, my eyes scanning the room looking for some unknown thing.
I feel him nod, resting his chin on my head. “He got word about the engagement,” he tells me, somehow managing to keep his tone even. “And he wasn’t pleased.”
“There’s a surprise,” I murmur, though I hadn’t intended for it to be out loud.
Matthew snickers. “Indeed,” he replies wryly. “And I might have let news of the baby slip as well.”
Despite his attempts to keep me exactly where I’ve been for several minutes, I shoot up from his chest, staring at him with what I assume is an expression of horror. “What?” I breathe.
He nods, not meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I know this wasn’t how you wanted people to find out, but it slipped.”
“And what was his reaction?” I wince, already coming up with a number of possibilities.
“Again, not pleased,” Matthew says crisply. “He seems to think the baby is the reason for the wedding.”
I would give almost anything right now for this couch to open up and swallow me whole. Of course I expected this reaction from any number of people, including Paul Young, but hearing it out loud isn’t doing anything to comfort me right now.
Sighing, Matthew slides towards me, holding my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Hey, none of that,” he chides gently, wiping away a few tears from my cheeks. “I love you and I love our baby. I want to be married to you again. This pregnancy is in no way forcing me to do anything. My father is an idiot who has no idea what it’s like to really love somebody.” My eyebrows shoot up briefly; he smirks slightly, though it’s gone quickly. “He loves my mom. But growing up, I never saw much evidence that he would do whatever it took to make her happy. It was almost as though my mom was there to bear his children, keep his house clean, and cook his dinners. You’ve seen them together; there’s not a lot of affection in that relationship.”
I bite my lip, thinking back to when we’d all believed Matthew had died in the plane crash and how his father held his mother all throughout her grief.
“I’ve always had the belief he’s got another family somewhere who gets all his love,” Matthew goes on bitterly. “Probably not fair or accurate, but I couldn’t ever understand how a man could be so distant from his own children. He never really knew us; even between deployments he was happier when there was some business trip for him to make to meet with whomever he met. I think that’s the reason Claire and I are so different from our sisters: they always wanted to be exactly what he demanded; Claire and I resented the fact that he was gone so much and when he was back, he demanded so much from us. I was never good enough; neither was Claire. Over the years, our relationship has gotten slightly better, but…” He shrugs at me. “He still thinks he can control my every move and dictate my every decision. That’s what today was about.”
Uncertain what to say, I just nod and allow him to pull me back against his chest. I don’t know what we have to do to prove to people that we’re in love and no mitigating factors have influenced our decision to get married. We agreed to get married before the baby is born on principle, but aside from that, nothing is forcing our behavior. On some level, I can understand their concerns. Maybe we are moving a little fast by most people’s standards; for us, though, this is exactly the pace at which we went when we first met. Not to this extreme, but within months of meeting, I was packing up my entire life to move across the country to live with a man I hardly knew. It was the best decision of my life and I wouldn’t take it back if I could. And I learned over the years how difficult it is to make others understand, so I just stopped trying. Those who counted understood and the rest could either adjust or stay out of our lives.
“Dad brought up something else as well,” Matthew tells me very hesitantly. I tense against him. “And before I even tell you, please understand I’m not accusing you of anything; I just want to find out what’s going on. Okay?”
Dread fills my body and I know exactly what he’s about to say. Since Claire found out, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I would have to bring it up to Matthew, but as I hadn’t figured out a way to do so, I’d kept it to myself. “Okay,” I whisper, my eyes wide as I stare across the room at nothing in particular.
Matthew sighs very heavily. “He says the reason you left is because you’d tried to blackmail me and he paid you off to drop the threats and left me for good.”
My emotions are all over the place—shock, confusion, fear, and finally incredible anger. “What?” I shout, forcing myself away from Matthew.
A hurt expression passes his face as I scoot to the other side of the couch from him. “I’m just telling you what he said.”
I have no words right now, or at least none that I would want my son to hear; though Tyler is sleeping two floors above us, I have no doubt he’ll hear everything I shout. Matthew’s expression is blank as he watches me closely—I’m not sure if his gaze is just wary of my reaction or wondering if what his father said was true. “That isn’t…” I whisper, trying to find a way to explain.
“Just tell me you didn’t,” he says quietly, his eyes pleading. “Tell me that didn’t happen and we’ll never discuss it again.”
“I didn’t,” I tell him emphatically, watching as a huge sigh of relief leaves his body and he rests his head on the back of the couch. “You thought I would have…”
His head jerks up to meet my gaze again. “No,” he says firmly. “I know you wouldn’t do anything like that, Samantha. I just needed to hear you confirm it.”
When all I do is watch him for several minutes, his brow furrows and I know he’s working something out in his mind. “Why would he say something like that to me?” he wonders out loud. “Did something else happen?”
Again, I want to disappear. And again, he gets an answer from me by merely watching me.
“Sam, what happened?”
We can’t have this secret between us any longer, despite my desire for him to never hear this. I let out a shaky sigh. “He bribed me,” I breathe, unable to look at him. “While you were in the hospital after the attack. He cornered me one morning and spent an hour telling me how I didn’t deserve you and how I’d never be good enough and that if I had even one decent bone in my body, I’d just leave and never look back. He even tried to convince me to leave Tyler behind, because you could do a better job raising him than I ever could.”
I can’t tell if he’s livid or disgusted by what he’s hearing. Probably both. “What did you say?” he asks in a measured tone.
“That I wasn’t going anywhere. That I loved you and nothing would ever change that.”
He nods once in acknowledgement. “How much did he offer you?”
I blink in surprise at the question, but answer, “Half a million.”
His eyes close tightly as though he’s in pain. I wa
it for him to speak, not moving, barely breathing. Finally his eyes snap open again, narrowing on me. If I could scoot further away from him right now, I would. “You left me not six months later,” he reminds me, his jaw tightening. “Did my father’s offer have anything to do with it?”
My mouth drops open. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I whisper in horror. “No, Matt! Of course not!”
He looks skeptical as he watches me silently for several moments, and I finally see the fight leave his body. He believes me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, reaching out for my hand. I give it to him reluctantly. “With everything that’s been going on, I don’t know who to trust anymore. I know that’s not you, Samantha, and that you would never do that. I’m so sorry.”
I nod, still feeling slightly hurt that he would doubt me.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asks quietly minutes later. He’s scooted over to my side of the couch, pulling me into his embrace again.
Sighing, I snuggle further into him. “I didn’t know how,” I whisper. “You had enough on your plate between the recovery and the physical therapy and the bombing investigation… I didn’t want to add more to your concerns. And you weren’t exactly receptive to other people’s problems after that whole thing.”
I feel him wince. “I know,” he tells me. “And I still regret all that. I wish you would have said something, though; did that play a part in your decision to leave at all?”
Of course he’s worked out that my self-confidence had suffered terribly after that situation and even though I never would have taken his father’s money, his words stuck with me for years. “Possibly,” I tell him. “There were a lot of things…”
He nods, but doesn’t press me for more information. “My dad was on my shit list before today,” he eventually tells me. “This just pushes things over the edge. I won’t stand for people treating you like that, Samantha. I don’t care who they are.”
Young Revelations (Young Series) Page 6
