Turning Back (Turning #2)

by JA Huss

  “Now,” I say.

  “Well,” Lisa says, “I can get you on a private charter in about two hours. But you’ll have to stay overnight. The airport closes at sunset. Which is at four thirty-six today.”

  “Fine. And book me a suite at”—I look down at the card—“Mineral Springs Resort for one night. I need to be back here first thing in the morning.”

  “And a regular room for the pilot at the resort as well?” Lisa asks.

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  “OK, got it. You need to be at Centennial Airport in an hour to check in.”

  “I’m leaving now.”

  I end the call and take a deep breath.

  A daughter. We have a daughter with Rochelle.

  How the fuck will I ever explain this to Quin?

  Chapter Three - Rochelle

  Mommy and Me just… isn’t for me. I kinda knew this on day one when I walked into what amounted to the rural Colorado version of the Stepford Wives.

  Pagosa Springs is about as picturesque as it gets. It’s up there with any of the postcard places you see in movies and travel brochures if you’re into mountains, rivers, and national forests.

  I like those things, which is why I chose this place. And I like small towns, so I like that too. But I guess I didn’t realize that almost everyone here is on permanent vacation.

  Kinda like me, now that I think it through.

  Permanent vacation because they are so damn rich, these women have nothing better to do than pretend they live in rural America as they sip mimosas at the club every Monday afternoon and let their nannies socialize their babies.

  Anyway… I’m here starting a new life. These women in the Mommy and Me group at the country club (complimentary membership for all long-term residents of the Mineral Springs Resort) are here because this town is boring.

  Well… that’s kinda why I’m here too.

  I’m not what you’d call a city girl by any means. I’m not. I like moccasins and gauzy shirts. Hell, my whole apartment back in Denver was decorated in what the guys liked to call modern-day Bohemian. And I chose to live in Denver because while it’s a city, it’s a city alone. There are no other big cities anywhere close to it. Colorado only has three cities to begin with and Pagosa Springs is not one of them. Not even close.

  So even though whitewater rafting down the San Juan is something I’d totally dig, and even though I could really get behind an off-grid week-long camping trip up in the Weminuche Wilderness, and even though I’d love to be looking forward to an entire winter of snowboarding up at Wolf Creek, I can’t do any of those things with a baby.

  And I wouldn’t want to go alone, anyway.

  I sigh as Sheryl, my only sorta-friend here in town, sips her mimosa and flamboyantly waves her hands around as she describes something funny her baby did with the nanny yesterday.

  We do not have a nanny, so Adley is sitting in my lap, sticking my hair in her mouth, completely content to watch the Stepford Wives get liquored up and giggle like teenagers.

  There are a few full-time local moms here at the meeting too. But they sit off in another area. It’s high school all over again. I’d prefer their company by miles, but I’m not really local. And I’m not sure I’m permanent.

  I’m probably not coming back next week because all the remaining Stepford Wives are going to their third houses for the snow season in a few days. Apparently Wolf Creek is just not classy enough so they simply must ski Aspen and Vail.

  I can’t wait for them to leave. I feel like I’ve gotten too close to Sheryl and if I took off now, she’d ask questions. Although she has never once asked me why I’m staying in the long-term housing at the resort, I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a battered wife on the run, and if I disappeared she’d probably file a missing person’s report.

  It’s kinda touching, really. That she’d care. But the cops looking into my past is the last thing I need.

  So I’m biding my time until they all disappear and then Adley and I are outta here. I think we’ll spend the winter in Jackson Hole. That’s a nice out-of-the-way place. And winters are crazy fun with all the snow people. Quin took me there for a weekend once and we had a blast.

  Adley starts to get fussy and I check the weather outside to see if it’s time to go yet. But this place does have one thing going for it. The amazing hot springs in the center of town. My resort has a huge one and I take Adley there every day so we can soak. There’s one pool that’s not too hot. There’s a little inlet from the river that lets cold water rush in, so it’s almost tepid. Perfect for a baby.

  But it was raining this morning. And there was lightning. Can’t go in when there’s lightning. Right now it’s misty outside. But I think the thunderstorms have passed.

  I stand up and start gathering my things.

  “Oh, are you leaving already?” Sheryl asks.

  Already? Jesus. I’ve been here for three hours. If I don’t get out now I might scream.

  “Adley needs a nap,” I say in my sweet voice. It’s a cross between naive and innocent on the outside, but on the inside it is cynical and world-weary. I smile at that thought and Sheryl thinks I’m being friendly.

  “You can put her down in the nap room.”

  I could. If I was that kind of mother. But I’m not. And she’s not really tired yet. I’m pretty sure she’s anxious for her dip in the tepid springs.

  “I’m tired too,” I say. “I got no sleep last night.” Adley is a champion sleeper. She never wakes up and I’m probably the most well-rested new-mom-without-a-nanny they’ve ever seen. But I exhale just the right amount of sigh and hike the diaper bag over my shoulder. “So I’m gonna lie down with her. See you guys next week.”

  “Oh, we’re leaving!” Suddenly there is a big production about how they will never see me again and I get stuck there for twenty more minutes just trying to say goodbye.

  By the time we actually do make it back to the suite, we really are tired.

  I tell myself we’ll just sit for a minute and watch People’s Court before tackling the bathing suits and heading out. But one minute turns into ten, turns into an hour, and pretty soon we’re all cuddled up in the giant king-sized bed, fast asleep.

  I wake to the soft, sweet coos of Adley. When I open my eyes and look down at her, she’s smiling at me. “Hey, pumpkin,” I say. “You ready for a swim? Should we eat first? I bet you’re hungry?”

  More smiles.

  I take that as a yes to all of the above and get busy changing her diaper, putting on her suit. Then I dress her up in a pair of baby sweats and a tiny pink hoodie that says, Pagosa Springs, Refreshingly Authentic. The town motto. Most of our wardrobe has been purchased at the tourist shops on Lewis Street. I know Jackson Hole is not much bigger than Pagosa, but at least it will be different. I see a whole new set of tourist clothes in our future.

  I velcro a bib under her chubby baby chin and take her over to a chair to feed her a bottle. We’re just starting to transition into baby food and she’s not cooperating very well. I’m one of those go-with-the-flow moms, so I’m not gonna push. One new food a week is about all I’m up to. Then I make a little note in the journal I’m keeping on her baby days. If she likes it. If she has any kind of allergic reaction. Nothing so far. But we’ve only tried peas (she hates those), peaches and sweet potatoes (her favorite).

  I love feeding her bottles and it will all be over too soon for me, so I’m content with the slow progress we’re making.

  I settle in the chair near the window with her in my arms. It’s got a great view of the mother spring here at the resort. Talk about pretty. My life could be a lot worse, so I like to spend my feeding time with Adley being thankful for what I have and not dwell on all the things I lost.

  We did the breastfeeding thing. Tried to, anyway. Didn’t work, which led to a—thankfully brief—few weeks of depression when Adley was just a few weeks old. But holding the bottle for her is almost as good.

  “Go with the flow, huh, baby?�
�� I coo down at her wide blue eyes as she stares up at me.

  A loud knock at my suite door makes both of us jump and Adley’s face changes from total contentment to a scrunched-up look of shock.

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh,” I whisper as I stand up and cross the main room to the door, and pull it open.

  Elias Bricman is standing there, knuckles poised to knock again.

  “What the fuck?” I say, before I remember I’m holding Adley.

  Bric looks at me… looks at Adley… and then looks at me again. “Well, you did good, brat. She’s adorable.”

  Brat. It makes me want to growl at him. I always hated him calling me that. “What the heck are you doing here?”

  “Heck?” He laughs, then nods. “Oh, I get it. Kids and shit, right?”

  “Bric—”

  “I just found out where you were.” He stands there stoic, like this explains everything.

  “And?” I’m so beyond stunned. Not to mention annoyed. “What happened to the no-follow rule?” I worried about Quin looking for me at first. But after a few months I tried my best to put that part of my life behind me. And Bric? Never in a million years did I expect him to show up.

  “Look.” He sighs, looking around. My suite has a porch, so it’s outside. And I share this porch with three other suites. This makes Bric nervous. “Can I come inside?”

  “No,” I say. “No. We were just leaving.”

  “Going where?” he asks. “Somewhere where I can’t come? Or can I come with? I really need to talk to you about…” He looks down at Adley again. “This… situation.”

  “We don’t have a situation, Bric. And we don’t have anything to talk about, either.”

  Bric leans both hands on either side of the doorjamb like he’s gonna take control of this situation right now. Fucking bulldozer. He’s always been like that. Elias Bricman needs to get his way or he morphs into an asshole on the spot.

  “So…” he says. “Who’s her father?”

  “Really?” I ask in my most cynical voice. I even raise one eyebrow.

  “I think I deserve to know this, Rochelle. You can’t just get pregnant and walk away from the father.”

  I snort as I adjust Adley’s bottle so she can continue eating. “What makes you think you’re the father?”

  He shrugs. “Quin would say the same thing if he was here.”

  I look Elias Bricman dead in the eyes. “What makes you think he’s the father?”

  The look on his face almost makes me laugh. Almost. I hold it in so he figures I’m serious. Asshole.

  “Can. I. Come. In.” He says each word in little staccato clips. It’s not a question. Not the way he says it. It comes out as—I’m coming in.

  He pushes past me and then, yup. He’s in all right. I close the door and whirl around. “What do you want?”

  “Who’s her father?” he asks again.

  “How the heck would I know?” I laugh. “Could be you, I guess. Could be Quin. Could be someone else.” I say it to piss him off. And it works. Because he’s got that look on his face. The one that says, Be careful.

  “Are you fucking with me right now?” he says, on the verge of angry. “There are only two possibilities. Smith already told us he stopped seeing you months before you left.”

  “You think you know me, Elias? You’ve never known me. At least Quin tried. You never tried. You got what you wanted. I got what I wanted. End of game.” I smirk at him and enjoy his confusion. It’s not often I get the best of Bric. So I soak it up.

  “So you played the game for almost three years and then suddenly remembered you were only there to get a fertilized egg out of it and left?”

  “I already said I don’t know who the father is. How would I possibly know that without a DNA test? Did I swab your cheek, Elias? Did I get a blood sample from Quin? Why are you here?”

  He calms down after that. I can see it in his expression. I know him pretty well. Three years is a long time. Enough time to understand body language and facial expressions. Enough to be wary of his dark side. “Are you angry with me?” he asks.

  “I’m not anything with you, Bric. I’m just… I’ve just moved on. OK? I’m different now. My whole life is different. And I really don’t know why you’re here. After a year, you show up now?”

  “One year exactly,” he says. “It’s been one year to the day.” I say nothing so he stares at me for a moment and then looks around at my suite, trying to get a grip on the situation.

  “Well…” I chuckle as I watch him. “I’m not going back, if that’s why you’re here. And I’m not falling for all your bullshit. I have a lawyer, in case you think I’m still that same little brat you met four years ago. I’m ready for this day. One hundred percent ready. So you—”

  “Why not?” he asks, still looking around at all the baby stuff. He picks up a soft teething toy I just bought for Adley since she’s due for that little milestone, and then sets it back down on the foyer table where he found it.

  “Why not what?” I ask, walking Adley back into the living room area. She’s got her eyes locked on his face. I haven’t ever had a man over here so I guess he’s just… interesting.

  “You don’t miss us?” Bric asks, still looking around.

  “I’m different now. I just told you that. I’m not playing your game anymore.”

  “Give me a break, Rochelle,” he huffs. “The game is over.”

  “Exactly. I ended it. And I won. So if you’re here to ask me to come back to Denver, save your breath. I’m not coming.”

  “How do you afford this place?” he asks. “My investigator says you pay five thousand a month for this suite. It’s a lot of money to live at a resort.”

  “Are you serious?” I laugh. I’m not surprised he knows how much I pay for the suite, but I am a little shocked he thinks I’m broke. “You paid my bills for three years, Bricman. Gave me a place to live, bought me food, clothes, gifts. And you guys put thirty thousand dollars in my bank account every month. How else would I be paying for the suite?”

  “So you never spent it? You saved it all up?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I’m just trying to understand how you’re living this lifestyle. Do you have another…” He stops mid-sentence. Like he can’t continue.

  “Do I have another… what?”

  “Another… arrangement?”

  I laugh so loud, Adley startles in my arms. “Sorry, baby,” I say. “But Elias Bricman is on drugs.”

  “So no… quad?” he prods.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I pan one hand down my completely disheveled outfit of leggings and t-shirt, lack of makeup, and fucked-up slept-on ponytail hair. “Do I look like I’m playing another sexual fantasy game here? I’m a new fucking mother, Elias.” I wince at my f-word. I’m really trying not to swear in front of the baby.

  Bric runs his fingers through his hair like he’s frustrated. “I’m just trying to understand. You left everything we gave you behind.”

  “Because I didn’t need it.” I’m rolling my eyes at his stupidity. Did he really think I was spending thirty grand a month while I lived with them? On what? It just shows me how goddamned clueless he is.

  “So you left it all behind to get rid of us? All of it? Put us away and just forget it ever happened?” He stops and scratches the shadow creeping down his jaw. He’s one of those guys who needs to shave every day. Something I always enjoyed about him when we spent our nights together. “So you saved your money and you pay for all this yourself?”

  That little question mark at the end is almost cute. He’s so… un-Bricman-like right now. He came here thinking I had a sugar daddy. I almost laugh at his insecurity. “I have a lot saved still. I bought a nice Lexus. And I put most of it in a trust fund for Adley. But I do get that payment every month, so I’m not strapped.”

  “What payment?” His eyes narrow.

  “The ten grand that gets deposited into my account every month. I assumed it was from
you. No?”

  “No,” he says. “Maybe it was Smith? Maybe you’re his new project.”

  “Ha.” I laugh. “Good one. It’s probably Quin then. And even though I don’t feel like I owe you for it, I do… appreciate it.”

  It has helped. I had more than a million dollars saved when I left them and I only spent a hundred grand on the car. Which was stupid, but I justified it because I wanted to drive places instead of flying. I don’t fly.

  “So he’s been paying you.” He says it more to himself than me. “And you’ve been accepting it.”

  “I figured it was child support.”

  Bric points a finger at me. “Right. Because this child belongs to us.”

  “To me,” I clarify. “I will fuck you over six ways till Sunday if you came here to pull some custody bullshit on me, Bricman. I’m not even messing around right now.”

  He holds his hands up, palms facing me. “Back up, sister. I’m not here for the kid. Come on. Get real. I just…” He sighs. Walks over to a chair and sits. Leans back and closes his eyes as he massages his temples. “You have no idea what your little stunt did to Quin.” He opens his eyes. “No idea.”

  I shrug. “It hurt me too. When you said abortion—”

  “I never told you to get a fucking abortion.” He looks at Adley and lowers his voice. “I never said that, Rochelle. I just said you had a few options.”

  I shrug again. “I heard what you weren’t saying. I know you better than you think. I know what goes on inside that head of yours. I’ve seen it, Bric. Experienced it first-hand. And I already knew Quin wasn’t into me like that. So I did what I had to do.”

  “You left Chella in your bed? That’s what you had to do?” he says, voice rising again.

  “Oh, so it worked, huh?” I smile at that. “How’d that go?”

  Bric sighs. “She’s practically engaged to Smith now.”

  “What?” I laugh. “What the hell?”

  “I know, right?” I get a small familiar smile from Elias Bricman. The friendly one. The real one. One I hardly ever saw when we were together. He only brings it out for special occasions and I was never special enough. “They hit it off. In fact, we all liked her. She played well. But it didn’t last. She quit and went with Smith.”