Dad takes a step back and wipes the back of his sleeve across his face. “Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah.” I feel like a bitch that my dad has to thank me for coming to my mother’s deathbed. But then, we’ve never been normal. “Is Stevie here?”
Dad clears his throat. “Uh, no. He couldn’t get back from L.A. He said something about not being able to get out of some recording studio time.”
I nod. We both know it’s a lie.
“The nurse said when you got here to have you go to the desk. If they’re not doing a procedure, they’re going to let you go back.”
“Okay.” Icy dread washes through me. I know I’m here to see her, but I’m not sure what to expect, both from her and what’s going on around her.
I shuffle to the desk. “Hi, I’m Caroline Hunter. My mother, Kathy Hunter, is here.”
The nurse’s aide smiles up at me. “We’ve been expecting you. Let me get her nurse to take you back.”
I look over my shoulder. “Are you coming, Dad?”
He sniffs. “No, she wants to talk to you alone.”
I’m swamped with lightheadedness, and I realize I’ve hardly eaten in the last twelve to eighteen hours. But I’m also freaking out about what my mother has to say to me, that she wants to say to me alone.
The double doors open, and a woman pokes her head through the opening. “Ms. Hunter? You can come on back.”
I cast a glance back to Dad before I go through the double doors.
The nurse is a head shorter than me, and she talks softly so I have to lean toward her to hear her.
“Now, your mother is hooked up to a lot of machines, so it might be overwhelming, and a little intense for you if you’re afraid of hospitals.”
I nod. I am.
“She has IVs and monitors. And she’s wearing an oxygen mask. Your mother is having a difficult time breathing, which makes it hard for her to talk.” The nurse stops and turns to me. “She’s quite adamant that she speaks to you. She’s been agitated for hours. So she might get overly excited trying to talk, so just help her calm down and have her take her time.”
“Okay.”
I’m scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life, and I’m second-guessing my decision to not have Scarlett come with me. I miss Reed and can’t help thinking how supportive my Reed would be, the Reed I know. But Reed isn’t here, and I realize I need to do this on my own.
It’s time to face the demons of my past.
The nurse opens the glass door to my mother’s room and looks up at me. “Your mother is quite proud of you, you know.”
My eyes widen.
“She’s talked about you to everyone who will listen. Her beautiful daughter who could be a model herself, but instead designs clothes for them. She says you’re the first on either side of the family to get a college education. She thinks the world of you.”
I blink at the tears flooding my eyes, the blood rushing from my head in shock. Why could she never tell me these things herself?
I swallow the bitterness lodged in my throat as I walk in. A hospital bed sits in the center of the room, surrounded by machines and multiple lines leading to the huddle in the middle of the bed.
My mother.
If Dad looked older and broken, my mother looks ancient and shattered. While she wasn’t obese when I was a kid, she always packed more weight than was healthy on her frame. But now she’s thin, her skin sinking into her cheeks and the bones of her arms.
When did my parents get so old?
Her eyes are closed, but her chest rises and falls in an exaggerated movement. The mask on her face releases a hiss from the steady stream of oxygen.
I take two steps toward her, and her eyes flutter open. She blinks and tries to focus.
“Carol Ann?”
I realize I’m holding my breath, and I let it out in a whoosh. “Hey, Mom.”
“You came.” Tears fill her eyes, and her chin trembles.
A lump clogs my throat. In the twenty-one years I’ve been on this earth, I’ve never seen my mother cry. Not even when her own mother died ten years ago. “I came.”
Her shaky hand lifts off the bed and extends toward me, and I take another step toward her. She grabs my wrist, and more tears stream down her face.
I’m frozen with fear, not of the apparatus around her now, but the fact I have no idea what to say.
Her hand still circles my wrist, so I move closer until my legs are touching the side of the bed. I place my other hand over hers.
“Carol Ann….” She breaks into a coughing spell and it takes her several minutes to recover.
I pull up a chair and sit next to her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I hold her hand, careful of her IV, and try to remember the last physical contact I had with her. I come up with nothing.
When she stops coughing, she pulls her mask off her face. “I have a lot I want to tell you but not much time.”
“Mom, don’t say that.”
Her face screws up in disgust. This is the first time since I walked in the room that I recognize the woman who raised me. “I haven’t sugarcoated nothin’ in my life, and I’m not about to start now. It don’t take a genius to realize I’m dying, and I ain’t got much time.”
I try to hide my smile.
She replaces the mask and takes several deep breaths before she takes it off again. “That’s what I want to see. Your smile. Not your pity.”
I look up, embarrassed. “I didn’t—”
“I’m dying, Carol Ann. It’s a fact none of us can change. Ignoring the Grim Reaper in the corner won’t make him go away.”
I bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling. “I’m sorry.”
She looks up at the ceiling and exhales, producing a wet cough that makes me nauseated. “No need to be sorry. I’ve lived a good life. My time is done.”
Does she really think she’s lived a good life?
As though reading my mind, she turns her head to face me, breathing in deep from the oxygen mask before removing it. “I know what you’re thinking. Just because my life doesn’t meet your standards, don’t mean it wasn’t good for me.”
I close my eyes. “Mom, I never meant leaving for college to be a criticism of you or your life.”
“Bullshit,” she barks out and starts coughing. She replaces the mask for a minute before she removes it. “You judged our life. And by many people’s standards, we didn’t have it good. But it was good enough for me.” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you judge me for that.”
I shake my head as tears flow down my face. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah,” she chuckles and I wonder if her mood swings are from narcotics. “I was hard on you, girl. You were soft. You cried a lot. You cared what other people thought of you, and it made you miserable.” She replaces her mask and takes several breaths. “I wanted you to accept who you were and not worry about what others thought of you.” She shakes her head. “I just did a piss poor job of it.”
My mouth hangs open. “Mom, I had no idea.”
Her eyes squint. “I told you I did a piss poor job of it.”
I laugh despite my tears.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Carol Ann. Maybe too pretty for your own good. Too pretty for the likes of your father and me. We could never give you what you wanted so I didn’t even try.” She shrugs. “I suppose I should have made more of an effort.”
I watch her, in shock. I never thought she gave my feelings or what I wanted any thought. Sure, she made little effort, but it’s nice to hear her acknowledged it.
“You were always such a stubborn thing.” Tears fill her eyes. “I remember back when you were three or four, I said you couldn’t go out and play with that Scarlett girl from down the lane until you’d taken your plate to the sink. You sat at the table for three hours until Scarlett came inside, begging you to do it so you could play. And then I suspect Scarlett did it for you.” She laughs, then begins to cough. When she stops coughing, tears stream d
own her face, she looks me in the eye. “It took me nearly eighteen years to accept that you wanted a different life than your father and me. It took me that long to accept that that was okay. I know I wasn’t the best mother to you and your brother, and somewhere deep down, I knew that being a mother meant sacrificing for your kids, even if I hadn’t done much sacrificing.
“Some people think I shoulda never told you to choose—your father and me or college. But you were dead set on going. I always worried you’d get there and think it was too hard, and you’d come back home—to a life you hated. I had to know how bad you wanted it. I think you needed me to help you find out how bad you wanted it.” She looks into my eyes with an intensity I’ve never seen. “You see, I never hated my life. I didn’t love it either. It just was. But you were set on more. And I’d done a piss poor job of helping you get it.”
Her chin trembles, and she grabs my hand. “I’ve only done a handful of things I’m proud of. One of them is giving birth to you. The other is the day I set you free. When I made you choose, I took your security blanket away. Even if it meant I’d probably lose you forever. When you went to college, it was sink or swim, and I knew you were too goddamned stubborn to sink.”
I start crying, my shoulders shaking with my sobs. “I didn’t know.” I can’t see her through my tears. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t know.”
She pats my hand. “You weren’t supposed to know. Not this soon.” Her words come in rasps, and after she replaces the mask, it takes her longer than before. “When I found out I was dying, I had to tell you. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t love you.” She lifts my chin and stares into my eyes. “I’m proud of you.”
I struggle to catch my breath.
“You’re a beautiful, strong woman, and you deserve the life you want, Caroline.” She pauses, giving me a moment to digest that she’s called me by my full first name and not the nickname she knows I hate. “Fight for the life you want.”
I nod.
She pats my face. “That’s my good girl.” She closes her eyes, and I’m scared she’s passed away, but her monitors are still beeping and flashing.
After several minutes, the nurse comes in behind me and rests her hand on my shoulder. “She’s sleeping. It looks like she’s said what she was desperate to tell you and wore herself out. If you want to stay with her for a little bit, you’re welcome to.”
“Thank you,” I say, not bothering to hide my tears.
“Now that she’s made her peace, it probably won’t be long now.”
I nod.
I watch my mother sleep, still stunned by her revelation. How could I know that my greatest heartache was her greatest gift? She’s right. Back in my sophomore year, I’d struggled with a couple of classes and had moments when I considered dropping out, but the fact I had nowhere to go ensured I stayed. Would I have stayed if I thought I could come home? I’d like to think I would, but now I’m not so sure.
I’m exhausted, but I’m not ready to leave her yet. I lay my cheek on the mattress and close my eyes.
Someone pats my shoulder, and I blink, disoriented.
The nurse smiles at me. “You fell asleep. I hate to disturb you, but we have to do a procedure. We’ll let you come back in about an hour.”
I stand and leave the room, emotionally and physically drained. I just need to rest my head somewhere and pull myself together. When I open the doors to the waiting room, I’m not prepared for the person I find on the other side.
Reed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
My heart leaps into my throat.
Reed sits next to my father, and when he sees me, he stands, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he waits for me to make the first move.
I run my hand through my tangled hair. “What … how did you know where I was?”
“Scarlett.” He steps forward, and I see his bruised and swollen left eye.
“What happened to your face?”
He gives me a wry smirk. “Tucker.”
I smile, despite myself.
“I need to talk to you, Caroline. I need to explain.”
I want to tell him that I don’t want an explanation, but my mother’s secret has taught me that things aren’t always what they seem. I need to hear him out. I owe him that. And if I don’t like what I hear, I can tell him goodbye. “Okay.”
He releases a breath. “Thank you.”
“My mother’s having a procedure, and they say it will take an hour. That’s all you get.”
He nods.
“Dad, I’ll be back.”
“I like this guy,” my dad says, pointing his thumb at Reed. “Give him a chance.”
I shake my head as I start to walk down the hall, not waiting for Reed. I keep going until I spot a coffee vending machine. Reed steps in front of me and gets two cups.
When he hands me mine, I refuse to look into his face, and continue down the hall, looking for somewhere private to talk. We come to the cafeteria, and I find a table in the dimly lit room. It’s three in the morning and the food line is closed. We’ll be alone.
I sit in a chair and take a sip of what has to be the world’s worst coffee while I wait for him to start talking.
“How are you doing?” he asks.
I snort. “I’m doing great, Reed. Best night of my life.”
He inhales and scrubs his face with his hands, but pulls them away when he rubs his eye.
“Did Tucker really punch you?”
He nods, looking down at his cup. “He knew that I’d upset you.”
“How in the world did you even see him to get punched?”
“I needed to find you, and you wouldn’t answer your cell phone. So I called Scarlett and begged her to tell me where you were. I said if she wouldn’t tell me on the phone, that I’d come over. Tucker got on the phone and told me if I came over he’d punch me.”
“And you went anyway?” I ask, incredulous.
“I needed to find you, Caroline.” He rubs his forehead then looks at me. “I’d ask you why you didn’t ask me to come with you, but I know why. What I want to know is, if we hadn’t had our argument tonight, would you have told me? Would you have asked me to come?”
“Yes.”
He nods, and turns his cup in his hand. “I fucked up, Caroline.”
I don’t say anything.
He leans his forearms on the table. Taking a deep breath, his eyes fill with pain. “I told you that this isn’t my story to tell, but Lexi gave me permission.” Reed swallows. “Last year, Lexi was a freshman at a small private college out east. Very private. Very expensive. But it turns out that expensive tuition doesn’t mean that it’s safe.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, then puts the cup down. His face contorts with disgust. “A guy at her school became infatuated with her.”
My chest tightens with dread.
“It started off with little things. Notes, small gifts, secret-admirer kind of things always left anonymously outside her dorm room door or on her usual seat in classes. It was obvious the bastard knew her schedule.” His voice breaks. “Lexi never told us. She said she didn’t want to overreact. But then things started showing up in her dorm room. Campus security changed the locks and assured Lexi she was safe.”
He swallows and blinks back his tears. “Her roommate was out one night, and the guy showed up.” Reed looks into my eyes. “He raped her, Caroline. My baby sister was raped.”
“Oh, God, Reed, I’m so sorry.” No wonder he’s so overprotective of her. I feel like an ass.
“The worst part is he got away with it. His family is prestigious and has deep pockets. It was his word against Lexi’s.”
I reach across the table and loop my fingers over his. He takes a deep breath and clings to my hand.
“Needless to say, Lexi was a mess. It was the middle of the spring semester so my parents forced her to go home. The fact the guy was still there, and the fact she’s the daughter of John Monroe, made going back to school a security issue.
They were also worried about a scandal, that it would somehow come back that Lexi had brought it on herself.” His mouth presses into a line and anger hardens his face. “My parents wanted her to give up college for a year or two and wait for everything to die down, but that devastated her even more. Her entire life had been derailed because of one psycho. I couldn’t let that happen.”
I’m not surprised he refused to stand back and let his sister suffer.
“I convinced my parents to let Lexi go back to school if I went with her. She could live with me in an apartment off campus. They refused until we agreed to change our last names. They didn’t want the press to find out where we were. Pendergraft is my maternal grandmother’s maiden name. And Southern is a respected university, but it’s hidden in the middle of Tennessee. I thought we could get lost here.”
“But by the end of last spring, you surely had been accepted into a postgrad program. Where were you going to go?”
“Stanford.”
“Where Dr. Knuth’s at. You gave up your dream for your sister?”
He looks incredulous. “Lexi is far more important than a degree from Stanford.”
I sit back in my seat and close my eyes. “I’m an idiot.”
He leans across the table, and lifts my hand to his mouth. “No, Caroline. No. You had every right to be upset. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you sooner.”
I look at my hand cradled in his. This is still Reed. My Reed. His last name shouldn’t matter. If I let his family affect how I feel about him, how is that any different than if my background influenced Reed? He didn’t keep his identity from me because he was ashamed of where he came from. He did it to protect his sister. But if he went to those lengths to protect her, what else would he do?
“You knew about Brandon’s criminal record and his father.”
He stiffens slightly but looks unapologetic. “I saw him talking to Lexi after you left that night at the bar. I had him investigated.”
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