by Debbie Burns
Jillian was first to break the stupor holding the room. Crossing at lightning pace, she picked up the abandoned book and tucked it on the side of her body farthest from Sophie. As if doing so could make Sophie unsee it. He glanced at Megan, who’d gone from bright red to ghostly pale in a few seconds. If he’d been harboring hope she’d blow it off with a wave of her hand and give a plausible excuse, it faded.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie pleaded. “Moxie was on your bed and I went to pick her up and I saw all the lumps under the covers. I didn’t know—”
“It’s okay. Those books aren’t mine. A friend of mine lent them to me.” Megan had told him weeks ago she was a pathetic liar, that she couldn’t bluff to save her life. Before now, he’d never seen her try.
If someone had predicted he’d learn something this powerful, this life-altering, with the three women he cared about most all in the same room, he wouldn’t have believed it.
What was worse, he wasn’t the only one to put it together. Jillian’s under-the-tongue whisper penetrated the room like a scream. “Jesus, Craig, you didn’t.”
* * *
The smoke alarm piercing through her home from the charred quesadilla was a bizarre relief. For the minute or two Megan dealt with the smoky fiasco in her kitchen, she wouldn’t have to look any of them in the eye. She wished fleetingly the three people standing in her living room would think it was a real fire and run out, never to be seen again.
Her hands shook wildly as she yanked the pan off the burner and used tongs to transfer the blackened tortilla-cheese brick into the sink and douse it until it was waterlogged and no longer smoldering. The smell of burned flour mixed with savory, melted cheese made her stomach lurch.
Refusing to look at her guests, Megan heard Jillian’s mumbled accusation replaying like a broken record in her head until the smoke cleared enough that the alarm silenced. Somehow Jillian had worked out the depth of Sophie’s ill-timed proclamation. It seemed impossible though. Craig would have said if he’d shared anything about their relationship with his ex-wife.
If only she hadn’t thought those books were safely hidden under her bedcovers. If only she’d thought of a better hiding place while Sophie was in the shower. If only she had told Craig the news on any of the last several chances she had.
Though she wouldn’t risk a glance toward the living room, the silence filling it grated on her nerves. Finally, as she shut off the faucet, Craig cleared his throat.
“Sophie, it’s late. We should get you home.” He was crossing the room as he spoke. Megan could tell that much without looking.
“How’d you know I was here? My phone?”
“Yes, and we’re going to want answers.” It was Jillian, and she’d become nasal. To Megan’s horror, she realized Craig’s ex was crying—silently, but crying nevertheless.
Unable to keep turned away any longer, she watched Jillian use her thumb to swipe her cheek dry. Craig was returning from the back of the room. He’d opened the sliding-glass patio door to clear the cloud of smoke clinging to the ceiling. Sophie looked back and forth between her parents, twisting the wet towel in her hands like a rope. Had she heard her mother’s quiet accusation? Megan prayed she hadn’t. Or if she had, that it didn’t register.
“Sorry I came here without calling.” Sophie glanced Megan’s way a second and shrugged her shoulders apologetically. “Megan helped me work something out. But I’d rather talk about it later.”
Jillian had set the book upside down on Megan’s side table. “Reese is asleep in the car. Let’s get you home. You guys are with me the rest of the night. Your dad can bring your stuff in the morning.”
“Yeah, but can you give me a second first? I’ll be right out.” Sophie gnawed her lip, waiting for a reply.
Megan made eye contact with Craig for the first time since Sophie had made her declaration. His jaw was clenched, and the muscles lining his neck and shoulders rippled with tension. What on earth could she say? Nothing, that’s what.
Jillian answered for both of them, telling Sophie in that nasal tone to gather her things and be out in a minute. She headed out without so much as a glance Megan’s way, and under the circumstances, Megan couldn’t blame her.
Craig paused by the door, rapping on the frame with his palm. “Megan, I’ll, uh, I’ll be in touch.”
She knew she couldn’t answer him without crying, so she nodded. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Worse, the trembling was climbing up her arms, and now her chin seemed to have a mind of its own. Fearing they’d notice, she locked her hands behind her back.
“It’s a mess,” he added, hovering in the doorway under Sophie’s curious gaze. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t figure it out.”
As close to crying as she could get without tears sliding down her cheeks, Megan forced herself to hold it together for Sophie’s sake. Finally, he was gone, the door was shut, and it was just her and Sophie.
“That got weird,” Sophie said, wadding her towel into a ball. “Sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Megan forced a shrug and kept her hands locked under the waistband at the back of her pants.
Sophie opened her mouth, blushed scarlet, then shut it without saying anything. After another second or two of hesitation, she said, “So did you tell them anything about what happened?”
“No,” Megan said, feeling the tears retreat a bit at the change of topic. “But I do think you should. Maybe not tonight, but when you’re ready. If you need reinforcements, I’m here, awkward as it might be.” She held her hands out for the towel. “I’ll take that. You should grab your bag and get moving.”
Sophie tossed her the towel, then stepped forward and hugged her, smashing the wet towel against her chest. “You’re the best, Megan.”
She dashed into the bathroom, grabbed her overnight bag, thanked Megan again, and headed out to join her parents. The door was barely closed before Megan sank to the floor, covering her face in shaky hands.
Chapter 23
By five in the morning, Megan was resigned to the fact that sleep would be as elusive as the end of a rainbow. The few hours before Sophie called were all she would get. She made a pot of herbal tea—quitting caffeine was underway—threw on some clothes, and headed out the door for work. Hopefully, getting busy would keep her thoughts from circling into oblivion.
She hadn’t even made it a few blocks when she started recounting her mistakes. She’d made two big ones that tortured her. If she could undo just one of them, the disaster in her apartment—and what she feared it would lead to—could’ve been so different. She could’ve told Craig Friday night when she met him in the parking lot. She was in a good space. She should’ve gathered the courage and told him.
But he was in a hurry, and the time hadn’t seemed right. The second mistake was not hiding those books better. Just a little more caution on her part, and she could’ve told Craig in the way he deserved to be told. Not throw it at him in front of his daughter and ex-wife.
How she’d ever find the courage to see him again, she didn’t know. He’d texted an hour after leaving, asking if she was awake. She didn’t answer. She wasn’t ready to face him. She shuddered at the thought. It was Craig’s look as he hovered by the door that haunted her. Tense. Tired. Resigned. Beaten.
She was still trying to erase that look from her mind when she pulled into the empty shelter parking lot. The unusual stillness that greeted her when she stepped through the door at such an early hour was as welcoming as the familiar din of barks, yips, and howls that would fill the air later in the day. However, she suspected that even when the building grew noisy, Sophie’s sharp declaration would replay over and over again in her head. Those few words had exploded through her home like an air bag triggering.
She cursed herself for looking at Jillian first, not Craig. Because whatever happened in the future, she’d missed the opportunity to see the look on his face the exact moment he
learned he’d created another child. Maybe it was better she hadn’t though, in case it was disappointment or rage or something she wouldn’t want to remember.
Instead, burned into her retinas was the look on Jillian’s face, eyebrows drawing sharply upward and lips pressing flat. And her gaze darting to her ex-husband.
The truth was there’d be no doing anything today aside from reliving those life-altering seconds and worrying herself sick with fear over their repercussions. What was this going to do to those kids? Would anyone tell Reese? Would Sophie hate her? Hate her dad? And what about Craig? Would he hate her for not telling him when she should have?
She was a complete mess. A complete pregnant, worthless mess. Truth was, she’d likely be better off getting away from the shelter today altogether. A strenuous hike would settle her nerves, but thunderstorms were expected to roll in. Long drives usually worked too. She was mulling over places to go when Patrick walked in at three minutes to eight—allowing the precise amount of time to hang his jacket and put his usual ham-and-salami sandwich in the fridge.
Chance trotted over to greet him. Patrick sank to a squat and pulled a treat from one of the pockets of his cargo pants. He had the habit of only buying pants with eight pockets. Each pocket held something important to him. Megan could see the outline of his trusted Swiss Army knife in one and his mini flashlight in another.
“I thought of you last night when the Cards came from behind like that and won in the bottom of the tenth inning.”
The smile that appeared on Patrick’s face as Chance chomped his treat and wagged his tail in unison grew wider. “It was a good win. That happened last year six games out from the end of the season, only then we ended with four runs and we were playing the Cubs.”
Patrick seemed have a limitless ability to commit three things to memory: shelter facts, baseball stats, and chess moves. Megan had never met anyone who could outdo him in memory recall in any of those areas and doubted she ever would.
This morning, Patrick’s solid sense of self was even more soothing than her cup of tea had been. A bit of consistency to count on when her world was in upheaval. The fact that he felt good about this season’s lineup, despite what the critics had to say, was immensely reassuring. She suspected deep down that this had less to do with baseball and more to do with all the daunting single-mother stats rolling around her head all morning.
Good things happened despite worrywarts and naysayers. This thought brought her mom to mind. Her mom was the only one she knew who actually used those two outdated words in conversation anymore.
Her I-don’t-care-if-it’s-in-style-or-not mom.
Right away, Megan knew where she needed to go today. Sooner or later, she was going to have to tell her mom, and it might as well be now. And the relief of getting out of town today of all days would just about negate the stress she typically felt going home.
Once the idea took hold, there was no getting around it. After the baseball talk wound around to animal talk and an update of all that needed to be done today, Patrick headed into the back.
Megan spent a half hour going through paperwork, making sure she was setting Patrick and Kelsey up for success with the shelter left in their hands for a short while. Tomorrow was Monday, and for the first time in months, she had two days off in a row. She was going to go for it and head home to Springfield.
It was a three-and-a-half-hour drive. She’d done the trip there and back in one day often enough, fueled on the ride home by the decade-long grudge she’d been holding against her mom. But Megan suspected this time would be different. She’d need the extra few days for several reasons. She was exhausted starting the trip. Her sleepless hours were already making her eyelids feel like they were coated in sandpaper. Trying to drive back tonight might even be dangerous. And then there was the news she was bringing with her. It wasn’t just going to come out in casual conversation. She’d need time with her mom alone, once Tyler and Tess had gone to bed, and Rick too for that matter.
And then there was Craig. She knew he’d want to see her, even though his hands had to be more than full with Jillian and the kids and the aftermath of last night’s party. But she needed time. She didn’t want to face him today. What if he asked her to have an abortion?
She wouldn’t. Not a chance. But if he did, if he asked her to, things between them would never be the same.
And she wasn’t ready to lose him.
It seemed easier to put him off entirely for a few days. To get herself together before facing him. She couldn’t fathom what he thought of all this. The truth was, she didn’t want to try.
Megan couldn’t rewind the clock. But she could get her crap together and figure out her next steps. And, almost surprisingly, going home to Springfield felt like the right place to do it.
* * *
After a quick trip home to pack and make sure the cats were well fed, Megan was just about to merge onto the interstate for Springfield when it struck her she’d forgotten something. Actually, not something, but someone. Checking her mirrors to make sure it was safe, she whipped a U-turn and headed back to work.
Bringing Sledge along wasn’t against shelter protocol. Reliable volunteers could choose to foster animals they couldn’t find homes for. Megan had gotten Moxie and Max that way. Since they had feline immunosuppressive virus, they couldn’t stay in the shelter without the risk of infecting other cats. She brought them home with the idea of eventually placing them elsewhere. But they’d snuck into her heart, and a month into fostering, she made their adoption official.
Only she couldn’t do that with Sledge. He was a ninety-pound German shepherd. Her landlord didn’t allow dogs, and Megan didn’t have the money to move. If she could, she would though.
Sledge was phenomenally well trained, and she could swear he wanted to start trusting people again, signs that he’d had someone in his life who’d cared about him a lot.
And all of this was working together to have her falling for him big time. After a few days of all-on bonding, letting him go to someone else was going to be a lot harder. But bringing him along on the trip home felt like the right decision. He’d be welcome company for the quiet drive—and even more welcome company in the home she always felt like she was invading when she visited. And with both her mother and stepfather being dog lovers, she knew she’d hear no objection.
So, another twenty minutes of readying his supplies later, she was back at the same spot, merging onto the interstate toward Springfield. Only this time, she had a canine companion filling her backseat and leaning forward every so often to pant in her ear and lick her neck.
She plugged in the auxiliary cord to her iPod, set her playlist on random, and settled in for the drive. She was an hour into it and listening to “Heartbreak Warfare” while thinking of Craig when the storm that had been building on the horizon met her with a burst of force.
Rain and wind pummeled the windshield. Sledge whined as she shifted to the right lane and locked her hands at ten and two. Her phone rang at the same time that a burst of wind threatened to shove her off the highway. Ignoring the call, she focused on the only spot of highway she could see—fifty feet right in front of her—and hoped a freeway exit and gas station were near.
During a break in the wind, she flipped over her phone to see the missed call was from Craig. He’d left a voice mail. When the storm was over, she’d call him, though the idea of doing so made her heart flutter a little too reminiscently of morning sickness.
The worst of the storm and the gas station arrived at the same time. She parked by a pump and sat in her car under a covered awning, waiting it out as the world around her shook and blew. She willed herself to pick up the phone and call Craig. Or at least listen to his voice mail. Maybe he was telling her he loved her and it was going to be okay.
Or maybe he was demanding they meet so he could give her ultimatums about the baby.
&nbs
p; When the skies were clearing and the rain was down to an easy drizzle, she grabbed her phone and hopped out. Sledge, who shoved out from the backseat a bit awkwardly, seemed relieved to be out of the car. His tail wagged a dozen times before he started eyeing the world around him. After starting the pump, Megan wrapped the leash tight and headed to a strip of bright-green grass at the side of the gas station.
“This is it,” she said to Sledge as she dialed her voice mail. “The moment of truth. What are you betting?”
Sledge glanced her way for a split second but turned his attention back to a semi that was pulling in. Megan was dodging a puddle and hopping over the curb onto the grass when he bolted sideways, jarring the phone from her hand.
And straight into a puddle.
“Crap!” She dove for it, but her heart sank. The puddle was deep, and her phone was completely immersed. In the back of her mind, she heard Patrick telling her she needed a waterproof case like his. She worked in a shelter full of hoses, water bowls, and excited animals. And she heard herself telling him she’d never lost a phone to water damage.
The images on the screen were already going haywire. She turned it off immediately and dabbed it dry with her shirt while Sledge peed a forever pee. When he was finished, she ran him to the car, shut him in, and headed into the gas station for the supplies she’d heard could help. A ziplock bag of uncooked rice. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t know if it did for a few days.
She was a bit surprised that the small shop actually had rice. She grabbed a box of dog treats as she passed, paid, and returned to the car.
“Well,” she said, ripping open the box and letting Sledge’s powerful tongue swipe treats from her fingers, “I guess it wasn’t the moment of truth after all.”
* * *
Craig’s unease showed in the burned toast, runny eggs, and coffeepot he ran first with only water. He’d never wish his kids away, but when Sophie had talked Jillian into letting them stay with him as originally planned, it would’ve been better if he’d objected and picked them up later today.
