Picket Fence Surprise

by Kris Fletcher

  She was pretty sure she couldn’t put any of that in a text.

  I’ll know soon enough.

  She didn’t blame Xander. Well, other than for his idiocy in going out there in the first place. She was still steaming over that. But the rest—nope. That had been all her.

  Can I come by tonight to grovel? I’ll bring dinner.

  Her first instinct was to say no. Then again, her first instinct usually turned out to be a horrific mistake.

  True, she needed time. Distance. The chance to sort through what had happened, to get some sleep so she could think clearly. Because when she finally stopped beating herself up and worrying about the interview long enough to fall asleep last night, she’d been jerked back to terrified wakefulness by the nightmare she hadn’t had for months. The one in which she was running through the old house, calling ever more frantically for Millie, only to open the door to the backyard and look out at the flooded creek to see—

  She cupped her hands over her mouth and breathed in, steadying herself before she fell into old panic. She’d learned the hard way that hysteria, even when justified, didn’t make anything easier.

  Her phone buzzed. Another text.

  Seafood: thumbs-up or down?

  It didn’t take a psychoanalyst to figure out why she’d had the dream again last night. She’d freaked over Xander. Her fear when she saw how high up he was had tapped into her worst nightmare and resurrected the memories that would haunt her until she died. But it also didn’t take any special training to recognize that the nightmare, and the night, and the evening had been a supersize wake-up call.

  She was in over her head.

  Seafood works, she typed, then tossed her phone into the backseat so she wouldn’t be tempted to read anything else.

  She knew what she had to do. And it wouldn’t be made any easier by Xander making her laugh.

  * * *

  XANDER MADE A side trip to Brockville to pick up some specialties from the bistro that had catered Darcy and Ian’s wedding. Pecan baked brie, Prince Edward Island mussels swimming in wine cream, parmesan garlic mashed potatoes...if this didn’t convince Heather that he appreciated her assistance—and her—then nothing would. Except maybe the chocolate truffle cake that he’d grabbed at the last minute.

  And after last night, he had a whole new appreciation for her. Not just because she had set aside her justified anger to help him. Not just because she had given him a whole new appreciation for starlight and soft grass, though God knew that had been one for the memory book.

  No, this new insight had come before either of those. Back while he was in the tree, to be precise, in the time after he called and before she arrived. When it hit him that his first thought had been to call her. When he’d known, deep in his bones, that even though she was furious, she would do everything in her power to help. When the truth smacked him in the face like the sharpest tree branch: that even when it didn’t make sense, even when it would have been more logical to turn to someone else, he would have wanted her there anyway.

  He was falling for Heather, harder and faster than he would have if he’d slipped from his perch. But unlike his seat in the tree, this drop looked a lot more like something he wanted.

  Was he ready to say anything? No.

  That didn’t make the evening any less deserving of celebration.

  When Heather opened the door and inhaled, for a moment she looked almost as blissed out as she had the first time they made love. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought that he could be replaced with some seafood, but on the other hand, it was good to know he’d chosen wisely.

  “Come on in. And bring those amazing aromas with you.”

  He followed her into the dining area, placed the bags on the table set for two and turned to her.

  “First things first.” He pulled her in for a long kiss. Not just because he’d been reliving the feel of her against him all day, but because he needed to read her, to know if he had totally blown things by being an idiot. The best way to accomplish both of those tasks was with a kiss.

  She didn’t throw herself into it the way she usually did, but neither did she try to cut it short. Or, worse, avoid it completely. That had to be good.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, when he came up for air.

  “For what?”

  “For dragging you out at night. For distracting you the night before an interview. For scaring you.”

  She stiffened slightly in his embrace.

  “How about for doing something really shortsighted and dangerous?” she said.

  Ah.

  “How about I explain things while we eat?”

  “Okay,” she said, and turned to the bags of food.

  He would have felt a lot more confident if he hadn’t seen the tiny shake of her head before she moved.

  A few minutes later, his plate flooded with mussels and a giant mound of potatoes, he decided to go for it. “So the Cline place. I went back to get some more shots. I had an idea for your presentation. Was it the smartest move? No. But did everything turn out okay? Yeah.”

  At least, he thought it had all turned out okay until he noticed that she wasn’t meeting his gaze.

  “I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. I usually take Lulu with me. And I’ve never gone in the evening before, which, I know, wasn’t the brightest move.” He pressed his fork into his potatoes, deepening the well of melted butter.

  Something wasn’t right here.

  “Heather.” He set down his fork and placed his hand over hers. She let him take it, which he tried to make himself believe was a good sign. “I learned my lesson, okay? I’m not going back there again. I have a thick skull sometimes, but even I know—”

  “I thought about you all day.”

  “Me—”

  He stopped just before finishing the sentence. Not because it wasn’t true. But because, from the way Heather was staring at her untouched food, he didn’t think she was as delighted as he was.

  “See, the thing is,” she said softly, “I should have been thinking about the interview. The job. The one that would make it easier for me to share custody of Millie, which is, you know, the reason I was doing all this in the first place.”

  Oh hell.

  “You probably did better than you think.”

  Wrong. He knew he’d said the exact wrong words as soon as they slipped out. She didn’t want empty assurances. She wanted truth.

  “Sorry. I know you’re worried. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She shook her head impatiently. Like it didn’t matter what he said. Like she had already said everything to herself, and whatever words he might offer were just so much hot air.

  “I don’t like what you did,” she said, pulling her hand back. “And I really don’t like how you seem to think that since everything turned out okay, that makes it all hunky-dory.”

  “I don’t—”

  “But,” she pushed on, “I don’t like what I did even more.”

  “What? You wish you hadn’t bailed me out?” He forced a laugh. “Okay, I know I deserved to stay up in that tree, but—”

  “Xander.”

  Yeah. Right. He was being an idiot again.

  He grabbed his fork and swirled it through the potatoes, pushing them into a butter-filled volcano. Appropriate, since he felt about ready to explode.

  “You know that I don’t have a problem—I mean, it’s not that I like that you went to jail. But I understand about messing up, and...” She pulled her hands in tight, twisting them together in front of her chest. “But the thing is, you’re in a high-risk group. And I let myself—no. I practically forced you to have unprotected sex with me.”

  Was that what this was about? Relief washed through him.

  “Heather. Babe. It’
s okay. I told you—”

  “I wasn’t exactly asking at a time when you—when anyone—would have been inclined to say anything else.”

  His memory spun back...the grass beneath his back, the blackness pressing down, her hands and lips and that catch in her voice that was for him... “That’s, uh, a valid point. But you don’t need to worry. I’m clean. Nothing happened to me in jail, and since then I’ve always been careful. More since I found out about Cady, ’cause even though she’s the best thing that ever happened to me, she was a condom baby, so I know...” But that wasn’t what she was asking. “If you want me to have a test, say the word. It’s not a problem.”

  “Except it kind of is.” She lifted her gaze from her knotted hands. “Not because of you, okay? And it’s not that I don’t believe you, because I do. Really. But I... When I’m with you, I can’t trust myself.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” Except if he really wanted to be honest, it did. It sounded like the way he’d felt when he agreed to do that last, fatal hack. He had known it was wrong and known he was being twelve kinds of stupid, but it had grabbed at him and tempted him, and damn his fool hide, but he had yielded big-time.

  “I know that you’re a good guy. I know you would never do anything to hurt me, or Millie, even by mistake. But I am her mom. And I’ve already used up my second chance at that, you know?” She swallowed hard. “Last night, I let myself forget that. I took a stupid, idiotic chance, and, okay, this time I got lucky, but still...”

  This wasn’t really happening. She couldn’t be breaking up with him.

  “I probably blew the interview. I could have ended up exposed to God-knows-what. All because I let myself forget what mattered most.”

  “Heather, I know that Millie is your top priority, but I think we could—”

  She closed her eyes, tightly, like she was in physical pain.

  He knew that one perfectly.

  “I can’t take that chance.”

  The thickness in her voice told him that this was wrenching her almost as much as it was killing him.

  Almost.

  “I guess maybe I should leave.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, so small and slow that if he tried hard, he could probably pretend he hadn’t seen it.

  But he had. And she had. And he wasn’t going to beg.

  He might be an idiot who played the odds, but even he knew when to let go.

  * * *

  HEATHER HAD ALWAYS KNOWN that doing the wrong thing made her miserable. But she’d never thought that doing the right thing could leave her feeling even worse.

  She missed Xander. Ridiculously so, considering they had only been together for, what, five or six weeks? Yet she couldn’t get him out of her head.

  It didn’t help that every time she turned around, she bumped up against another reminder of him. When she ran into Tim Hortons for a coffee... When she did a frantic search through her closet to find something to wear to a networking event and her hand stilled on the dress she had worn to the wedding... When she answered her phone and heard that, miracle of miracles, she was on the short list for the tourism job.

  You probably did better than you think.

  Okay. Xander had been right about that. But being right in one area didn’t mean he was right about other things. Or that she had been wrong.

  Besides, this was better for him. This way, he could get back on the dating circuit and meet someone who was interested in making babies as opposed to making whoopee, and the next thing you know he’d be toting a mini-Xander around the North family gatherings. And she would be happy for him. Yep. Frickin’ ecstatic. Because she had done the right thing, yes she had.

  All she had to do was keep moving.

  She purposely scheduled her second interview for a Thursday, so she would have Millie the night before. It was hard to be nervous or yearning with a preteen debating endlessly about who she hoped would be in her class in September. Heather was able to listen with one ear, nodding and smiling in the appropriate places while doing her best to keep her inner freak-out contained.

  It wasn’t until they sat down to dinner that things fell apart.

  Heather set Millie’s plate on the table and returned to the kitchen to get her own food. She was hovering over the potatoes, trapped in the sudden memory of Xander playing with his pile of spuds the night it ended, when a small sound from the table made her swing around. Millie huddled in her chair with her head bowed. Probably not in prayer.

  “Mills?” Heather hurried to the table. “Honey, are you—wait. Are you crying?”

  A slow nod of the head was the only answer.

  “What’s wrong?” Heather pulled her chair close and sat down, knees bumping her girl’s legs, drawing Millie’s head into her embrace. “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “It’s just...this is so nice.” Millie caught her breath. “But I don’t...”

  “You don’t what?” And since when was having a nice dinner a reason for tears? She didn’t remember the parenting classes ever covering this one.

  “Because I’m still not here. More. With you.”

  Oh sweet Jesus. Tonight?

  “You said you would talk to Daddy.” Millie words came out in a rush, like she’d been holding them in too long. “You promised. But you haven’t, and I still don’t have lots of time with you, and I love Daddy and Brynn and Noah but don’t...but don’t you want me here?”

  “Oh, Millie. Baby.” She cradled her weeping girl, sent up a fleeting wish that this could have happened when they were sitting on the sofa, then framed Millie’s face with her hands and tipped it up. All the better to kiss her girl’s forehead.

  “Sweetheart. I want you more than anything else in my life. Believe me. That hasn’t changed and it never will.”

  “But you haven’t—”

  “Yes, I did. Daddy and I have talked about it a couple of times.”

  “What did he say?”

  How to phrase this without making it sound as though she were bad-mouthing Hank?

  “That it’s a big step and he needs time to think about it.”

  “How much time?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  Millie’s face crumpled. “But that could take forever!” She pushed her chair back, standing up, stepping out of Heather’s embrace. “Why don’t you make him do it? Why don’t you just tell him he has to do it, like when you tell me I have to do something? How come you guys get to decide everything and I have to do whatever you say, and nobody ever does what I want?”

  Breathe. Count. Space.

  “Some decisions have to be made by the parents. Kids aren’t always able to see every side of a situation, or—”

  “No! No, that’s not fair! You always tell me I’m so smart, and I’m so grown-up. But you’re still treating me like...like a baby.”

  “I do listen to you. Millie. I mean, as soon as you asked me about this, back at Cady’s party, I started working on it.”

  “But that was ages ago.”

  “I know it feels that way. But I had to get some things in line before I could talk to Daddy. Now he needs time. It wouldn’t be fair to—”

  “How come you only worry about being fair to him? What about to me?” Millie tossed her glasses to the table, wiped the tears from her face with jerky motions, wrapped her arms tight around herself. “You moved back here forever ago. I waited and waited for you to have me here more, but you didn’t, and then I asked you and you still didn’t.” Her mouth trembled. “You really don’t want me, do you?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE PAIN THAT sliced through Heather at Millie’s words was so visceral that she almost expected to see a knife protruding from her chest. “Millie—”

  “Why did you do it, Mommy?” Millie asked in a c
racked whisper. “Why did you go?”

  Ah, no. No. Not tonight, please God, not tonight.

  Parenting Truth Number 2: Kids can always find a way to make things worse.

  “Millie.” What she would give for a glass of wine right now. “Honey. We’ve talked about this before. Mommy and Daddy were so young when you were born. We both wanted the very best for you, but after a while, I figured out that I wasn’t grown-up enough to be a good mom. I thought the best thing I could do was to leave you with Daddy, because I knew he was a wonderful dad, and go learn how to be a good mom.”

  “But why couldn’t you do that while you were still at home? Why did you have to leave?”

  Dear Lord in heaven. She had always known this day would come—the day when Millie would no longer be appeased by the prettied-up version of the story. She always knew that someday, she would have to tell her girl the rest of the tale.

  She just thought that she would have a few more years.

  “Let’s sit down, okay? In the other room.”

  Millie scowled but allowed Heather to lead her to the sofa. She didn’t snuggle against Heather as usual, but sat stiffly in the middle cushion, eyes staring straight ahead and glistening.

  Well, at least she hadn’t huddled into the opposite corner.

  “Okay. I’ve told you a few times, Uncle Travis and I...well, our mom had lots of problems.” No money, no patience, no compassion and no guilt at taking her frustrations out on her kids, for starters. “And our father wasn’t around, so—”

  “Where was he?”

  How to explain this one to a kid who still thought that kissing was the ultimate in grossness?

  “He...we don’t know. He was never really part of our lives.”

  If there was any mercy in the world, that would hold Millie for now.

  “So anyway, we didn’t know what a family was supposed to be like. Or what a good mother was supposed to do, except what we saw on TV.”

  “You mean your mom didn’t love you?”

  “I don’t know.” On this one, at least, she could be honest. “I think she did, in some ways. I hope so. But the thing is, when you grow up like that, it can be really hard when you have kids of your own. Especially when you are still growing up yourself.” And suddenly plunged into a big, loving, but incredibly hands-on family like the Norths. Or trying to navigate parenthood and a marriage that should never have happened. Or dealing with your brother’s first return to prison. Or trying to convince yourself that the distress you were feeling was simply baby blues that never went away.