by Emily Bishop
Fuck.
Was that…was that Bruna’s car?
Like a hawk, I watched the red Jeep pull out of James's drive and swirl away into the early morning mist.
Hang on a minute.
That Jeep was unmistakably Bruna’s. Which meant my favorite person in Dripping Springs had paid James a little visit.
The widening ache in my gut rose, chipping away at my center.
Something was wrong.
My stubborn heart continued to pound like a drumroll. There was a purpose to Bruna’s visit, and I was going to find out what that was.
As I made my way to climb out of the car, in that exact same moment, James walked out of his house.
Talk about perfect timing.
I froze as my eyes trailed up and down, soaking him in. His face was compressed into a deep frown, and his posture was rigid, the epitome of a hot ball of tension. He was clenching and unclenching his fists as he made his way over to me in quick strides. My own heart picked up its beat, pounding away with futility against my ribcage. Nausea trickled into my belly as my inner voice took control.
This isn’t good, Summer.
As James reached my car, I interlocked my eyes with his foreboding glare, and I instinctively jerked back on my seat.
“Don't.” He gritted his teeth and flexed his jaw as he said the one word that confirmed my suspicions. James was pissed off at me.
What the fuck is happening?
“What a nice greeting.” I attempted to make light of the situation, but James's stone-cold expression stamped out the humor in me.
He stood tall and poised, yet his lips were pursed in a tight line, like granite.
“What's wrong?” I finally asked. The dread rose up in my throat, and I waited for the punchline to be delivered.
James shook his head at me, his voice shaking at the edges. “Is it true? Did you do this to me?”
What the actual...?
I frowned. “Do what, James?” I asked quietly, my voice sinking into the tension that separated us.
“Sell me out.”
Has he lost his marbles?
I made my way to open the door, but James rested his hand against my doorway, blocking my exit from the car.
“Don't bother. Get off of my property,” he spat out.
Shocked, I pulled back. Why was he talking to me like this?
“Stop pushing me away and tell me what's wrong,” I snapped, without meaning to.
But in all honesty, this was getting ridiculous. Why did he think he had a right to address me like this?
James dropped his gaze away from mine, as if he couldn't bear to look at me a second longer. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered something underneath his breath, something I wasn’t quite able to catch. He looked tormented as hell.
The dread crept over to me like the chill of an ocean draft, paralyzing my mind.
“You thought I wouldn't find out? How you submitted your nice wrapped-up story but conveniently changed my name from John to reveal my actual identity and ranch location? You sold me out and you broke the NDA you signed. And tell me, will this advance your career now? Do you finally have the scoop you've been longing for?” James said bitterly. Still, he didn’t look at me.
I tried to interject, to open my mouth and deny these ridiculous accusations, but James didn't let me finish.
He finally returned his eyes to mine, and this time the pain and betrayal in those blue irises was excruciating. His voice cracked at the corners. “Was this all for show?” He gestured around him before adding, “Do you even love me, or was that just an act to get what you needed and then throw me under the bus?”
The gravity vanished. What he was accusing me of wasn’t possible. I had the version sitting on my laptop yesterday, finished. In no draft did I ever disclose his identity.
“I don't know what you mean, James. I submitted the story yesterday, and obviously I don't suffer from amnesia. I would never disclose your name in that story. I thought you knew that,” I argued back. His hurt and pain morphed into my own. He loved me, but there was no trust there. James was quick to accuse me and assume the worst of me, without even giving me an inch of room to explain myself.
James searched my eyes for something I couldn’t give him. He clenched his jaw so hard I thought he was going to dislocate it. He looked so intense, so serious and so tortured, that an instinct seized me to wrap my arms around his broad chest and rest my face against his beating heart. And then ice water settled over his expression, waking me up to harsh reality.
It was in that moment that I realized James didn't believe me. He was set on assuming the worst from people after his ordeal with Bruna.
The thought overpowered my senses, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. The tears came on their own, slipping down my cheeks, uninvited.
A cruel, twisted smile broke across James's dark features. “Are you seriously denying this? I'm all over the news! Don't worry, your name has been dropped in for reference, in case you were wondering. Enjoy your five seconds of fame.” James's entire voice trembled with rage, but his eyes, holy fuck, his eyes took on a torrent of rain and clouds, spinning in anguish.
It was as if I was detached from my body and I was floating, watching the situation before me unfold with cold clarity. I had submitted the paper last afternoon, after we came back from our picnic, but had I checked the document before hitting send?
Doubts crept up in my mind, throwing shade across my certainty.
What James was saying was physically possible, unless...unless someone had tampered with my document. But that required lock-picking skills, and balls.
And who would do that?
An image of Bruna pervaded my consciousness, and suddenly everything clicked into place. It had to be her.
I scrambled for his attention. “Please, James. It wasn't me. Someone must have tampered with my story. I think I know who it—"
“Save it!” James interrupted. He backed away from the car and shook his head, and his next words hit me in the heart. “You're just like the rest of them. A liar. Get off my property before I call the police.”
“No, James. Let me explain.” But James didn't spare me another glance, let alone another moment. He charged back into his house and like a madman, and I jumped out of the car to follow him, only to be met by the slamming of his front door in my face.
I stood there for hours, pounding away at the door, begging for him to return to me until Juanita finally came out. With guilt-heavy eyes, she told me that James never wished to see me again and that I had to leave.
And that is how I left him, with the sun hanging high above us, burning a hole into me as I climbed into my car and drove off, destroyed. Like glass, my heart had shattered into a thousand shards, and no glue could mend them together. James’s chronic distrust in people had broken us.
*
Frostbitten.
Broken.
Hollow.
If I had known what love could do to a human, I never would have pursued James and documented his ranch. I would have stayed far, far, far away from him.
Some have said love is a burning thing, that it makes a scorching ring, but I knew love. It came all at once, and then just as quickly it grew fickle, a shadow that faded into background noise, beyond my grasp. Love disfigured me, until one day I looked at myself in the mirror and got startled by the thin, weak woman in front of me.
Days morphed into hours, and hours broke down into minutes. A pattern of if I can just make it through this next minute defined my days. Yoga helped to some degree. Like a ray of sunshine that burst through clogged-up, cloudy skies, it provided me with momentary oasis and relief during my darkest hours.
Sleepless nights haunted me. Memories of his face, his all-consuming scent, his powerful arms nestled around mine, our legs wrapped and tangled together as if we were one body that needed to stick together to survive… these snippets seized me at unexpected moments, and I’d break down crying. In those darkest
moments, a small voice would trickle its way into my head like poison, promising me, no more. I will never open up myself this way again.
Other times, rage consumed me, and as I listened to Lana del Rey on repeat, I’d find myself pacing backward and forward like a tiger, furious at the world, Bruna, and James. James believed the worst in me. He never even gave me a chance to explain myself. He cut me out of his life instantly and completely. During those moments, I’d think, If I was free from your love, I’d kill you with my bare hands if I could.
They say changes come all once. Just when I lost James, that morning twenty-five days ago, my career as an investigate journalism kicked off.
Discover Magazine had been thrilled with my piece, and they had offered me a six-month freelancing contract, to travel around the country as I pleased, documenting stories on ethical farming and ranching.
It had been everything I had wanted, everything I had worked toward, but when they had offered me that contract, I was empty as a shell. Hollow and stripped to the bone. I realized there and then, sitting in their office, that dreams can change. And that was OK. I wanted James. I needed him like I needed oxygen. He was my necessity and without that missing puzzle in my life, I was incomplete.
Changes came in threes. That is how I found myself, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, staring down at the two colored lines gleaming against the bathroom light.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Mortified, I stared at the stick and waved it against the light as if I could shake off the results.
But no, there was no mistaking it.
I was pregnant.
My legs caved underneath me, and I slipped down onto the bathroom tiles. A single tear slid down my cheek.
I was twenty-six years old, living in a tiny one-bedroomed apartment, single, heart-broken, with a fledging career that was going to take me places. And fate decided to give me a baby, now?
A groan escaped my lips as the shock surged up my body.
Me, Summer Cole, was going to be a mother. I was going to have James’s baby. A little mini-version of him, walking and talking.
I burst into tears.
It was too much, all at once. I wasn’t sure enough if I was ready, or strong enough to raise this child alone.
My doorbell rang, freezing me into place.
There was bad timing, and then there was this… absolutely terrible. I had a half mind not to answer it, but the doorbell rang again shrilly, jolting me upright.
I smoothed my hair quickly and brushed off my tears. I placed the pregnancy test in my drawer and then walked toward the door, sucking a breath in to steady myself. As I opened my door, my jaw dropped open.
“Mom?” I asked.
My mother stood before me with a small suitcase propelled next to her. Her long curls were piled up in a bun, and her green eyes, just like mine, were alive and fiery until she caught my face. Her eyes instantly widened as she took in my expression.
“Summer, what’s wrong?” she asked, stepping inside the warmth of my apartment. Mothers were incredibly intuitive, and mine was no exception. She studied me frantically, her eyes glazed with worry. She smelled like cinnamon and baked bread, our family home. That was all it took.
I exploded into an onslaught of sobs. The cries racked me, and my entire body trembled as I succumbed to possibly the ugliest cry of my life. The waterfall poured out of me, drenching everything in its pathway.
My mom was instantly at my side, and she pressed me into her warmth, into a tight hug as she began smoothing over my hair, muttering into my ear, “Agapitos, it’s OK, it’s OK, I’m here now”. I breathed in her familiar peach-shampoo smell, and I cried even harder. My mother’s embrace was like a comforting blanket wrapped around me, sheltering me from the uglies of adulthood—of my life.
We stood like that at the entrance of my apartment for an eternity, before my mom guided me over to the sofa and plopped me down.
She stroked and held me as I broke down, and she wiped my tears clean with her gentle fingertips.
And it was enough. I found my voice returning to its normal vibrations and my vision sharpened. The darkness within my mind abated and I summed up the courage to finally speak out without exploding into another bout of sobs
“I'm pregnant, and the man I love wants nothing to do with me.” My statement hung loose in the air for a good long moment.
The battle took hold in my mother, between comforting me and interrogating me until I spilt every last drop. Marialena was a strong woman, but at times she still had that ability to remind me just how strong she was.
“Summer Cole, you will get through this, no matter what. We are here for you.”
No pressing questions, no snooping around for the details. She accepted my truth and let the silence between us do the talking.
She continued to stroke my hair in that way that sent me back decades to when I was a little girl with the whole world in front of her.
It felt so good, to break down and have someone to pick up the pieces and comfort me. Nostalgia for a time when everything seemed easy gripped me.
My mom brought me back to the present with her firm confession. “I knew something was wrong when I heard your voice over the phone. You sounded so empty. I could tell my baby girl was hurting even though you insisted you were fine. So I spoke to Karl and he drove me to the airport. I can tell my intuition was right.”
“I don't even know where to begin.” I was dangerously close to another breakdown, and my mother was quick to appease my despair.
“I understand, Summer. Right now, it’s all too much. But don’t shy away from that pain. Embrace it, accept it, feel it. Feel every last molecule of that pain. You had a beautiful relationship with this man, and that can’t be shoved away. If there is pain, nurse it. We will always be here for you. In time, you’ll recover.”
I allowed her words to reach the deepest part of my gut. I found my voice again, but it came out raspy, laced with pain. “It hurts so much, mom. If this is what love feels like, then it’s nothing like in the movies. It’s all-consuming, it’s destructive, it’s disfiguring.”
My mom looked at me long and hard, her eyes a mirror of my own pain. She mulled over my words for what felt like an eternity. When she finally spoke, her words shook at the edges and tears shimmered in her eyes as she confessed her darkest secret to me. “There are two kinds of love in this world. The instant kind, the crushing all-encompassing love you’ve experienced. And then there is a love reserved for companionship, partnership. Me and your dad had the second kind of love. I envy you Summer, for having experienced this at the age of twenty-six.“
I opened my mouth to protest but my mum interrupted me. “That kind of love doesn’t come around often. In fact, many people live out their lives without experiencing that. I just want you to remember that Summer. That’s all.”
This time my mother broke down at the sight of me, destroyed, and she pulled me in for another hug. We stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, for an eternity.
When my mom finally pulled away, her next words pierced into my consciousness.
“If you really love this man, you’ll have to tell him about the baby. Assuming…assuming you’ll keep it.”
Of course I’m going to keep it.
Shocked at my own inner voice, I halted.
Wait, what?
Am I really going to do this, to be a mother?
The other option…the other option was unbearable to think about. Not when the baby was James’s.
“I’m scared. I don’t know how to be a mother. I’m scared he’ll turn this child away.”
“Of course you’re scared. Motherhood is a terrifying thing at first. But think about the baby. It’s not just you, Summer, you have to think for two lives now. The kid deserves a chance to grow up with two parents. Let this man know at least that the child is his. If he wants nothing to do with you, maybe he’ll still accept the baby regardless.”
Was I really
ready to do this? To go back and face him after he kicked me out of the property and threw me out of his life?
I had no proof that Bruna tampered with my laptop. All I had was my word against hers. He hadn’t even let me explain my side of the story, he had automatically jumped to the conclusion that I was just like Bruna, a liar, a cheat. Did I want to be with that kind of man?
No.
Every part of me, down to each molecule, screamed no. I wasn’t some broken thing he could toy with and then discard when he’d had enough. I was going to tell James about the baby, but that was it. There was no going back to before, not when he was so fucked-up and determined to stay that way.
“I can come with you if you want,” my mom offered.
I shook my head. “I have to do this alone.” I locked my eyes with my mother, and she studied my reaction.
A smile broke across her features. “You remind me so much of myself, Summer. Stubborn to the death. And so strong. I’m proud of you. Both me and Karl are. Our entire family is. No matter what happens from now on, we’ll support you and this baby.” Instinctively, my mom reached over and placed a hand over my belly. Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I’m going to be a grandma,” she murmured.
Holy moly.
Her words rang clear and true in my ears.
I was going to be a mother.
Changes come in threes.
Chapter 16
James
I was on a short line, hovering at the edge of a cliff, dangerously close to plummeting to my end.
Darkness shaped my days.
Get up. Work. Sleep. Get up. Work. Sleep.
The voices around me melted away. Atohi and Juanita attempted to chatter, to lighten the load, to pierce through the darkness that consumed me, but my mind shut down, unable to compute anyone.
The only time I found relief was when I took Tikko out for a ride, far away from my fields and the ranch, far away from her scent, the memories of her, laughing, watching me with warmth and gentleness.
The media circus had died down after three weeks of relentless harassment. I was finally able to think again, away from the cameras and taunting photographers who baited me with their poisonous questions.
