by Brenda Novak
The sight of it washed away Serenity’s irritation and brought a wave of guilt. She couldn’t blame Lorelei for reaching out to her, searching for family. In a world where it was so easy to become anonymous, invisible, just another face in the crowd, wouldn’t anyone crave those bonds? Have the desire to feel a bit more important to at least a small group of people?
It wasn’t Lorelei’s fault—or Reagan’s or Lucy’s, either—that they were in this position, and as difficult as things might get, Serenity needed to remember that.
Lifting the bedcovers, she patted the mattress beside her, and that was all the invitation Lucy needed. Her dimples flashed as she scampered over and climbed in beside Serenity, careful to help her cover them both before settling back and handing over the book.
Serenity read Are You My Mother? four times before Lucy had had enough. They were deep in a discussion about whether the gulls at the lake had mothers, too, when Lorelei called for her daughter.
“I have to go,” Lucy said as though she knew she was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be. But she allowed Serenity to pull her in for a quick hug and a kiss before she scrambled out of bed and hurried down the hall.
“I’m here,” Serenity heard her call back.
When she was gone, Serenity got up and put the letter she’d found in her purse. She hadn’t told Lorelei or Reagan about it. She was afraid that speaking the words would somehow make them true.
* * *
lorelei
I miss you. Will you come home? Please?
Lorelei was with Finn when that text from Mark popped up on her phone. She glanced at it, then lifted the lightweight, oversize sweater she was wearing and put her phone back in the pocket of her yoga pants.
Serenity and Reagan worked in the mornings—Serenity on her book and Reagan on Serenity’s social media—but Finn usually painted in the afternoon. That left him available after breakfast, so he and Lorelei had started taking Lucy on a walk each morning around ten.
A few days ago they’d gone into town to see what they could find there. That had been fun but not quite as enjoyable as the beach, especially to Lucy. Since then they’d spent most of their mornings at Sand Harbor, and today they were meandering in that direction, too.
Tahoe hadn’t quite made the transition to summer, so while there were a few boats on the water when they arrived, there weren’t a lot of people on shore. It was Friday, so Lorelei supposed more enthusiasts would come later, as the day warmed and the weekenders arrived, but she preferred this quieter time.
As Lucy started to hunt for the flat, smooth pebbles Finn had taught her he needed to be able to skip rocks, Lorelei removed her tennis shoes and dug her toes into the cool, gritty sand. This place was beginning to feel like an old friend. She was always eager to return, especially with Finn. Being out in the mellow sun and the breeze felt wonderful, and the beauty she encountered never got old. But the conversation was the best part. When she and Finn were together, they talked about all kinds of things.
She was most interested in hearing about his work. That he could be so masterful at something so difficult inspired her. She asked him what he hoped to achieve in his career; he said it would be incredible if he could get his paintings into some of the most exclusive galleries around the world, but he’d be happy if he could just earn enough to support himself doing what he loved. She asked what served as his inspiration; this had been harder for him to define—he said almost anything could inspire a painting. Something had to agitate his imagination in such a way that he was excited about re-creating it. And how long did it take him to complete a painting? Anywhere from one to six months, depending on the size, the level of detail and the level of difficulty.
She got the impression the walks they took were research for him. He’d decided that he wanted to do a nature scene. So he was trying to gain a true sense of this place, to become acquainted with it well enough to paint it, which was why they’d also driven around the lake last night with Serenity and Reagan. Painting something was an intimate experience, he’d explained. He couldn’t capture the true essence of any subject from a distance.
“You have to be inside it to really bring it to life,” he’d said earnestly.
Lorelei wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but he was so animated when he spoke about his work that she loved engaging him on the subject. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met—a dreamer, someone who viewed life from an entirely different perspective. One she found unique and refreshing.
Occasionally, he stopped to take a photograph, but she didn’t get the impression that he’d settled on the scene he wanted to create quite yet. He was still searching. She could tell by the way he measured everything with his eyes.
“When are we going to Hidden Cove?” he asked as they stood on several rocks jutting out into the lake and gazed at the sunshine reflecting off the water.
Lucy was farther up the beach. She’d found a beetle and was crouched over it, watching it make its way slowly across the sand.
“I don’t know,” she said and averted her face so he couldn’t realize she wasn’t planning to go to Hidden Cove, after all. When the subject of the nude beach had first come up, visiting it had seemed innocuous. People went to nude beaches all the time. It didn’t make them any worse than anyone else. But Finn had been a stranger to her when that idea was born, someone who held no real significance in her life.
Now...things had changed. She’d become too aware of him on a sexual level. Going to a nude beach with Finn would make her feel a little predatory—because she’d no longer be going just to prove that she was capable of stepping out of the confines of her former life and living a little. She’d be going because she wanted to see what he’d reveal when he tossed aside his clothes.
“You’re not interested anymore?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Why not? You were pretty gung ho last week.”
She was even more interested this week. But for all the wrong reasons. That was the problem.
“Has something changed?” he asked.
“Not really, no.” She suspected he knew what was happening and that he was trying to get her to say it, but she couldn’t ruin a perfectly good friendship by admitting that her feelings for him were growing out of control. That when he spoke, she sometimes watched his lips and imagined them on her body, moving over her breasts, down her stomach—lower.
Feeling her face heat, she jumped off the rock and began to wade in the cold water up to her ankles. No matter what happened in Tahoe, she had to return to Florida eventually. Had to deal with her marriage—or her divorce—and what she was going to do for a living. She’d decided, either way, she was reentering the job market and would no longer rely on Mark or anyone else to provide her living. Lucy was almost in school; she could manage, especially because the second child she and Mark had been discussing wasn’t a possibility anymore—now that he was having a baby with someone else.
Anyway, she’d have to leave this idyllic place soon enough. She wasn’t going to ruin the time she did have here. She’d promised herself one precious summer, and she was going to have it.
“Have you heard from Mark lately?” he pressed, following her.
She thought of her husband’s text message of a few minutes ago. She hadn’t said anything to Finn, but she guessed he’d noticed the way she’d glanced at her phone and returned it to her pocket. “That was who just messaged me.”
“What’d he say?”
She took out her phone to show him.
“Do you believe him?” he asked when he handed it back.
“I don’t know what to believe. I got a text from Francine last night, imploring me to have a conversation with her. When I didn’t respond, she said, ‘What do you want me to do? Abort this baby? Give it up for adoption?’”
“Is that what you want?�
�� he asked.
“Part of me does,” she admitted. “She doesn’t deserve a child, not considering how she got it. But that’s the jealousy and anger speaking. The better part of me, when I allow that part to take control, has to acknowledge that the child didn’t do anything. I don’t want this baby to be raised the way I was raised. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his linen shorts. “So what’s the answer?”
She toed a smooth, flat rock and pulled it out of the water for Lucy, knowing her daughter would eventually forget about the beetle and come ask Finn to skip rocks. “I’m not even going to think about it,” she said. “Not until September.”
* * *
reagan
Reagan had bought three pregnancy tests—a selection, since she didn’t know which one was the most reliable, and this was something she needed to trust. She’d told Serenity that she had to pick up some lip balm and a few other toiletries and borrowed the X5. She’d made the request when Serenity was writing and Lucy and Lorelei were out walking with Finn, so she wouldn’t be in danger of anyone asking to accompany her, and that had worked out perfectly.
Except, even after she’d purchased the tests, she’d found one excuse after another to avoid actually taking one. She didn’t want to do it even now. But with Serenity hard at work out on the deck and Lucy and Lorelei once again walking with Finn, she had the privacy. And with the weekend coming on, and Davis and Nolan arriving on Sunday, she didn’t want this hanging over her head, ruining any fun she might have.
Her phone dinged with a text from Rally. Did you do it?
Not yet, she wrote back.
Take a deep breath and get it over with. You have to find out at some point.
Easy for you to say.
If you are pregnant, it won’t be the end of the world.
Oddly enough, after she’d broken her date with him, Rally had continued to text her. They’d even spoken on the phone twice—late, after Lorelei and Serenity had gone to bed. One of those phone calls had lasted for over an hour, the next for forty-three minutes. Since she was going to be gone for so long and had no expectation of a romantic relationship with him, it’d been easy to fall into a friendship—and that had encouraged her to tell him everything, the whole sordid story.
She’d thought he might quit contacting her. The facts didn’t make her look good. But he’d remained in touch, had been kind, supportive, even willing to offer some advice.
It felt so comforting to have someone to confide in.
Of course, he was probably counting his blessings that the truth of her situation had been revealed before they’d ever gone out. But she could only care about so many things right now, and being self-conscious with him about her predicament wasn’t one of them. That was why she’d confided in him. He was so removed from the situation it felt safe.
Would you pee on it already? he wrote.
God, you’re pushy, she wrote back.
You could be going through hell for nothing. Stand up and take it like a man.
Ha, ha! Funny...
I have my moments.
Too bad you’re not facing this instead of me.
Spoken like a true narcissist.
She sent him a horrified emoji.
Kidding. Anyway, if you don’t want the baby, I’ll take it.
She stared at those words. What?
Never mind. You’ll want it. It’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you.
How could that be true? She had no job. The father of the child would be furious. Just telling him would create a battle she’d have to fight for the next eighteen years. Her mother would be appalled. She herself would never be able to forget how the baby was conceived so this child would be a constant reminder of her naiveté and stupidity.
Need she go on?
You’ll see, he added when she didn’t respond.
“I hope I don’t see,” she mumbled. You’re supposed to be rooting for the opposite.
I am. So put us both out of our misery and take the damn test.
She didn’t want him pressuring her. And yet...without some pressure, she knew she might chicken out again. “What the heck,” she said. Doing it now.
As she opened the package that looked the most promising—the one that seemed to imply the best chance of a negative result—she thought of Drew, of that heated encounter, and was embarrassed. How had she done what she’d done at work of all places? On his desk? And, he, a married man?
She groaned. Somehow she’d gotten so caught up in the excitement and the attraction—in looking for him around every corner, in listening for his voice, in that rush of awareness when she found him watching her—she hadn’t realized how tawdry and ridiculous her actions were. She’d believed he cared about her. That she was in love with him. That they were somehow different from all other couples who’d had in-office affairs.
How foolish!
The more days that passed without any word from him, the more she began to realize he couldn’t ever have cared about her. He was just spoiled and rich and bored; he’d used her as entertainment. And if he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was, how could she be in love with him?
She was in love with the romanticized version of him she’d created in her own mind—that was all.
“Bastard,” she muttered as she unwrapped the applicator and moved to the toilet.
At first, she was so nervous she couldn’t release her bladder. After she managed to squeeze out a few drops, her hand shook as she held the receptacle. A plus would indicate she was pregnant; a minus that she wasn’t.
“Minus, minus, minus,” she chanted as she paced the length of the bathroom.
But what eventually appeared was what she’d known in her heart—what some sixth sense had already told her. Her worst nightmare was coming true; she was going to have Drew’s baby.
“No!” she cried and dropped the tester as though it had burned her.
Bending over, she put her hands on her knees and gasped for air so she wouldn’t pass out. This couldn’t be real. There had to be some mistake.
She grabbed the sack that held the other two kits. She’d take them all and pray that one or both of the last two tests would indicate she wasn’t pregnant. That would at least allow her to hope there’d been a mistake.
But there was no mistake. All three showed the same thing.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped off her chin as her phone went off. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the chimes of rapid-fire texts, but she ignored them. She couldn’t focus on her phone when she was wallowing in the depths of misery.
The insistence of the person, who then called, hung up and called again, finally forced her to look at her screen.
It was Rally, of course. He was expecting to hear the results.
She let the call transfer to voice mail. She couldn’t answer because she couldn’t speak. The terror roiling in her gut wasn’t just making her eyes water, it was clogging her throat, causing her to tremble, turning her bones to rubber.
How could she have destroyed her life—for “fifteen minutes of panting and one good climax” as Drew had put it?
More ringing.
Rally wouldn’t give up.
Eventually, she hit Accept.
“Reagan?”
Any response she might’ve given lodged in her throat and refused to rise any higher.
When he heard nothing, his voice grew gentle. “I’m sorry. But it’s going to be okay.”
“How could...anybody...be so stupid?” she managed to respond, hiccuping through her tears.
“You were lonely. You were working too many hours. You had no social life or other outlet. And you believed what he told you.”
“But I’m a...a smart woman. All it would’ve taken was a condom!”
“It happened at the office. You weren’t planning on having sex with him or you would’ve been prepared.”
“I was so stupid. How am I going to deal with this?”
“You’ll find the strength. It’s not as though you’re still in high school. You’re an adult. You can care for a child, if that’s what you want. And if that isn’t what you want...there are other options.”
She didn’t sense any judgment in that statement. Rally was one of those people who saw the many gray areas of life, and she really liked that about him. “No good ones,” she complained. She’d thought of them all. Gone over them ad nauseam when she couldn’t sleep for fear she’d find herself in this exact situation.
“You’ll have time to think it over and decide.”
She dashed a hand across her cheek. “It’s karma. I deserve this.”
“No, you don’t. The universe isn’t out to punish you. It’s just one of those things. Unplanned pregnancies happen.”
She imagined telling her mother she was expecting with no potential husband—not even a significant other—to help support the baby and felt nauseous. Her mother had preached and preached about birth control, about the difficulty of raising a child alone.
And their relationship was already so rocky. Although Rosalind had tried to call once since Reagan had told her she’d quit her job, Reagan hadn’t answered.
Anyway, what was she going to say? She’d always been careful not to get on her mother’s bad side. She knew how long her mother withheld her love and support as punishment.
Reagan supposed she’d have to apologize to Rosalind eventually, figured she should get the punishment cycle started by allowing her mother to criticize her actions until she’d exhausted her anger.
But Reagan couldn’t bring herself to do it; she wasn’t ready for that yet.
“Do I tell Drew?”
“I think he should be held responsible, don’t you?”
“I don’t want him in my life.”
“You do have the option to leave him out of it, but it’ll cost you a bit more.”
