A Beautiful Mess

by Brenda S Anderson

  Corey was going to a hockey game?

  The surprise must have shown on her face, because he laughed. “Yeah, it’s time I started realizing our daughter isn’t going to be an artist, and I need to support her passions.”

  Erin had nothing to say. Was he finally looking beyond his own wants—not likely!—or did he have an angle?

  “Also.” Corey looked back at his car then at Erin. “I wanted to ask you, could we, uh.” His Adam’s apple danced down and back up. “Could you and I get together some time to talk?”

  She set her jaw and crossed her arms. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” He drew his fingers through his hair again.

  If only she had an interpreter beside her to tell her what Corey’s signals were. She always felt as if she was missing half the conversation.

  “But there are things I need to tell you.” His gaze finally connected with hers. “Things I should have said long ago.”

  And give him peace about what he’d done to her and Mik? Uh-uh. Sure, listening and forgiving would be the Christian thing to do, but her attitude toward him was anything but Christian. “It’s not a good idea.”

  “Think about it?”

  “Maybe.” Maybe not. Give him the satisfaction of a mea culpa? Hoping she’d absolve him of his guilt? Wasn’t going to happen.

  She opened the door wider, hoping he’d catch the hint that she wanted him to leave, just as Debbie pulled to the curb behind Corey’s car. “My ride’s here.” Debbie to the rescue once again.

  He nodded and stepped outside then turned back. His easy smile had been replaced with a grim line. “We’ll have her home Sunday night.”

  “After eight. I’ll be gone until then.”

  “Will do.” He strode down the sidewalk, meeting Debbie halfway. They exchanged terse nods but no words. There was no love lost between those two either.

  Debbie grimaced as she climbed the steps to Erin’s home. “I’m sorry. Jerry was called into a last-minute parent meeting and got home late, making me late.”

  “I survived.” Erin put on her winter jacket and boots. “Now it’s time to get away and pamper ourselves.”

  “You’ve earned it.” Debbie picked up Erin’s toiletry bag.

  And Erin grasped her suitcase handle. “We’ve earned it.” Besides being a part-time marriage and family therapist, Debbie was mom to three children, including one not too much younger than Mik. The woman deserved a break.

  Minutes later, the house was locked tight and they were heading toward the highway, singing like teenagers on a joy ride. Even with the wipers struggling to keep pace with the falling snow, the tension Corey always gifted her with melted away. Nothing was going to spoil this weekend.

  Brake lights flashed on the car in front of them, and Debbie’s SUV brakes pulsed as her vehicle fishtailed on the black ice.

  Erin screeched as the SUV stopped inches behind the car in front of them, and her heart raced faster than the falling snow.

  Debbie’s hands clenched the steering wheel, her gaze riveted toward the rearview mirror. “Stop. Please stop.”

  “Oh no!” Erin gripped the sides of her seat, bracing for impact, while watching the vehicle in her side mirror spin a donut. Its trunk barely missed the SUV as it slid into the ditch. A pickup truck followed that car.

  Silence.

  Followed by ragged breaths, and then nervous giggles. Other drivers stopped to help the ditched cars as Debbie inched her vehicle forward. “How’s that for an exciting beginning to our weekend?”

  “I’d prefer to keep it a little less dramatic.” Erin craned her neck to see beyond the vehicles in front of them. “See anything?”

  “Just a lot of traffic. This storm hit earlier than the forecasters said it would.”

  “There’s a surprise.” Not really. A preschooler could predict the weather as accurately as the TV news anchors, it seemed. “Good thing we’re not going too far. As it is, we’ll be on the road for an extra hour.”

  “Then I suggest we make the best of it.” Erin cranked up the volume on the sound system and the women jammed to an eclectic playlist from Skillet to musicals to Michael W. Smith. A little snowstorm would not ruin this weekend.

  Two hours of grueling driving later, Debbie pulled into the recently plowed driveway of a lakeside A-frame log home with two bedrooms and two baths, one she’d found on a vacation home rental site. With the snow falling, it could be on a postcard.

  “It’s perfect.” Erin clapped her hands together. “Let the retreating begin!”

  A half an hour later, the two women were cozied up in the living room, covered in blankets, a fire warming the open space, and hot cocoa heating their insides. While You Were Sleeping, the one chick flick she enjoyed, played on the big screen TV. Even better, cellphone reception was almost non-existent, so interruptions would be minimal. If someone really needed to get in touch with them, they’d have to call the homeowners who lived about a mile away. Now this was the life.

  “Why have we not done this before?” Erin grabbed a handful of very buttery popcorn.

  “Good question.” Debbie stretched her blanket-covered legs on the ottoman the two women shared. “The kids have been getting on my nerves, and even Jerry recognizes that as a sign that it’s time for me to get away.”

  “It’s paradise, isn’t it? No phones ringing. No Mik whining that a pimple just broke out. Or worse, that I won’t let her date until she’s sixteen. I’m the worst mom ever! At least I have her father’s backing on that one. We don’t want a repeat of our fiasco.” Dating at thirteen. Pregnant and married at twenty. Just because they practically grew up together, everyone thought they were a shoe-in for life-long love. Puhlease. At least his parents took her side in the divorce. Erin stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

  Debbie laid a hand on Erin’s arm. “I’m sorry it worked out that way. And it reminds me to give thanks for Jerry. We haven’t had the perfect marriage, but it’s been good. He’s a good man, and I hope there’s an equally good man out there for you.”

  “Ha!” Erin snorted and popcorn flew from her mouth. “Oh, sorry.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Corey cured me forever of wanting a romance.” Well, unless it was that eligible guy from church.

  “That’s a good thing. Too many people focus on romance and forget that it’s really about relationship.” Debbie pointed at the TV screen. “Sandra Bullock is dreaming of romance with that guy with caterpillar eyebrows. Don’t know what she sees in him, but I digress. What she gets is a friendship and a relationship with Bill Pullman, and a love that goes beyond feelings.”

  Erin laughed—oh it felt good to laugh, to feel and even identify what that feeling was. Debbie brought that out in her. “That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.” She lowered her voice, speaking in a radio-announcer tone. “Dr. Debbie expounds on relationship advice found in While You Were Sleeping.”

  Debbie laughed back. “Hey, we’re retreating. You can’t expect deep, intellectual thoughts this weekend. I left those back in the office.”

  “Touché.” Erin raised her cocoa mug and clinked it with Debbie’s. “No deep thoughts. This is a give-your-brain-a-vacation retreat.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Debbie sipped at her cocoa. “But I still think some romance would be good for you.”

  “Sure. Fine. When Mik graduates from high school, I’ll start dating again.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Sure. Why not. Maybe that cute guy from church will still be available.”

  “Ha! I knew you had your eyes on him.”

  “As does every other single woman in our church.” Erin pointed at the TV screen. “This is my favorite part.” Not really, but anything to get away from talk of romance. Corey had spoiled its allure for good.

  Too quickly, an hour and a half passed, and Bullock and Pullman were riding off into the sunset together. Corny, but cute.

  And now it was time for b
ed and a date with a novel. When was the last time she’d read something for fun? She said goodnight to Debbie, cleaned up, and donned flannel pajamas with footies. Yeah, she was all about romance, baby. Then she snuggled beneath the covers on the queen-sized bed and engrossed herself in the latest Charles Martin novel. Now, he knew how to write romance!

  Fifty pages into the book, a pounding came from the main room, propelling Erin from the bed. She hurried from the room, into a dark hallway and bumped into something. Or someone? “Debbie?” I hope.

  “You heard that too.”

  “Uh-huh.” Erin felt the wall for the switch, and light flooded the living room.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  On the front door?

  Shivers tingled down Erin’s spine as the two women approached the door.

  “One second.” Erin grabbed the poker from the fireplace and stood to the side of the door as Debbie opened it.

  A burly man stood thigh-deep in snow on the stoop. “Erin Belden?” He looked from Debbie to Erin and to the poker.

  “Who wants to know?” Erin backed away and held the poker like a baseball bat.

  “Wendell Horton, ma’am.”

  Oh, the homeowner. Erin lowered the poker but kept it ready just in case. “What do you need?”

  “Got a phone call. There’s been an accident.”

  Debbie gasped.

  “An accident?” Erin kept her voice steady. No sense jumping to conclusions when she didn’t have all the facts to analyze.

  “Yes, ma’am. Involving one of your daughters.”

  The two women shared a wide-eyed glance, and Debbie managed to eke out, “Do you have a name?”

  “Uh, yeah.” He removed his gloves and tugged a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket. “A Michaela Belden.”

  Chapter Two

  “Mik!” A thousand questions whirled through her brain that processed information far too slowly. But the main question finally passed her lips. “Is she all right?”

  Not waiting for an answer, Erin looked around for her coat, but all she saw was an image of her daughter laying crumpled in a pool of blood. She barely felt Debbie’s arm wrap around her shoulders.

  “Please come in, Mr. Horton.” Her friend’s voice was unbelievably calm. How could Debbie remember her manners at a time like this? Erin could hardly recall her own name.

  “’Preciate it.” He stepped inside with snow caked up to the top of his boots. “It’s nasty out there.”

  “What happened to my daughter?” Erin couldn’t restrain herself any longer. Normally, she wasn’t given to displaying emotion, but when it came to her daughter’s wellbeing, she became a mama bear.

  Mr. Horton’s lips drew into a straight line. “She’s okay, Mrs. Belden. Banged up good, has a mild concussion, but otherwise came through fine.”

  He couldn’t have said that at the beginning?

  Still, Erin practically wilted with relief as she reined in her feelings and tucked them away where they belonged. “Thank you for letting us know. May I use your phone to call her?” Mik needed to know she’d be there as soon as she could.

  “That’s not all.” Mr. Horton removed his bomber cap and held it close to his chest. “I’d prefer you talk with Mr. Monson. He’s the one who called.”

  “Jon.” Erin thought out loud. One of the 3 Sixlets—an artist, a nerd, and an introvert— who’d formed what they’d thought was an unbreakable childhood bond with her and Corey. Corey not only broke their marriage vows, he’d broken up the 3 Sixlets and stole Jon’s friendship along with it.

  Erin shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around Mr. Horton’s words. Accident. Michaela. Jon. Corey?

  “Corey. Is he all right?” Erin finally spotted her winter coat hanging on a coat tree right by the door.

  “I couldn’t tell you anything else ma’am. Just that Mr. Monson wants to hear from you as soon as possible.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Erin grabbed her coat and squeezed her footie-pajama-covered feet into her boots. Ignoring Debbie’s and Mr. Horton’s pleas for her to take it easy, she ran outside into snow falling so thick, she couldn’t see Mr. Horton’s vehicle.

  Seconds later, she felt Debbie at her side, tugging her in a different direction. And then they were in some vehicle, driving through a thick forest, veiled by even thicker snow.

  Corey had to be all right. Sure, he’d wronged her and Mik, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be hurt. Mik needed a father. Erin couldn’t raise their daughter on her own. But it would be just like Corey to shirk out of his parenting duties as he’d skipped out of his husband role.

  Why was she assuming the worst?

  Because Mr. Horton wouldn’t be so evasive if Corey were okay.

  Somehow, she found herself inside Mr. Horton’s house, seated by the fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa in her hands, and wrapped in a blanket.

  “She’s in shock.” Erin heard Debbie say through a dense fog. “I’ll see if I can get her to talk.”

  Her shoulder shook. “Erin. Jon’s on the phone. He needs to speak with you.” The phone was placed in her hand. She stared at it then raised it to her ear. She could do this. She cleared her throat. “Jon?”

  “Erin.”

  “How’s Mik?”

  “She’s fine. Not even a broken bone. She has a mild concussion that’ll give her headaches, some blurred vision, dizziness, but she’ll be okay.”

  “Is she there with you?”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “I need to talk to her.”

  “She’s resting.”

  “I don’t care. Put her on. I need to hear her voice.”

  “I guess you do. One second.”

  Erin tapped her foot, waiting too long for that one second.

  “Mom?” Mik said through a sniffle.

  Erin breathed out a sigh. “How are you doing, sweetheart? I want to be there. I’m coming as soon as I can.” She needed to see her daughter, even hug her, let her know her mom would never abandon her like her father had.

  “I . . . ” More sniffles. “I just can’t . . . ”

  “Can’t what?”

  More infernal silence. What was going on at that hospital?

  “Hey Erin, Mik is having difficulty talking. She’s pretty upset.” He sniffled.

  He sniffled? Wait. Jon does not sniffle. He does not cry.

  What weren’t they telling her?

  “How’s Corey?”

  More sniffles.

  Even she could read that language. Erin looked upward and blinked. “He’s gone. Isn’t he?”

  “No. He’s not, but . . . ”

  She waited, listening to more silence. No surprise, the attorney knew how to evade a question he didn’t want to answer. “Tell me about Corey!” She practically yelled into the phone.

  “He’s not good, Erin,” he said barely above a whisper. “They’re taking him into surgery now. He’s bleeding internally.”

  “Where are they at? I’m coming.”

  “You can’t. We’re in St. Paul, and the freeway is closed. The roads are impassible.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I have to be there. For Mik. For Corey. I need to show him what it’s like to be there for the people you love.”

  “He knows.”

  A child’s cry came over the receiver, waking Erin to reality. Corey didn’t need her. He had his replacement wife and daughter.

  “You’re right, he’s got that woman.” Erin refused to say the name of her ex-husband’s new bride. “But Mik—”

  “Lilith didn’t make it.”

  “—does. Wait. What?”

  The child’s cries became clearer, calling for Mommy.

  “It was bad, Erin. The roads were icy. Someone slid into their lane, and they were hit head-on. Mik and Clara are okay. I’ve got Clara now. Trying to keep her awake.”

  Erin stared off at the fireplace. She needed to do something. Fix the situation somehow. “Tell me about Corey. Why the surgery? What are his ch
ances?”

  “Brain hemorrhage. They’re trying to stop it, but they’re not optimistic.”

  Debbie handed her a box of tissues.

  But tears weren’t even a thought. “Well he better make it. You go tell him he’s got two daughters to take care of. An ex-wife who still cares for him. No, change that. I want to tell him myself, so inform him he has to hold on until I get there. He wanted to have a talk with me before I left. You let him know, I’m ready to listen. Got that?”

  “I do. And I’m praying. A whole bunch of people are praying. And people from Corey’s church are here too.”

  Erin squeezed her eyes closed. Prayer hadn’t even crossed her mind. She caught a glimpse of Debbie beside her, her head bowed. Even Mr. Horton sat close by, hands folded. What kind of Christian was she?

  “I’m praying too.” She raised her chin. Or she would be the second they ended the call. “Call me as soon you know something.”

  “I promise. And I made a promise to Corey too, that I’d give you a message.”

  “Uh-huh. He can tell me in person.”

  “I knew you’d say that, but he made me promise. He said he’s sorry. For everything.”

  She scoffed. “I want to hear those words from his lips.”

  “That’s not all.”

  Erin wiped a tissue beneath her suddenly runny nose but didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. How dare he threaten to die on her and get out of the tough job of saying those words face to face? It was just like Corey to take the easy route.

  Cries for Mommy became shrill.

  “Erin, Corey wants you to raise Clara. It’s in his and Lilith’s will.”

  * * *

  Bouncing little Clara on his lap, Jon Monson listened to silence on Erin’s end. He’d made those changes in the will himself just a few months ago after Corey had finally screwed his head on straight.

  None of them had imagined that change would be necessary this soon.

  Clara released another shrill cry for Mommy, so he tucked her against his shoulder, rubbing a hand over her back. This was why he never wanted to become a parent. He had no parenting skills whatsoever.