by T. K. Leigh
“I never said it was. It could have been a lot worse. Londyn could have been in the house, too,” I say as a test.
“It would serve her right if she were. This is all her fault, after all,” she snips out, failing my test miserably. I shouldn’t be surprised, but it still disappoints me.
“Lydia,” Dad cautions, placing his hand on her shoulder, narrowing his eyes on her. “Wes’ girlfriend had nothing to do with this. The person responsible has been arrested. Justice has been served. We should be thankful for the police department’s quick investigation into this matter.”
“I had a bad feeling something like this would happen,” she mutters, ignoring my father’s statement. Which only serves to irritate me more.
“Why?” I shoot back. “Because of what happened to Penny?”
My mother’s eyes widen as she inhales sharply, every inch of her stiffening. The room grows eerily silent, apart from the steady beeping from the machines monitoring my vitals. Even my father, the perpetual mediator and peacemaker, remains quiet.
“What did you say?” she asks softly.
“I know all about her.”
“How?”
I hesitate, not wanting to throw Miss Clara to the proverbial wolves. But my mother will figure it out eventually. She always does.
“Grady made a few threats when we were at Miss Clara’s diner on Saturday. Warned us it would be a real shame if history repeated itself. I had no idea what he was talking about, so Miss Clara told me.” I furrow my brow. “Why didn’t you ever talk about her or what happened?”
“And what?” she shoots back. “Encourage you to make the same bad decisions Penny did? Your gampy and meemaw warned her people in town might have something to say about being seen around town with a negro.”
“Black man,” Julia corrects.
Mom waves her off. “But she didn’t care. And look what happened to her. Penny’s the exact reason I didn’t want you to get involved with that girl. I knew the minute I laid eyes on her she was bad news. And I was right. She shot your brother-in-law, for crying out loud.” She glances at Julia.
“Because he raped her,” I remind her.
I expect Julia to protest or argue to the contrary, but she doesn’t.
“And look what she’s done to you.” My mother gestures down my body, ignoring my previous comment. “Like I said, that girl is nothing but trouble.”
“And what about Samuel?” I retort, not backing down. “Did you think Samuel was trouble, too? Think the mob was justified when they beat him to death, then torched his family’s house, killing his little sister?”
“I’m not the one at fault here, Wes. I’m not the bad guy. I did what I had to in order to give you the life you deserved.”
“Don’t play the martyr now. It’s too late for that.” I laugh to myself, looking up at the ceiling. “You know, I hoped this might force you to open your eyes. To see what your hate has caused.”
“I—”
I hold up my hand, cutting her off. “You may not have lit the match, but it’s because of people like you this kind of thing keeps happening. And it will keep happening because people like you refuse to see the way you’ve been living is wrong. Isn’t necessary. And maybe that’s where I made a mistake.
“There’s this part of me that always wanted to think there was a good person buried deep inside you somewhere. One who used to play hide-and-seek with me. Who used to push me on the swing in the back yard. Who used to beam with love whenever I opened presents on Christmas morning. You were once a good person. I know you were. I saw glimpses of that person at one point.” I shake my head.
“But I haven’t in years. I’m done waiting for you to change. Because I don’t think you ever will. I don’t think you’ll ever see the damage your hate has caused. Not just to Londyn, but also to me. To Julia. To Imogene. Until you can finally accept Londyn and me as a couple, until you make amends for the way you’ve treated her, I can’t have you in my life. I won’t have you in my life.”
Her eyes flame as she rises to her feet, ripping off her face mask. “You’re choosing her over your own mother?” Her voice grows louder with every syllable. “I gave birth to you.” She jabs a finger at Julia. “Raised her. Hell, just spent the past three days on and off airplanes to get back to you! And this is the thanks I get?”
“Do you think this was an easy decision for me? I shouldn’t have to choose between anyone. You should support me in whatever relationship I want to pursue. I plan on marrying Londyn. Bought her a ring back in December. So she will be a part of my life, whether you like it or not. If you can’t support that, I don’t want you in my life. Starting now.”
Her mouth agape, she stares at me for several long moments, as if I’ll change my mind. But I won’t. Not when it comes to Londyn.
Huffing, she turns her ire onto my father. “James, talk some sense into your son. He’s being ridiculous.”
He looks from my mother to me before returning his attention to her. Stepping away, he places a hand on my shoulder. “If anyone’s being ridiculous, it’s you, Lydia.”
Her eyes bulge. “What do you—”
He holds up his hand, stopping her. “Maybe I’m partially to blame for how out of control things have gotten. Lord knows my parents weren’t the most accepting of people from different backgrounds. Like you, I went along with it because it was just the way things were. But unlike you, I didn’t make it my mission to ruin people’s lives. I eventually realized what’s on the outside has no bearing to what’s on the inside. Look at you.” He gestures down her frame. “To the uninformed observer, you’d come off as attractive. Maybe even beautiful.” Then his voice drops to barely a whisper. “But I know just how ugly your soul is.” He pauses, inhaling a shaky breath. “And I’m done.”
“Done?” Mom blinks, obviously surprised by this.
I’m a bit surprised, too, considering the last time I had a meaningful conversation with my father, he made it appear he had no intention of leaving my mother. Now it sounds as if he’s changed his position on that.
“Yes, Lydia. I’ve put up with a lot over the years. From the way you treat women you claim are your friends, then stab them in the back the second they do something you don’t approve of. To the way you’ve tried to control every aspect of Wes’ and Julia’s lives, including whom they date and marry. I let it all slide, knowing they had a wonderful upbringing, thanks to your parents. That they’d be able to stand up to you, despite your repeated attempts to sabotage their personal lives. But this… Having so much hate in your heart that you insist on blaming an innocent woman for a crime she didn’t commit…”
He floats his gaze to mine and gives me a look, as if telling me he’s not only talking about the fire, but also the aggravated assault charges stemming from Nick’s attack. Then he levels his glare back on my mother.
“This is the last straw.”
“Last straw?” she shoots back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Divorce, Lydia. I’m talking about divorce, something we should have discussed years ago.”
She blinks repeatedly, incensed. “You’re divorcing me? After everything?”
“It appears that way,” he replies, as if talking about something as mundane as the score of an inconsequential football game, not ending his marriage of over thirty years. “It’s not like we’ve ever really cared for each other. Perhaps that’s my fault. But my parents thought you were a good match for me, so I didn’t protest. Maybe I should have insisted on marrying for love, not someone whose family had the right connections. I can’t change my past mistakes. But I can change my course going forward. And that starts today. So the question remains. Can you change your course? Will you accept Wes’ decision to be with the woman he loves? Or is your heart too clouded with hate?”
“I…” She shakes her head, indignant. “You’ll regret this, James. Trust me on that.”
“Maybe,” he admits with a sigh.
“But the older I get, the fewer fucks I have to give.”
I fling my wide eyes to Julia, the sound of my father swearing as out of place as a palm tree in the North Pole.
“And right now, I don’t give a fuck. The only thing I do care about is giving my children the support they need. If you can’t support them, including everyone in their lives, then I refuse to support you. Emotionally and financially.”
My mother stews, jaw agape. I’m not sure what has her more upset — my father’s words or the calm tone in which he speaks them.
Seemingly unable to come up with a response, she spins on her heels, storming out of the hospital room.
No one speaks for several moments, all of us staring at the door, expecting her to walk back into the room so she can have the last word. But she never does.
“I guess that means you win the bet,” Julia tells me, breaking the silence.
“Bet?” Dad looks between us. “What bet?”
“We made a wager a few years back,” she explains. “After Lydia blew up at Brooklyn when she called off the wedding. Wes insisted it was only a matter of time until she did something to push you over the edge. I guess he was right.”
“I’m just sorry it took me this long.”
“Better late than never.” Julia slings an arm around him, hugging him before pulling back. “I’m happy for you, Dad.”
“Thanks, buttercup.” He glances at me. “A wise man once said, ‘Sometimes the right path isn’t always the easiest.’”
I smile at his statement.
“I’d like to think it’s never too late to change course and get on the right path.”
He narrows his eyes at Julia, almost as if telling her it’s not too late for her to take the right path, too.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Julia
“Mama!” Imogene’s sweet voice calls out the second I enter the foyer of my parents’ house after leaving the hospital.
I wasn’t sure what I’d walk into, if Lydia had come straight here to take out her anger on her household staff. But as I continue into the open living area, everything’s just as it was when I left earlier today. It’s peaceful, apart from the tug-of-war plaguing me, my father’s words seeming to play on repeat in my mind, as they have since he uttered them.
It’s never too late to change course and get on the right path.
Sure, he made it seem like he was talking about his situation, but the way he narrowed his gaze, a silent admonishment within, I know he said them for me. To remind me it’s not too late to change my course. That perhaps it’s time I get on the right path, too.
But what is the right path?
“How’s Uncle Wes?”
I snap out of my thoughts, focusing on my daughter, just as I have since she was born.
“He’s doing so much better, sweetie.” I tousle her blonde curls, her blue eyes peering at me with concern and innocence.
“Look what I made!” She holds up a folded piece of construction paper, a drawing of a bandaged man on the front. “It’s a get-well card for Uncle Wes. Can I go with you the next time you visit him so I can give it to him?”
I sigh, my heart breaking a little at her request. “I wish you could.” I cup her cheek. “But you have to be a little older to visit someone where your uncle is. They have to keep his area of the hospital extremely sterile. Even I have to wear a hospital gown, gloves, and a face mask to go into his room.”
“Sterile?” She pinches her brows together, tilting her head. “What’s that?”
“Clean. Free of germs. Uncle Wes has some pretty big boo-boos. And if germs get into those boo-boos, he could get really sick. Little kids tend to carry lots of germs.” I touch her nose. “So right now, only grownups can visit him.”
Her expression falls, shoulders drooping. “Okay.”
I hate seeing her so upset. It seems like I haven’t seen her smile in ages. At least not a true smile.
I don’t think I’ve smiled in ages, either.
“But when I go back to check on him tomorrow morning, I’ll give him the card,” I offer. “He can’t have any flowers in his room, so your card will brighten up his day.”
Her eyes light up with excitement. “Do you think so?”
“Of course. He’ll love it. He loves everything you make for him.”
She flings her arms around me, squeezing tightly. “Thank you, Mama!”
I close my eyes, basking in my daughter’s love. She may have been a bit of a surprise, considering I was on birth control at the time, but I’m forever grateful she came into my life. Whenever I feel like I’m losing my grip on everything, all I need is to look into my daughter’s eyes and I remember my purpose in life.
“You’re home,” a deep voice cuts through.
I stiffen, snapping my head up as Nick saunters from the den and into the living room area like he owns the place instead of simply being a guest. Then again, he’s made himself at home here in the main house, while Imogene and I prefer the privacy of the guest house. But the guest house doesn’t come with a household staff, which Nick seems to have taken to rather quickly.
“I am.”
“A bit late, don’t you think?”
I swallow hard, taking a moment to contemplate my answer. This could be a test. Everything’s a test to him. A game. A chess match to see who can outsmart whom.
“What makes you say that?”
“Your mother returned several hours ago before leaving again.”
I part my lips, on the brink of telling him about the divorce, but stop myself, not wanting to upset Imogene. She’s had enough bad news lately. Although I struggle to call this bad news. Still, I prefer to explain what’s happening without Nick present.
“I stayed with Wes a little longer.”
He arches a brow, eyes raking over me, as if looking for evidence of deception. Too bad for him I’ve become a master at lying over the years, even before I met him. That’s the one thing Lydia taught me. I can make even the most observant person believe I’m being truthful.
“Was his girlfriend there?”
I fight the urge to shift on my feet.
“Imogene, sweetie…”
I look up as Lila emerges from the kitchen. She gives me a smile, obviously picking up on the tension between Nick and me.
“Why don’t you come help me with the dough for the chicken pot pie?”
“Okay!” she says excitedly, darting from me and taking Lila’s outstretched hand.
“Have fun, peanut!” Nick calls out joyfully, playing the part of the affectionate father, his fond gaze focused upon her.
Despite our differences, I can’t discount the fact that he’s always been good to our daughter. It’s probably why I’ve stayed whenever I’ve been tempted to leave, to flip the chessboard and let the pieces fall where they may. But I haven’t. I’ve stuck it out. For Imogene. I wanted to give her the normal childhood I never had.
Now I wonder if, by staying, I’ve ruined her chances at having one.
Once Lila and Imogene disappear from view, Nick’s expression transforms into the one I’ve become accustomed to over the past several years. At least in private. Calculating. Cold. Contemptuous.
“Was she there?” He widens his stance, rubbing his hand against his shoulder, his injured arm still in a sling.
“By the time I got there, she’d already left,” I lie.
He studies me for several more moments, assessing my response. My pulse kicks up, but I do everything to keep my demeanor calm. He wouldn’t call the hospital to verify my story. Would he?
I’d like to say he wouldn’t. But lately, I can’t be sure of anything.
“Good.” He exhales a breath, something that resembles relief replacing the annoyed look on his face. He wraps his uninjured arm around me and pulls me into his body. “I just worry about you, Julia.” He brings his hand to my chin, forcing my gaze to his, sincerity etched in the strong lines of his face. “My queen.” His lips descend toward m
ine. “My Hera,” he murmurs against my mouth before kissing me.
I try to feign enthusiasm and be the dutiful wife I’ve been the past eight years. But with my father’s words ringing in my brain, I can’t seem to muster the need he requires.
Pulling back, he narrows his gaze on me. “What aren’t you telling me?” His grip on my hip tightens, becoming painful as he leans closer and lowers his voice. But even with the low tone, I still hear the threat in his timbre. “We’re not supposed to have any secrets between us. That’s the only way this works.”
I open my mouth, struggling to come up with something to explain my odd behavior, then blurt out, “My parents are getting a divorce.”
He blinks, brows raised in surprise. “They are?”
I nod quickly, taking advantage of his loosening hold to rid myself of his touch.
“What happened?”
I pause, debating how to proceed. I’m not sure I want to tell him my dad essentially chose Londyn’s side over my mother’s, which was the tipping point in him finally suggesting divorce.
Blowing out a long breath, I shake my head. “I’d rather not get into it right now. It’s still a little…new.”
“Of course. I can only imagine how you must feel.” He curves toward me, kissing my forehead. “Why don’t you go relax? It’s been a trying several days, what with losing Gampy and Meemaw’s house in that fire.”
I note how Nick doesn’t mention Wes being in the hospital. He must hate that he’s no longer the center of attention.
“I’ll be working on edits for the next few hours. Then maybe I’ll see if your father can watch Imogene tonight and I’ll come and massage every inch of your body. How does that sound?”
I drape an arm over his shoulder, toying with a few tendrils of his blond hair. “That sounds great.” I grit out a smile.
I once craved him, the way he seemed to know what to do and say making me think we knew each other in another life. But lately, I have to force myself not to flinch when he brushes my skin, his touch stirring feelings I can’t quite explain.
“Good. I’m going to get back to work. Go relax. Take a long bath.” His lips curve into a sly smile. “Maybe shave.”
