“This baby is not an ‘it’ or a ‘problem’ or a scam or anything else but a child. My child.”
Michael, more than anyone, had to know the thought of a child was no comfort to Asher.
“What does her family think of this mess?”
“You’ll find out this weekend. Her mom is in town, and Becky wants to set up a meet-the-parents brunch after I get back from spending turkey day with Mom in LA. I’ll meet her mother and you get to meet Becky.”
“Where’s her father in all this?”
“Killed in a plane crash. The year before Dylan died.”
The furniture shop was usually Asher’s sanctuary from his youngest son’s ghost, but Dylan’s memory was so sharp in here tonight he could almost feel it brushing against his skin. He turned away to hide his grimace, taking another drink.
How could he explain to Michael that parenthood simply wasn’t worth it? How could he explain that putting all your hopes and dreams onto a child meant the risk of losing all those hopes and dreams? What was it the golden-eyed brunette had said in the grocery store that morning? Our children will always be our children... She was wrong. Children weren’t always your children. Sometimes children died. He took one more gulp of liquor to bolster his resolve.
“Count me out.”
“Dad...”
“No.” His voice hardened, and the walls went up around him so solidly he could almost see the bricks stacking. “I won’t be a part of it. You’re too young, and she’s definitely too young. You’re being reckless with your life and with hers.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who had me at twenty-one.”
“But your mother was twenty-three, not a freakin’ teenager. And we didn’t get married for another two years, after I was out of college and had a job.”
Asher could see his younger self standing in the hospital, holding another baby boy in his arms, dreaming all those golden dreams for the boy’s future. Twelve years later he was back in that same hospital, holding his son’s lifeless body, cursing the universe and everyone in it. He drew in a deep breath and forced the words out.
“And look at me now, Michael. The marriage is over and your brother is gone. Gone. Are you ready for that to happen to your baby? Because I don’t think you are.”
Michael’s face paled and his lips pressed thinly together for a moment. He stared long and hard at the glass in Asher’s hand, as if trying to convince himself it was just the booze talking. His son had no idea how deep Asher’s fears ran—right to the marrow of his soul.
Michael ended the conversation by walking away, looking over his shoulder at Asher when he reached the door. “I’ll text you the time for the brunch. If you don’t care about meeting Becky, at least show up for me. I don’t imagine her mom will be too crazy about me considering the circumstances. But I guess you aren’t, either.”
“Michael...” A shot of regret hit Asher’s heart, but his son was gone, the door closing softly behind him. The tinkling of the bell over the door, there to alert him to customers during the day, seemed cruel and mocking in the middle of the night. He turned the lock, then leaned against the door.
For some reason, the Fixer was in his head again, suggesting he and Michael would look back on this time and laugh. He’d liked the cadence of her soft Southern accent and the glimpse of fire she’d shown out in front of his shop, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
This mess would never be a laughing matter.
“I’M SORRY...YOU’RE WHAT?”
Nora brought a shaking hand to her forehead, wondering if she was losing her mind. She had to be hearing things. Or hallucinating. That was it—she was hallucinating. Maybe she’d bought the wrong kind of mushrooms at the store the other day. Hot Produce Guy had distracted her, and she’d bought hallucinogenic mushrooms. That would explain why she’d just imagined her daughter saying something that couldn’t possibly be true.
The Thanksgiving table was eerily silent. Amanda held her wineglass suspended in midair, not quite reaching her lips. Blake’s mouth kept opening and closing, with no sound coming out. Their twelve-year-old son, Zachary, muttered a quiet “Uh-oh.” But it was the youngest child, Maddie, who broke through the quiet, clapping her hands together.
“Annie Becca have baby!” Unable to pronounce Ts yet, all of Maddie’s aunties were annies at this point.
Becky sat directly across from Nora, eyes wide but steady. The only hint of emotion was the rapid tapping of her fingers on the edge of the table, like she was playing an invisible piano. Her light brown hair was pulled up into a high ponytail tied with a ribbon, making her look even younger than her eighteen years.
Eighteen!
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Becky’s hands fell to her lap. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out over dinner like that, but you kept insisting it was okay to drink wine with dinner and I can’t, and I had to tell you anyway, so it just came out. I’m sorry.”
Nora shook her head. The news simply wasn’t computing. Amanda reached for her, but Nora jerked away. If anyone touched her right now, she’d shatter. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her pregnant teenage daughter.
“Rebecca Scarlett Bradford, did you just apologize for the bad timing of the announcement? Yet you’re not apologizing for being pregnant? At eighteen?” Every word grew louder and louder, which was a new experience for Nora. She prided herself on maintaining her composure at all times.
Her late husband’s shenanigans had tested that composure on a regular basis, but she’d rarely cracked. She rose to her feet in a flash of hot temper. She was definitely cracking now. In fact, she felt like she was about to burst into a thousand shards of fury.
“How could you be so careless? So stupid? Your life is just beginning, and now you’re telling me you’re pregnant? My God, Becky, I raised you to be smarter than that!” Her pulse was pounding in her ears. Rage? Panic? Was there a difference? “You have a scholarship at Vassar, for God’s sake! And you’re throwing it all away because you couldn’t keep your legs...”
“Nora!” Amanda’s voice was sharp. Her two children were at the table. Nora’s face burned. All she could do was glare at her daughter and wonder what the hell they were going to do. How was she going to fix this?
Blake cleared his throat as awkward silence returned. Nora was still standing, leaning over the table as if she wanted to leap across it and pummel her daughter. And, right now, the idea had a shocking amount of appeal.
“I think it’s safe to say dinner is officially over.” Blake gave his wife a pointed look. “Let’s take a little break before dessert, okay? The kids and I will go down to the resort, and you ladies can talk.” It was obvious he intended for Amanda to be the referee. Amanda. Her cousin who’d spent more time with Becky than she had over the past few months. Nora looked down, her own voice sounding like cracking ice.
“Did you know about this?”
Her cousin threw her hands up in defense. “No! I knew she had a boyfriend, but...”
A heart attack. That was what this was. Nora was having a heart attack and this was all a crazy dream. They’d take her to the hospital, and when she woke up, no one would be pregnant. No one would have a boyfriend they hadn’t mentioned to their mother. Because Becky told her mother everything.
“You told Amanda about having a boyfriend and not me?”
Becky shifted in her chair, then raised her chin defiantly. “If you knew I was seeing someone here, there’s no way you would’ve let me come to Gallant Lake so often...”
“He’s