The Confession (15 page)

“You think he would have been happier if he could have married the woman he loved instead of the woman who came up pregnant.”

Bobs mouth hung open and his eyes relayed his shock. “How? When? Who told you?”

“I only learned recently.” She stepped back beside him, tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, and began to slowly walk again. “Dad never said a word about it. Well, Dad never would. He never had an unkind word to say about anyone.”

“I don’t understand. Why would your mother tell you this? Why now? Is she looking to tarnish your father in your eyes, or somehow make herself a victim? It doesn’t make any sense to me.” She could feel his body tense, and knew he was angry.

She didn’t want to tell him the whole story yet. She just wanted to know if her mother had ruined her father’s life with her lies. “I just want to know if he was happy.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket, and laid his arm across her shoulder. “The sun rose and set with you, Aimee. Even if his marriage wasn’t what he pictured for himself, and your mother not the woman he had originally chosen, he was one of the happiest men I knew. He was happy because he had you.”

She laid her head back against him. She felt comforted in some small way, but she couldn’t help but wonder if her father would have been happier in the life he’d planned for himself before her mother brought her home as a trap. She fought the urge to scream, cry, and rage at the unfairness of it all. She wanted to vent, to tell Bob everything. She couldn’t. Now wasn’t the time.

As they strolled up the driveway closer to the house, they heard screaming. Bob looked at her puzzled, and they both hurried their steps.

“I know she’s here! Get out of my way, you little tramp!”

Joan was trying to close the front door in the face of a clearly unwanted guest. “I said she isn’t here! Get the hell off my porch before I call the cops!” she screamed in reply.

“Go ahead and call the cops. I have no doubt they know exactly who you are, with as many times as they’ve taken your picture. And if by some miracle you’ve discovered the ability to tell the truth, then I can have you arrested for stealing her car. Would it be easier if I called them for you? It must be difficult to dial with those never-worked-a-day-in-your-life fingernails.” The man on the porch turned around and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

“Luther?” Aimee ran toward the house and flung herself into his arms. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?”

Luther pulled back and looked down at her. “I spoke to Emily. She told me what was going on, so I jumped on the train. Why didn’t
you
call me?”

He looked hurt she hadn’t. “I was going to call you today. Honest. I only arrived this morning.”

He pulled her into his arms again, and held her tightly. Whispering into her ear so only she could hear him, he asked, “How did it go? Are you all right?”

With one last squeeze, he stepped back and peered into her eyes with concern. She felt her control begin to slip, and the tears threatening to spill. She could only nod her head.

Luther reached around her, and stretched out his hand. “Uncle Bob, it’s nice to see you again.”

Bob shook his hand and slapped him affectionately on the arm. “Glad you’re here, Luther. I think our girl could use a real friend with a strong shoulder right now. She’s had a rough day.”

They all turned when they heard the door snap shut behind them.

“Now we’ve gone and pissed off the Wicked Witch of the East,” Luther said.

“When have you known Joan not to be pissed off about something?” Bob replied. “I suppose this is my cue to sacrifice myself and go see what Joan’s all worked up about this time. I’ll check on your mother as well, so you two take your time and catch up. I’ll see you inside after a bit.”

After Bob left, Aimee turned to Luther. “You have no idea how glad I am you’re here. It’s been a very emotional day and I need to talk to someone without the web of secrets I keep finding myself trapped in.”

He took her hand and led her to the swing on the far end of the porch overlooking the yard. “I take it you’ve seen your mother already today. Did you get a chance to talk to her?”

She nodded her head. “She believes she was justified in what she did because she didn’t want to lose my dad.” She replayed the conversation for him, leaving nothing out. It wasn’t until she’d finished that she realized she was crying.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. It isn’t fair and you don’t deserve it.” He pulled out his handkerchief and waited in silence while she dried her eyes. “Did she tell Joan?”

A sarcastic cackle ruptured from her throat. “Are you ready for this one? She told Joan I’d been adopted. I suppose she believed that would explain my running from the house three weeks ago without her having to take responsibility for what really happened.”

Luther’s lips pressed together in a straight line, his eyes mere slits. His voice was lethal as he said, “I can’t believe the balls on that woman.” He threw his hands up in obvious frustration and jerking off the swing, began to pace the end of the porch. “She’s created this massive mess. She’s completely altered the lives of multiple people, lied and cheated. However, she decides that it would be better for her if she continued this charade with everyone else so she doesn’t appear to be the horrible person she truly is. She then dumps it all in your lap so she can die with a clear conscience, leaving you to deal with this disaster after she’s gone.”

“That about sums it up. Luther, what am I supposed to do? I couldn’t even tell Bob because I knew how he would react.”

“Are you seriously still protecting her?”

Aimee hung her head. She was unsure of where to proceed from here. He was right, this was a huge mess. She was allowing her mother to lie to everyone, and in the last three weeks had discovered she was capable of it, too. If it turned out that Emily was in fact her birth mother, she would have to try to explain why she’d started their relationship with dishonesty. Then there was Mark. She knew that relationship was irreparable and it broke her heart to know it was her own fault.

Luther stopped pacing, knelt down and pulled her chin up. “You need to talk to her again. Make her tell them the truth. You shouldn’t be the only one who knows and be left to handle the aftermath because she’s a damn coward.”

She stood up. “You’re right. This is her mess and she should clean it up, not me. Will you promise to stay if I go talk to her?”

“I’m not going anywhere. It becomes clearer each day that you can’t handle life without me.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t let her off the hook. Remember, you are the innocent in this. Be strong and kick some ass.”

He turned her around and swatted her butt, giving her a little nudge. She walked purposely across the porch. Before she reached the door it swung open and Joan came barreling out.

“Mom’s bad. She says she has to see you.”

Joan’s face was wet with tears when Aimee blew past her on her way toward the stairs. Bob stopped her with a gentle hand.

“Aimee, I’ll be right here if you need me. I hope you’ll tell me what’s really going on. I know it must be big. Joan just told me that you were adopted, and I know firsthand that’s not true. You can tell me anything, Buttercup. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you.” He patted her hand in reassurance and stepped back so she could mount the stairs.

Her palms were sweaty, and her heart was racing. She tried to formulate what she would say. Her mother had lied to her and treated her poorly, but she was still the only mother she’d ever known, and she was dying. She loved her, but she was a stranger. What was she supposed to feel?

She stopped outside the bedroom door and hesitated. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her jaw clenched and her heart pounded. Opening the door, she walked toward the bed.

Her mother’s eyes fluttered open and she looked intensely at her. “You do understand, don’t you?”

She took a deep breath and pulled the chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. Did she just let it go and tell her mother what she so desperately wanted to hear, or tell her the truth? Looking back into the eyes of the woman she’d always believed was her mother, she replied, “No, I don’t understand. What you did was wrong, not only legally, but morally. You never thought of anyone else, just yourself. What makes me the angriest is you still are. Why would you tell Joan I was adopted?”

She scooted back in the chair, needing to put some distance between them as she tried to calm herself.

“I didn’t want her to hate me, too,” her mother replied in a whisper.

“I don’t hate you, I just don’t understand.” She blew out a breath of frustration.

“You’ve always hated me. It was like you didn’t have enough love for both of us, your dad and me.”

“That’s not fair,” she snapped. “It was you who didn’t have enough to share. Or maybe it was just with me because I wasn’t your child.” She stood from the chair and began to pace. Why had she just said that? She didn’t need to confess how unloved she’d always felt, not now.

“I was jealous.”

She froze. Slowly, she turned around and gaped at her mother. “Jealous?”

“Your father loved you so much. He never once looked at me the way he did you, with his heart in his eyes. It hurt me to see you two together. It was a constant reminder of what I’d never have with him.”

Her stomach clenched. She threw her hands into the air in frustration. “I was a child!” she yelled. “How could you possibly blame me for that? You treated me like crap for twenty-eight years because you were jealous that he loved me? You were the one who gave me to him. You trapped him into marrying you. Do you really wonder why he didn’t love you the way you wanted him too?” All the rage she’d been fighting to control broke loose. “You should be ashamed of yourself. How do you sleep at night?”

She turned to leave, fighting the urge to flee.

“Aimee, please don’t leave like this,” her mother pleaded in a weak voice. “I understand that you’re angry, but I need to know you forgive me. Please don’t let me die with you still hating me.”

Aimee turned around and sat back in the chair beside the bed. Her rage spent, she said calmly, “I do forgive you. I have to — for both of us. But you need to fix this. At least tell Joan the truth.”

“I will. I’ll tell her if that’s what you need me to do.” Her mother reached over and touched her arm. She was surprised by the strange sensation. She couldn’t remember her mother ever touching her with affection. “Can I ask you something else?” She continued when Aimee nodded her head. “What’s she like? Your birth mother.”

She furrowed her brow. It was a strange question and not one she expected. She thought about it for a moment before responding. “Broken.”

Aimee came down the stairs and looked into three curious faces. “She’s sleeping.”

Joan let out a deep breath in obvious relief and rose from the couch. “I’ll go sit with her.” She leaned in toward Aimee and added, “I hope your friend isn’t planning on staying. He is a vile man and not welcome here.”

“Yes, he is welcome here, and yes, he’s staying.”

Joan jerked back as if she’d been slapped. “Oh, so my feelings don’t matter to you?”

“Not at all.”

Aimee turned from her sister, surprised by her new voice. It felt good to be honest, to finally say what she wanted to. Both men pumped their fists in the air when Joan stomped from the room mumbling under her breath.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” Bob’s smile stretched ear to ear.

“Nicely done, and not just because I don’t have to sleep in your car, but it’s about time you put that girl in her place.” Luther held his hand up for a high five slap.

The men scooted to the side and Bob patted the seat between them in invitation.

“What’s going on?” Bob asked.

She could tell his patience was beginning to fray.

“This is not going to be a short, nor happy, conversation. Would anybody other than me care for a glass of wine first?”

“Now we’re talking my language,” Luther said, jumping from the couch.

“I would love a glass.” Bob stood up and led the way to the kitchen.

Handing Luther the bottle and corkscrew, Aimee reached into the cupboard for three glasses. No one spoke, but even the silence was filled with questions.

“Have you eaten today?” Bob stepped behind her and rubbed her shoulders.

She turned her head and nodded. “Joan made me a salad earlier.”

Bob snickered and opened the refrigerator, pulling out the makings for a sandwich. “Luther, are you hungry? I could easily make three.”

“Starved.” Luther walked over and began to unscrew the lid on the mayonnaise jar.

“Not for me, thanks,” Aimee said, sitting down at the table and pouring three glasses of wine.

“You need to eat something, Aimee, no arguments.”

She suddenly understood. Bob didn’t believe her. Joan had never done a nice thing for her in her life. The laughter began slowly, and before she knew it, she was bent over, tears streaming down her cheeks, holding her stomach and unable to stop. The weight of the day exploded and the laughter turned to tears, which turned to painful sobbing. She was aware of the two men standing in front of her, each of them obviously unsure of what to do with a hysterical female.

She could hear them both whispering her name and repeatedly asking her if she was okay. She couldn’t speak. The tears wouldn’t stop. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She let it out slowly, and pulled more air into her lungs, holding it for a second before letting it blow out again.

“I’m fine,” she finally managed to whisper.

Luther silently handed her his ever present handkerchief and didn’t utter a word while she dried her face and attempted to pull herself together.

Looking up into two very worried faces, she spoke again in a stronger voice, “I’m fine, honest.”

They both pulled up a chair at the table next to her, all talk of sandwiches forgotten, while they waited silently for her to continue.

“It hasn’t been a very good month.” She snickered at her own understatement, and then squeezed her lips together to ensure she wouldn’t start another episode.