“I mentioned to Noah that I don’t feel safe in the house right now with what happened . . .” Her voice trails off. “It brought back some very dark memories, to say the least, and Noah’s potentially got an international trip where he’ll be gone for an extended period of time. As you can imagine, it’s hard being here all alone.”
“Understandable.” I look at my hands. “I can’t imagine being pregnant and practically alone. Oh wait,” I joke, “I can.”
She stares at where her wedding band would be. “The only thing is, I don’t want you here if you think there is any truth to what you read online about me being guilty.” She cringes. “I have to be in the best possible mind-set, and I need positivity right now. I can’t get bogged down by the past. I’m tired of it eating me alive.”
“I’m really sorry, Charlotte.”
We both flinch as we hear the first sign of a storm, a rumble of thunder. Charlotte automatically starts to tremble, and I notice she presses her fingers into her wrist, feeling for her pulse.
“So, back to what Noah and I discussed, we talked about the possibility of you living here while you’re pregnant and until you get on your feet afterward.”
“Seriously?”
“Where do you sleep at Diane’s?”
I toy with my bracelet. “On a mattress or the couch.”
“So you don’t have your own room?”
“No.”
“Would she mind?”
I smirk. “No.”
“There are some stipulations to you staying here, Elle.”
Sullen, I peer at her.
“We’re happy to provide a home for the time being.” She rises from the couch. “But you’re finishing your GED, you’ll have chores, and you’ll help with errands. In return, you’ll have no financial worries with your pregnancy and can rest assured you’ll have healthy meals and a well-stocked pantry.”
I raise my brow. “Okay.”
“There’s another thing. You’ll need to write everyone involved today an apology, including the principal and Courtney.”
Angrily, I glare at Charlotte. “Are you crazy? I’m not writing the bitch who got knocked up by my boyfriend a sympathy card. Now you’re off your rocker.”
“Karma will take care of her.”
“Does karma do that?” I narrow my eyes at her, but a voice inside warns me to be careful. “Take care of bad people?”
“Of course.”
“Not a chance in hell.” I pick at my ragged nail bed. “She’s the reason I got the nickname I now have.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad died of cirrhosis. I couldn’t pronounce it for years. I was seven when he died, and I got it confused with the one that means bad breath.”
“Halitosis?”
“Yep.” I shake my head. “Everyone told me I was crazy, that no one dies from that. Then they started calling me ‘Skunk Breath.’” Rolling my eyes, I add, “That was started in middle school by that bitch.”
“Courtney made up the name?”
“Yep,” I groan, “and a song. Then she enlisted a bunch of her friends to call me that.”
Looking resigned, Charlotte says, “Fine, no apology to Courtney directly, but you will write her family a letter. And the school.”
I start to protest, but she ignores my outburst. “Go on up to bed. There’s Tylenol in the drawer for what I’m sure is a painful bruise. Get some sleep.”
“You like to be in charge, don’t you?”
Charlotte refuses to take the bait. “I think you have pushed every button of mine today, so yes.”
With no argument left in me after the day from hell, I rub my eyes tiredly, the railing my lifeline for making it to the second floor. When I sink down on the mattress, I don’t bother getting undressed. I simply roll over and tug the throw at the end of the bed over me.
I’m starting to drift off when I hear a knock.
CHAPTER 38
Charlotte
I open the door to the guest room, where Elle is half-asleep, her eyes vacant. But when I say “I wanted to give you this” and hand her the sonogram, they instantly light up.
“Oh my God, thank you.”
“It got stuck between the console and the seat in the car.”
She smiles at the picture, elated.
After a moment, I can see the wheels spinning in her head as her body collapses back against the pillow. Pausing at the door, I say, “You know, Elle, you can have this baby and give it up to a family who can’t conceive. Don’t feel like you’re alone in this. And I’m here for you, if you need to talk.”
She nods.
“I’ll take you tomorrow to register for an alternative high school.”
After shutting the door softly behind me, instead of going back downstairs to the master suite, I decide to head to the last room on the left. With my cross necklace gone, and the small key with it, I had to find my spare.
I unlock the door and slip inside, locking it behind me. The air’s stale and musty, and I’m reminded to do a better job of lighting candles or spraying air neutralizers.
But now I have a purpose, and this space won’t be vacant for much longer.
This room has always been off limits to anyone else, even Noah.
I finger the thin curtains and stare out at the steady trickle of rain, the manner in which it removes impurities in the air. I push open the windowpane and am hit with a blast of cold, but I don’t mind, the cleansing air soon filling the room.
I can’t believe our baby would’ve been almost ten now.
And the one I lost in high school practically an adult.
Sinking down into the rocking chair, I collect my thoughts, staring straight ahead for a split second, letting myself feel something.
Guilt, remorse, apathy.
Quietly singing a lullaby, I rub my belly, feeling satisfied and complete.
Eventually I nod off and fall asleep in the chair, hands glued to my abdomen. It’s only when I hear birds chirping and become aware of a stream of sunshine playing tricks on my face that I wake up.
I rub my eyes, my back stiff from the chair, my throat parched.
Hurriedly, I tiptoe out of the room, locking the door behind me as I slip the key into the pocket of my robe.
After falling asleep in my bedroom, I wake up again at a more reasonable hour.
Elle’s asleep on the couch when I reenter, so I start breakfast, making pancakes and eggs. She hungrily devours the food before we head to an alternative school I researched in the area. I expect her to argue, but she’s quiet on the ride over.
After we explain what happened at her public school and answer an overabundance of questions, she’s allowed to enroll in a probationary period, which calls for zero disciplinary action in the first ninety days or automatic dismissal. They have summer school, which will be imperative if Elle wants to stay on track.
“Hopefully I’ll be graduated by then,” Elle mutters as she walks me back to the Jeep, which I have filled up with gas and made peace with in the interim, no longer seeing Jonathan’s hooded figure coming at me.
At least not for the moment.
Smiling sympathetically, I agree. “I hope so too.”