She looked up dazedly. “Oh, Kevin! What are you doing here?”
His large frame dwarfed hers when she went in for the hug. Kevin looked at me over her shoulder, his brows gathered low. “You two asked me to come out to talk.” He eased away to look her in the eye, but she avoided his gaze.
“Oh yes. That.”
When she frowned, my heart ached anew. Losing my dad so soon after she’d retired had been enough of a blow. They’d been planning a series of trips—an Alaskan cruise, a vacation in Florence—and looking into renting a condo in Sarasota each winter. Like me, Mom didn’t adapt quickly to change, so it had taken her weeks to leave the house after his funeral, and months to come to grips with the fact that her husband was gone. My pregnancy had been a catalyst for her turning the corner, by giving her something to look forward to. She hadn’t needed me to complicate her life with my mess now.
“Mom, take Kevin to the living room and catch up on Billy’s latest antics. I’ll fix some tea and meet you in two minutes.”
Kevin nodded before guiding her to the other room while chatting. His proud tone as he spoke about his family contrasted mightily with Lyle’s. Given how devastated my husband had been by his own mother’s abandonment, I couldn’t comprehend the way lust was affecting Lyle’s thinking—until I recalled the zeal with which he’d once pursued me. Imagining that gleam in his eye aimed at another woman hardened my stomach.
I snatched the turquoise-colored teakettle that had sat on Mom’s stove since the ’80s and filled it with water. A frying pan with the remnants of a melted spatula stuck to its center lay in the sink. Was my mom losing it? I couldn’t handle that right now. Please, God, let it be nothing more than stress.
While the water heated, I scraped at the melted bits of plastic, but it was useless. Another thing I couldn’t fix. Setting the ruined pan aside, I gazed at the Turner family memory jar. Same aging label. Fewer scrolls for this time of year because, with us kids all gone, only the biggest celebrations made it in there now.
My dad had once suggested we put bad memories in there, too, because at the end of the year you could look back and see how far you’d come. Mom had rejected that outright, preferring to gloss over hardships and unpleasantries. Since the memory jar had been Mom’s idea, no one but Erin ever put negative memories in there. Today would be no exception.
When I brought a tray with the teacups into the living room, my brother and mom had seated themselves on the sofa. I moved the stray newspaper and took the chair. No one reached for a teacup.
Having not rehearsed how to begin, I ripped off the proverbial Band-Aid. “Kevin, Lyle is having an affair—”
“We don’t know that,” my mom interjected, although her vehemence had lessened in the past forty-eight hours.
“It’s a fact.” I averted my eyes to avoid the flash of disappointment that would flicker through hers. “He confirmed it, but I needed time to process everything before sharing it with you.”
Her shoulders collapsed, and she covered her face with her hands. When pity lit Kevin’s eyes, I dropped my chin.
“I’m sorry, sis. Did you want help finding a good divorce lawyer? We’ve got some excellent ones in my firm.”
My head snapped up. “No! We’re not there yet.”
“Why the hell not?” Kevin barked like our dad occasionally had when we’d done something stupid—or, rather, like he had when Kevin or I had messed up. Dad had gotten a kick out of Erin’s rambunctious attitude and impulsiveness, so he’d met her mistakes with tempered disappointment mixed with a twinkle in his eye. I’d spent my youth working hard for that twinkle—routinely instigating surprise cleanups and doing the laundry for Mom, or making high honors at school—but Erin had earned them simply by breathing.
“Divorce is so final . . . It’s too soon for that.” I rubbed my stomach. “Lyle’s asked for a little time to sort through his feelings and figure things out. I’m not making excuses, but people have affairs—they get bewitched and make mistakes. Sometimes they learn that they had what they needed all along. We have a baby coming. I think he’ll come home.”
“A little time?” Kevin cursed Lyle’s name, earning himself a slap on the arm from our mom.
“Language!” Mom frowned.
“Sorry.” He squeezed her hand, then looked at me. “Let’s say he deigns to return. Can you be happy with him—or trust him—ever again?”
Before I replied, Mom jumped in. “If Amanda wants to save her marriage, she needs support, not ridicule.”
Her attitude didn’t surprise me, even if Kevin seemed taken aback. I’d been her golden girl, and golden girls didn’t get dumped for bimbos and end up as single moms, especially not if Madeline Turner could help it.
Kevin blew out a breath.
“It bothers me to think of Amanda staying married to a disloyal liar.” When he glanced at me, I had to look away. “He’s lucky he’s not here. I honestly think I’d rip his head off.”
He might, too. He’d always been protective of Erin and me.
Now Kevin was already furious, and he didn’t even know the full scope of the situation. My stomach cramped again. I must’ve winced, because my mother’s expression pinched.
“What’s wrong, Amanda?” she asked.
“I’m stressed out.” My voice faltered as I massaged my belly with both hands.
Kevin dialed back his anger. “That’s not good for the baby.”
“I know!” Another round of tears clogged my throat, but I fought them.
Kevin rubbed his thighs while taking a deep breath. “If you don’t need a divorce lawyer, why am I here?”
“Well . . . ,” I began. My mom pressed her palms to her cheeks, and the position Lyle had put us in crushed me. “Partly I wanted advice about what I should do in case Lyle asks for a divorce—I mean, mostly I’m concerned about custody, but I also wanted to get an idea about child support and alimony, although . . .” I hesitated, bracing myself. “That might be complicated by the fact that Lyle borrowed money from Mom for this deal in Florida.”
“What?” Kevin sat up, spine erect, eyes wide. “When?”
“Soon after Lyle started his own business two months ago, he got an inside line on the condo development deal in Florida, but he didn’t want to touch his 401(k) because of penalties, and we’d used a bunch of our savings to buy the house. He was scrambling to raise funds in time to scoop the deal. Mom overheard us talking and offered to lend him Dad’s death benefit money.”
Kev whipped his head in her direction, making her start in her seat. “How much?”
She flinched, and I shuddered along with her. “Most of it.”
“You gave Lyle half a million dollars?” Kevin pretty much sprang off the sofa, arms raised before they slapped his sides.
“Not all . . .” Mom’s voice rose, unaccustomed to having to answer to her children.
I pressed my body into my chair as if it could hide me. Bile filled my throat when I thought about the four hundred thousand dollars she’d lent my husband. We’d both put our faith in him without a second thought, but Mom never would’ve bankrolled him if she’d suspected he’d been sleeping with another woman.