“Oh my darling, he made you suffer.” She says it, but there’s a thread of hope in her voice and in her eyes that praying I’ll deny it.
I nod, my own sob clawing its way up my throat as I replay the months I spent locked in that house horrors.
“I wish he was dead. He is not a man who deserves to draw breath.” She radiates with anger, and I think about my own act of selfishness in search of emancipation.
“I left Cameron with him,” I admit, feeling sick when I remember my vehemence about never leaving my own child. But I left her.
She covers my hand with hers and shakes her head vigorously.
“Her mother is not weak like yours. I think in her, Drew has met his match.”
“I don’t think so. He’s terrible to her and he cheats on her. And she takes it.”
“You cannot save anyone until you’re able to save yourself. I am lucky. The man I’m with, he loves me. But Andrew made coming back for you impossible.”
I study her, seeing her clearly for the first time ever.
She’s not my mother in anything more than name. But I can see how she might have been if my father hadn’t driven her away. I understand the need to draw breath that’s not tainted by someone else’s desires. I’m gripped with a fierce conviction, give it voice before I lose my nerve.
“We have a lot of time to make up for, but I don’t want to spend another minute of it as strangers.”
“Oh, God, Elisabeth. Do you mean it?” She asks, tears falling down her face.
“Yes. And if Michael is willing. I’d like to meet him, too.”
I Want To Lie To You.
CARTER
I watch Beth sleeping, and hate that I’m going to have to disturb her well-earned sleep.
She was exhausted when we got back to the hotel. We went to meet her biological father, and was at their house until late last night.
I’m so proud of her.
She’s taught me what true courage looks like. It’s not pretending to be fearless, it’s making space for the fear and using it as fuel.
She’s faced and vanquished all of her demons. And I’ve been such a coward.
I stare at the necklace as it glints in a spectacular line down the center of her graceful back. I promised her something the day I gave it to her.
Then, In my panic and determination to keep her and myself safe, I almost ruined everything.
I have to come clean. If I don’t, one day she’ll find out and any hope I have of regaining her trust, would be gone.
But worse, If I can’t find the courage to tell her the truth, I don’t deserve her trust. I just hope she can understand the choice I made. Because, that I’m not sorry for.
I place a light kiss on her sweet lips and stroke the top of her cheekbone where her sable lashes cast a feathery shade.
Her eyes flutter open and I lose my heart all over again.
“Morning,” she murmurs with a drowsy smile. She blinks at the small clock by the bed, and her eyes narrow.
“It’s 6:30. I thought we were going to sleep in.” She comes fully awake and the longer she looks at me, the more wary her expression grows.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have something to tell you,” I say.
She sits up and pulls the sheet over her breasts and crosses her arms over her chest. She searches my face intently and then she presses her lips together and nods sharply, signaling that she’s ready. “Go ahead.”
“Yesterday morning, Duke called Dean Orleans and asked him to pass on a message.”
Her hand flies to cover her mouth and her eyes widen in horror.
“What? Why? How?”
I answer the question I know she’s really asking.”
“He’d seen the CNN story about us and was threatening to expose us.”
My fury from that day has fermented into rage in the days since our phone call. The satisfaction in his voice made swallowing my pride really hard. But I did it. And I’d do it again.
“Expose what?” she asks, impatience sharpens her voice sending it an octave higher and several decibels louder. My nerves shimmer, but I hold them steady.
She has every right to yell, I remind myself.
“Expose us as being related. He already had an offer from some publisher wanting to buy the rights to story. That kind of story…it could do real damage. Not just to me and you me. But the band. Our families. ”
She looks incredulous. “ Let him say whatever he wants. Who would have believed him? And we have proof that its’ a lie.”
My smile is dark and shallow.
“No one cares about proof, Beth. They care about what sells. And sure, we could show them a piece of paper. But Obama showed us his birth certificate and the people who wanted to believe that he wasn’t born here, said it was fake. Nothing will convince people, once they think something is true.
“This is bullshit, why would anyone print something like that when it’s just his word? They would need proof. And he doesn’t have any.” She’s vibrating with anger.
My stomach roils, I haven’t even gotten to the hard part.
“He has proof…” I say and let that linger.
She stiffens and tilts her head the side.
“What proof? I know my father didn’t give copies of your DNA test.” She eyes me suspiciously.
“No. He has my copies,” I tell her.
“What? How?” she demands, her eyes shuttering slightly as her mind, one that moves too fast for her mouth to keep up with, answers the question for her.
I’m gripped by the compulsion to lie. Not because I want to deceive her. It’s a reflex. Self-preservation. That same thing that makes it impossible for human beings to voluntarily hold their breath until they die, it’s telling me to let open my mouth and take an inhale.
Why does she need to know the truth? What good would it do for her to know?
Those are the things I told myself when I decided to hide this from her. But if I lie now, then I’m no better than the men who came before me. And if it costs me a momentary loss of her good regard, I’ll take it. I can grovel my way back from pissing her off.
“I want to lie to you,” I tell her and she blinks.
I dive through the window it affords me. “I slept with someone and now she and Duke are blackmailing me.” I blurt. Her mouth slams shut. She swallows like there’s a tennis ball stuck her throat.
“What?” she croaks.
I tell her all about Serene. “So, I came back in and she was gone and so was my suitcase. At the time, I thought she stole it for the cash. I was annoyed that I lost those records, but I figured she’d take the cash and trash them. Well, apparently she’s a friend of Duke’s or something. Because he has all of the documents. When she was here, that first time – when I…” I can’t look at her and I can’t finish my sentence.
“When you fucked her?” Beth says, and I flinch at the acid in her voice.
“She took pictures…And he has them.”
She moans, and the pain in it rips me in half. I open my eyes and almost throw up when I see her sitting, arms wrapped around herself, her expression stoic, but haunted.
“Beth.”