Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“And that stopped you?” Miranda bellows, tears streaming down her cheeks. “If you really wanted to meet your child—Mom’s grandchild—you could have flown to Seattle to try to convince Claudia in person.”
“You’re right. I should have done that. In my defense, Mom was really sick by then, and I didn’t feel like I had the emotional bandwidth to try and possibly fail. I didn’t want to give Mom false hope, if things didn’t work out.” When my sister glares at me, I rough a hand down my face. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I fucked up. When I found out she’d blocked me, I decided to leave it alone till Mom got better and try again later.” I swallow hard. “But, of course, Mom never got better, so . . .”
Miranda bursts into sobs, and the already jagged pieces of my heart scraping inside my chest cavity shatter a bit more. “All those times I visited you in rehab,” she says, “you never once thought to mention—”
“I’m sorry, Miranda. I was selfish and stupid.”
“No, you were beyond selfish and stupid. You were cruel and heartless. An asshole-douchebag!”
“I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me, but I promise I’ll never lie to you again.”
Miranda wipes a tear. “If you do, you’re fucking dead to me, Caleb.”
“I understand.” She’s said that before, but she’s never once followed through with it. For reasons I’ll never understand, my sister always defends me. Always supports me. No matter what bullshit I put her through.
Miranda inhales deeply and wipes her eyes. “How’d the meeting with Raine go yesterday? Did she like you?”
I can’t help smiling at the memory. “Like is too strong a word. But she warmed up to me by the end of our first meeting.” I tell my sister the whole story about Raine teaching me to color, and how brilliantly Aubrey drew Raine out of her shell, and Miranda cries throughout my entire telling.
“Goddammit, you prick,” she murmurs. “You’ve ruined my makeup. Now, I’m gonna make all my friends wait for me, as I redo it.”
“Where are you going tonight?”
“Some fancy night club. I don’t know.” She wipes her eyes again. “Should I cut my trip short and come to Prairie Springs?”
“No, stay there. Have fun. Once I’ve made some progress with Raine on my own, you can come meet her.”
“Can I at least see a photo of my niece?” Miranda asks.
“Of course. I’m sure Aubrey has one. Hang on. She’s walking twenty paces behind me.”
“Huh?”
Without explaining, I turn around and discover Aubrey’s kept her distance on the dirt trail, as promised. But she’s not walking calmly behind me, as expected. She’s performing some kind of dance routine back there to the beat of whatever song is blaring in her earbuds. In fact, she’s going all out back there: throwing up her hands, shaking her ass, performing choreography as enthusiastically as any dancer in a music video.
I wave my arm above my head to get Aubrey’s attention, and when our eyes meet, she abruptly stops dancing, bursts out laughing at herself, and pulls out an earbud.
“Come say hi to my sister, Miranda!” I call out.
I don’t need to ask her twice. With a huge grin on her face, Aubrey bounds happily toward me. When she comes to a stop next to me, I pull out my own earbuds, in order to put the call on speaker mode. I make all necessary introductions, and both women quickly launch into an enthusiastic conversation about how great it is to meet the other.
“Caleb said you might have a photo of Raine?” Miranda asks hopefully.
“Oh, I’ve got a million of them.” Aubrey swipes on her phone and holds it up to display a heart-melting photo of Raine in fairy wings, and Miranda gushes and coos at the beautiful sight. Rinse and repeat. Clearly, Aubrey wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’s got a million photos.
“Oh!” Aubrey says, selecting another shot. “This one was taken at a pond we always went to in Seattle. Rainey loves feeding ducks.” She displays the photo, eliciting predictable coos from my sister, before returning to her phone again.
Suddenly, Aubrey’s vibrant smile turns wistful and sad. She looks up, her dark eyes pained. “Would it be okay if I show you a shot of Raine with her mother?”
“Please do.”
Aubrey holds up the shot, and I’m met with the smiling, pretty face of Claudia Beaumont, pressing her cheek happily against her daughter’s tiny cheek.
“Claudia was my best friend since grade school,” Aubrey says softly. “We grew up together in Prairie Springs.”
“She was beautiful,” Miranda says. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Aubrey.”
“Thank you. No matter what, I want Raine to grow up knowing she had the best mommy in the world.”
“She will,” Miranda says. “Right, Caleb?”
“Of course. Absolutely.” I’ve been angry with Claudia for about a year and a half now, thanks to her curt, dismissive response to my heartfelt email. But now, thanks to that smiling photo of her with her beloved toddler, my anger has given way to grief for Aubrey and Raine. Can I really blame Claudia for telling me to fuck off, after the way I’d basically told her unborn child to fuck off from day one?