He glanced over his shoulder, and I looked to see if she was there. She wasn’t.
“Like I said, she’s resting.”
I studied him. “She still doesn’t want to see me.”
He shrugged.
I turned to leave. I couldn’t very well force my way in.
“Do you want me to give her a message?” he asked.
“I leave her messages and texts every day. She doesn’t take those, so I’m not sure she’d take one through you.” Yes, I was bitter and feeling rejected. Reminding myself that I’d brought this on myself was the only thing that kept me from giving up all together. She needed action not words.
I drove home to my empty, quiet house. Like I’d done every night since she’d gone to her fathers, I left a voice message telling her I loved her when I got ready for bed. I had no idea if she listened to them, but I couldn’t control that.
On Thursday, everything at the office finally coalesced and I could move forward with the next phase. I called Terra and left her a message asking if she’d be home Saturday. To get help on making that happen, I called Tom, asking for his help in arranging a day with her and the kids. I also contacted Emma, asking for her assistance. I wasn’t sure what Terra had told her and if she’d be willing to help. Thankfully, she agreed.
On Friday, I made sure all my plans at the office were in order and in the afternoon, I went to the cancer support group. I’d admitted to them that Terra was with her father and I wasn’t sure how permanent that was. They’d all told me to keep on working to reconcile. Even the angry lady was rooting for me. When I left, Bob and several others in the group wished me luck that everything would turn out.
“If she doesn’t see how much you love her, then she’s blind,” the angry lady said.
Later that evening, I ran a few errands to get the house ready for Terra and the kids. After getting things set up, I had dinner. I watched TV to distract myself from nerves about whether or not Terra was going to come home. She hadn’t replied to any of my texts or voice messages. I was climbing into bed, feeling dejected and concerned that I’d be in an empty house for the rest of my life when my phone beeped with a text.
We’ll be home by 9 tomorrow morning.
I stared at the message, as the first feelings of hope I’d had since she messaged me that she was going to her fathers grew.
I can’t wait to see you. I messaged back.
I figured she wouldn’t answer, so I put my phone on the bedside table and lay in the dark. If all went well, I wouldn’t be alone tomorrow or ever.
24
Terra
Telling my father that I had cancer was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I knew I needed to do it, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for him. He’d lost his wife and now it could take his daughter. His only child.
He’d cried, but then pulled himself together, asking what I needed. A cure and possibly a miracle was my only answer.
The first few days the kids and I were there, he didn’t ask about Brayden, but on Wednesday after Brayden dropped the kids off from visiting with them, I could see he was concerned. I wondered what Brayden had told him. It couldn’t have been bad. Each day, I got messages from Brayden saying he loved me. I was a bitch for never responding, but I was still so angry and resentful. I didn’t want words. I wanted Brayden.
I’d been able to avoid a conversation with my father then, but on Friday, after I’d received a message from Brayden about coming home on Saturday, my father called me into his study after I’d put the kids to bed.
“Why are you here, Terra?” he asked, handing me a cup of tea.
“To see you,” I said.
“So, you’ve seen me. How long are you planning to stay?”
“Do you want us to leave?” I was annoyed that Brayden said something to my father that had him turning on me.
“No. But I want to know what’s going on. Have you left Brayden?” My father’s eyes scrutinized me, making me squirm like I used to when I was a kid.
“No. I wanted to see you to let you know what was going on.” That was mostly true. I hadn’t left Brayden, but I’d be lying if I said that was all. I wanted to see what it would be like for the kids and me to be away from him. The kids were fine, but then again, they thought this was just a visit. They’d been so happy to see Brayden on Wednesday, and afterwards, asked me when we were going home.
“And,” my father prodded.
I felt like I was being interrogated. “And yes, I needed some time away from him.”