It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her say a negative word about him. My heart beats faster, but I take the chance. “Did you always love him?”
She’s quiet. Several moments pass as she seems to ponder my question, and I wonder if she’ll answer me. As I’ve grown older, our relationship has matured. We approach each other as adults and share things I never would have dreamed when I was a teenager. Still, there are secrets mothers and daughters keep from each other.
“When we lost Sophie...” Her voice breaks off, and she’s quiet again.
I’ve only heard stories of the baby girl still-born between Stuart and Patrick. Once when I was younger, I found a drawer filled with tiny, pink baby things. A small, hand-knit blanket made of the softest silk yarn, a little white bib embroidered with ESK, Ella Sophie Knight, a small silver Tiffany’s rattle. I’d asked my mother whom these things belonged to, since they clearly weren’t mine, and she’d told me the story of my sister, who died before taking her first breath.
Without realizing, my arms have tightened around her waist. I only want to hold her, protect her from this pain in her past.
Clearing her throat she continues. “He was not a gentle sort of man, and rather than growing closer, we each withdrew after it happened.”
My voice is so quiet, I sound like a little girl. “But you had Patrick... and me.”
Her hand covers mine, sliding up and down my forearm. “Stuart was such a perceptive child. We wanted him to have a happy home. I wanted that.” She takes a breath, and exhales slowly. “Your father was so handsome. Women always admired him, and I guess it gave me a sense of pride. It wasn’t difficult to try harder.”
Hearing her say these things fills me with anger, and I have to swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. “So you stayed with him?”
“Of course!” She says it like the very idea of anything else is preposterous. “We had the two of you, and after that, my life was so full...”
Her life was so full, she didn’t have to worry about her empty marriage. Lowering my forehead against her neck, I inhale deeply of her lingering Chanel fragrance. I want her, only her, to banish the memories of what he did. I want her to find happiness. I want her to be free.
Releasing her waist, I leave the closet and its bad memories. “I’ll help you clean them out. I’ll take them all to Goodwill, and it’ll be done.”
She follows me back into the room, a wistful smile on her face. “Not yet. I need to check with the boys and see if they want any of them.”
“None of them will fit Patrick, and Stuart doesn’t wear suits.”
“Still,” she catches my hand and together we walk down the hall into the living room. “It’s the right thing to do. He was their father.”
I don’t argue with her. “Whatever you want.” I take my clutch and pause before heading to my bedroom. “I start working with Marcus Merritt this week, so I’ll have to be out before nine.”
“Will you want breakfast?”
“I’ll pick something up at Starbucks. I’m sure I’ll have an office phone, but you can call or text my cell if you need me.”
My emotions are too spent from this day, and exhaustion is rolling over me in waves. She gives me a tired smile, and I peck her cheek.
Just before slipping into slumber, Marcus’s face drifts across my mind. I’ve always run. I’m always ready to run. I only have to wait for the signal that comes from somewhere deep inside me.
However, when I’m in his arms, I feel something I’ve never felt before—dread. Not of him, but of that signal, and how this time, I don’t want it to come.
Chapter 7: Deep Background
Marcus
I’m behind my desk thinking about her when the message bubble appears on my computer screen. Amy Knight is in reception. For a moment, I evaluate my internal response to these words.
Saturday night when she left, I was angry, but when I kissed her, I knew she wanted to stay. I don’t know what demons she’s
battling, but I know I’m not ready to give up on her. This situation is going to require a bit more finesse. I type my reply. Send her back.
She enters my office wearing a grey dress that drapes across her shoulders and hugs her hips. On her feet are matching strappy heels. Her long blonde hair hangs in smooth ripples down her back, and she looks as much power-suit executive as runway model. I can’t help it. I want to turn her around and have a repeat of her last visit. I’ve been craving more of her body all night.
“It’s time we looked at that website, Mr. Merritt.” She places a small case on my desk and fixes me with an authoritative gaze. It makes me chuckle.
“Come around, and we can look at it together.”
She steps around my desk and then glances left to right. “Are you expecting me to sit on your lap?”