A Daughter's Trust

She loved his body naked. And probably told him so a few dozen times.

She cared about him. She thought about him all the time. She hadn’t even considered calling anyone else for help on Friday when Danny and Donnie were more than she could handle along with Carrie and Michael.

But she did not love him.

A counselor came for Michael Monday morning. And the twins were being flown to the East Coast, to their paternal grandparents, who’d just found out about the babies. She was losing three in one day.

Standing in her living room, with Carrie clutched to her chest, Sue didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d never cried over one of her babies before. Never. Not even the first time she had to give one up.

She knew the ropes. Was seasoned.

“Oh, God, what’s the matter with me?” she asked aloud.

Seven-month-old Carrie pulled back from her shoulder. Put her hands on Sue’s cheeks like she’d done many times before, and frowned.

Because she didn’t understand the unfamiliar wetness?

Or because she did?

“Oh, baby, I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she said, choking back another sob.

“Your uncle’s coming to see you tonight. You, not me. You’re going to officially meet him. He’ll get to hold you.”

And they hadn’t talked about it. At all. Was he nervous about holding Carrie? Afraid she’d remind him of Hannah?

Was he eager to hold her, hoping she’d ease the grief of missing his own daughter?

“I can’t hurt another man.”

That was her problem. She was afraid of hurting Rick. They were so good together—and together so much, all of a sudden.

But nothing had really changed. She still wasn’t going to help him in his custody battle against his mother.

And Sue still wasn’t ever going to commit to a permanent relationship.

She didn’t know if he’d be sleeping with her that night. Just thinking about him turned her on.

She was feeling tense because she needed him to leave her alone. But she didn’t want him to.

Feeling tense because he was making her think about things she’d promised herself never to think about again. To remember things best not remembered. To hurt where she’d stopped hurting a long time ago.

“I’m a mess,” she told the adorable little girl in her arms. “You wanna be a mess, too?”

Carrie stared at her.

“Come on. Let’s go make some cereal with mashed bananas, and I’ll let you try to get some food in your mouth all by yourself.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JUST WHEN SUE HAD HERSELF convinced she was ready to face Carrie’s uncle, to facilitate his visitation, Joe called.

“My dad said he’d heard from your cousin, Belle,” he stated without preamble.

“She’s your cousin, too.”

His pause was significant. Sue just wasn’t sure what it signified. Rejection or difficulty with acceptance?

“She wants us all to get together for dinner.”