What She Didn't Know (What She 1)

“Our father. Did you kill him?”

“Are you sure you want to know the truth?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, I killed him,” she said on a big rush of air. “He’s dead. He’ll never bother you again. Ever. He won’t bother anyone.”

“Thank you.” I knew it was wrong, but I was so damn grateful he was gone.

“Don’t tell anyone about that. I’ll deny it if you do.”

“Understood.”

She kicked me lightly under the table. “Go home. You look tired.”

She called for the guard before I could say anything else. He began to lead me toward the door, and Shelly called out, “Lynn!”

I turned back.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

I nodded. “I know it. I love you too. You know that, right?”

She nodded too. And then I let the guard lead me from the room. I held back my tears until I’d turned the corner where she couldn’t see me. And then I took the time I needed to get it all out, pull myself back together, and go home.

46

7 ½ months later

* * *

My mother was hovering. Lynn’s grandmother was hovering too. I don’t know who was getting on whose nerves the most. The doctor looked at both of them. “You guys should go and get something to eat,” he said. “We still have hours to wait.” Then he left the room, presumably to come back when things had progressed a little.

Lynn stood in the middle of the hospital room, wearing her hospital gown and fuzzy slippers. “Yes, please go,” Lynn said. “Might as well eat while you can. The cafeteria will close soon.”

Lynn’s water had broken three hours before, and she was only at two centimeters. The family had shown up almost immediately.

Lynn was huge. I’d never seen her more beautiful, but her belly was like a basketball sticking out in front of her. And she was so damn beautiful that I couldn’t keep from touching her.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Shelly blew into the room like the storm she was.

In the end, Shelly had gotten six months of inpatient hospitalization so she could get treatment for her PTSD, which had been caused by her father. That part was true, so no one doubted she needed it. She’d gotten out a little more than a month before, and we’d seen her several times. It was odd being in a room with Shelly, though. Really odd.

The door opened and Malcolm stepped into the room. “Oh, fuck,” he said, as he laid eyes on Shelly. “Who let the wicked witch out of jail?”

“Careful, Mal, or I will sic my flying monkeys on you.” She snapped her fingers and he flinched.

“Fuck you, Shelly,” Mal grumbled.

“You already did. Several times.”

My mom cleared her throat. “I think we’re going to get some dinner.” She, Lynn’s Nana, and my dad all left the room.

“You’re welcome,” Shelly said flippantly. She put her hand on Lynn’s belly and gave it a poke. A smile lit her face. “He poked me back!” she cried. “Such a smart boy. It’s hard to believe Mason is the father.” She laughed at her own joke, and to be honest, the more I got to know her, the more I appreciated her brand of humor. She turned to face Malcolm. “Where’s your lovely wife, Mal?”

“As far away from you as she can get,” he replied.

When Shelly was in therapy, she’d actually asked to have a meeting with Aubrey, so that she could make amends. She knew it was important to Lynn, and Aubrey actually went along with it. They would never be friends, but they could be in the same room together. Although right now was not one of those times.