The Moment of Truth

Ha! Compared to the woman she’d seen on her screen, she’d been laughable.

She drove, and she didn’t cry. She didn’t really even think all that much. Time, life, emotion were all suspended as the puppies beside her slept.

They were fine as long as she remained calm. Her baby would be fine, too.

And at least Josh didn’t know she’d been thinking that whole day that he’d be proposing to her.

He had no idea how she felt about him.

She was still in charge of her own happiness.

“So why the hell does everyone else keep messing it up?” she said aloud as the sun settled behind the mountains, leaving her in a seven o’clock duskiness that had her glancing around for streetlights. Or signs of habitation.

She had no idea where she was, other than in the desert someplace. This was stupid as hell. And not like her at all.

Turning around, Dana decided the safest thing was to head back the way she’d come. A plan that worked fine until she came to the first crossroad that she couldn’t remember. Had she turned there?

She looked at L.G. and Lindy Lu, who were cuddled up next to each other on the passenger seat. Both of them looked back at her.

They were calm. They trusted her.

She wasn’t scared. She had her phone. But she wasn’t comfortable, either. What if she had a flat tire? Was she still on the Indian reservation?

Her baby was a Montford. And a Boston Redmond. She’d never even been to Boston.

If Josh was so embarrassed by her, why had he bought the house and insisted that they live there together? Why had he opened a bank account for her and agreed to tell everyone in town they were a couple?

Why had he agreed to call his parents?

Her heart lurched at the thought. He hadn’t done it yet. She’d asked just that afternoon.

But he’d agreed to be celibate.

Or had that been a lie, too? Was he putting her up as other rich men did, supporting his mistress in a small town while he lived his real life elsewhere?

She drove and drove, looking to the horizon for any sign of lights that would indicate civilization.

And, switching her phone over to the hands-free speaker, she called her mother.

“I have something to tell you,” she said as soon as she’d determined that Susan was alone. Daniel was at his Saturday night poker game. As usual.

“Did you get moved in?” Susan asked. “I’ve been waiting all day to hear from you. Take pictures on your phone, sweetie, in every room and outside, too. Send them to me.”

If Dana hadn’t already known that Daniel wasn’t in the room, her mother’s open effusiveness would have told her so. It was that obvious caring, expressed whenever Daniel wasn’t around, that had kept Dana going all those years she’d spent at home.

“I’m pregnant, Mama,” she said, reverting to a name she’d used for Susan when she’d been little.

Silence hung on the line, and then they both spoke at once. Eventually Dana got her whole story out. It was what she’d told Josh to say, practically verbatim. Word for word.

Ending with, “Josh and I both want this baby. He already has an investment account set up for him...or her.”

Pulling the car off to the side of the road, Dana barely got it into Park before her eyes were blinded by tears.

“Oh, Mama, he lied to me. He’s not who he says he is. He’s this billionaire guy from Boston and now I know why he won’t marry me. It’s Daniel all over again, only worse.”

She shut up. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Ever.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

“I’m not, darling. You’re right. At least about Daniel and me. And you have the right to speak up about it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve loved me so much and—”

“Not enough, sweetheart. I love you with all my heart, but it wasn’t enough. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known and I let you live your life feeling like you weren’t good enough. I knew. And I couldn’t seem to do anything about it.”

“You did, Mama. I’ve always known how much you love me.”

“And I’ve always known I didn’t do enough. If there’s anything I can do now...anything...you let me know. I will be there for you this time, Dana, you have my word on that.”

“Tell me about my father.”

“You already know everything. When I finally made the right choice to be honest, I didn’t keep any secrets.”

“You really don’t even know his name?”

“He said his name was Bill Birmingham, but I could never find anyone by that name who fit his description.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”