Follow Me Always (Follow Me 3)

“Wait, were you and Mario…? Before Dad left?”

She nods. “Yes. I’m not proud of it.”

I shake my head. “How could you? He must have felt replaced.”

“Not replaced. Rejected.”

“Semantics.”

She says nothing. How can she? I’m right.

So many more questions flood my mind. Why was she in bed with another man when her small daughter was home? How did it begin in the first place? Why did it begin in the first place? What did my father do to make her want another man?

Why? Why? Why?

And why did they keep this from me for all these years?

Most important of all—why did I repress the memory of my mother in bed with Mario?

That’s got to be some kind of key.

Maybe Rosa will shed some light when I meet with her tomorrow. God, I hope she has the rest of the week available.

Except I no longer want to stay here all week. I want to go home to Boston.

Braden won’t be there. He’ll be in New York. Tessa’s not speaking to me, and Betsy’s trying hard to avoid me.

A violent urge to tear fistfuls of my hair out of my scalp rips through me. Better yet, I want to tear out my mother’s hair. To hell with her daisy petals. I’ll take her own petals, strand by strand.

My mother, who, in her way, has been the most influential person in my life so far.

And then something dawns on me. Another question that needs to be answered.

I look at my mother, her eyes still tear-filled. I look long and hard at her full lips, her high cheekbones, and her eyes so like my own.

“Mom, why didn’t you want any more children?”

Chapter Twenty

Why didn’t you want any more children?

My words seem to hover in the air around us, blurring the colors of the daisies and other blooms in my mother’s garden.

Why didn’t you want any more children?

Is she going to answer?

Or will this question be another that no one will answer? Just like Braden about his relationship with Addie. Just like my mother never responding about their separation…until now.

Now.

Everything comes to a head now.

I already know the answer.

Me. I’m the answer.

My mother didn’t want any more children because of me.

“You were so smart, Skye,” she’s saying. “You still are, of course, and you were so stubborn and resistant.”

“I fought you on everything,” I murmur, echoing the words she said just minutes ago.

She nods. “On everything. The most mundane things, like Frosted Flakes instead of Cornflakes with sugar for breakfast. They’re the same thing, for God’s sake, and regular Cornflakes were cheaper.”

“They’re not the same thing,” I say. “Frosted Flakes have the sugar coating on them. They taste better.”

My mother throws her hands in the air.

I get it. I’m still doing it. I’m fighting her on something that is truly meaningless. I don’t even eat Cornflakes anymore, and I never eat sugary cereal anymore.

The image of Benji, the little boy from the food pantry, squeezing the loaf of bread whirls into my mind. My mother hated it when I squeezed the bread, but still, I did it. Fought her every time…

“I was a problem, so you didn’t want to risk having another kid like me. Yeah, I get it.”

She takes my hands in hers. “No, Skye. Don’t ever think that. I loved you more than my own life. I still do. That will never, never change.”

“But it’s my fault I don’t have a brother or sister.”

“Of course not. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who couldn’t handle you. Your father could. He found your rebellion charming.”

“But he wasn’t the one who had to take care of me twenty-four-seven,” I say.

“No, he wasn’t. He even offered to, but I wasn’t cut out to take over what he did on the farm. Farming is hard work, and obviously I’m not as strong as he is, plus, I just don’t have the interest.”

I smile slightly. My father would have become a house husband for me? For more children? That’s amazing, and as much as I adore him, he just earned several more daddy points. Mom is right. Farming is hard work. I know, because I worked right alongside my dad sometimes. As I got older, I took my camera along and took some amazing photos of him in the fields. Some of my best work even to this day.

You are a challenge, Skye Manning, and I never back down from a challenge.

Braden’s words.

Apparently he’s not the only one who finds me a challenge. The first person I challenged in my life was my mother.

I am who I am. Braden says I’m not a true master of control. Perhaps he’s right, given my eagerness to submit completely to him, to the point that I wanted to give him control over my access to oxygen.

Not a control freak, no. Just a challenge. Just someone who fights at every step.