Page 63 of This Baby Business
“For the love of God, Irene, stop nagging.” He rolled out of bed. “There’s nothing to cancel. They don’t allow grandparents to file for emergency screenings in California.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. “So…you lied to me? To all of us.”
“I had to make him believe it. This only works if he thinks we have him cornered. I expected him to back down. The fiancée thing threw me for a loop. How could I foresee that would happen?”
Frank’s voice was like a faint humming in the background as Irene tried to breathe. In and out. In and out.I’m still here. Still alive and breathing. Thinking and feeling.
“This…this goes beyond anything I could have imagined you doing. How…how could you?”
“I just need a better strategy. I’m meeting with a real shark on Monday. Calm down.”
She sat on the edge of the bed before she fell down. “No, you need a doctor, not a better strategy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine! Let’s leave Levi and Grace alone for a while and go back home. We’ll work this out.”
“I’m not going to that new-age doctor you have. Bull hockey.”
“She’s helped me. I lost Sandy, too. You don’t see me giving up.”
“Maybe because she wasn’tyourdaughter.”
Irene felt sucker punched. She stood on two shaky legs because Frank had just hit below the belt. Sandy was not her flesh and blood, but she might as well have been. There were still days when the grief hit her like a fist to the heart. The smallest things set her off, like the TV shows Sandy used to love as a child. A macramé plant hanger and other Mother’s Day gifts she’d made for Irene. On those days, she’d cry quietly so as not to further upset Frank. She’d call her daughter, her sons, and speak to the grandchildren. Anything to remind herself there were still reasons to be alive and happy.
“I loved her like my own.”
As she’d long suspected, Frank had punished her for moving on. For wanting to live and not dry up and die in her grief. From somewhere deep inside, Irene found the strength of the younger woman who had married a single father with a twelve-year-old daughter. A daughter she’d tried her best to raise like she was her own.
Irene moved to the closet and began to pack her suitcase. Unworn dresses she’d brought to go out for a nice dinner or two—dinners she now knew would never materialize. Her pumps. Lingerie Frank didn’t notice. The swimsuit.
“Where are you going?” Frank demanded.
“I’m getting another hotel room. And you’re paying for it.”
“Are you out of your mind? We should be saving money now.”
Anger, unbridled and free, took the place of her pain. Why not? Frank had taught her how. She snapped the lid of her suitcase shut.
“I guess that’s your problem now, isn’t it?”
And this time she meant it.
CHAPTER25
Carly
itook onelast look in the mirror and tossed my hair back. “Wish me luck. I’ve got this.”
“Pfft,” Grace said from the bouncer, where she was busy sucking on her big toe.
The interview today would occur via Skype, and I had dressed for success. Even if Jenny wouldn’t see them, I had on my good-luck shoes, the kickass green suede booties with cutouts. My wavy hair was tamed to within an inch of its life and fell perfectly around my shoulders. Check. Makeup, including a soft and nonthreatening shade of pink lipstick. Check. Matching pastel-pink rayon shell with a little pearl necklace handed down from Mom. Check. Argyle pencil miniskirt and black tights.
“Check, check and check. All set.”
I had taken to talking to Grace all day long. It was better to fill the silence between me and Grace with real words instead of silly baby talk. I’d sometimes go through an entire day explaining to Grace everything I was doing or about to do.
It’s time for your bottle. Snack time. Would you like the applesauce today or the apricot? Okay, apricot it is. Is it time for your nap yet? No? Think again.
