Page 83 of The Rules We Broke
Her tone darkened.
“I was also writing to Elizabeth.” She said the name as if it burned her tongue. “I asked if she’d seen Isaac. Every time, she claimed no.”
She exhaled—long, slow, and bitter.
“As soon as my plane touched down in Birmingham, I had Daddy drive me straight to Tuscaloosa. I couldn’t wait to see Isaac. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
She paused. “But it was me who was surprised.”
Her gaze never left the window. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
“What happened?” I almost hated asking her, seeing how much pain it was causing her. But I knew this story wasn’t just hers. It was my story, too. And it might be the key to understanding everything.
She finally gained the courage to continue.
“When he opened the door to his apartment, I knew something was wrong. His eyes were cold. I tried to hug him, but he pushed me away. I begged him to tell me what was wrong, and all he said was, ‘You damn well know what’s wrong. Because of you, everything is ruined.’”
Her voice faltered. “He slammed the door in my face.”
She looked straight ahead, as though still seeing it.
“I don’t even know how long I pounded on that door, crying until I couldn’t breathe. But he never opened it. Instead, he sent back every letter and postcard I’d ever written him. No explanation. No goodbye. Just silence.”
Her voice began to crack, but she pushed through it.
“I didn’t know what I’d done. I went to his parents for answers—they were as heartbroken and confused as I was. They tried to get Isaac to speak to them, but he refused.”
Her expression paled.
“But then . . . we found out Elizabeth was pregnant. With Isaac’s child. There she was—living with my parents, sleeping with my fiancé, pretending to be happy when I came home. She had the gall to comfort me. Comfort me. While carrying his son.”
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Lu. What did you and your parents do?”
She gave me that infamous look of hers—hard-as-nails, and full of fire.
“Well, first? We sent the little tramp packing.”
She didn’t blink.
“She didn’t have to go far. Isaac’s parents took her in—not because they wanted to. They loved me. And I loved them, almost like my own.”
She paused, her voice quieter now.
“I couldn’t stay in Kaysville. I couldn’t breathe there. So I took speaking engagements I hadn’t planned on—anything to get away. I cursed the day I ever decided to run.”
She looked down.
“My parents told me Isaac and Elizabeth married quickly and privately. It devastated me,” she whispered.
We sat in silence for a moment, the air heavy with a history neither of us could rewrite.
“I don’t get it,” I said, perplexed. “Why was he so upset with you when he was clearly in the wrong?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that a million times.”
She reached out and tipped my chin with her freshly manicured fingers, holding my gaze.
“Sugar . . . just watch yourself around his momma.”
