Page 50 of Fury
“Michael, his name is Michael. He’s sixteen this year. His birthday was just a few weeks ago.” Willa squeezed her fingers. “Michael Tyrell Marshall.”
Willa’s head tipped the other direction. “Marshall? Not Mason?” Frowning, she shook her head. “Wasn’t your husband’s name Taylor?”
Bethy dropped her eyes to the tabletop, not wanting to see Willa’s face. “Yes. But that marriage was annulled, and a farce. You don’t know how bad it was, Wills. Michael…I was sixteen. Same age he is now. I didn’t know much, coming from the holler like I did.” She darted a glance up, then back down. “I never even graduated high school. I was in a town I didn’t know, living with a man I didn’t know, and about the only thing I did know was I was in no way equipped to raise a child. So, I found a couple who wanted a baby and were willing to do an open adoption. That way I could stay in his life, even a little bit.” She swallowed hard, then rushed to defend the Marshalls. “They’ve been great, better than I could have ever expected or asked. They invite me to everything, and I’ve seen how much Martha and Rodney love him. But he found out about Mason a couple of weeks ago, and now Michael wants to meet my family. He’d been thinking I was alone, and now that he knows differently, he wants to meet everyone.”
She’d finally run out of steam and words, and the silence collected between them, the gap bridged only by Willa’s unwavering clasp on Bethy’s hand.
“You and your brother are so much alike. More than you’ll probably ever know.” Bethy looked up, seeing tears on Willa’s face and realizing her cheeks were wet, too. “Holding your secrets close to the vest, not wanting to give anyone any ammunition to hurt you. I hate how you were raised.” Willa’s voice quivered with anger, red rising to flush her cheeks. “I hate your daddy. I’m glad he’s dead. Never thought I’d say that about anyone, except…you know.” She drew in a noisy breath through her nose. “I hate him. He hurt the two of you so much, and in ways that still seep poison. Wounds running deep and keeping you from helping each other heal, because what if that pain is contagious. God.”
“We just do what’s needful,” Bethy told her, surprised when Willa flinched.
“I hate that word, too. It’s a cover for things that hurt, for pain.” Willa shook her hand, thumping Bethy’s knuckles on the tabletop. “He loved Mica, you know that? Mason. He loved her but wouldn’t let himself go there, and I’m thankful every day, even as I know he loves me more. I know he loves me more, because though he loved her, he never told her about you. He didn’t tell her about Chase, either. He held close the people he loved the most, not letting even Mica have an ounce of knowledge about you two. But—” She leaned forwards, shaking their hands again. “—he told me. You’re right. You have to be the one to tell him. If I said anything, it would be a breach between you that would take years to heal. I love you both too much to see that happen. But youhaveto tell him.”
“I will.” Willa narrowed her eyes, wrinkling up her nose in exaggerated disbelief. Bethy smiled, feeling it waver for a moment before settling into place. She told Willa, “I promise.”
She hadn’t though. One thing led to another and then he was caught up in business that didn’t have a place for her. Tears clogged her throat and she forced down a sob, holding herself to a rigid silence as she wept.Mikey never knew. Never knew she’d loved him so much she’d given his name to her child.
Tomorrow, she would force herself on Mason, even if it was a phone call, and tell him.Things that matter shouldn’t wait. Then once she told Mason, she’d find a way to tell Gabe.
