Page 20 of Outlaw Heartstrings
In the beginning, at least.
Eventually, my guilty conscience caught up to me. A few months into Raya’s pregnancy, I all but forced her to confront Easton. But that shit blew up epically, confirming the fears I’d held all along—Easton didn’t want to be a father.
But what about now? Things are different now.We’re all grownups. And there’s an innocent child in the mix. A child who might benefit greatly from knowing who his father is.
Still, there’s another voice whispering at the back of my head. Jagger absolutely adores Easton. He’s his favorite hockey player. If Easton rejects Jagger, that poor child will be devastated. Again.
But by the time I’ve finished working, I’ve decided to be a big girl and make an executive decision.I’m going to payEaston a visit and tell him about his son. I think I owe him the truth. Plus, after our uncomfortable run-in at the library, I have to act quickly and tell him myself…before he figures it out on his own.
But first, I have to tell Mom.Shit.
I decide to try and soften the blow by baking some cookies. Everybody loves cookies, right?
My mother is a sucker for chocolate chip. And I distinctly remember Easton gobbling up the ginger snaps we’d occasionally bake at youth group back in the day.
When I’m leaving the restaurant, I catch sight of Emmeline in the ladies’ washroom with her hysterical little girl seated on the counter. “It burns, Momma. It burns!” The child cries as Emmeline tries to wash theex…tra spi…see chee...darcheese sticks out of her mouth.
Le sigh.
I duck my head and hustle to where Mom and Jagger are waiting outside. Mom’s car was making a funny noise this morning, so she borrowed my little hatchback for the day. Now, she’s here to pick me up from work.
I hurry across the parking lot with a pep in my step. I feel anxious, but as I climb into the passenger side, I’m also confident in my newfound decision to be honest with Easton.
But when I take one look at Mom, my shoulders sag. To put it bluntly, my mother looks like a bit of a mess. A sad mess. Her red hair is dull and disheveled. Her clothes are mismatched.
I lay a hand on her thigh. “Mom, your yoga pants are inside out,” I say softly.
When she looks down distractedly, she lets out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, dear. I had no idea.”
While my mother is entirely present for Jaggerwhenever he needs her, she often has this blankness to her eyes that makes her seem hollow.I hate what my father did to her. She never deserved this kind of betrayal.
My mother was born into a wealthy family, and while my father wasn’t rich or anything, that didn’t matter to Mom, because she thought she was marrying a good man. A considerate man. An honest man. After all, Dad coached the youth hockey team for years. He was on the church’s board of directors. He forced our entire family to volunteer weekly, for crying out loud. Who wouldn’t trust a man like that?
Boy, did he have everybody fooled.
Despite my mother’s unconditional devotion to him, my father resented being tied down. He begrudgingly suppressed his disdain for us for years.
But by the time I was finishing high school, it was clear he was having affairs and cheating on Mom. I hated all of it. But still, she remained loyal. She’d look the other way and continue to be the dutiful wife.
Then Raya got pregnant and Dad started toreallyreveal his true colors. He hated that his teenaged daughter was pregnant under his roof. And he especially hated having a baby around the house. He became sloppy about covering his philandering, and when his scheme to fill his pockets and run off with his lover blew up in his face, Mom was the one who lost everything.
The house. The bank accounts. Even her reputation.
It all left my mother embarrassed and heartbroken.
Following his conviction, Dad did his two years of house arrest. Then he quietly left town. No one’s heard from him since. But the silver lining is that, without Dad around, Mom has the space to heal without having her wretched ex-husband in her face at every turn.
Now, she’s trying to slowly rebuild herself. After decadesof disrespect and betrayal, some days are better than others. Some days she seems to struggle to get out of bed. She barely has the energy to put in a few part-time hours at the shoe store downtown where she now works. The only time I see her smile is when Jagger tells his silly knock-knock jokes, but even then, the laughter never quite reaches her eyes like it used to.
I lean over and give her a brief squeeze. “Thanks for driving Jagger around, Mom. I’m really sorry that you have to do all this for me, especially when you aren’t feeling the best. As soon as I can afford it, I’ll hire a nanny.”
Mom puts the car in reverse and waves me off. “Don’t be silly. Getting to spend time with Jag is the only thing that helped me get out of bed this morning. I just wish you would let me help you more.”
“I don’t want to put any more pressure on you,” I tell her.
“I know this is a hard time for both of us, but we’ll get through it together,” she says, though it lacks confidence.
“We will,” I assure her. Then I turn around to where Jagger is buckled up in the backseat, giving his knee a loving shake. “Guess what! We’re going to the grocery store to get ingredients to make homemade cookies. How does that sound?”
