Page 39 of The Fault Between Us
Claire’s eyes narrowed and her brows notched down. “Is this why you want me to move home—so you can leave Dad without feeling guilty?”
Bridget shook her head. That wasn’t it at all. Oh, why had this turned into such a mess? “Claire, I—”
“Why can’t you just mind your own business, Bridget?” Claire’s voice broke in a tearful gulp.
Bridget felt her sister’s words like a stab in the heart, not just because they hurt her—and they did—but because Claire was hurting, too. She would never lash out at Bridget unless she was feeling horrible herself. And it was all Bridget’s fault.
“Doctor.” Claire turned suddenly to Sampson with a wobbly smile that didn’t fool anyone. “I need to get Jenny home. Would you mind terribly giving my sister a ride back to Mammoth?”
Bridget’s mouth dropped open. Claire couldn’t leave. Bridget needed to explain herself—cross the divide that had opened up between her and her sister. And what about Frannie? She had to go home with Claire.
Dr. Sampson’s answer was immediate. “It would be my pleasure.”
Claire hefted the diaper bag and choked out her thanks. She didn’t even say goodbye to Bridget or Frannie.
Frannie looked at Bridget. “What was that all about?”
Bridget’s throat ached and her eyes stung. “Nothing.”
“It sure as shooting wasn’t nothing,” Frannie objected. “Is Claire okay?”
“She’s fine,” Bridget answered. Claire wasn’t fine, and Bridget still had to do something about Frannie. “What am I supposed to tell Dad about you?” The question came out snappish, but she couldn’t help herself. She was failing at everything Dad had asked of her.
Frannie’s questioning gaze rested on her, and seemed to take in more than Bridget wanted her little sister to see. “Just tell him I’m fine,” she said. “I’m fine, Claire’s fine, we’re all fine. Isn’t that what we always say, no matter if it’s the truth or not?”
chapter 24:CLAIRE
Claire got halfway home before she had to pull over, tears blurring her vision and her breath searing her chest. She turned into the parking area at Beryl Spring, jammed the truck into park, and stared out the windshield into the cloudless blue sky. Jenny began to fuss, and Claire picked her up, holding her close to her aching heart.
At the Canyon Lodge, she’d been dimly aware of the laughter and music around her, but her mind had been numb with shock.Red didn’t leave us like Mother did. He’ll come back.As she’d said those desperate words, she’d seen her own disbelief mirrored on Bridget’s face.
Red would come home to them. Of course he would come home.
Jenny snuffled against her neck, fussing as the afternoon sun heated the cab. Claire pushed open the door and followed the boardwalk toward the cloud of steam rising from the hot spring. The wind dried her sweat-dampened blouse as she walked, blind to the blackened trees, the barren landscape where no vegetation grew in the sulfur-filled soil. At the spring, the acrid scent stung her nose. Claire gazed, unseeing, at the brilliant blue water bubbling up from deep under the earth.
She held Jenny close, rocking her and fighting against the memories she’d thought were buried forever. Bridget’s hand in hers, Dad’s anguished voice. The smell of Mother’s perfume and the sticky touch of her lipstick on Claire’s cheek. The pain in her chest like she was drowning.
We don’t need her,Dad said that cold spring day.We’re fine without her.
But mothers didn’t leave their children, and Claire hadn’t stopped hoping that her mother would come back.
Every day when Claire came home from school with Bridget, she hoped Mother would be waiting for them. Claire imagined how Mother would hug them both and say she was sorry, then everything would go back to how it had been. Spring went by, and then summer. Claire kept hoping, even when Dad hired Flo to take care of Frannie and the house. In September, Claire hoped Mother would be home for her birthday, then for Bridget’s birthday in December. When Frannie turned one year old, Flo made a cake, and Dad brought home presents from Reilly’s. Mother didn’t come back.
Finally, Claire stopped hoping, because hoping hurt too much.
We’re fine without her.
Dad was wrong. The Reilly girls were far from fine.
Bridget had cried herself to sleep for months after Mother left. When she got older she buried her nose in books with happy endings, worked impossibly long hours, and pushed away anyone who got close. Claire—she knew, because Bridget often told her—refused to be helped. She could do whatever she set her mind to on her own, thank you very much. And Frannie... well, nobody could say that Frannie was fine. Even when Frannie started to blow up at Dad and get in trouble, they kept up the charade that all was well in the Reilly household, even when it wasn’t.
When Millie came up with the plan to work in Yellowstone, Claire leapt at the chance to leave Claire Reilly behind for a summer. Then Claire married Red and left that hurt little girl behind in Willmar for good.
Or so she thought.
Claire stood in the billowing steam, the pain hot and caustic and very real. That young Claire Reilly was still with her. The little girl begging her mother not to leave. The desperate child, clinging to her mother’s legs had been with her all along.
Red, please don’t go.
