Page 39

Chapter 38

This is Jeopardy

Maddie

M y son eases into the open doorway between our connecting rooms. “Hi, Ma.”

“Hello, my darling.”

After gently closing the door behind him, he approaches tentatively, his head down and shoulders hunched. It’s as if he’s trying to make himself appear smaller. A foolish endeavor.

I study him as he drifts toward me. Good heavens. My son absolutely reeks of discontentment.

Setting my crochet needles and yarn on my lap, I pat the spot beside me on the couch. “Come sit.”

The corner of his mouth curves on one side, softening his tense expression.

As he sits down, I adjust my position to face him better. “What’s troubling you, my gentle giant?”

I’d bet money this is the discussion we’ve avoided for a while now. About Alan and me. Leo’s done a fine job of hiding his pain over it, but a mother knows when her child is unhappy.

I don’t blame him. Not for being upset with me, nor for his desire to confront me now.

Faced with Alan and me sharing a hotel room right on the other side of the wall from him and his wife, I imagine avoiding it is no longer possible.

Then again, we’ve been sharing Alan’s office at Redleg for a while. But that was a bit more out of sight for him. Easier to ignore.

He folds his lips shut, his eyes surveying the small seating area of the hotel room. My gaze follows the same path. It’s a quaint room with a king bed on one side. A small sofa and desk fill the other. Nothing fancy, but considering we’re in such a microscopic town, it’s probably considered upscale.

I rest my hand on his knee, giving it a little squeeze. “This is it, huh? The talk?”

He responds with only a scant nod. His gaze remains locked on the wall in front of him. As tempted as I may be to prod him to spit it out, I give him the time he needs. Some topics can’t be rushed.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “I need to ask you something.”

“Whatever it is, you’ll get the truth. Ask away.”

“You know, I’ve been going to therapy for a while now, and one of the things we keep coming back to is why . I’ve tried to answer it myself, but I can’t seem to get there. Not fully, anyhow. So I’m gonna ask you flat out.”

“Go ahead.”

He chuckles humorlessly, his chest and head rising and falling. “It’s odd that we’re in Georgia so Lettie and Big Al could face Mrs. Holt and demand to know why . Now, I’m doing the same with you.”

He keeps beating around the bush, so I help him along. “You want to know why I hid my relationship with Alan from you, right?”

He whips his head to face me, one brow arched pointedly. “No.” His lips purse, and his face bunches to the side. “Well, yes. But that’s not what I was gonna ask.”

My heart speeds up, trepidation flooding my chest. “Then what do you want to know?”

“Why did you stay, Ma? All those years with Dad. Why?”

Almost instantly, my sinuses sting with incoming tears.

I wasn’t expecting this question. I probably should have been, though.

Leo’s about to become a father, so it’s only natural to reflect on your childhood and the example your parents provided.

After releasing a weary breath, I attempt to rationalize a lifetime of actions that don’t deserve the effort required for justification. “That’s a very difficult question for me to answer. No matter how much time I’ve spent asking myself the same thing, I’ve never come up with a reason that isn’t as flimsy as a soggy piece of paper.”

“Can you try? I don’t care if the reasons are weak. I just need to know where your head was.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh darkly. “Where my head was? Ha . You tell funny jokes, son.”

Still scoffing, I shake my head and grumble, “If my mind were functional at the time, things would have been very different for us. But that’s the thing about situations like these—they aren’t logical. They’re emotional. And the parts that should be logical—the things we know and believe—are often clouded with lies. Some we tell ourselves, and others are spoken by those who hurt us. Oddly enough, those are the words we should distrust the most, but we tend to put more weight on them than all the others.”

“That’s true,” he mutters. “Sadly, it doesn’t make it easier for me to digest. I just don’t understand how you could do that to yourself for so long.”

“Leo, you’re trying to make sense of something senseless. As luck would have it, I’m a bit of an expert in that, so I’ll tell you what I’ve learned.” I grab his hand, aching to comfort him and soothe myself simultaneously. “I never talked to you about this, but your sister knows, so it’s possible you do as well. I know you kids talk.”

I pause for a beat before finishing my thought. “Uh... my father was very similar to yours.”

He offers a dip of his head to signal his understanding.

“That behavior tends to repeat. And you saw what happened to your sister with Craig.” I grit my teeth, detesting the taste of his name on my tongue. “She found someone like her father, which is exactly what I did when I married Travis. As they say, it’s a cycle.”

My head slopes at an angle, and my eyes study the popcorn ceiling. “You know what I’ve always found strange about the cycle thing?”

He shakes his head.

“I didn’t go out there and advertise myself as a victim in need of someone to treat me as horribly as my father did. Yet he found me anyway. I don’t understand how abusers know who is so susceptible.”

“That’s what predators do. If we knew exactly how they did it, we’d be able to avoid it.”

“Good point.” I moisten my rapidly drying lips. “Before I knew it, I was trapped and utterly stripped of power. Barren of what little sense of self I came into the relationship with. He was so powerful, and I was weak. And no matter how scared I was of him, I was even more terrified of leaving him.” I raise my index finger, emphasizing the point. “Not fear of being without him. The act of breaking free was far more harrowing. I’d convinced myself staying was safer.”

My tender-souled son listens openly and patiently, seeming to hang on my every word. There’s no trace of judgment tainting his expression.

“Time moves so fast, especially when you’re living in a hell like that. Next thing I know, I’m a mother. Three times over.” I intensify my gaze, coating it with warmth and sincerity. “ Please don’t take this next part as blame in any way, shape, or form. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Again, he offers a single nod of understanding.

“Once I had you three, leaving was even more daunting. It wasn’t only my life on the line. And he used my love for you three against me. He knew exactly what buttons to press to get me to stay with him or not fight back. I thought I’d lose you. He convinced me that I wasn’t a fit mother and that no court would ever grant me custody. Then what would I do?”

I shrug, lip jutting into a pout I can’t restrain. “His power over me and the fear he inspired spiraled until I was in so deep I couldn’t see the surface.” Picking up the ball of yarn from my lap, I hold it between us. “It was like I was in the center of this. Only it wasn’t soft and fluffy strands surrounding me. They were bands of barbed wire. So I curled up tight in that ball and hid. I hid from him. From the truth. And even from myself.”

His face crumples. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I wish I got you out sooner.”

“Nobody can pull someone out of an abusive marriage, Leo. It wasn’t on you to save me. I had to save myself. Otherwise, the wheels on the cycle would keep right on spinning.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“You asked why I stayed.” Gulping, I blink through a sheen of tears. “At the end of the day, I think it boils down to love.”

Leo shakes his head vehemently, visibly offended by my assertion. “Oh, so because you loved him, he could knock you around whenever he felt like it? That’s not love.”

I squeeze his hand. “No, son. You misunderstand me. It wasn’t love for him that made me stay. It was a lack of love for myself. I didn’t love myself or believe I was worthy of healthy love. And even if I’d have thought I was, I wouldn’t have known what it looked like in the first place. Of course, these weren’t things I consciously thought. But they were there, underneath the surface, driving my actions. Or in actions, in this case.”

A lone tear streams down my cheek.

With a voice thick with emotion, he asks, “Mom, do you love yourself now?”

My shoulders rise with a brisk inhale, gradually falling with my steady exhale. “You’re not pulling any punches tonight, huh?”

His eyes widen comically. “Really? That’s the phrase you choose?”

I chuckle, grateful for the reprieve from the sadness of the moment. “Sorry. Too soon?”

Answering with a subdued laugh, he nods before asking, “Well, do you love yourself? The way we love you?”

More tears fall, one after another. “I’m a work in progress.”

“That’s fair.”

For a while, we sit together in silence. I study his hands, always full of love and tenderness for the women in his life. Violence only for those who mean us harm.

He’s the opposite of his father in every way.

“I’m proud of you, Leo. So proud.”

The creases by his eyes tighten. “For what?”

“Proud that you’re my son. Proud of the man you’ve become despite having the worst father. You’re such an honorable man. An amazing husband. And I know you’ll be the best damn father a child could ever ask for. It couldn’t have been easy. But you broke the cycle.”

One cheek tugs up his lips into a crooked grin. “I had a good teacher.”

Dammit . Now I’m crying again.

My chin quivers as I force out, “I didn’t break the cycle, baby.”

“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” He presses his lips firmly together, casting a knowing look at me. “After all, you’re with a man who would never hurt you. Who will move the stars to protect you and make you happy. Who loves you with all his heart. And who will never stop working to be the best man he can be for you.”

A sob springs forth from my chest, bringing with it a cathartic release of pent-up emotion. My shoulders shake, and tears stream freely.

Leo scoots close, wrapping his big arm over my shoulders. And he holds me through it like the good man he is.

Once my latest bout of waterworks recedes, he says, “Seems to me like you finally learned how to recognize healthy love. Whether or not you feel you’re worthy of it, I can’t tell from here. But you certainly have it regardless.”

He’s right. I do have it.

Yet I keep holding Alan at bay, waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to realize I’m not worthy of his love.

Because I still haven’t learned to love myself.

Craning his neck for a better look at me, he reaches up to wipe my tears away with his giant thumb. I bet his hand looks mammoth next to my face. The mental image brings forth a much-needed laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asks through a toothy smile.

“Your hand is bigger than my entire head two times over.”

He joins me in a brief laugh, then kisses the top of my head. Rising swiftly, he retrieves a box of tissues from the bathroom. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, my darling.”

After I’ve dried my face and blown my nose about six thousand times, I peek at him from under my lashes. “Are you mad at me for not telling you sooner about Alan?”

The vibe shifts, and his face sobers. “I was. And I am. But I’m also not, which I know makes perfect sense.” He shrugs, returning to the couch. “I’m honestly more bothered that he didn’t tell me, rather than you.”

“Why? That seems unfair.”

He scratches the back of his head. “No fucking clue.” His grin returns. “Maybe you get a pass because you’re always plying me with banana bread.”

“If it makes any difference, he wanted to tell you the entire time. I’m the one who insisted we keep it secret.”

“Why? Did you think I wouldn’t approve?”

I dab my still-stuffy nose with another tissue. “That wasn’t it.” I blow a raspberry, delaying my inevitable confession. “I have this habit of hiding from things that scare me. And by keeping it a secret from everyone, I was able to pretend the threat wasn’t real.”

“What threat does Big Al represent?”

“I’ll take million-dollar questions for eight hundred,” I joke.

Through a grin, he sharpens his stare, refusing to let me off that easily.

I roll my eyes and answer. “He represents happiness.”

“And how could happiness be scary?”

“Let’s finish out the same category, Alex. Million-dollar questions for one thousand.”

I laugh at my dumb joke, and he joins in this time. Reluctantly, but it still counts. I’m taking the wins where I can.

“I’m not letting you get out of answering this.” He bops me on the tip of my nose. “Why are you scared of being happy?”

“Leo, there’s a certain comfort in knowing what to expect, even if it’s pain. Aside from you kids, I’ve only experienced conditional love that comes with physical and emotional suffering. Abusive love is the devil I know . Romantically speaking, I’ve never been loved by someone like Alan before.” I force down a swallow. “Losing him would hurt me far worse than any scar your father gave me. Once I know how happiness feels—the way I would be with Alan—the agony of losing it might just be enough to destroy me.”

As the words leave me, the weight on my shoulders evaporates. Layer by layer until only the slightest pressure remains.

And I know that when I tell Alan what I just admitted out loud for the first time, the last of the burden will be forever lifted.

My son pulls me back against his side, warmth seeping into my bones from his gentle embrace.

If it feels this good to unburden myself of the past, I wonder if Alan needs to do the same. About how he lost someone he loved due to his selfish interests. For weeks, he’s attempted to tell me what he meant that day when he stormed onto his front porch.

He hasn’t made much progress other than saying it was regarding his younger brother. After he gets that out, he’s either conveniently interrupted or simply shuts down.

And I haven’t badgered him for details.

The man waited for me for more than a decade and let me hide our relationship for years after that. The least I can do is give him time to open up to me about something traumatic from his past.

Perhaps if I knew some of the details, I could help him more.

“Leo, can I ask you something about Alan?”

He releases me from his embrace. “Sure.”

“Do you know what happened to his little brother?”

His head kicks back sharply. “Big Al has a brother?”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess you’ve indirectly answered my question.” I release a hearty sigh. “He had a brother, but he passed away. I don’t know the details, but it seems to bother Alan quite a bit. I was hoping you knew.”

“No. I don’t.”

I shrug. “He’ll tell me when he’s ready. Don’t worry about it.”

We sit quietly for a beat, reflecting on all we’ve shared.

He hugs me again, then rises to his full height, towering over me in the least threatening way imaginable. “I’ll let you get back to your knitting, Ma.”

“Love you, big guy.”

“I love you too.”

Jokingly, I growl at him. “Calling it knitting is offensive to the crochet community.”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter as he reaches for the door to his connecting room. When he pulls it open, he gets a surprise.

“Eep!”

“Fecking hell!”

Two startled females flail toward my son, arms and legs going in all directions. Fortunately, he catches them both, one big arm wrapping around each of their midsections. Whatever they were holding tumbles onto the carpeted floor.

“Whoa there,” he husks out.

My crochet supplies fly to the floor as I jerk to my feet and dart across the room to assist.

“Man alive,” Lettie rasps, her fingernails digging into Leo’s forearm.

Since she’s struggling to find her footing, I wrap my arm around her from the side. It takes her a minute since her feet seem to be doing a tap dance routine. Dear sweet klutzy child.

“Sorry about my sea legs,” she jokes.

Leo has a much easier time returning Sue to an upright position. Show-off.

“Are you two all right?” I ask.

Lettie pats her hair down. “Yep. Not the first time I’ve fallen for absolutely no reason at all.”

“Why the hell were you two leaning against the door?”

Sue puts her head down, tucking her hands under her pregnant belly. “Sorry, babe. Sorry, Mrs. Mason. I mean Maddie. I mean Mom. Shoot. I’m just so sorry.”

I beam at her. “Don’t apologize, Susie Q. It’s just a darn good thing my son has quick reflexes and is as big as a tank.”

She looks up at him with those dazzling blue eyes, her grin widening. My heart melts when I get these glimpses of their love.

Remembering that something hit the floor when they fell through the door, I scan around our feet and find two glasses from the bathroom. Oh no .

Good thing they landed on the padded carpet. I bend down to retrieve them, surprised to see them bone dry. Huh .

I hold them in front of me, some of the pieces falling into place in my mind. Sue’s instant apology makes so much more sense now.

“My mommy senses are tingling.” I narrow my eyes at them. “Lettie and Sue, what were you doing leaning against the door with these empty glasses?”

“On our way to get some ice water,” Lettie fibs, convincing absolutely no one. And she knows it.

Sue frowns at her little co-conspirator. “We’re doomed. Just admit it. Neither of us can lie for shite.”

Lettie flips her blond hair over her shoulder, straightening her spine. “Fine. We listened through the door to ensure nothing was wrong in here. We’re at full safety alert, after all. Or red level. Defcon twelve or whatever y’all call it.” She nods overzealously. “Glad to see there are no major problems in here. We’ll just be going.”

Sue brings her flattened hand to the side of her forehead. “Major problems, reporting for duty.” Then she breaks into an adorable giggle fit.

Lettie jabs her fists to her hips, feigning offense. “Hey, that’s my line.” She follows it up with a series of braying chuckles.

By the time they leave, I’m crying again. Only this time, it’s tears of joyous laughter.