Page 47 of Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

Esther slapped him across the face. The sound was like a limb breaking away from a tree.

Emily felt her mouth hanging open in surprise. A red welt spread down her father’s cheek. Emily braced herself for a violent response, but Franklin simply shook his head before walking out of the kitchen.

Esther hugged her arms close to her waist. She paced back and forth across the room. Her mind was still racing. She was desperately searching for solutions.

Emily tried, “Mom—”

“Not a word.” Esther held up a hand to stop her. “I’m not going to let this happen. Not to you and certainly not to me.”

Emily tried to swallow the shards of glass again, but nothing would clear them away.

“You are not going to have your life ruined over this.” She turned on Emily. “Why didn’t you ask me to go on birth control?”

Emily was struck silent by the audacity of the question. Why would she go on birth control? Was that even allowed? No one had ever mentioned the possibility.

“Dammit.” Esther resumed her pacing. “Are you sure you won’t marry him?”

Him?

“You’ll have to get married eventually, Emily. It doesn’t have to be the relationship that your father and I have. You can grow. You can learn to love each other.”

“Mom,” Emily said. “I don’t know who it is. I don’t remember it even happening.”

Esther’s lips were pursed again. Her eyes scanned across Emily’s face looking for deceit.

Emily said, “What I told you about how it happened was the truth. I—I drank something. I don’t remember what happened next. I don’t know who did it.”

“Surely you have an idea.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t think—they wouldn’t do that. The boys. We’ve been friends since first grade and—”

“Your father’s right about that, at least. They are boys, Emily. What happened to you is exactly what boys do to girls who black out from drinking.”

“Mom …”

“At this point, the circumstances are irrelevant. Either you name the boy—any boy, I don’t care. Just name someone and we’ll fix all of this. Or you can live with the shame for the rest of your life.”

Emily could not believe what her mother was saying. She was always talking about the truth and justice and now she was telling her own daughter to ruin someone’s—anyone’s—life.

“Well?” Esther said.

“I—” Emily had to stop for breath. “I can’t, Mom. I honestly don’t remember. And it would be wrong—I couldn’t say something that I didn’t know was true. I couldn’t do that to—”

“Bernard Fontaine is a bigger con artist than his reprehensible father. Eric Blakely is going to end up slinging hash browns for the rest of his miserable life.”

Emily bit her tongue so she wouldn’t rush in to defend them.

“You’ve always liked Clay. Would that be so bad?” Esther visibly worked to moderate her tone. “He’s very handsome. He’s going to college out west. You could do much worse.”

Emily tried to imagine a life with Clay. Always pushed to the side, hanging uncomfortably out in the air while he droned on about revolution.

She felt her head shaking before the answer came out. “No. I can’t lie.”

“Then that’s your choice, Emily Rose. Remember that. You are the one who made the choice.” Esther nodded her head once, signifying the end of one thing and the beginning of another. “We’ll have to handle this as a family, the same way we always do. You shouldn’t have gone to Schroeder. That’s why our hands are tied. He’s got a big mouth and he’ll tell everyone if you come back from vacation with this little problem solved. Not to mention that nurse of his. Natalie Brickel was probably cackling like a witch when she found out.”

Emily looked away. Mrs. Brickel had been nothing but kind. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, Emily.” Esther’s voice had caught. She turned her back so that Emily would not see her crying. “We’re all sorry and none of it matters.”