Lily White Lies(81)

My tears were ready to spill over as I looked deeply into my mother’s eyes and said, “She’s not my aunt...” Wiping underneath each eye, I added, “She’s my mother.”

He hesitated briefly before saying, “I’m sorry, but she needs to come with me now.”

I looked up at him and nodded.

Turning my attention to her, I said, “I love you,” and as I gave her a hug, I added, “I’ll be back soon.”

I stood off to the side of the bed while the orderly helped her into the wheelchair. As he wheeled her toward the door, I heard her say, “Baby,” before he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.





Twenty-Four





...Her hands clutched her glass and her eyes darted around the room in an attempt to avoid looking at either of us. Uncomfortable seconds felt like minutes of agony while we sat silently, waiting for her to speak...





I murmured, “God I missed you.”

“Mm, you don’t know how many times I wanted to turn that plane around and head back.” He guided his hands slowly down my backside as far as they would reach. “I saw you lying on every cloud.”

He had the power to melt me where I stood with no more than a word and if only for a moment, the world spun around us, time stood still and nothing mattered outside the circle of our embrace.

As if to make sure he was real, I squeezed him one more time, before saying, “Well, you’re here now...”

I had wanted to tell him about my mother and thought I’d tell him now before the life that was swirling around us pushed it off.

“Do you have any plans for this evening?”

A flirty smile stretched across his face.

I had no choice but to ignore what his smile suggested. Acknowledging it would have meant pushing off important issues that I really wanted to take care of now.

“If you don’t mind, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

His expression became more serious and he straightened himself in his seat.

“I went to Cherry Hall today. It’s the nursing home in Brickway where my mother lives.”

I saw the crease in his brow deepen but waited until he questioned me before continuing.

“If your mother is alive, who died in the accident?”

I answered, “My aunt and uncle.” My answer did nothing to remove the crease that stretched across his forehead.

“Con, it’s a long story and I’ll tell you the whole thing but for tonight, can I just tell you about my mother?”

“You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re being rushed or forced. Everything in your own time.”

I nodded and chose a point where I could begin. “My mother is mentally challenged. When she was in her early teens, she was...” The thought of what she went through still made me shudder. “She was raped.”

I caught the sympathy in his eyes before he turned his head away.

“Nine months later, I was born.” I paced around the kitchen. “She was—and is—in no state-of-mind to be a mother in the active sense of the role, so her brother, Donny and his wife Sheila stepped in to raise me as their own.”

“I’m so sorry, Meg.”

“Con, you had nothing to do with any of this.”

He shrugged. “Not personally maybe, but I can’t help but feel guilty by association. As if what my father did wasn’t bad enough, hearing you talk about your mother’s pain and Donny and Sheila’s selflessness makes it even worse, if that’s possible.” He shook his head. “It just seems that every time my family involves themselves with your family in any manner, someone in your family gets hurt.”

I squatted in front of him and swallowed hard in an attempt to choke back my tears. “How can you say that? Since we’ve been involved, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

“My father kills your uncle and his wife and your family suffers... my grandmother kills her own son and somehow, your grandfather pays for it...”

One tear spilled over my lashes, streaking my face. “Con, please don’t do this. Don’t let their past overshadow our future.”

He offered a half-hearted smile. “I’ll never be able to apologize enough for my family, but I’d never do anything to hurt you, you have to believe that.”

“I do.”

He rubbed a hand over my cheek, stopping abruptly with the ringing phone.

Annoyed by the interruption, I answered, “Yes.”

“This better be a wrong number because I know my granddaughter wouldn’t answer a phone like that.”

“I’m sorry, I was just in the middle of something,” I sighed. “How are you, Gram?”