“I would have had grandchildren by now,” Beryl mused. “I always wanted grandchildren.”
Delaney felt her control slipping. “I sometimes think no one wants me to move on,” she blurted. “We always talk about Tim.”
“Why wouldn’t we? He was important to both of us. Delaney, honey, I don’t understand.”
She knew she had to be careful. Beryl was one of the sweetest people Delaney knew, and she was engaged to Phil. This was one relationship Delaney couldn’t walk away from. She was going to have to—
The truth smacked her upside the head, leaving her dazed. No, she told herself, even as she wondered. She didn’t walk away from relationships. She didn’t! She had a lot of friends and she’d been with Tim forever and there were others.
Only there weren’t. She hadn’t bothered to stay in touch with her work friends after the shooting. They’d reached out over and over again, wanting to help and be with her as she dealt with the aftermath of the awful nightmare. Even when she’d gone back to work, she hadn’t been the same. She’d pushed them so far away, they’d stopped trying to get closer.
She’d done the same with Chelsea, avoiding her, not returning her calls until they weren’t really friends anymore. When she looked back on her life, she saw a pattern of leaving people behind, just as she’d been left all those years ago when the pretend moms had gone back to their homes, leaving her behind.
“Delaney, honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She felt the heavy brunch sitting uneasily in her stomach. “I suddenly don’t feel well. I need to go.”
“Of course. You head home. I’ll tell your dad.” Beryl hugged her. “If there’s anything I can do, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch when I feel better.”
Delaney hurried out of the house and to her car. She felt trapped and exposed and had a desperate need to go to ground. She drove to her condo as quickly as she could, parked, then raced into her apartment and locked the door behind her. Then she sank onto the floor and pulled her knees to her chest.
What was wrong with her? Why was she feeling all these uncomfortable emotions? She didn’t want to think she was a bad person, but she couldn’t seem to escape that uncomfortable truth. No, not bad, she thought. Shallow. Uncaring. She wasn’t evil, but apparently she tossed the people in her life aside whenever things got tough. Just the way she’d tossed her career aside.
Delaney leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. Had she done that? Thrown away her career? She’d wanted to do something different. Had needed to make a change. But why? She allowed her mind to slip back to that horrible time. Her father was finally coming home from months in the hospital and rehab, she was exhausted and could barely function. Tim had been gone almost three months and she was still trying to accept the fact that she would never see him again.
She remembered feeling so much sadness over what had happened and relief that she still had her dad. Everyone on their street had been so supportive, which she’d appreciated, but she’d also felt...trapped.
Trapped by their kindness and expectations. Trapped by how everyone always talked about Tim. She’d needed to escape, only there’d been nowhere to go.
What was it Chelsea had said? That Delaney had wanted different dreams. That was true. She’d always wanted to escape the small world that was their neighborhood. She’d wanted to be successful and have an exciting career and she’d been willing to do the work to get it.
Chelsea hadn’t understood, nor had Tim. He fought her every step of the way. Because of her, they’d delayed getting married and he’d resented that while she’d felt guilty.
She knew that somehow those elements of her past were all tied up together. Her friends from childhood, her decision to have a career, being good at her job, disappointing Tim and finally her fear that she really didn’t love him anymore.
Chelsea had screamed that at her, Delaney thought, wincing. Had she been right? Did everyone know? Had Tim known?
She hoped not. She didn’t want him to have thought that she didn’t love him. Only she wasn’t sure she still had. They’d become different people and the truth was, if he wasn’t making her happy, she doubted he was very excited about being with her.
So why had they stayed together? Habit? Expectation? Maybe they’d both been stuck. Maybe they’d both been overwhelmed by it all. But weeks from getting married hadn’t seemed like the time to discuss the problems in their relationship. A stupid decision, she thought now, but one she’d believed in at the time. Then disaster had struck and she’d been hanging on by a thread and then she’d tried to go back to her old life and she hadn’t felt right there either and now here she was. Working part-time in a coffee kiosk and going to college for a degree she was pretty sure she didn’t want.
“I’m a mess,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “A complete and total mess.” Information that was interesting but not particularly helpful. If she wasn’t going to be a doctor then why was she studying biology? And if she didn’t want a different degree, then shouldn’t she get off her ass and use the one she had?
She only had questions and not a single answer. There was nowhere to go, no one to talk to. She was completely and totally alone and the sucky part was, she had only herself to blame.
chapter twenty-five
Malcolm waited until Sunday afternoon to seek out Keira. Since the outburst the previous night, she’d kept to her room. Carmen had said she’d been down early for breakfast, but then had retreated upstairs. Malcolm wasn’t sure if she needed the alone time or if she was scared to face the rest of the family.
A little after three he knocked on her door. There was a second of silence before he heard the soft, “Come in.”
He found Keira on the floor by her bed. There were no books around, no TV on, no music playing. Just her, Lizzy and a feather cat toy.
When Keira looked up at him, he saw shadows under her eyes. She was pale and her mouth trembled. He had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, but her sadness and remorse were so clearly visible, he couldn’t think of anything to say and he had no idea what to do.
He was incredibly bad at this, he thought grimly. And the last man on the planet who should ever have a family. He swore silently before telling himself any action was better than simply standing and staring at her.
He dropped next to her on the rug and put his arm around her. Keira startled him by throwing herself at him and bursting into tears.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, hanging on with more strength than he would have imagined. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
He picked her up and set her on his lap, then eased her head onto his shoulder. She hung on as if she would never let go and he did the same. After a few minutes, when the tears had lessened and her breathing was more normal, he freed one hand and stroked her head.
“It’s our fault,” he told her. “We should have thought about the day more. A party like that is a big deal and it takes a lot of emotional energy. You’re still finding your way around here. We should have moved the family dinner to tonight, giving you a chance to recharge. It’s not you, Keira. Even good things can be too much.”
“Callie said that, too,” Keira admitted with a sniff. “She apologized, just like you.”
The tears began again and he had no idea why. He wished Callie was here instead of him. He wished his mother had lived longer because she was the best person he’d ever known. He wished his father hadn’t been such an asshole because that would have helped. His father who had never once bothered to even sit down and talk to his own son.
“I’m really bad at this,” he admitted. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
She raised her head and sniffed. “You mean being a brother?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not bad at it. Just, you know, inexperienced.” She shifted off his lap onto the floor and brushed the tears from her face. “You should practice more.”
“Yes, I should.” He leaned toward her. “Keira, I don’t want you to be scared anymore. I want you to be happy and feel safe and excited about your life.”
She glanced down, then back at him. “I do sometimes. Not feel scared, I mean. And the other stuff. I’m getting better.”
“You don’t need to get better. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“But I’m in therapy.”
“So you have someone to talk to who is safe for you. So you can learn coping skills you might have missed out on because of all you’ve been through.” He struggled to find the right analogy. “It’s like painting a couple of walls in the house rather than tearing the whole thing down and starting over.”
She tilted her head. “Am I the paint or the wall or the house?”
“You’re the house and the therapy is the paint and okay, maybe it wasn’t the best way to explain what I meant, but I hope you—”
She flung herself at him again. He held on to her because he didn’t have anything else. Hopefully it was enough.