Yesterday's Embers (23 page)

Something about the sweet way he’d spoken the apology put a lump in her throat. At least somebody here loved her.

T
he sun was low in the sky as Mickey drove home from Salina on Highway 40. June was half over and almost overnight, the wheat fields had turned to gold. Doug predicted they’d be harvesting in a week and finished by the Fourth of July. She discovered that he always took his vacation time from his job in town at harvest time…which meant he rarely got a real vacation. Which meant she probably wouldn’t, either.

Pulling into the driveway a few minutes later, she tooted the horn for help unloading the car. She’d taken advantage of Doug’s rare evening home to make a grocery run.

Landon was the first one out the kitchen door. He flung open the back door and started rummaging through grocery bags. “Did you get anything good?”

“Hey, buddy, let’s get them in the house before we start eating them, okay?”

Landon shot her a sly grin. “Sorry.” He threaded his skinny arms through the handles of four bags and lugged them into the house. Something about the sweet way he’d spoken the apology put a lump in her throat. At least somebody here loved her.

The twins showed up behind Landon, and Mickey came around the car to load them up with bags.

She was gathering up the last of the groceries when Doug appeared beside her. “You got everything.”

They’d gotten good at avoiding each other’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Sorry. I was getting Harley to bed.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got it. The kids helped.”

“Good. Everything go okay?”

She nodded and risked a glance at him. He was in need of a haircut, and his face was sunburned. He looked tired.

She worried about how hard he worked. Between the farm and his job in town, he often put in twelve-hour days or longer. But he’d promised the kids that they’d all go to Wilson Lake for a long weekend as soon as the wheat was cut.

She was just grateful they’d been able to get her house ready for the renters before harvest hit. While Kayeleigh babysat, she and Doug had worked for a week of evenings, getting the rest of her things into storage, cleaning the house, and getting the yard in shape. The gardening wasn’t nearly as satisfying, knowing she wouldn’t be there to enjoy it, but it had served as therapy for the ongoing pain of her discovery about Doug’s feelings—or lack thereof—for her.

They hadn’t talked about it since that night he’d taken her to task for redecorating his house—
Kaye’s
house. But the weight of it hung between them, held inert by the constant busyness of their lives.

The crisis with Kayeleigh had trumped her redecorating fiasco, and Doug hadn’t broached the subject again. In a halfhearted effort to com
promise, she had moved a few of Kaye’s knickknacks back to where they’d been, but other than that things stayed where she’d put them, and Doug hadn’t commented about, either. But his initial reaction had taken all the joy out of her efforts.

Since that night they’d slept in the same bed…but without touching. Each night she’d waited until he was asleep before creeping into their room. Doug rose an hour before her alarm clock went off and was usually gone to work before she emerged from the shower.

In between they were polite strangers.
Please pass the salt. How was your day? Did Harley take a nap?
Without discussing it, they’d agreed not to argue. To coexist for the kids’ sake.

“I think I’m going to work out here for a while.” Doug angled his head at the makeshift workshop on the opposite side of the garage. “Unless you need help putting the groceries away?”

“The kids can help me.”

He nodded and turned away. She went into the house and started putting groceries away, enlisting the twins’ help.

The renters had moved in to her house two weeks ago, and she’d let go of it in her mind. But she felt oddly displaced. Doug’s disapproval of the decorating she’d done in this house had siphoned away any pleasure she’d felt in the accomplishment. Now she was a stranger living in someone else’s home.

At least she was getting along with the kids. Doug had apparently talked to Kayeleigh. The girl’s outright antagonism had changed to smoldering indifference. Mickey tried to stay out of her way as much as possible.

She opened the refrigerator and rearranged things to make room for the two gallons of milk this family went through every couple of days.

The younger kids seemed not to notice the change that had occurred between her and Doug. If anything, they’d grown more attached to her, seeking her out where they’d looked to their father before. She’d always had a special place in her heart for the DeVore kids, but as she withdrew
from Doug, she seemed to draw closer to his children. That fact sent a chill through her on the rare occasions she stopped to ponder where her relationship with Doug might end up.

Except for their honeymoon and the first few weeks after they’d come home, they’d had a marriage in name only. She didn’t know what Doug had imagined their life together to be, but for her, nothing was like she’d dreamed.

She’d wasted so much time longing for what she didn’t have, when what she did have seemed like a pleasant dream now—a tidy, attractive house with no one to mess it up, the freedom to come and go as she pleased. The privilege of coming home from work and relaxing or working in her garden.

“Mickey?” Landon stood at the door holding the phone. “It’s for you.”

She took it from him. “Hello?”

“Mickey, it’s Angie. I…
we
wondered if you—and Doug and the kids, of course—were coming Sunday.”

A thread of sorrow ran through her as she realized how long it had been since she’d been with the Valdez clan, with her nieces and nephews and precious little Emmy. The last time she’d seen her brothers—their introduction to Doug—had been disastrous. Rick never had called her like he said he would. She’d phoned Angie and begged off of the June get-together, claiming they were still getting settled. She was surprised to realize that July’s gathering loomed less than two weeks away. “I-I’m not sure yet, Angie. We’ve been so busy we haven’t even talked about it. Let me talk to Doug, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Sure. Is everything going okay?”

“We’re busy,” she repeated. “Harvest will probably be next week, and Doug’s trying to get everything ready for that…on top of work. But thank you for calling. I’d like to come.”

There was a long pause before Angie’s voice came softly. “I really hope
you’ll come, Mickey. Rick’s just being an overprotective big brother. He didn’t mean the things he said.”

“I think he did mean them, Angie. But I…I understand.”

“Give him time, honey. He’ll come around.”

“Thanks, Ang. I’ll get back to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Whenever you can. We’d love to have you—
all
of you.”

Hanging up the phone, she screwed up her courage and went out to the garage to broach the subject with Doug.

He stood at the workbench, wearing protective glasses and earplugs. When she touched his arm, he jumped as if she were a snake.

Two months ago they would have cracked up and ended up laughing in each other’s arms. Tonight that seemed beyond impossible, and Doug’s stern face proved it. “What’s wrong?”

She nodded back toward the house. “That was Angie on the phone. Our family get-together is next Sunday. They wonder if we’re coming.”

He chewed his lower lip. “You go if you want to. I don’t think I’m exactly welcome there.”

“Doug. Please. Angie said that Rick…” She let her voice trail off, because she wasn’t sure Angie was right about Rick’s feelings on the subject. “Would you please come? You’ll never get to know my family, and they’ll never get to know you, if we don’t spend some time with them.”

He shook his head and blew out a breath that sent sawdust scattering. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do what?”

His lips melded into a tight line. “I’m sorry. You go if you like.”

Her heart fell. Not because he wouldn’t go, but because she’d heard what he’d failed to say:
You go if you like. I can’t pretend we have a marriage in front of people who never thought we should marry in the first place
.

Like nearly everything he did these days, his actions riddled him with guilt.

D
oug hid out in the garage until he was sure Mickey had gone to bed. Like nearly everything he did these days, his actions riddled him with guilt. He knew how much Mickey adored her brothers, and how much she longed to keep her relationship with them, but with everything else pressing on him, the last thing he needed was more of the treatment he’d received from them the day Mickey introduced him. He got plenty of disrespect in his own home these days, thank you very much.

The house was quiet, and he took off his shoes before walking through to turn off the lights Mickey had missed. When she’d revamped the downstairs rooms, she’d brought several small lamps from her house and scattered them about the house. He usually went to bed before she did, and more mornings than not, he
awoke to find the bulbs had been left burning all night. Maybe when she saw the electric bill next month, she’d see why he constantly reminded her to turn them off before she retired for the night. Not to mention that fool cat of hers was likely to knock one of them over and start the house on fire.

Mickey was asleep when he entered the room, hugging her side of the bed, her breath coming evenly. Another wave of guilt crashed against him. He leaned against the door and watched her sleeping. She was so beautiful. And kind and generous. Despite their differences, Mickey was the kind of woman he might have loved under different circumstances.

The whirlwind days of their courtship twirled through his mind. He’d been wrong to talk her into marrying him so quickly. He knew that now. He’d followed his emotions—and his hormones—just wanting something to stop the pain.

He went into the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind him. He stood looking at his reflection in the mirror. There wasn’t a thing he could do about their decision now. Marriage was till death parted them. He’d never believed anything else. And for the second time in his life, he’d pledged to love and honor “for better or worse.”

He was determined to honor his vows to the best of his ability. He only wished he loved this woman the way he’d loved the first. For Mickey’s sake as much as his own. This wasn’t fair to her. He felt like a jerk, and she deserved better.

He got ready for bed and carefully turned the covers down, not wanting to disturb her. He crawled under the sheets and turned his back to her, pushing away the desire that came over him, because it wasn’t her he wanted. And it wouldn’t be fair to pretend otherwise.

As he lay there in the dark, memories of the love he’d shared with Kaye in this very bed returned in vivid detail. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to remember. But how could he forget thirteen years of loving someone like Kaye, someone he’d given himself to so completely?

And how could he ever have given himself to someone else…when he was still in love with Kaye?

T
he ceiling fan whirled above the bed, breaking the moonlight into slices. Kayeleigh pulled the blankets up over Harley’s shoulders and snuggled next to her baby sister, sniffing the sweet, fresh scent of her hair. It was good to have somebody sharing her bed again. Except when Harley was a wiggle worm and ended up sideways in the bed, kicking in her sleep. Or when her diaper leaked. That wasn’t so much fun. But she was thankful to have her baby sister in bed with her every night. Rachel’s spot didn’t seem quite so empty now, and Kayeleigh was glad Mickey had talked Dad into putting the crib away for good.

Something had happened between Dad and Mickey. Kayeleigh didn’t know what it was, but she had a terrible feeling it was her fault. She never should have treated Mickey the way she did. Never should have gone to Seth’s house that day in the first place. It was stupid. She knew better.

But he would have made fun of her, maybe never talked to her again, if she’d told him no. And the truth was, she wanted to go with him. She liked the way she felt when she was with him.

But she didn’t like the way things were between Dad and Mickey. He’d gotten to be a big fat crab. He’d chewed her up one side and down the other for going to Seth’s that day.

Mickey, who always used to be so happy, now looked sad all the time. Kayeleigh never caught her and Dad kissing or even talking much anymore. It seemed like they were both mad at each other all the time—except they never fought. Not anymore, anyway.

Sometimes she thought she’d prefer that. If they’d just yell at each other, say what they were thinking. Instead, they tiptoed around each
other like she’d tiptoed around Mickey when Mickey had first started loving Dad.

Her own thought startled her. Mickey did love Dad. She could tell. Even when Dad was sort of mean to her, she watched him with a sad, faraway look in her eyes—like she wanted him to treat her the way he used to.

She didn’t know what Mickey had done to make Dad change his mind. Not that long ago, he’d liked her plenty. Her face grew hot, thinking about the times she’d caught them making out.

She should have been glad about this turn of events. Hadn’t she just told Rudi a few weeks ago that she wished Dad would get a divorce?

“No, you don’t want that, Kayeleigh,” Rudi had said. “Let your dad be happy. Why shouldn’t he be?”

“Because it’s not fair to Mom.”

Rudi had planted her hands on her hips, looking like Miss Gorman did when they were goofing off in choir. “No offense,” she said, “but think about what you’re saying, Kayeleigh. Don’t you think your mom would want your dad to be happy?”

“Sure…but not with Miss Valdez.” Now she wondered. Mom sure wouldn’t like the way Dad was lately. She would tell him to snap out of it. Or she’d tell him something funny Harley or Landon did, and she’d keep telling him stories until she finally got him to laugh. It wouldn’t have taken long, either. Mom and Dad had laughed a lot.

Dad laughed with Miss Valdez—
Mickey
—too. At least he used to. But it seemed like it all changed that night she’d left Wren’s to go to Seth’s house. She thought back to that day. It gave her a strange feeling low in her tummy to remember how Seth had put his arms around her, kissed her. Touched her in a way no boy had ever touched her before.

She’d liked the way it felt. But it scared her, too. Truth was, she’d been glad Mickey showed up when she did. Seth’s brother, Ben, made her feel a little creepy the way he looked at her. And she didn’t like the
way Seth acted when his brother was around. He got all cocky and turned into a big show-off.

Why couldn’t she just have gone with Mickey? Why did she have to be such a jerk and mouth off to her like that? Mom would have killed her if she’d done that to her. No. Mom never would have
had
to come and get her, because she never would have done such a stupid thing when Mom was alive.

Everything had changed on that terrible Thanksgiving Day. The unbearable, almost physical, pain she’d felt in the beginning had eased a little bit, but if she thought about it too much, even that very fact made the pain come back again. It hadn’t been a year yet. Maybe something was wrong with her that she wasn’t still crying herself to sleep every night like she had at first, aching for Mom till she couldn’t think about anything else, feeling like she was going crazy.

Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever again experience that pure joy she remembered from when they were all a family—Mom and Dad and her and Rachel and Landon and Sarah and Sadie and Harley. Laughing in the car on the way to church because Harley said something funny. Or praying together, holding hands around the kitchen table.

She remembered that first night Mickey had come to their house and eaten Dairy Barn burgers with them. Their house had seemed happy again that night. She’d liked having Mickey smiling at the table, sneaking most of her hamburger to Harley and winking at her, like they shared a secret together. She’d even liked hearing Dad and Mickey laughing together in the kitchen doing dishes later.

Of course, she hadn’t known then that Mickey would make Dad fall in love with her and forget all about Mom. A thought struck her, hit her so hard it felt like her brother had landed one of his famous belly punches: maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing for Dad to forget about Mom. Maybe that’s why he liked Mickey—because she made him forget.

Moonlight outlined the desk in the corner, and she thought about
the e.p.t. test thing she’d hidden there—the one she’d found under the sink in Mom and Dad’s bathroom—
Mickey
and Dad’s bathroom. She’d been watching Mickey closely ever since that day, trying to tell if her stomach was getting pudgy the way Mom’s had when she was first pregnant with Harley.

They’d all been so happy that day when Mom told them she was having another baby. Kayeleigh was only nine years old, but she remembered like it was yesterday. The twins were little then, and Daddy had picked them up and put one on each shoulder and marched around the living room sing-songing, “We’re gonna have a baby…we’re gonna have a baby…” She and Rachel and Landon clapped and cheered along, and Mom just laughed and put her hand flat on her tummy where the baby was growing.

She smiled into the darkness. It was good to have a memory of Mom that could make her smile. Maybe there were more wherever that one had come from.

“Please, God,” she whispered. Too loud, apparently, because Harley stirred beside her and popped her thumb into her mouth, sucking noisily. Kayeleigh put a gentle hand on Harley’s back and rubbed softly.

What if Mickey really was going to have a baby? The e.p.t. thing had a plus sign. Positive meant pregnant. She was sure of that. But she didn’t know how long it took for a woman to start looking like she was pregnant.

Still patting Harley, she squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was almost midnight.

When she was sure Harley was asleep again, she crept out of bed and got the e.p.t. out of its hiding place in the back of her desk drawer. She took it down the hall into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the light. The plus sign was still showing. Tucking the stick into the pocket of her pajama top, she stepped into the hallway. Landon’s door was closed, and it was dark downstairs. Dad and Mickey were always in bed downstairs before midnight.

She looked across the stair rail to the landing where the computer desk sat. They weren’t supposed to use the computer without asking first, but she couldn’t exactly ask about this. Tiptoeing, she stepped on a creaky board in the wood floor. She froze and stood like a statue, heart pounding. When she was sure the coast was clear, she eased into the chair and turned the computer on.

The computer made its start-up sound, and her heart nearly leapt through her skull. She scrambled to find the button that turned the sound off, then, while everything loaded, she stood stiff as a board, listening to see if the sound had woken Dad or Mickey up.

Almost three minutes ticked by on the clock, and the computer went into sleep mode. When she didn’t hear any sounds downstairs, she eased onto the straight-back chair and clicked the mouse. She opened Google, and pressing one key at a time so they wouldn’t make their usual clicking noise, she typed
e.p.t
. into the box.

One of the first entries that popped up matched the lettering on the stick she’d found. She clicked the link. There was a picture of the exact thing she’d found. She started reading. It said that the test was accurate 99 percent of the time, and that it could work before a woman even suspected she was pregnant…something about “as early as four days.”

She thought back to the day she’d found the e.p.t. It was the day after Dad and Mickey got back from Salina—from their honeymoon. They’d gotten married on April 27. She remembered because it was the same day Seth turned thirteen. He’d flunked kindergarten so he was older than the other kids in their class.

Dad and Mickey came home the Monday after that. She counted on her fingers. Exactly four days.

She clicked a link that gave instructions for using e.p.t. There was some gross stuff about peeing on the stick. She looked down at the thing sticking out of her pocket.
Yuck
. She’d been touching it with her bare hands. Wrinkling her nose, she wiped her hands on her pajama pants before she touched the keyboard again.

She scrolled down the screen and read about how to read the little plus and minus signs in the window. She was right. The plus sign meant yes, you were pregnant. Her breath came faster. Mickey
had
to be pregnant.

What if Dad didn’t know? A thought struck her: what if he did know, and that was why he and Mickey barely talked to each other anymore? She couldn’t handle all the ideas and images that were coming into her head.

She heard a noise downstairs and froze. She checked to be sure the sound was turned off and slowly reached for the off button. The computer powered down and she sat there, staring into the darkness, listening for the sound she’d heard moments before. It never came.

Finally she tiptoed back to her room. But before she crawled into bed, she wrapped the e.p.t. in a tissue—a clean one, not the one with Mom’s lipstick on it—and hid it in the back of her underwear drawer. She straightened the clothes in the drawer, separating her things from Harley’s so nobody would have to dig on her side of the drawer.

When she finally crawled back into bed beside Harley, the clock said 1:12. But sleep wouldn’t come, and she lay there, with her hand over her heart, feeling it beat so fast and so hard she was afraid it would burst through her skin.