Page 35 of Free to Live
“Oh, with your parents, I assume. That would make sense. It was a tough day for your team,” Eden concludes. “We could have made enough to have spent time with all of you so we could have seen Grace. It’s been so long since we had a family dinner.”
I don’t know what it is, but suddenly I snap. “You’re not my family.”
With those words, you’d have thought I suddenly shoved a knife in Eden’s chest. Seth wraps his arm around his wife tightly. “What did you say, son?”
“And I’m not your son either,” I bite out. “Neither of you wanted me marrying your daughter until she became pregnant with Grace. And damned if you didn’t try to do your best to take my girls away from me.” Despite the pallor that crosses Eden’s face, I keep going. “Do you think I didn’t find out how you really felt about me? Do you think I don’t know you thought I was a phase she was going through and she’d ‘grow out of it’? Do you think I don’t know you tried to convince her to leave me after Grace was born?” I whisper.
“Maybe she’d still be alive if she had,” Seth mutters.
I slam my hand down hard on my table. “Get out of my house.”
Eden begins to cry softly. “Joe, please, we just miss Mary so much.”
“And this is how you honor her memory? By systematically destroying any happiness of the people who loved her, including her daughter? Why the hell do you think I’m so determined to keep Grace away? The last time she spent any time alone with you, she was apologizing to me for killing her mother. Since that’s something that not even remotely close to the truth, I wonder where she heard it.” Seth’s eyes slide away. That wasn’t a hard leap.
Seth’s jaw tightens as Eden shoves at him in horror. My stomach rolls as the pain they’ve tried to hold in for so long comes spilling out. But I can’t let it affect the life I’m trying to build for Grace. “So, this is where I’m at. I refuse to let your anger and your sorrow burn out the light of my daughter.”
“It’s better than having to bury your daughter,” Seth shoots back as he drags Eden to her feet. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
“Seth, no. We have to work this out,” Eden protests.
Seth drags her through my home, his heartache and anger leaving a foul trail. As he reaches my front door, he turns. “She could have had anyone. I don’t know why she settled for you.”
Neither do I anymore, but for the short time we had together, I’ll eternally be grateful she did. I wait for Seth to throw open the door and storm out. Eden stands there helplessly. “This wasn’t what I wanted when I…”
I run a hand over my head in frustration. Mary’s eyes look back at me every time I see her mother. “It wasn’t what I wanted either, Eden. But I won’t have Grace suffer for whatever resentment you all continue to harbor toward me.”
Her eyes drift from mine to the picture over the mantle. Then she nods before walking out my door, closing it behind her.
God. This day has turned into one massive clusterfuck. I stalk back over to the mantle and rest my arms against it. I take comfort seeing Mary holding our daughter. Her eyes are looking at me with everything young love should contain—laughter, hope, sweet lust. Every time they looked at me that way, I was helpless to anything but what she asked. Whether it was making love under the stars in our backyard or hanging out in a bar riddled with firemen when she was barely twenty-one, she’d give me that look and I was done for.
She gave me that look the day she told me she was pregnant with Grace and wanted to keep the baby. It took me less than five minutes later to propose even though I didn’t have a ring.
“This wasn’t the forever we swore we’d have, Mary,” I choke out. “And now, I’m fighting the world for our daughter already. That wasn’t supposed to happen until Grace became a teenager and she found boys.” A watery laugh escapes. “What do I do now that there are no long nights of staying up late talking like there’s no tomorrow? What happened to the bright days laughing at everything and nothing? How am I supposed to teach Grace how to live when I’m afraid to do it myself? How do I go on when I can’t forgive myself?”
Putting my head down on the mantle, I wait for some kind of sign, but there won’t be one.
There never is.
15
Holly
“What’s the current numbers so far with the donations?” I’m standing in Ali’s office where she has the Victims Association spreadsheets open a week later. Her fingers are flying across the keyboard, entering in numbers. “Now if only I could edit a photo that fast,” I mutter.
“It’d be a damn miracle. Then we wouldn’t need to hire you an assistant,” she agrees. “How’s the search for that coming along?”
I roll my eyes. “With the fund-raiser, I haven’t even had a chance to place an ad.” Ali goes to open her mouth to screech at me. Before she can, I cut her off. “Listen, there’s a senior at UConn in Jenna’s sorority who’s been interning the last few times Jenna’s been home. Graphic design major. Excellent work. I’m thinking of making her an offer for full time after graduation.”
Ali’s fingers pause on the keyboard, “Seriously?”
I hold up my hand over my chest. “Hand to God, Ali. Her mother lives in Fairfield County, and she’s not well. She’s looking for work locally that offers flexibility. So far nothing’s panned out. While we can’t pay as much as a larger firm, we can definitely give her flexibility. Also, she works for us for a few years; it looks good on her résumé.”
“Plus it gives you time to do a more in-depth search,” Ali concludes.
“Yes. Because let’s face it, just because we love small-town life doesn’t mean that everyone will.”
“Have I met her?” My studio is a stream of interns, so the question doesn’t surprise me.
