Page 52 of The Scars I Bare
“Sure, sweetie, but I’ll be at work. Would it be okay if I left them in your room?”
She’d finally agreed to move into her room, although she would often sneak into my room late at night. Still, it was progress.
“Okay,” she answered. “But make sure they have plenty of water.”
I did just that, placing them in a small vase and neatly arranging them to her approval. She nodded as she looked them over.
“You know how I was saying this morning that I thought Dean had a crush on you?”
I gave the flowers a once-over, smiling to myself as I touched one of the silky white blooms. “Yeah?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
That caught my attention. “Oh?” I said, turning to her.
She, too, was admiring the flowers. “I think he has a crush on me. Sorry, Mommy.”
And, with that, she took the flowers from my grasp and walked away.
After three ignored phone calls on the way to school, I knew the text was inevitable.
I hadn’t spoken to Blake since I left Virginia. He knew where we were; I couldn’t avoid that. I couldn’t disappear. I wasn’t supposed to, no matter how much I wanted to.
An amicable split—that was what we were calling it. Anything to preserve the Ashcroft name. No one wanted the truth to get out.
That the son of one of the wealthiest families on the East Coast was a wife beater.
When his mother had found out, she’d been inclined to let it all slide under the rug, where all the other family secrets were kept. But when I threatened to go to a judge for full custody of Lizzie? Well, that was when it got complicated. And, bycomplicated, I mean, I got my way for a change.
I was granted a divorce.
Nothing more, nothing less.
No alimony, and what child support Blake gave, I put directly into a savings account for Lizzie’s college fund. After everything was said and done, I figured we’d be forgotten. After all, in the Ashcroft world, he could just find himself a shiny, new family.
But this was Blake, and as hard as I tried to forget, he did care for his daughter even if he’d turned out to be a shitty husband.
Looking down at the text as I pulled into the small parking lot of the school, my heart clenched slightly.
Cora, could you at least send me a picture of her on her first day?
My lips pressed together as the engine turned off. Lizzie bounded out of the car, full speed ahead. Grabbing my purse, I jumped out of the car and followed behind. I wasn’t sure this was standard protocol.
Am I supposed to follow her in? Or say good-bye to her at the door?
Is there a guide for this? Kindergarten for Newbies?
She obviously didn’t know either because she grabbed my hand the instant I caught up to her and pulled me toward the entrance. Ocracoke was a small town; I’d known that much when I chose it.
But it really showed when I walked up the ramp and through the double blue doors to the one and only school that housed all twelve grades, plus kindergarten. I tried to think of the positives—one-on-one time, the low child to teacher ratio—but I also worried her advanced intellect might put her at an extreme disadvantage.
What if the teachers had no idea what to do with such a gifted child? What if she didn’t fit in?
My nerves raced as we walked down the hall to her classroom. The next few moments were a blur as we found her desk and met her teacher again, and then I said good-bye.
I’d thought this day would be kind of monumental. Every parent talked about it—the moment you sent your child off to school. I’d imagined it in my head so many times. I’d kneel down and bestow some sort of epic wisdom, making her feel right at home with her new surroundings, and I’d walk off, newly crowned as the Queen of Mothers.
Instead, I wandered out of the classroom, kind of in a daze, wondering if I could ask for a do-over.
