Page 115 of Summer Longing
Of course Lidia would come over. Lidia, Mira’s grandmother.
Elise felt a surge of anger, then reminded herself Lidia had not asked for this to happen. She was just as much a victim of circumstance as Elise. Still, Lidia would leave with Mira. She had a new granddaughter, and once again, Elise’s arms would be empty.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” Lidia said, stepping into the room. Fern followed behind her.
“Of course. I…we should have called you this morning. I’m sorry,” Elise said, looking at Fern, who nodded.
Lidia shook her head. “I actually came by to apologize. Jaci explained to me what she did and why, and although it might have been well intentioned, I can’t imagine the pain it must be causing you. So there’s no rush to bring Mira to our house.”
And yet, her eyes darted to the bassinet.
Elise stood there, woozy from sleep deprivation. Her eyes, bleary from crying, could barely focus. She walked over to the bassinet and found Mira awake and staring at the mobile they’d recently installed. Elise picked her up and cradled her against her shoulder. She stood still for a minute, her eyes closed, cementing the moment in her mind for all time.
She turned to Lidia and handed Mira to her. Lidia, surprised, took the baby with a reflexive ease.
Mira looked up at Lidia and smiled, the smile that had been so rare that Fourth of July weekend but that now delighted everyone who came in contact with her.
Elise turned away from grandmother and grandchild, choked back her sobs, and walked into Fern’s waiting arms.
Chapter Fifty
The doorbell woke her. Ruth’s first thought wasWho would show up at Shell Haven this early?The second wasI’m not in my own bedroom. The third wasMy body feels different.
It had been a very long time since she’d had sex.
She sat up, taking in the details of the third-floor room, the space she’d prepared so carefully for Olivia’s arrival at the start of the summer. On the bedside table, one of the rose-and-black-currant candles she’d purchased at Good Scents and the copy ofLand’s End. And next to her, Ben.
The events of the night before came rushing back to her, the good, the bad, and the outrageous. The backyard kiss with Ben that had made her feel like the teenager on that boat forty years ago, feelings she barely had a moment to process before Bianca’s theatrics and Jaci Barros’s public confession. After that, there was no time to think about Ben. The place was in an uproar, and she joined Amelia and Rachel and a circle of other women who were helping Lidia deal with the news. Olivia left with a distraught Marco, and Manny Barros took it upon himself to escort Bianca out of the party.
“I have my own confession to make,” Ben said later that night as they shared a bottle of wine in the Shell Haven living room. Outside, Carnival still raged. Ruth knew they would be hearing music and fireworks possibly until the sun came up. “This disaster is all my fault.”
Ruth refilled his glass. “What? Tonight? I don’t see how that’s possible.”
Ben took the bottle from her hand and set it down. His expression was miserable. “On my first day in town, Olivia told me about the baby being abandoned. I let it slip to Bianca.”
“Why would you do that?”
Ben shook his head. “She had a theory that it was Olivia’s. I was telling her no way, it wasn’t my daughter’s baby. That the baby had been left on the porch.”
“Bianca knew the baby wasn’t Olivia’s! The baby appeared before Olivia got to town. Bianca was just trying to push your buttons. She was fishing. And she got what she wanted.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ruth couldn’t find it in herself to be angry at him when there was so much blame to go around. “Still, that doesn’t explain how she knew Mira belonged to Jaci.”
“If you have one piece of the puzzle, it’s probably not that hard to put the rest together. I mean, the baby does look like their family. And you figured it out, so it stands to reason that someone else might discover the truth too.”
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I told you Bianca was a menace.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I feel terrible. I don’t know what to do.”
Ruth was suddenly exhausted. It had to be close to one in the morning. “There’s nothing to do,” Ruth said. “Jaci had to come forward eventually. It’s out of our hands now. Let’s just…keep this to ourselves.”
“Can you forgive me?” he said.
She looked at him. Despite the lateness of the hour, despite all the cocktails and wine, he was focused on her with steely clarity. Were they still talking about the baby?
“Can you forgiveme?” she said, and it came out as a whisper.
