Page 96 of Summer Longing
Ruth moved into the room. “May I sit with you for a minute?”
“Um, I was actually going to head back to the party. I was just watching her for Elise during the fireworks because it was too loud for her outside.”
“That was generous of you.”
“It’s no big deal.” Jaci shrugged. “I mean, the fireworks are the same every year.”
Ruth sat on the bed. She reached out and gently touched Jaci’s arm. “Jaci, is this your baby?”
“What? No, of course not.”
Ruth looked her in the eye, and Jaci held her gaze. The denial was calm and convincing. It was the denial of someone who had prepared herself for the question. It was the denial of someone who’d thought things through.
Unfortunately, once truth surfaces, evidence is everywhere. Ruth had only to look at Mira to see everything she’d failed to notice until that moment. The baby resembled Lidia. She had the dark Barros eyes and Lidia’s cleft chin. How did no one else see this? Do you only see what you want to see, even when reality is literally staring you in the face? “Jaci, I’m not upset with you. But this can’t go on. Someone is going to get hurt.”
Jaci’s eyes filled with tears. Ruth hugged her, careful not to squash Mira.
“It’s going to be okay,” Ruth said.
“No,” Jaci said sharply, pulling back. “It won’t be okay if you tell anyone. This was the right thing to do. I’m sorry, but you’re an outsider. You don’t understand. And it’s not your business.”
“It became my business the minute you left your daughter on my doorstep.”
“I had no idea Elise and Fern had rented out the house! That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“And whatwasthe plan, exactly?”
Jaci sniffled. Ruth reached over to the bedside table, pulled a tissue out of a box, handed it to her.
“Thanks. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I can’t be a mother—not now. I have three years left at school. I don’t want to live here raising a baby in my parents’ house. I want to be like Olivia; I want to move to New York and have a real career. And Elise and Fern—they’ve wanted a baby for years. I was there the afternoon that Elise had her second miscarriage. She wants a baby more than anything. So giving her mine solves both of our problems.”
“Jaci, you can’t justgivesomeone a baby. There are legal repercussions. Emotional repercussions. What about the father? Does he know about this?”
Jaci wiped her eyes with the bottom of her T-shirt, leaving a smudge of mascara on it. “He told me to get an abortion. Which, considering my Catholic family, was just not an option. Not something I could live with.”
“Well, he has a responsibility to this child. He can’t just—”
“Ruth, please. Stop. I’m literally never going to see him again. This is bad enough. Just let it go.”
Ruth sighed. This was Lidia’s domain and none of her business. “What about your mother? Don’t you think she’d want the chance to care for her own granddaughter? I’ve only known your mother a short while, but I can say with certainty she would.”
Jaci shook her head. “My mother can’t find out about this. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I realized I was pregnant, but the thing I did know from day one was that I didn’t want to burden my parents. They’ve worked hard their whole lives to be financially stable; my dad is about to retire. I can’t do that to them, make them start over with a baby. You cannottell my mother—promise me. It would only hurt her. If you say anything to anyone, a lot of people will be hurt.”
“People are already getting hurt! Do you know Elise and Fern are at odds over how to handle this situation? They’ve been living apart.”
Jaci blanched, but quickly recovered. “Elise and Fern will work it out. They always do.”
Ruth crossed her arms. Jaci stood up from the bed, placed Mira against her shoulder, and paced.
“I’m going back to the party,” she said finally, opening the door. She turned to look at Ruth. “Please, please, I’m begging you—stay out of it. If you don’t, you’ll hurt all of us. I’m doing the right thing. You’ll see.”
Chapter Forty-One
Maybe it was the exuberance of the holiday, maybe it was Lidia’s sangria, or maybe Olivia just wanted to feel what it would be like to wake up next to Marco. Whatever the reason, for the first time, she did not slip away in the middle of the night to return to Shell Haven.
Seeing the room in the bright light of early morning, she felt a heightened appreciation for its spare but elegant functionality; it was a perfect reflection of its inhabitant. The bedroom had an antique chest at the foot of the bed, a large ceiling fan, and wooden bookshelves stuffed with paperbacks spanning an entire wall.
Marco, beside her, stirred slightly and reached for her. She moved closer to him, pressed her lips gently to his cheek. She was eager for him to wake up so they could talk, but at the same time she wanted the moment to last forever. It was easy to pretend there was nothing beyond the walls of that room, their own private hideaway.
