Page 117 of Stepping Into Tomorrow

“I love him, Mama.”

Her mother’s cheek twitched.

“I know you hate him—but he’s a good man. He never lied to me or led me on. He made it clear to me what he was capable of and what he could offer me.”

“He shouldn’t have touched you. What kind of man gets a woman pregnant, has her move in and play house, but won’t commit?” She shook her head, disgusted.

“I wasn’t taken advantage of.”

“Why? Why would you give him the leche for free? He should buy the cow!”

Isabella shook her head at the way her mother jumbled the saying. “I am not livestock. I’m a woman. An adult who made decisions. Why do you hate him so much? You disliked him even before you knew he was the father.”

She shook her head. “That man’s fiancée disappeared and he went and bought a boat six months later. Nancy said she heard he and his ex got into a huge fight at the bar the last night she was seen. Even if there was only a small chance he was a killer—I didn’t want that for you, mija. I was scared for you.”

“Nash isn’t like that. He’s never laid a finger on me or come close. Even when he was angry and upset, he took care of me.”

“I still don’t like it. I don’t trust him,” she argued.

“You’re basing all this on rumors. You know what your friend says about me behind your back?”

Her mother stood abruptly. “Nancy is a friend. She would never badmouth my family.”

“You’re wrong, Mama. That woman spreads misinformation like it’s her job. According to her, I was cheating on my husband and this baby is a love child. I just convinced Nash it was his because he’s only one of my many lovers.”

“No—”

“Overheard her at the grocery store telling the baker.”

Her mother’s face pinched.

“What?”

“I—never mind. It’s none of my business.” Her mother went to the sink, poured water into a kettle, and set it on the stove.

“No, tell me, Mama.”

Her mother sighed and turned around, staring at her daughter. “It did seem awfully fast after . . . Robert’s passing that you . . . moved on.”

“That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?”

Her mother’s eyes darted to the colorful rug on the floor.

“Robert and I agreed to divorce before he was diagnosed.”

Her mother gasped.

“Robert was gay, Mama. He didn’t love me—not the way a husband should. I stayed with him until the end, but we were no longer married in any way that mattered.”

Her mother’s face was white as a sheet as she opened and closed her mouth like a fish. “What do you mean he was gay? He made a child with you—he married you.”

“He wasn’t sexually attracted to me, or any woman for that matter. Our first time was an experiment for both of us. We were friends, and I wanted to know what it would be like. Everyone was talking about sex at school. And I felt like the odd one out for not experiencing it yet. Later, I found out he was struggling with his attraction to men and thought that he could stop it if he slept with me.”

Her mother swallowed and shook her head. “But he . . . Robert never seemed . . .”

“Gay?”

Her mom nodded.

---