Die Before I Wake. Laurie Breton
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Lord my soul to take.”
“Amen,” Taylor said.
“Amen,” Sadie echoed. Her eyes popped open and she exclaimed, “Oops! I forgot!” Bowing her head again, she added, “God bless Daddy, and Grandma, and Uncle Riley, and Mommy up in heaven. And—” She opened her eyes, glanced at me, and smiled. “And Julie,” she finished. “Amen.”
A tiny crack appeared in my heart. Maybe winning over Tom’s daughters wouldn’t be so hard after all. They were such precious little girls, and so very needy. And they seemed to genuinely like me.
I pulled back the covers. Sadie scrambled beneath them, and I tucked them up tight under her chin. She lay there beneath the blankets, a dreamy smile on her face, and said, “Are you my mommy now?”
Time stood still. While my heart beat in the silence, I glanced across the empty space between beds to Taylor, who seemed to be holding her breath, awaiting my response.
I lay a hand atop Sadie’s head, felt the cool, soft tickle of baby-fine hair between my fingertips. “Your mom,” I said, “will always be your mom.”
Sadie yawned. “Even though she’s not here any more?”
“Even though. I would never try to take her place. How about for now, we’ll just say we’re friends, and leave it at that? Okay?”
She gave me a sleepy nod and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. I stood and crossed the room to Taylor, who lay beneath her own covers. Tucking the snow-white bedspread tightly around her, I said, “All set?”
She nodded. I reached out to touch her cheek, then hesitated. I didn’t want to rush things with her. Instead, I simply said, “Good night.”
As I turned to go, she said, “Don’t get too used to being here.”
I paused, not sure I’d heard her correctly. Turning, I said, “Excuse me?”
Her eyes, so like Tom’s, held none of his warmth. Instead, they were glacial. “I said you shouldn’t get too used to being here. Grandma says you won’t last any longer than any of the others.”
I told myself she was just a little girl. Only seven years old. There was no real malice in her words; she was just repeating what she’d heard. But when I thought about the hostility on her face, I wasn’t so sure. Children were capable of cruelty, and Taylor was an intelligent child. She knew she’d upset me. That had been her intention. I’d seen the satisfaction in her eyes before she reached out and turned off the bedside lamp, leaving me to find my way in complete darkness.
I could almost forgive her for her animosity. After all, she was just a child, and she’d suffered an irreparable loss. I could still remember how I’d felt when my mother left us. The fear, the guilt, the knife-edged sense of betrayal. The years spent wondering if it was something I’d done that had driven her away. It had taken me a very long time to get over it—as much as anyone gets over that kind of loss—and I’d sworn that no matter what happened in my life, I’d never, ever do that to a child.
Taylor’s mother hadn’t run away like mine had, but Tom’s daughter had to be feeling some of the same emotions that I’d felt. Death was the ultimate betrayal. And for a girl to lose her mother at such a young age—a mother whose absence would be keenly felt at all life’s most poignant and significant junctures—the loss was immeasurable.
We all grieve in different ways. I’d walked in Taylor’s shoes, and I couldn’t fault her for how she’d chosen to grieve her terrible loss.
But Tom was right. This was some welcome I’d gotten. Wondering just who were these “others” that Taylor had referred to, I headed downstairs to find my husband and demand some answers.
I heard them arguing as soon as I reached the ground floor. They weren’t exactly trying to be quiet. “She can’t stay,” Jeannette said. “You know that as well as I do.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind.” My husband sounded agitated. Furious.
“You don’t know anything about her. For all you know, she could be a gold digger. I cringed when I heard that pathetic story she told about her impoverished childhood. What if she married you for your money?”
Heat raced up my face. Normally, I was adamantly opposed to eavesdropping. But, damn it, this was me they were talking about. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away. I crept a little closer to the kitchen door and pressed myself against the dark paneling of the hallway.
“That’s ridiculous,” Tom said.
“You’re a doctor, Tom. She probably took one look at you and decided you were her meal ticket.”
Wearily, my husband said, “I make a decent living, Mother, but I’m hardly in a league with the neurosurgeons of the world. I’m a small-town baby doctor.”
“The perception’s still there that doctor equals money. I just can’t imagine what you were thinking. What happens when she finds out—”
“Finds out what? That I’ve been eaten up by loneliness ever since Elizabeth died? I can’t believe you’d begrudge me a little happiness. Julie’s amazing, Mom, and you’d see that if you gave her half a chance.”
“What about your girls? They need you, Tom. How can you justify stealing what little free time you have away from them to give it to some stranger?”
“They need a mother!”
Sounding hurt, she said, “What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two years?”
Tom’s voice softened. “I know what you’ve been doing,” he said, “and I truly appreciate all you’ve done for us. But it’s not the same thing. The girls need stability, an intact family.”
“It’s not going to work. You know it as well as I do. It’s not too late to have this marriage annulled. I’m begging you to end it before it gets messy. Send her back where she came from and move on with your life.”
Indignation had me holding my breath. Send her back where she came from. What did this woman think I was, a FedEx package?
Tom’s voice again: “She has a name, Mom. It’s Julie.”
“Fine. Send Julie back where she came from, back to L.A., to her hippy-dippy life and her fond memories of her wastrel of a father.”
In a deadly quiet voice, Tom said, “I’m only going to say this once, Mother, so you’d better listen. I don’t give a damn whether or not you like her, but Julie is my wife and, by God, you’ll treat her with respect. If I hear one more negative word about her—”
A sound behind me tore my attention away from the sparring in the kitchen. Riley stood at the foot of the stairs, water dripping off his yellow slicker. I’d been so caught up in the drama being played out in the next room that I hadn’t even heard him come in the front door. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there, or how much he’d overheard. Our eyes met, but neither of us said a word.
“Forget it,” Tom said in disgust. “This discussion is over.”
“Where are you going?” his mother demanded.
“Out. I need to cool off before I say something I’ll regret.”
“For God’s sake, Tom, don’t be an idiot. There’s a hurricane going on out there.”
“And it’s a welcome reprieve from what’s going on in here!”
A door slammed, and a moment later, I heard a car engine start up. My gaze still locked with Riley’s, I saw something there that I didn’t want to see, something that looked remarkably like pity. Without saying a word, I stalked past him to the staircase and fled upstairs.
I closed the bedroom door and slumped against it, my chest heaving with suppressed