Baby Doll, page 12
Abby did her best to keep her breathing under control, hoping no one would notice anything was wrong. She couldn’t stop staring at Wes, wondering if Lily would recognize him. He had filled out since high school, but he still kept his hair neatly shorn and was always stylish. Abby shook her head. She couldn’t let things go down like this. Even if Lily already knew about them, about the baby, she needed to explain everything. She had to buy time. She turned to Mom, keeping her voice low.
“This is too much. We should go. We can get a hotel room. Get away from everything,” Abby said.
To Abby’s relief, Mom agreed.
“You’re right. I’ll drop you both off and get you settled, and then I’ll come back and pick up Mother and Daddy and Meme. There’s a Holiday Inn over on—”
“No.” Lily spoke up, leaning forward, gripping the armrest. “I want to stay here.”
“Lily, you’ll have to walk through all these people. Their questions. The cameras,” Mom said.
“I don’t care. I’ve waited so long… too long, to get back here.” Lily’s voice cracked. Abby thought about arguing with her sister, persuading her to go somewhere else tonight, but she relented. Stay away, she silently urged Wes. Don’t screw this up.
“Mom, just park. We’ll protect her from the cameras,” Abby said.
Mom shut off the car and climbed out, pushing her way to the passenger side. Abby slipped out of her down coat and climbed out of the car. The crowd roared their welcome, reporters shouting questions as they surged forward. There were so many cameras flashing, Abby was blinking back stars. Dozens of people surrounded them, cell phones raised high, filming the homecoming. Abby realized that everything they did from this moment on would be documented. Chronicled and then dissected for the world to see.
Lily lifted Sky out of the car seat and Abby carefully draped her coat over Sky’s face, wanting to block her niece from the media’s prying eyes. They headed up the driveway, flanked by Sheriff Rogers and several other officers, who were trying to clear the path. The reporters were relentless, pushing, prodding, and trying to get a reaction.
“How did you get away?”
“What’s it like being home?”
“Is Rick Hanson the father of your child?”
Abby wanted to scream at them, spit on them, but she stayed focused, moving at a fast clip, holding on to Lily and Sky, Mom trailing behind. They were on the porch now. Only a few more steps and they could shut out these people, escape their prying eyes and hateful questions. But at the top of the steps, Lily gasped. Abby wasn’t sure what had happened until she saw Sky running down the steps of the porch into the crowd.
Lily froze, no doubt caught off guard by Sky’s impulsive action. All the reporters and the cameras turned to follow Sky, who kept running. Abby tried to chase after the child, but she was so heavy, her movements slow and clumsy. She found herself swallowed up by the crowd. She struggled to break free when people began to move aside. Abby saw Wes carrying Sky up the driveway. The little girl was wailing, kicking, and screaming. “I wanna go home. I want my daddy!” She pummeled Wes with her tiny fists.
Abby could see Wes’s lips moving, no doubt trying to soothe the child. But Sky continued to wail like an animal caught in a trap. The danger resolved, the camera flashes resumed, the screams and shouts grew to an ear-shattering volume, and the mob surged forward, grateful for a new moment to capture.
Abby barely followed what happened next. In a daze, she saw Lily’s grateful expression as Wes placed Sky in her arms. Lily didn’t seem to notice or recognize him. She just raced into the house, protecting Sky, cradling the child. A moment later, Abby felt Wes’s arm around her waist, ushering her inside, Eve whispering for Abby to stay calm.
Abby stood in the foyer, the frenzied crowd outside still audible. Her grandparents nervously hovered in the kitchen. Lily was still trying to console Sky, who was screaming, “I wanna go home. I want Daddy Rick.” Each scream pierced Abby’s heart: tiny, little pricks over and over again. Mom sank down beside Lily.
“This was too much for her. We should get Sky back to the hospital. I’ll call Dr. Amari.”
Lily adamantly shook her head. “No! No doctors. She’ll be fine. I just need a few minutes to calm her down. I know I can calm her down.”
The wails continued, and no one else moved or spoke. Mom stood, clutching her neck as if it might fall right off her shoulders. Wes hovered near the door, and Abby willed him to turn around and walk out. But he didn’t. He was staring at Lily as if she were an endangered bird and he was the savior tasked with rescuing her. Lily still hadn’t noticed him. She was too busy rubbing Sky’s back and soothing her with calm words, her voice soft and melodic.
“You’re going to love it here, Chicken. We’re going to be so happy. You trust Mommy, don’t you? This is where I grew up and where you’ll live now. We’re going to be so happy. I promise you that.”
Lily kept whispering the same thing over and over until it took on a chant-like quality. Abby wanted to believe Lily’s words more than anything.
Before long, just like Lily had promised, Sky grew calmer, her body relaxing. Her eyes began to flutter closed, and she drifted off. Lily’s gaze traveled the room. Abby held her breath, wondering what Lily would say when she saw Wes, but Lily was focused on her grandparents, nervously huddled in the kitchen. Lily gently settled Sky onto the sofa, then rushed over to them and they enveloped her.
Grandma and Grandpa Forster were solid midwestern people, never shy about expressing their affection. They covered Lily with kisses and hugs, their voices booming as they told her how much they’d missed her. There was no hesitation on their part, no reluctance. They didn’t consider that Lily might not be ready for this much affection. Abby worried that it would upset Lily, that it would be too much, but Lily soaked up their adoration.
After their well wishes, Lily broke away and turned to Meme, their paternal grandmother. When they were little, Dad wanted them to call his mother Mee-maw, but neither one of them could say it properly, and Meme had stuck.
Time hadn’t been kind to Meme. She’d suffered a double loss—first Lily and then her son in a three-month span. She had never been the same, her heart shattered beyond repair. Bent over, clutching her walker, her portable oxygen tank resting on the seat, her face lit up, reminding Lily of the ballroom dancing photos she’d seen when Meme was young. Lily towered over the older woman, and had to bend down to gently wipe the tears from Meme’s wrinkled face.
“I missed you, sweet girl. I missed you so much.”
“It’s okay, Meme. It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m right here. I missed you too…”
“Davey is looking down on you, Lily. My boy is smiling so darn hard right now, and he’s wrapping those big, strong arms around you. Around both his girls.”
Abby didn’t believe in any of that higher-power God bullshit. But just this once, she hoped Meme was right. Maybe her father was out there somewhere, witnessing this reunion. Lily finally turned around, her gaze landing on Wes, who was still hovering in the doorway. Lily pushed her long blond hair out of her eyes and moved to him. In that instant, Abby knew that Lily hadn’t forgotten Wes. If anything, Lily’s feelings, like her life, had remained frozen in time.
“Wes, I can’t believe it’s you. That you’re here. I… I never thought I’d see you again.”
Abby was consumed with regret as she watched Wes move to hug Lily. She flinched almost imperceptibly. Abby wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed, but she wondered if Lily was preparing for a blow to the head or a punch to the gut—the kind of punishments Rick doled out. But Lily must have sensed that Wes would never harm her, because she let him hold on to her. Abby saw how perfectly they fit together. She couldn’t help but wonder if Wes noticed how slim and lovely Lily was, how good she looked in spite of everything she’d endured.
Abby sank down onto the sofa. Why hadn’t she thought about this moment all those years ago when she’d begged Wes to kiss her? When she’d slept with him over and over again? Why hadn’t she believed more in Lily? She’d told everyone she met that her sister wasn’t dead, and yet she’d still taken what Lily loved most.
Wes finally pulled away from Lily. He nervously cleared his throat. “Lily, we have to tell you something.”
Lily stepped back. No one moved. Abby jumped up from the sofa, eyeing her mother. Please. Make him stop, she pleaded silently. Thankfully, Mom stepped forward.
“Wes, now is not the time.”
“Abby, we can’t do this. Lily needs the truth.”
Abby wanted to murder him. She literally couldn’t believe he was doing this.
“Wes, please. We’ll talk later. When things have calmed down.”
Lily glanced back and forth between Wes and Abby. “Talk about what? Abby, what’s going on?”
Abby opened her mouth, but no words came out. Wes reached for Abby’s hand.
“We’re together, Lily. Abby and I are together…”
Abby jerked away from his touch. “He’s wrong. We’re not together. We were…”
Wes’s anger got the best of him, and he forgot about Lily for a split second.
“Jesus Christ, Abby, we’re having a goddamn baby. How is that not together?”
Abby watched Lily as hurt, disbelief, and then heartbroken resignation danced across her face.
“Lil, I can explain. I can…”
Lily took a step back, eyeing Abby’s swollen belly, then Wes’s face, and back again as if trying to put all the pieces together. Abby was crying now.
“Please, Lily, you have to know…”
Stone-faced, Lily moved over to the sofa and picked up Sky. “It doesn’t matter. Really, it doesn’t,” she said.
Abby wanted to tell Lily exactly what happened, but Lily turned her back on Abby and Wes as she addressed the rest of her family.
“I’m not feeling well and Sky’s exhausted. I think we both need some rest.”
She moved toward the stairs.
“Say we’re okay, Lily. Please. I need to know we’re okay,” Abby whispered as Lily passed her. But Lily didn’t say a word as she headed up the stairs.
Abby heard her grandparents and Mom moving around, dissecting what had occurred, but she wasn’t listening. She was staring at Wes.
“Abby, I’m sorry, I only came by to check on you, I never meant for it to happen like this. But now Lily knows and we can all move forward. She’ll understand. We’ll make her understand.”
She let Wes wrap his arms around her, let him feel her warmth, breathe in her scent. She hugged him tightly, pressing her body against his, the baby, his baby, pressed against his stomach. She wanted him to feel powerful and strong, like the big man he thought he was.
She leaned in so that only he could hear her. “I will never forgive you. If you come near Lily or me again, you will never see your baby. You hear me, Wes? Stay the fuck away.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
RICK
Yo, Hanson, you piece of shit, you’ve got a visitor.”
Rick sat up from his cot, eyeing the middle-aged, dopey-faced guard with disdain. Rick knew this guard. Fred something. He’d taught Fred’s two unremarkable sons, a couple of refrigerator-sized boys who thought they were hot shit because they could tackle other meatheads on a football field. He’d met Fred at Parents’ Night and he’d thought he was a prick then, acting like he knew literature when he’d probably never even cracked open a book.
Today though, Rick saw hatred in the man’s eyes. It didn’t bother him. There were lots of people like Fred, people afraid of taking risks. They ignored their baser desires, content to live ordinary, unfulfilled lives. Some people were destined to follow the rules; others were outliers, people who eschewed society’s moral conventions and went for what they wanted. Rick knew that Lily’s accusations would leave him a pariah in the eyes of many, but he was certain he’d have his supporters too. All misunderstood men did. Rick wasn’t interested in Fred though.
His attention was focused on the female guard, a trainee, he’d realized, who was in charge of fastening his handcuffs and ankle cuffs. She was a piggish-looking woman with a massive forehead, a weak chin, and a squat body that her polyester uniform only seemed to accentuate. Her bleach-blond hair was long and frizzy, and she was in serious need of professional styling. She was the kind of woman that a man would have to be blackout drunk to take to bed. Rick didn’t know her name yet. But she had basically saved his life. If she hadn’t stopped his beating, if she hadn’t intervened, warned the two men that their jobs were in jeopardy, Rick would have ended up in the ICU or maybe even a body bag. He hoped at some point to get a moment alone with her to thank her, but for now he was focused on his first visitor, his wife Missy. As Fred and the fat-assed guard led him toward the visiting room, Rick was curious to see how this would play out.
Finding a wife had always been a priority. His appetite, his sexual desires were not the norm. He’d been with plenty of girls in high school and none of them even scratched the surface of what he wanted. He was smart enough to know that he needed to be careful. If he was going to indulge—and he most certainly intended to do so—he needed to organize his life in a way that made that possible. Marriage was important. People trusted a married man. They viewed them as stable. The wedding band itself symbolized responsibility and commitment. It was the perfect disguise. After a brief stint in the army, he’d enrolled in college, using the GI bill to pay his way through school. He enjoyed plenty of the vapid coeds on campus, but as graduation neared, he’d realized it was time to start planning for the future. There were specific requirements for his bride-to-be. She needed to be attractive, but not so much that she would draw the attention of other men. She needed to be sexy enough for them to have an ordinary, active sex life. She needed to be book smart but not intuitive or perceptive or jealous by nature. She needed to have traditional views on marriage and family, and solid religious values.
He was lucky that even in this day and age, large public universities were still breeding grounds for girls with those specific traits. He thought the search for his future wife would be difficult. He’d had to take an elective and there was a psychology and human behavior course that he thought would be an easy A. He’d walked in and Missy instantly caught his eye. She was put together, well dressed, had a moneyed look about her. But it was her eagerness, like an untrained puppy, that really got his attention. Missy always sat in the front row, bombarding the professor with overly simplistic questions or complicating her own answers when called upon. It was clear she’d spent too much time watching Criminal Minds and Law and Order, determined to show her intelligence to the world. Her innocence and lack of intellect made her perfectly suited for his needs.
He’d bided his time, asking fellow classmates about her, observing her at frat parties. Upon further inspection, he saw that she had perfected the art of flirting, knowing how to make a guy feel special with a look or a well-placed touch. She could hold her alcohol—never appeared sloppy or out of control. She’d volunteered with campus ministry and was studying early childhood education. The best part: She was from North Carolina, old money. Her parents were eager to see their only daughter get what she wanted. He couldn’t have designed a better future wife if he’d tried ordering her from a catalog. There had been several other candidates, but the other girls were far too eager to spread their legs for any frat bro in sight. From what he’d observed, Missy was genuinely a good girl. If he had to be legally committed to one woman, he could do worse. Once he’d decided she was the one, he’d made his move, approaching her at the student union building. Missy sat alone, her oversized sweater falling off her shoulder as she nibbled on the tip of her pen. Her eyes lit up when he approached. He’d grinned and casually leaned against the table where she was studying.
“Missy, right? I just wanted to say your assessments on attachment theory were really insightful.”
Missy was beyond flattered. Her eyes lit up and she’d launched into an impassioned speech about attachment theory and its effect on relationships. Rick patiently waited until she’d run out of breath and a rational argument. He leaned in closer and brushed the hair out of her eyes. He saw the excited glimmer, a look he’d seen with dozens of conquests. He’d known then and there that she was his. If he’d asked her to come back to his dorm, she would have gone willingly. But she wasn’t some one-night stand. She was his future wife. He’d wanted to do things right. He’d asked if she was hungry, and they headed over to the Porch, the campus favorite, tucking into a corner booth and talking for hours about her family, about classes, about their future.
He was an English major and an aspiring novelist, but upon graduation he hoped to teach high school. Missy said her parents had been pressuring her to go to law school, but she also wanted to work with children. He’d walked her back to her sorority house and kissed her tenderly. A month later, he told her that he loved her, and eight months after that they were married. She was attractive enough, and the sex was adequate, but mostly, they worked because Missy’s trusting nature allowed him to lead a specific kind of life.
Fred and the frumpy nameless guard led Rick down several long corridors and into the secure visiting area. A row of glass windows separated inmates from visitors, a phone connecting the two. He was surrounded by guards, and so was Missy. She didn’t notice him at first. She was sitting, staring into space, grief clouding her features. In almost fifteen years of marriage, he’d never seen her leave the house without a full face of makeup, but today she’d made an exception. Her eyes were red-ringed, her cheeks were swollen, and she was wearing a tracksuit, of all things. Rick was beyond disappointed in her.
Missy looked up and saw him. Her hand fluttered to her mouth in that overly dramatic Southern manner she’d never lost. He knew the bruises made him appear monstrous, but he gave a half smile, thankful they hadn’t knocked out any teeth. He slowly took a seat, wincing for dramatic effect as he picked up the phone. On the other side of the glass, Missy clutched the receiver, her words spilling out.
