If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(10)

Between the deck and the volleyball court in the sand stood a tall pole with colorful arrow-shaped signs pointing in different directions. Each one was painted with the name of a different city somewhere on the globe, along with the mileage to get there. We’d dream about all the places we might go, and after high school I’d had the chance to see many. In this picture, our whole family is standing around that sign, smiling at the camera. My dad has his hand on my shoulder, and if you look closely, you can see Amanda holding my hand. I must’ve been only five or six—young enough that she hadn’t given up trying to be my second mother. At the time, I’d felt smothered by her attention, but looking back, I’d also felt loved.

I grabbed my phone and called my sister, but it went to voice mail. A heaviness pressed on me, but I couldn’t tell if it was from looking at that picture of our family that would never again be whole or from the fact that I’d disappointed my mom and sister today.

They loved me in their way even if they couldn’t love and accept me as I was. My dad had, though, and to honor his memory and wishes for our family, I couldn’t continue to drift out of their lives as I’d been doing.

After the beep, I said, “Hey, it’s moi. Surprise! My plans have changed and I’ve got a little time. If you get this message, let me know where you are and I’ll try to catch up.”

I hit “End,” my feet restlessly kicking the end of my bed. The small bedroom seemed claustrophobic, but I didn’t want to talk to Max. Not that I could avoid him in here, either, where his dirty laundry, sandals, and other items lay about. Rather than take a match to it all, I decided to organize some of his things to help with his packing. Hauling myself off the bed, I then went to the armoire to get to the vintage albums my dad had left me in his will.

Some were fairly valuable, like the Beatles collection box set from 1982, valued at roughly a thousand bucks. Or the Led Zeppelin first pressing with the turquoise label, which should net around eight hundred or so dollars. U2’s Joshua Tree collection box set from 1987—maybe worth six or seven hundred. Then there were others worth less than one hundred dollars. But each one had infinite sentimental value.

Every song resurrected a specific memory of time spent with my father playing cards, washing cars, grilling hot dogs . . . anything. Whatever he’d wanted to do, I’d done with him, and he’d always chosen the perfect background soundtrack for every activity. Those stolen moments had also been a great way to escape my mom’s endless lectures and demands. She’d never yelled at me for skipping out on chores or being messy when I’d been spending that time with him. Probably because he wouldn’t let her.

At present, my restlessness matched the mood of a typical Bob Seger song, so I grabbed Beautiful Loser and slipped the record from its sleeve, resisting the urge to hug it as if it were my dad. I set it on the old turntable he’d also left me. As the few first drumbeats clangored, my heart kicked an extra beat or two—partly happy, partly sad. I glanced toward the bedroom door, picturing Max on the sofa, and then got to work.

It didn’t matter where life led me next. I had faith because my own personal angel was looking out for me now.

Que será, será.





CHAPTER THREE

AMANDA

My mother’s optimism had gotten me through the day, despite my being jumpy anytime my phone rang. I now sat in front of the computer, double-checking the online registry to make sure the items we’d selected were properly linked. The sweet-looking swaddling blankets and dresses made me smile, but I secretly most coveted one of the practical items—a handsome three-in-one portable crib, diaper bag, and changing station. What a marvelous invention!

I couldn’t wait to see my daughter’s face. To smell her skin and feel the downy baby hair. To listen to the baby gurgles and press strawberry kisses on her bare tummy. To nurture and teach and drown in all the love for her that was building.

After I’d double-checked everything, I closed out of the computer and made a pit stop at the restroom before collecting the mail.

Making my way back to the kitchen, I sifted through the envelopes, stopping midstride when I saw Lyle’s handwriting. He hadn’t sent me a love note since our first year of marriage. The envelope was postmarked from Miami two days earlier.

I set the rest of the mail aside and sat at the table while tearing into the letter.

Amanda,

I am writing because a phone call would be more difficult on us both. There is no easy way to tell you that I think I have fallen in love with someone else.

It felt as if my rib cage collapsed. Oh God, I’m an idiot. All day I’d thought the worst-case scenario was some stupid fling, but not this. This couldn’t be happening. I blinked back hot tears to keep reading.

I know the timing is bad with the baby on the way, but I didn’t plan it. It just happened. Now I owe it to myself—and to you—to be honest and explore my feelings.

With so much at stake, I need time to figure out what is best for all of us, so it makes sense to do that here while I nail down this deal. I trust your family will give you the emotional support you need while I work through my feelings. I know I’m asking a lot, but if you could give me a couple of weeks of space, I will be in touch as soon as I feel certain of my decision.

Lyle

Not even “Love, Lyle.”

As a teacher and lifelong reader, I’d known words could be more lethal than a bullet. Now my body was as cold as any corpse.