If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(110)

Six months ago, those words wouldn’t have taken a shovel to my chest and carved out half of me. “Amanda, wait. Where are you going?”

“For a walk. I need to think.” She waddled across the living room and through the front door, closing it quietly behind her with a finality that stole my breath.

My screwup had pushed my mother, sister, and me as far apart as we’d ever been, and I had no idea how to—or if I could—fix it. I would’ve dissolved into a puddle, but there wasn’t time.

I sat at the table with my eyes closed, begging my dad for some sign. A direction. Advice. Nothing happened. No ray of light, no whispers, no sign that he was there unless he remained silent to force me to move on without him.

No matter what came next, we could not let Amanda believe she was on her own. With my dad unavailable to me, I’d have to rely on my mother. I pulled Mo onto my lap to cuddle while I called her.

“Hello?”

“Mom, it’s me. I know you’re still ticked off at us for involving the authorities, but you need to come home today.”

“Is something wrong with the baby?” Her distress rang out.

“No!” Knock on wood. That was about the only thing that hadn’t gone wrong in the past hour. “But Amanda’s talking about moving out of town after Willa’s born.”

“Has something else happened?” Her tone hardened.

“She saw Lyle today . . .” Closing my eyes to brace for her meltdown, I explained how he’d used what had happened in February to hurt Amanda. Afterward, I held the phone away from my ear, expecting a major tongue-lashing the likes of which used to send me to sulk on our roof. The ensuing silence was worse. “Mom?”

“I’m here.” Instead of fury, I heard resignation and fatigue.

Unaccustomed to skirting the blame, I remained poised in self-defense mode. “I’m sorry. I know you prefer to steer clear of all this, but I’m really worried about Amanda.”

“Did she pack a bag?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. And how are you holding up?”

“Me?” What had Aunt Dodo done with my mother?

“Yes. Obviously you’ve been holding this in for weeks, probably kicking yourself. That’s a lot to handle.”

When I released a pent-up sigh, Mo licked me. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad?” She huffed. “You think your little role in all this makes you special? Lyle took us all for a ride, and we all fell for it. I can’t take enough showers to come clean, but it’s no more your fault than any of ours.”

I wished I owned stock in Kleenex for the amount of tissues I’d used up today. “I appreciate that, Mom . . . so what are we going to do about Amanda?”

She blew out a breath. “I know how she feels—the need to escape—but running here didn’t solve anything for me.” She went quiet. Then, in a surprise turn of events, she said, “I’ll be home tonight.”

“Really?”

“Naturally, Erin. When my children need me, I’ll always be there. And we have your father’s memorial brunch.”

“Thank you.” It occurred to me that I didn’t say those words often enough. “I’m glad we’ll all be together for that.”

“Yes. All but William.” Then she inhaled sharply. “I just had a brilliant idea. I’m going to beg Nancy for an emergency session. William might finally show up if we’re gathered together in his honor.”



It’d been a year, but sitting in our living room surrounded by somber faces and silence made it feel like Dad’s funeral all over again. That remained the worst day of my life.

I remembered how Max wouldn’t stop shadowing me, as if he’d expected me to shatter into a thousand pieces if left alone. Inside, I’d already broken, so there was nothing he could’ve done to stop it. I’d stood in the corner, wishing I didn’t have to listen to our neighbors sharing personal stories about my dad. It hurt to hear them laugh about this time or that, while it was all I could do not to drop to the floor and wail. The absence of music had thrown me, too. My dad had always had a record playing, but I couldn’t bear to hear music that day, so we’d left the turntable untouched.

Kevin had leaned against the wall, keeping little Billy on his hip, as if acutely aware of the fleeting gift fatherhood could be. I couldn’t believe my mom slinked away from the company and put herself to bed. If I’d tried that, she’d never let me hear the end of it.

My stomach had twisted while I watched Lyle speak to our company as if he’d been part of the family for decades. But even that hadn’t infuriated me as much as watching Amanda break into hostess mode—refreshing pitchers of iced tea and replenishing platters of food. I couldn’t understand why she gave a shit about what the community thought of the wake when we’d just watched our father go into the ground.

It’d taken me all year to realize that busywork helped my sister process her feelings. Like now, she was fluffing the pillows and neatening the magazines on the coffee table.

She hadn’t said ten words to me since our argument. In fact, she’d rarely made eye contact. Kevin had come alone today because Billy had a fever and an ear infection, so he kept glancing at his watch. Even Mo hid, curled up by the potted philodendron in the corner.