If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(13)

A noise in the kitchen caught our attention, so we walked through the living and dining rooms, stepping around a laundry basket on the way. Dirty coffee cups lay abandoned on various tables; a days-old National Enquirer draped a chair—a highly unusual state of affairs.

We found Mom in the kitchen, feverishly working to cover something up. A faint whiff of burned plastic hung in the air.

“Hey, Mom.” Kevin opened his arms for a hug.

She looked up dazedly. “Oh, Kevin! What are you doing here?”

His large frame dwarfed hers when she went in for the hug. Kevin looked at me over her shoulder, his brows gathered low. “You two asked me to come out to talk.” He eased away to look her in the eye, but she avoided his gaze.

“Oh yes. That.”

When she frowned, my heart ached anew. Losing my dad so soon after she’d retired had been enough of a blow. They’d been planning a series of trips—an Alaskan cruise, a vacation in Florence—and looking into renting a condo in Sarasota each winter. Like me, Mom didn’t adapt quickly to change, so it had taken her weeks to leave the house after his funeral, and months to come to grips with the fact that her husband was gone. My pregnancy had been a catalyst for her turning the corner, by giving her something to look forward to. She hadn’t needed me to complicate her life with my mess now.

“Mom, take Kevin to the living room and catch up on Billy’s latest antics. I’ll fix some tea and meet you in two minutes.”

Kevin nodded before guiding her to the other room while chatting. His proud tone as he spoke about his family contrasted mightily with Lyle’s. Given how devastated my husband had been by his own mother’s abandonment, I couldn’t comprehend the way lust was affecting Lyle’s thinking—until I recalled the zeal with which he’d once pursued me. Imagining that gleam in his eye aimed at another woman hardened my stomach.

I snatched the turquoise-colored teakettle that had sat on Mom’s stove since the ’80s and filled it with water. A frying pan with the remnants of a melted spatula stuck to its center lay in the sink. Was my mom losing it? I couldn’t handle that right now. Please, God, let it be nothing more than stress.

While the water heated, I scraped at the melted bits of plastic, but it was useless. Another thing I couldn’t fix. Setting the ruined pan aside, I gazed at the Turner family memory jar. Same aging label. Fewer scrolls for this time of year because, with us kids all gone, only the biggest celebrations made it in there now.

My dad had once suggested we put bad memories in there, too, because at the end of the year you could look back and see how far you’d come. Mom had rejected that outright, preferring to gloss over hardships and unpleasantries. Since the memory jar had been Mom’s idea, no one but Erin ever put negative memories in there. Today would be no exception.

When I brought a tray with the teacups into the living room, my brother and mom had seated themselves on the sofa. I moved the stray newspaper and took the chair. No one reached for a teacup.

Having not rehearsed how to begin, I ripped off the proverbial Band-Aid. “Kevin, Lyle is having an affair—”

“We don’t know that,” my mom interjected, although her vehemence had lessened in the past forty-eight hours.

“It’s a fact.” I averted my eyes to avoid the flash of disappointment that would flicker through hers. “He confirmed it, but I needed time to process everything before sharing it with you.”

Her shoulders collapsed, and she covered her face with her hands. When pity lit Kevin’s eyes, I dropped my chin.

“I’m sorry, sis. Did you want help finding a good divorce lawyer? We’ve got some excellent ones in my firm.”

My head snapped up. “No! We’re not there yet.”

“Why the hell not?” Kevin barked like our dad occasionally had when we’d done something stupid—or, rather, like he had when Kevin or I had messed up. Dad had gotten a kick out of Erin’s rambunctious attitude and impulsiveness, so he’d met her mistakes with tempered disappointment mixed with a twinkle in his eye. I’d spent my youth working hard for that twinkle—routinely instigating surprise cleanups and doing the laundry for Mom, or making high honors at school—but Erin had earned them simply by breathing.

“Divorce is so final . . . It’s too soon for that.” I rubbed my stomach. “Lyle’s asked for a little time to sort through his feelings and figure things out. I’m not making excuses, but people have affairs—they get bewitched and make mistakes. Sometimes they learn that they had what they needed all along. We have a baby coming. I think he’ll come home.”

“A little time?” Kevin cursed Lyle’s name, earning himself a slap on the arm from our mom.

“Language!” Mom frowned.

“Sorry.” He squeezed her hand, then looked at me. “Let’s say he deigns to return. Can you be happy with him—or trust him—ever again?”

Before I replied, Mom jumped in. “If Amanda wants to save her marriage, she needs support, not ridicule.”

Her attitude didn’t surprise me, even if Kevin seemed taken aback. I’d been her golden girl, and golden girls didn’t get dumped for bimbos and end up as single moms, especially not if Madeline Turner could help it.

Kevin blew out a breath.

“It bothers me to think of Amanda staying married to a disloyal liar.” When he glanced at me, I had to look away. “He’s lucky he’s not here. I honestly think I’d rip his head off.”