A Curve in the Road(73)

So here we are. I’m staring at the light at the end of the tunnel. I want to reach for it. I suspect Paula wants to reach for it too.

But she doesn’t apologize for anything, nor does she ask my forgiveness. She reaches into her purse, withdraws a photograph, lays it on the table, and slides it toward me.

I gaze down at it and feel a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach. Why is she showing me this? Has she not trespassed enough? And how did she come upon it?

I pick up the photo of Zack as an infant, look at it closely, and frown at her. “What are you trying to do here?”

Her eyes fill with wetness. “I just want you to know.”

“Know what?”

Then suddenly I realize that I don’t remember this baby picture. I certainly never took it myself, and if Alan had, he would have shown it to me. And why would he have given it to Paula anyway?

As I look more closely, the shock of discovery hits me full force. My eyes lift, and I meet Paula’s troubled gaze across the table. “Is this what I think it is?”

She slowly nods her head. “Yes. That’s my son.”

My heart is pounding so fast I’m afraid I might fall out of my chair. The resemblance between this child and Zack is uncanny.

It’s obvious that the baby belongs to Alan. There can be no denying it.

I drop the picture onto the table as if it has just burst into flames.

Paula struggles to explain. “I’m so sorry, Abbie. I didn’t know I was pregnant when I met you in the bar that day. I found out a few weeks later, and I haven’t had a drink since. Michael kicked me out when I told him, but not before he lost his mind with rage. So I’m not sorry to be rid of him. I’m living with my mom now, and I’m getting a divorce.”

I stare wordlessly at her. I’m still numb with shock, and anger is swirling around me again. I feel like I’m being sucked back into the vortex of my grief and bitterness.

“I’m telling you this,” she continues, “because we’re connected. And I’m sorry that I ruined your life, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. Alan was so good to me. He was such a decent guy. He wasn’t anything like my husband, and I don’t think you know how lucky you were.” She holds up a hand. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted to say to you today. What matters now is that we have these two boys who are half brothers, and I just couldn’t keep that to myself.”

My head is swimming, and I feel sick as images of my late husband flash before my eyes.

The first moment I laid eyes on Alan in the anatomy lab.

His battered body on the table in the ER when I first realized he was the drunk driver who hit me.

Zack’s grief as he laid flowers on his father’s grave just one day ago.

I reach out and push the photograph away from me. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t know either,” Paula replies as she slips the photo back into her purse. “I’m sure this is a shock to you. Just take some time to think about it, and if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me or to set aside the bad blood between us, I would love for my son to know his older brother.” She makes a move to rise. “So . . . you know where to find me. I’ll be here in town, and I’ll always be sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, Abbie, and for hurting your family. I mean that. Truly I do.”

She gets up and leaves.

I go home and finally tell my mother everything.

Then I call Nathan, and we talk on the phone for hours while I struggle to sort out how I’m going to handle this.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

When I was pregnant with Zack and my belly was the size of a beach ball, Alan got down on his knees in the kitchen of our new home and felt our baby kick.

“This one’s going to be a soccer player,” he said with a grin, “and he’s going to score lots of goals.”

“Maybe he’ll want to be on the debate team,” I replied with a playful flicker of defiance in my eyes.

“No,” Alan replied. “This boy’s going to be an athlete. But he’ll be book smart too. And he’s going to be a good person. He’ll be kind and open-minded and compassionate toward others.”

I pulled my husband to his feet and took his face in my hands. “I can’t wait to bring him home from the hospital.”

“Neither can I. And we’re going to be great parents, because the last thing I want is for our boy to grow up in a house like the one I grew up in. I want to set a better example. I don’t ever want our son to feel weak for being sensitive or caring.” Alan frowned and shook his head with disbelief. “I never understood why my dad thought he had to be cruel and beat somebody down in order to feel strong. That’s just not right.”

“We’ll teach our son all that,” I said to Alan as I pulled him into my arms. “Just like you said, we’re going to be great parents.”

Today, Zack is the best person I know. I’m proud of the man he has become. At least Alan and I got that right, and I have no regrets about the job we did and all the little decisions we made while raising our son together.

But there is still so much that Zack needs to learn about life.

He’s a strong young man. Maybe I need to give him more credit. Maybe I need to recognize that he’s stronger than I think.