Mended Affections (The Affections Series Book 2) (10 page)

"Hey, Uncle Striker. Wanna sit next to me?" Colt asks. "I'm gonna say grace"

Striker is smiling wide as he enters the room. I guess he’s feeling better about what happened upstairs, and he never experienced her hatred of me once I married Dalton. Plus, he already knows what she needs to talk to me about. Maybe I should have had him tell me. Who knows what it is? I don't want to freak out in front of this woman. I don't want her to hold that type of power over me.

Mrs. Knowles walks over to the table with a mug of coffee for me. "Here you go, dear. I hope you still drink it the same."

I cautiously take the mug from her hands, feeling worried about what her kindness really means. "Thank you."

Everyone gathers around the table, filling our plates. Colt says grace, in his sweet little voice, and we all dig in. Dylan and Colt seem happy that she is here, talking and laughing with her like she is an integrated part of their lives. Max, on the other hand, sits quietly across the table from me, looking mostly at his food. I want to get up, grab his hand, and lead him away, so I can wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. I hate how hard things are for him.

Fortunately, breakfast does not last long. I barely eat two bites, because I'm so nervous. I look around as the sound of chairs scraping the floor catches my attention. "Are you boys sure you've had enough?"

All three mumble a yes, as they retreat to the living room, followed by Striker. My mother-in-law gathers plates and silverware and heads to the sink. "Mrs. Knowles, what are you doing? Please stop. I'll take care of all that."

Her back stiffens and she places the dishes in the sink. "Please call me Becky."

She has never told me to call her anything else other than Mrs. Knowles. "Okay, but old habits are hard to break."

Turning toward me, she has the look of an ice queen. "Well, try hard because I am not a missus anymore, so Becky will be just fine."

Not a missus anymore, how? "What? You and Mr. Knowles separated, but you guys have been together for so long."

"Not happily," Mrs. Knowles gathers two fresh mugs of coffee and takes a seat across from me at the table. "Here you go."

"Why are you here? After all these years, you finally want to talk and work things out? It's hard for me to understand," I say.

"Well, first I need to apologize to you. I took things out on you that weren't your fault. Losing my son has helped me see that life is too short, and I am missing out on sharing it with people who are a part of me, a part of my family. I don't want to live with so much hate in my heart anymore." Her eyes lower and she stares at her mug as she continues. "Reagan, when you and your mother moved into our neighborhood, it wasn't a coincidence."

I sit up straighter in my seat, confused by her statement. "What do you mean, not a coincidence?"

"Neil knew your mother prior to your moving there." She shakes her head and laughs sardonically. "He knew her very well, actually."

"Knew her very well, what does that mean?" I ask, afraid of what the answer might be.

"They were having an affair, for years. Your mother moved there after your father left her, thinking she could convince Neil to leave our family," she says.

"No, I know she had problems, but she would never sleep with a married man." I feel the heaviness of my eyes, as my brow furrows in question. "Would she?"

Mrs. Knowles reaches across the table, placing her hand on mine. She's lying, wouldn't someone have known, or at least suspected? I yank my hand from under hers and stand. "There's no way. Why are you here doing this? I already don't have a relationship with my mother, so what's the purpose?"

"There is no purpose, other than for me to explain to you why I have acted terrible toward you over the years. I was just an angry bitter woman, taking things out on you because I couldn't control anything that was going on in my own life." Her voice is pained, so I look up into her eyes, and they are filled with tears. "I pushed away people who would have loved me, because the man I loved so desperately crushed me."

"I don't believe you," I whisper.

She nods her head and brushes away a stray tear. "When is the last time you talked to your mom, Reagan? She wasn't even present at Dalton's funeral. There's a reason for that. I'm not here to make you hate her. I'm only here to help you understand why I was so angry for so long. I also want to apologize for taking it out on you."

I can't believe she's going on with this. I haven't talked to my mom in a while. Striker was the one to contact her about Dalton's passing, but she didn't travel here because she was sick, he said. I just assumed she was too screwed up from her drinking. "My mom is a lot of things, mainly an alcoholic, but not a home wrecker. I saw what it did to her after my father left."

Mrs. Knowles stands from the table and walks to stand in front of me. "I know you don't want to hear this, it's not easy for anyone, but Neil and your mother met a long time ago. They saw each other occasionally, while your mother was still married. I'm pretty sure that's why your father left."

My anger is getting the best of me. I feel hot, and my breathing is becoming rapid. "NO! You didn't know my father, or what he was like. I won't listen to this anymore. Please leave!" I yell.

Striker rushes into the kitchen. I'm pacing back and forth, my hands rest on my hips as I try to calm myself. He's at my side in an instant, placing his hands on my shoulders. He stops my stride, bending his head down to capture my stare with his.

"Rea?" My name is a whisper on his lips.

"Why is she doing this?" I ask, hoping his answer is one that I'll want to hear.

"I know this is hard, but she's being honest with you. I spoke with my uncle after she told me, and he confirmed everything. Their divorce was final four months ago. A week later he married your mother." Striker speaks with caution, analyzing my every breath, every twitch of my body, and every look in my eyes.

I feel like I've been smacked in the face, stunned by the fact that my mother is married. She never called, never emailed, and never once told me that she was getting married. How could she not tell me? I know it's because she married my husband’s father, but still, I'm her only daughter. How could she do this? He was a married man with a family: a family that was trying to raise an orphaned nephew, after his parent's death. I always knew my mother was selfish, but this takes things to an entirely different level.

"Why did you stay so long then? How long have you known?" I ask, confused about how any woman could put up with that type of behavior from their spouse.

Mrs. Knowles sits back down at the table, folding her hands in front of her. "I found out shortly after you moved into the neighborhood."

I turn back to Striker, sadness washes over me, putting out the burning anger. I just stare into his eyes, trying to gain some kind of understanding. She never hated me, just the idea of my family. I can understand why she didn't want the boys involved with me. I was always visiting her home, and if she's anything like me, I was a constant reminder of her husband's affair, but why would she stay? Why didn't she leave all those years ago?

I walk over to her, sliding into the chair next to her. "Why did you stay? All of these years, you never once left."

She chuckles again, "Sometimes you put yourself through the worst, so your children can have a stable home. Striker had already suffered enough loss and was uprooted from his home. I couldn't do that to him again. Once they were grown, it was just an old habit that didn't die easily. I was used to there being another woman. Now I wish I had done things differently, instead of staying after the boys were out of the house. I wish I had left and spent my life with people who loved me, and I could have loved them back." She turns toward me, tears streaming down her face, and grabs my hand. "I'm sorry for how I've treated you in the past. I hope that you can forgive me. I would love to have a relationship with the boys. I just want to have a family again."

I don't know what happens to me with her plea, but I lean forward and wrap my arms around her shoulders, hugging her tight as she sobs against me. This woman has lived most of her married life with an unfaithful man, only staying for her children's welfare, and then recently lost the child that she gave so much up for.

"Of course you can see the boys. I'm sorry my mother has done this to your family. I have to be honest though, some things are hard to forget, and it will take me some time to trust you completely and to feel comfortable around you." I sit back leaving my hands on her shoulders. "You have really hurt me over the years."

"I know," she begins to speak, but I interrupt her.

"Wait, I have more to say. I forgive you." I release her, and walk back over to Striker, grabbing his hand in mine. "You can thank this man for that, because he has forgiven me when I did the unforgivable. You have raised two very respectable men, and I hope that my boys turn out just like them." Striker moves behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders to show his support, and lightly running his thumbs back and forth. "I haven’t been the best person either. You lied to Striker about what you saw that day, in Dalton's bedroom. He left me because of what you told him, but not only did he leave me, he left his son that day, too."

Mrs. Knowles's eyes widen in shock, and her hand snaps up to cover her mouth.

"I kept something so amazing from him, because I thought he just walked away from me for all those years, never knowing what he was told. That was my mistake, and I don't blame you for that, I haven't for a while now. It was hard to understand back then, but I see my mistakes now. Striker would have been an amazing father to Dylan from day one, but I never gave him that chance." I sound as defeated as I feel. There have been so many lies.

Why is it human nature to cover up and hide the ugly things in life? Nothing or no one is perfect. We all wear this facade, and pretend like our lives are this beautiful thing, never interrupted by real life situations. We hide our real selves from the world, because we don't want others to think badly of us. We repress our feelings and the truth. Only, repression can damage a person so badly, that they are altered in a way so deep, it's hard for them to see the change. They hurt others and begin to pick out the bad and judge anyone they can, unintentionally covering up their own faults.

Life is harsh, especially when filled with lies and resentment. I've heard people say the truth will set you free. I want to live by those words. I don't want to have my mind bogged down with meaningless thoughts. I want to fill it with beautiful memories.

"No more lies," I say, and walk toward my mother-in-law. "There cannot be any more lies. If you can promise me that, then I will welcome you to see the boys."

She's still sitting there, unable to form words as she processes the fact that I lied about Dylan's father. She nods her head. "I would love to see them more. I promise, Reagan, but I have to know. Was Dalton aware that Dylan wasn't his?"

"From day one. We were never together that way until long after we married. He stepped in when I didn't think there was another way." I'm still uncomfortable talking about the past in front of Striker. That time of my life is not something I'm proud of, and it lead me to make a lot of wrong decisions along the way.

Tears are freely rolling down Mrs. Knowles's cheeks. It's like someone stripped her of the woman I've always known and replaced her with someone who can actually feel. Her voice is strained as she talks through her tears. "I'm so sorry, Striker, I don't know what to say. I've done some unforgivable things in my life, but trying to send you away like I did was the worst. God, I never knew she was pregnant, but I did know that Dalton would never hurt you that way. I fabricated that story to help you choose a path that took you away from Reagan. I never would have done something to take you away from your son.

"I was especially angry that day. I had known about Neil’s affair for years, but never once had he flaunted their relationship in front of me, or brought her into our home. The pain you feel seeing your spouse in bed with someone else is indescribable. I can still picture them, as if it was yesterday. I was hurt and angry. I took it out on all of you. I hate what my circumstance turned me into. I don't want to be that person anymore. I spent too many years full of hate and resentment." Her chair scrapes across the floor, as she stands. "I'm sorry, I just need a minute."

Just like that she's flees from the kitchen. I'm left here, pondering her words. There's a connection that we share. Our lives have been lived in the same way, full of resentment and anger toward the men that we love.  I'm not sure how I feel about all of this. I don't want to believe her, but I know Striker would never lie to me about my mother. I hate that there is just one more thing to add to the very long list of mistakes my mother made throughout my life, but is there really even a point to keeping track anymore? She hasn't been the type of person I needed her to be since day one.

Striker's presence warms my thoughts. At least I have a man standing behind me, every step of the way. Our love was broken based on a misunderstanding, and immaturity, not deceit or infidelity. As I turn, his hands drop from my shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asks.

A sad smile graces my lips. "I don't know. I can't imagine what she feels like."

"She's not asking you to. All she wants is to feel like part of a family again." His hand sweeps my hair behind my shoulder, before tucking it behind my ear.