Wild Flower (15 page)

Aubrey's cousin Jen redirected her attention then, probably inadvertently, and Dodge was suddenly coming towards us, blocking my view of her across the shifting crowd.

“You want me to ask her to go?” Dodge asked, hunkering down near our chair. His eyes were direct with sincerity and concern; he looked between Justin and me.

Justin let me answer, and I replied, keeping my voice as smooth as I was able, “No, it's all right. I don't care.”

“Well, I care,” Dodge said, patting my knee. I had told an obvious lie, but he let it slide. His presence was so reassuring; I reflected how much I loved my father-in-law, who had always been like an actual father to me as well. After Justin and Liz's mother left Landon, Dodge had held it together for his kids, and I had always admired him for that love and stability. Justin's mother, Marjorie, had never even seen Rae, and barely knew Liz's triplets, who were in their teens now, and though Justin was matter-of-fact about this, I knew it still stung him. Sometimes that was the trade-off, I knew well, as my own father had never been in the picture for Joelle or me. Perhaps having one good, solid parent was worth enough. I knew Justin emotionally depended on Dodge a great deal, though he hardly ever spoke of it.

Dodge sighed and said, “All right then, honey. Tell me if you change your mind. I know she's only here to upset you, and that upsets me.”

Justin's arms tightened around me, and I knew he felt the same.

“No, it's all right,” I said again, heartened by my family's concern for me.

“I'll get that damn car fixed and then I hope she leaves town for good,” Dodge said. He caught Justin's eye, over my shoulder and added, “You just say the word, boy.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Justin said.

“I'll be at the fire with the little ones,” Dodge said.

Wordo followed Dodge to collect fresh drinks for us, leaving Justin and I relatively alone, and I tried hard to keep my eyes from darting back to Aubrey; she might as well have been flashing with Vegas-style neon colors, sequins and the whole slutty bit.

“I never would have guessed that she'd pull this crap,” Justin said, his chest vibrating against my spine as he spoke. I felt him shake his head. He added, “I'm sorry, baby. Don't let her upset you. It's what she wants.”

“Who's upset?” I asked, clearly upset, but then I admitted crisply, “Ok, now I'm pissed.”

Aubrey had eased away from her cousin and was making her way through the semi-rowdy crowd towards the picnic tables. No one really seemed to be paying attention to her progress, except for me, and my heart crackled with electric anger as she skirted a few other lawn chairs. She stopped no more than three paces from us and planted her hands on her hips. I caught the familiar scents of both cigarettes and schnapps emanating from her. For a half-second I felt sixteen again.

“I saw you guys at the parade today,” Aubrey slurred, obviously completely wasted.

Good for you
, I thought, exactly as Justin said calmly, “Well, good.”

“So
cute
,” she mocked. “What a
cute
little family.”

When neither of us replied to this comment, she went on, speaking to Justin, “You owe me.”

I sat straighter, blood rioting through me, prepping me to battle for my husband at any second. Behind me, Justin remained calm; he patted my belly again and though it was not his intent, I felt more like a mama cow than ever, big and fat and awkward, while Aubrey stood there all thin and leggy, reeking of booze.

When again he didn't reply, she ratcheted up the whine in her voice and again addressed Justin, saying, “I need to talk to you.” Her eyes snapped to me, as I had drawn in a large breath, ready to let her have it, and she lashed, “It's none of your business, Jillian
Davis
.”

Justin surely felt the way my heart was pounding furiously, as his left arm was wrapped around my ribs. He said sharply, “Anything you say to me is my wife's business.”

“
I'm
your wife,” Aubrey said, as though without thinking, and then affected a horrible little laugh. She corrected herself, “Maybe not anymore. But you still owe me.”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” I heard myself ask, and my voice was so bristling with hostility that I hardly recognized it.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Aubrey all but purred at me.

My pulse was out of control with anger. I couldn't help but wonder how Justin would be reacting if this situation was reversed; if somehow my ex-husband was behaving this way in front of us. As though there was any chance in hell of that, but still. Justin would have dealt him a fist to the face by this point. Or at least seriously considered it.

“An…explanation,” she went, stumbling over the word. “That's what he owes me.” She looked back at Justin and asked, “So you're Clint's dad now, too?”

“I sure am,” Justin said without missing a beat. I could tell he was not about to get pulled into her icky little ploy. I hated hearing Aubrey speak my son's name.

“You are not,” she said, and then repeated, “You owe me.”

“He doesn't owe you shit!” I raged then, losing all cool. Despite the music and the noise of the crowd, a few heads turned our way.

Aubrey bent closer to me and I saw that her eyes were terribly unfocused. Her breath was boozy and stale. She actually dared to tap my nose with the tip of her index finger and then whispered, “
Fuck you
.”

“Ok, that's it,” Justin said acidly, and he set me gently to the side before standing to direct his cutting words at his ex-wife. He pointed with an outstretched arm towards the parking lot and ordered, “No way do you talk to Jillian that way. Get Jen to take you home.
Now
.”

Moving swiftly for being so drunk, Aubrey lifted both hands and caught Justin's t-shirt in her fists. I thought I might bite through my own tongue as she said, almost pleadingly, “I'm sorry, Justin. I need you. Don't you hear me? You just need to listen…”

Justin took her wrists in his hands and forcibly removed her grip from him. She stumbled and he lowered her onto a lawn chair; I could hardly see through the buzzing red rage in my skull. Justin removed his hands from her at once and he was furious; she had finally succeeded at that. He bent forward to direct his rage at her, firing his words like bullets, “You are the world's best fucking liar, you know that? Jesus Christ, what a great performance. What is wrong with you? You can't handle that I'm happy without you? Are you kidding me? You make me sick.”

I hated most that someone could cause him to get so angry, to even speak such things aloud, though I agreed with his words. Aubrey had that power over him, and I hated her all the more for it, and for ruining our evening in this way. Joelle was suddenly there, Jen Lutz in tow, and things seemed to happen very quickly, and in a blur. Aubrey left with her cousin, tearful and making as much of a scene as possible. Justin's jaw was tense with anger and before he could turn to me Joelle said, “Come on, Jills, let's go inside,” and she led me into Shore Leave.

“You're shaking,” Jo said, clicking on one of the overhead lights. She wrapped me into her arms and smoothed one hand over my loose hair. “I'm sorry. I didn't notice she was here. What a dumb fucking bitch. Jills, are you okay?”

“I want to go home,” I managed to say, clinging to my sister, my voice muffled against her familiar scent, and she was right; my teeth were practically chattering.

The screen door banged open behind us and Justin said, “Baby, I'm so sorry. Come here.”

He brooked no argument and Jo surrendered me into his arms. I wanted to cry but the emotion raging through me would not allow for tears. Justin tipped his face to my loose hair and held me securely to his chest. He said softly, “You're shaking. Christ, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. That was so ridiculous.”

“It's all right,” I whispered. “I just want…to go home.”

He nodded, kissing my right temple, rubbing his hands over my back just as Clint came barging into the café.

He said, “Mom, are you all right? Holy shit, what happened? Did you almost get in a fight?”

I drew away from Justin and gathered myself together, saying firmly, “No.”

“Well then, what happened?” Clint demanded.

“Will you please walk me home?” I asked my son, on sudden inspiration.

“I'll walk you home,” Justin said decisively. Almost immediately he throttled the emotion in his tone down a notch and amended softly, “Let me, please.”

“A bunch of us were going to swim if that's ok, anyway,” Clint said. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“You can swim when you get back,” I said to my son. Justin's arms were still around me, but I was emotionally drained and I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. I told Clint, “Walk me home first. Then you can come straight back here.”

“Jillian,” Justin began, and as I looked up at him my eyes flashed a hot burst of fire into his, surprising me almost as much. I hadn't realized I was also angry at him.

“I'll be at home,” I said, looking away from his familiar dark eyes. I ordered, “Come on, Clint.”

Justin said, “I'll get Rae and be right there,” and in my current mood, I felt like he was attempting to do nothing but get in the last word.

Clint was uncharacteristically silent as we walked the short distance back to our cabin, keeping my hand tucked into the curve of his right elbow. On the porch, while I fumbled for the key hidden in the planter to the right of the door, he asked again, “Are you sure you're all right? Grandma said Dad's ex-wife was being mean to you.”

My dear son, always worried for me. I tugged on him so that he would bend down, and then kissed his cheek. I smoothed hair from his face, tenderly, and changed the subject, saying honestly, “I'm so glad you want to stay around here. I couldn't bear it if you moved too far away from me.”

“Aw, Mom,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “I belong here.” He asked again, “Are you sure you're all right? Dad said he was coming right home.”

“I'm fine,” I assured him, unlocking the door. “You go back and have fun. Tell Aunt Jo that I'm all right, or she'll be worried.”

“I will,” he said. “See you later.”

The trees seemed to be whispering as Clint loped back towards the café. I could still hear Eddie's guitar like a distant music box tinkling through the night, and I tried to let it calm me. I wanted to sit on the swing and watch the forest for a while, but as Clint disappeared back the way we'd come, a strange ripple of fear snaked up my spine and my gaze went dancing towards the pines on the far side of our lot, their individual needles sharply accentuated in the moonlight.

Someone's there,
I thought, strange and sudden.

I hadn't experienced even a hint of a Notion in days, but that's not what this was; instead, I stared blankly into the woods and narrowed my eyes, trying forcibly to send out my awareness, to feel my usual connection. And again, I was met with almost complete nothingness.

Dammit, Jillian, go inside and go to bed,
I ordered myself.
There's nothing there.

But then, that was part of what was so disturbing.

***

Justin came home from Shore
Leave no more than ten minutes later, Rae in tow. After bringing her in to say good-night to me, he spent time reading her a book and tucking her into bed. I could hear the low murmur of his voice, and her sweet, high-pitched lilt in response, and felt most of the anger drain from my body.

But still I pretended to be asleep when Justin came into our room, gently closing the door behind him. The light was out and I sensed him getting undressed, letting his clothes fall to the floor. I unwittingly pictured Aubrey getting her hands around his t-shirt and my insides seized up yet again. She had told him she needed him. There was a part of me that wanted to kill her for even thinking she had the right to say that.

“Baby, I know you're awake,” Justin murmured, drawing back the covers and sliding near. The temptation of his strong, warm, nude body was almost more than I could bear, but stubbornly I didn't answer, pressing my cheek into the pillow. I felt all jacked up and craved a fight close to as much as I craved our hot, intense lovemaking. Justin scooted closer with care, as though approaching an animal not quite tamed. I sensed him on one elbow behind me, studying my back. He whispered, “I'm sorry. I understand that you're mad.”

When I refused to answer, he stroked my hair, just lightly, his touch gentle but only serving to make me hotter and more restless than ever. He said softly, “All right then,” before lying down and rolling to face the opposite direction. I wanted to scream at him all of the thoughts that were clamoring in my head.

Why does she have the power to make you so upset?

I feel like she won a little victory in doing that. Is that stupid?

Do her words mean something to you? Would you rather have never learned that she felt that way?

I sure as hell could have lived without it.

But in the end I fell asleep before saying anything.

“Here's the number at Harry and Meg Carters' house,” I told Mom the next morning, as we sat around table three at the café. It was the Fourth of July, so we would close directly after lunch; Mathias didn't have to work today either and was home packing for our trip, as we were leaving in the morning. I was so excited to go that I could hardly sit still, even as I dreaded the thought of being away from Millie Jo for a week. I added, “But you can just call my phone too.”

“If you remember to charge it,” Mom said, rolling her eyes at me, swiping oatmeal from under Matthew's chin. She knew me too well.

“I'll do my best,” I promised. “I can't wait to see the mountains, Mom. It's our pre-honeymoon, Mathias said.”

“I'm so glad you're happy, sweetheart,” Mom said, smiling tenderly at me; it was the kind of smile that I gave to Millie Jo, specific to mother to her daughter. “You have fun on your trip and don't worry about us back here. See if you can find some answers about this Malcolm.”

I nodded, not wanting to think about how I had again woken in the early hours of the morning with terror gripping my insides; I prayed I wasn't pinning too many hopes on finding answers in Montana, that if we discovered nothing new I would be able to deal with that. I allowed my gaze to drift out the window and towards the dock, where Ruthie was helping Millie Jo into her life jacket. I would never cease to count my blessings that I had such good help in caring for my daughter. Millie might not live in the biggest house and have all the toys she could ever dream of, but she was certainly loved.

“Will Noah expect to see her this week?” Mom asked then, drawing my attention back to her.

“I don't know,” I said honestly. “I haven't talked to him in a while.”

“How's he doing?” Mom asked carefully.

I felt my teeth go on edge, but answered with relative calm, “Marie told me yesterday that he's ‘trying,' whatever that means. He needs to be in AA or something that might help him.” I complained, “It's not my problem.”

Mom said, again gently, “It might not directly be your problem, hon, but he's still your child's father. Believe me, I know how hard it can be. Your dad and I–”

“Mom, all right, I get it,” I interrupted, and then realized I was acting like a child.

Mom covered my left hand with hers. She said, without saying anything at all,
I know you do.

To change the subject I asked, keeping my voice low, even though Aunt Jilly and Rae weren't yet here, “So what happened last night? Was that sleazy-looking woman really Uncle Justin's ex-wife?”

Mom rolled her eyes at my wording and said, “Yes, sadly. It's funny, even way back in high school we all wondered why he was with her. I mean, she's attractive –”

“She looks trampy!” I interrupted.

Mom giggled a little, then looked slightly shamefaced. She helped Matthew down from his booster so he could go get a blueberry muffin from Grandma, and leaned back over the table. Her voice took on a confessional tone as she said, “Aubrey is going a little overboard these days. She didn't used to have that overdone look. She's actually always been pretty, but so shallow. If you dove into her, you'd break your neck.”

“How could anyone be mean to Aunt Jilly?” I asked, honestly stunned. “Didn't this woman cheat on Uncle Justin and then leave town? Where does she get off?”

“Well clearly she's jealous,” Mom said. “But it's not just her. Aubrey, I mean. Something else is bugging Jilly, but I can't figure it out.”

“I know, I've been worried about her too,” I said. “Maybe it's that asshole from the college. I've had to wait on him a couple of times now, but he always wants to sit in Aunt Jilly's section…”

Mom tipped her head at me, questioning, and I was about to explain when I saw Mathias coming across the yard and for a second lost all train of thought, caught up in watching him. Mom turned to follow my gaze.

“He's a good man, Camille,” she said softly. “He loves you so much. And I love him for that.”

It was exactly the way I would describe Blythe, and I said, “Thanks, Mom. I love him too. I can't even explain it.”

“You don't have to explain it,” Mom said. “It's written all over your face, baby girl.” She shot a knowing look my way and teased me, “And he is pretty dang adorable.”

Millie had spied Mathias and ran across the yard to him; he lifted her up and bounced her, grinning, and tears blurred my vision. I agreed, “Yeah, he sure is,” and in the end never got to finish explaining about Zack Dixon.

***

By early evening, Mathias and
I had the truck loaded to bursting. Though Mathias was as much of a slacker about housework as me, he was adamant about making sure we had everything we needed for our trip. In a flurry of impressive organization, he wrote two lists and together we had scoured Bull and Diana's garage, helping ourselves to their array of outdoor gear. The plan was to camp for the first two nights, stay with Harry and Meg Carter in Bozeman for two or three more, before turning the truck back east to head home. Two sleeping bags, an insta-tent, two camp chairs, one cardboard box of camp supplies, one cooler and one duffle later, the truck was ready to make the journey west. Remembering well the long drive from Chicago to Landon every summer, I lined up two bed pillows in the back window, for use on the road.

Mathias jogged back from stashing the truck keys in our apartment; the whole clan was gathered down at the dock, deciding whether to ride in the pontoon or the speedboat. I could hear laughter and chatter, and the familiar rise and fall of Tish and Clint's voices as they argued with each other. Millie Jo squealed about something and I smiled, feeling a shiver of anticipation. I loved watching the fireworks over the water.

“You're so beautiful, come here,” Mathias said, gathering me close for a kiss. “I can hardly wait to have you to myself all week. I'm really just a selfish bastard at heart.”

I giggled and snuggled close to him. I kissed his neck and teased, “Yes, you are. C'mon, let's go get a seat on the motorboat before it gets full!”

I felt Mathias's shoulders stiffen then, as he looked over my shoulder towards the parking lot. He said with surprise, “Noah's here.”

I turned that way and said, “He didn't call. That's weird.”

Noah climbed from his car and fixed his gaze on the café. He was dressed differently; normally he appeared to be about to attend a tennis match, or dine at a country club, never a golden hair out of place. Currently he was wearing a scruffy t-shirt and jeans. He looked our way and then approached slowly. A few feet away, he stopped and pulled off his sunglasses.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not exactly rudely, but I was a little startled. “We're going out on the boat in just a sec.”

He nodded, his eyes moving between Mathias and me, settling at last on me. He replied, “I know. I just…”

I raised my eyebrows bitchily at him as he let the pause linger, annoyed at all of this.

“I'd like to talk to you for a second,” Noah said then, not exactly a demand, but his tone was more assertive than normal. I sensed more than saw Mathias's shoulders square, but he refrained from making any comment. Noah seemed to be holding his breath, his eyes steady on my face, and I was reminded uncomfortably of Mathias's words about how he thought Noah looked longingly at me; there was maybe a trace of that on his face, I was not imagining it, and it made my stomach lurch a little. I rarely thought of the summer Noah and I had been together, preferring not to recall how ridiculous I had acted, like a puppy dying for any little affection he had to offer, but at that moment I unwittingly remembered that Noah had first told me he loved me on the Fourth of July that summer.

And like a fool, I'd believed his every word.

I didn't know what love was
, I thought. Not back then. I hadn't known a thing about it, not until my daughter and Mathias. I tipped my chin to my shoulder, just to look at Mathias as he stood to my right, and his beautiful indigo eyes were patient, carefully hiding all traces of misgiving.

“Do you need his permission?” Noah asked with just a hint of acid in his tone.

It's all right
, I instantly assured Mathias with my eyes; just the slight movement of his eyebrows clearly indicated to me his tension, the gathering storm inside of him. He drew a breath as though to respond to this rude question, before realizing he needed to let me handle this.

I looked back at Noah, who was now gazing just as steadily at Mathias, and there wasn't overt challenge on Noah's face, but challenge nonetheless.

Shit
, I thought.

“No,” I said, and Noah's eyes flickered to mine. I cleared my throat and repeated quietly, “No, I don't need permission and I resent you implying so.” I let that sink in before adding, “What do you need to talk about?”

“It's about Millie,” he told me. Then, seemingly to impress me with kindness, he changed his tone and asked softly, using my nickname as though it was part of some ploy, “Will you please give me a minute, Milla? I want to talk about our daughter.” He emphasized
our
just enough.

Mathias took those words like a blow across the face; I didn't have to be looking directly at him to realize this. I was not exactly in a position to disagree, as much as the thought of having to talk to Noah about anything, even Millie Jo, only exhausted me. I felt as though Noah had quite purposely made me into a tug-of-war rope.

“Just say what you need to say,” I told him, stepping neatly out of whatever game he was playing.

“It's all right,” Mathias said then, and his voice emerged calmly; only I knew him well enough to recognize the strain also present. He smoothed a hand gently down my back, the briefest of touches, before saying, “I'll be on the boat.” And then without another word, he headed across the yard, towards the lake. I watched him, the evening sun dusting his hair and his shoulders; it took about everything he had not to look back, I could tell.

“I don't like him making decisions for Millie,” Noah said without preamble.

I swore I heard the sound of my anger flaring to life like the business end of struck match. My eyes flew back to Noah's with a vengeance.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I said.

“I assure you, I'm not,” Noah replied, sounding like my father when he spoke in his lawyer voice.

“Mathias is going to be my husband,” I said, keeping my own voice under control with extreme effort. “He loves me, and he loves my daughter, and he is” – at the last second I bit back the cruel comment, despite the fact that it was true that Mathias was far more a father to Millie than Noah – and instead spit out, “He is going to be her stepfather for the rest of her life. He and I will make plenty of decisions that affect her.”

“I would like a little respect,” Noah said, his eyes taking on a fire I was not accustomed to seeing. He said, “I am getting my act together and I want to see Millie more often. I want equal custody of her.”

I would not let the roaring in my ears obliterate all sensibility; I would not grab the nearest heavy object and brain him. However, my voice shook as I asked, “Since when?”

“Since now,” he said. “I want –”

“She doesn't even call you ‘Dad,'” I interrupted furiously, anger borne of fear super-charging through me. I stared at him with open loathing and demanded, “Why all of a sudden? What's changed?”

He looked hard at me and I didn't want to see it; I wanted him to get into his car and drive away, and I never wanted to deal with him again. Before he could answer, I said intently, “Millie is
mine
. She is my baby and I will never let you take her from me, not even half time.” I drew a breath, my chest aching with anger, before continuing, “You left me and I didn't think I'd be able to make it on my own. But you know what?
I did
. And I found Mathias, and
I love him
. I love him with all my heart. I didn't even know such love could
exist
!” I was yelling now, and Noah was regarding me with the kind of expression a person might wear when being confronted by a lunatic.

“Camille,” he interrupted impatiently. “Stop.
Jesus
. I fucking panicked, okay? And I'm sorry. When you told me you were having a baby, I couldn't deal with it. Maybe it doesn't mean shit to you now, but I just want you to know that I regret that. A lot.”

“Well good for you,” I said, glaring at him. “You can be the first to tell Millie that someday.”

“I
fucked up
,” he said, and suddenly there was a naked desperation in his eyes, catching me off guard. He went on in a rush, “I would hate myself forever if I didn't at least tell you that.” And he took my shoulders in his hands, carefully, before finishing, “I'm at a point where I can take care of you now. You and Millie. I'm ready. I want that.” He saw the stunned revulsion in my eyes, there was no mistaking it, and his hands dropped away as he said, “Thanks a lot, Camille.”

“I think you should go,” I said, when I had recovered the power of speech. “Please, just go.”

“Do you hear what I'm saying? I'm telling you I want to try and make it work. We never even tried–”

I could have flipped out all over the place, made a gigantic scene at these statements. Instead I looked into his eyes and said quietly, “It was never meant to be between us, Noah, that's all. We had sex a few times and I got pregnant, and I thought my world was ending too, if I'm completely honest.” He narrowed his eyes at me, as though trying to fully understand what I was saying, as though I might have an ulterior motive. I reflected, even as I kept speaking, that Noah had never known me at all. I said, “Even if I wasn't engaged to someone I love, I wouldn't take you back now. You think you can make your mistakes go away with an apology? No way. If you want to be a better dad to Millie, I'll let you. I won't stop that. But don't come in here and tell me you're ready to take care of us now. Haven't you ever heard of actions speaking louder than words?”