Authors: Emily Bleeker
Wreckage (38 page)
“Sounds great,” she said. Watching him order their food, cross-legged on the bed, a growing warmth filled Lillian, multiplying exponentially by the second. In three years she’d lost her mother-in-law, her son, her integrity, and, most of all, her innocence. Running away from the truth hadn’t worked super-well, maybe running toward it could. Would the truth erase the past, leaving nothing more than a scar on her shoulder and some fading memories? Surely not, but telling it did seem to be bringing her back to being fully present in the life of her family better than any rescue helicopter or airplane. Finally.
She held the phone and looked at it a long while, the screen scratched up from when she let the boys play their apps. Then she knew she was ready. Tapping at the phone icon, she punched in the number she still knew by heart. It rang three times.
“Hello?” Dave answered. For a second her mouth felt full of marshmallows.
“Hi there,” she responded, barely above a whisper.
“Lillian? Is that you?”
“Yup. I know it’s been a while.” Is that really all she could think of to say? Like they were old friends from high school who hadn’t chatted since graduation? “We just watched
Headline News
.”
He didn’t respond. Lillian wasn’t surprised. Why should he want to talk to her? She’d been so unfair to him. In the background, a woman’s voice called her name. Beth.
“Dave! Is that Lillian? It is? Well, give me the phone, silly!” Lillian listened to the rustling before Beth’s voice echoed through the receiver.
“Listen, I know I’m not supposed to know this but I’ve been dying to thank you for what you did for us.” A little baby squealed close to the phone.
“He told you?” Lillian asked. Jerry was still ordering but held up an okay sign to check in. She nodded even though she wasn’t sure if she was okay. Beth knew, Jerry knew. That had seemed “worst-case scenario” for so long that the knowledge was throwing her out of balance.
“I’m sorry, I know you wanted it anonymous but I made him tell me. It’s a funny story actually . . .” The baby squawked, cutting Beth off. “Well, I’ll have to tell you some other time. We’d love to visit eventually. I think it’s great your boys and our son are half-brothers.”
Beth wanted Lillian to know her son. She wanted Josh and Daniel to be a part of his life. “I’d love that.” Lillian smiled.
“I tried to send you flowers after he was born but Dave wouldn’t let me. I
told
him you’d love to know he was healthy.” Relief cooled the drops of nervous perspiration on the back of her neck. He was healthy. Her son was safe. “You’ll have to scold him for me, Lillian, all right?”
“Of course.”
In the corner, Jerry hit the red End button and grabbed a sweatshirt off the paisley armchair in the corner of the room. “Back in an hour,” he mouthed, before slipping out the bedroom door. Did this mean he trusted her again?
Through the phone, the baby’s cries went from annoyed to angry and Beth twittered nervously like the new mom she was. “Oh my, this boy is hungry. I’m going to have to pass you off to Dave.” She paused and it sounded like she might be crying. “Lillian, really, thank you. I had no idea what it meant to be a mom. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll take care of him.”
“I’m not worried, not one bit.”
“Hey.” Dave was back and his voice sounded different. “I’m sorry I broke my promise. After that horrible investigative reporter came to our house, I decided I had to tell Beth.”
“So”—Lillian tried to speak calmly in case Beth was close enough to hear their conversation— “does she know
everything
?”
“No, only about you being the donor,” he mumbled so no one could hear.
“Jerry knows it all,” Lillian blurted out, feeling better after releasing the pressure.
Dave made a tsking sound followed by a deep sigh. “Just a second, I have to move into another room.” He said something to Beth that Lillian couldn’t make out, before returning to the phone, his breathing unsteady. “I know what I said in the hospital, about you coming to me when things didn’t work out with Jerry, but . . . but I have to take it back, Lily. I’m happy with Beth and our baby. I can be your friend but I won’t leave her.”
Lillian laughed, pulling her legs up under her on the bed. “That sure is a little presumptuous of you, Mr. Hall. Who says I’d still want you anyway?”
“Wha . . . Oh crap. I did it again, didn’t I? Why am I so good at embarrassing myself when I’m with you?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s a talent. Part of me wonders if you do it on purpose, just to make me smile.” She’d missed this. In all the drama and the lying, Lillian had almost forgotten that before being lovers, she and Dave had been friends.
“Yes!” he said. “That’s it! Totally on purpose.”
“Good, because I’m not calling to ask you to leave your wife.” She couldn’t hold back one last chuckle. “I’m calling because I told Jerry, or more like—Jerry figured it all out. We’re okay. It was his idea I call you. He was thinking eventually I’d want to meet the baby.”
“That’s great, Lily, so great.” Dave let out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it. “Let’s plan to get together over the holidays? Beth knows the schedule better than I do, so she’ll probably be calling in a few days.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” Awkward pause. “Well, enjoy the broadcast. It was . . . underwhelming. But the picture of you and Beth and the baby at the end—adorable.”
“Thanks. They sent a professional photographer, so I’m sure that helped.”
“You guys are a good-looking family; I don’t think you need much help.” Call waiting beeped. It must be Jerry, checking in. “I’d better let you get going so you don’t miss it. Oh, wait! I forgot to ask you one thing.” The phone beeped again but Lillian ignored it. “What did you name him?”
“His name is Solomon,” he laughed, “like ‘Solomon the Wise,’ the king.”
“Perfect,” she said as old memories of a conversation on a beach flitted through her memory, the wisdom they both had gained from their life on the island. In that moment it did feel . . . perfect.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my friend Jeny Wasilewski, the first person to set eyes on this story, thank you for encouraging me to stop writing about a Southern belle and to keep writing about secrets, a plane crash, and sharks.
Thank you to Natalie Middleton, who forced me to share my secret novel with her and was always up for a reread. Without your encouragement I may never have had the courage to share
Wreckage
with the world.
To fellow author Lauri Fairbanks, you are the best writing buddy a girl could ask for. Thank you for putting up with texts day and night and inspiring me in more ways than I can list. I’ll be forever grateful to pee-wee football and a Lego birthday party for bringing us together.
I’m also incredibly indebted to my critique partners and beta readers for their time, insights, and virtual therapy: Pete Meister, Mallory Crowe, Revo Boulanger, Samantha Newman, Elizabeth Owens and Michelle A. Barry. And to the writers on AQC, writing can be a lonely profession but I could never be lonely with all of you on my side.
Thank you to my wonderful agent, Marlene Stringer, for believing in me. Your experience and guidance is invaluable. Two of the most exciting days of my life also happened to be days I received phone calls from you.
Thank you to the hardworking team at Lake Union Publishing, including my visionary editor, Danielle Marshall. Thanks as well to Gabriella Van den Heuvel, Shannon Mitchell, and Thom Kephart. All the time, effort, and enthusiasm you put into making this book the best it could be is humbling and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. Go Team!
Thank you to my family and friends for being more excited about this novel than I could’ve ever hoped for. You guys have no idea how much your exuberance means to me.
Thank you to my parents for always encouraging me and to my sister, Elizabeth Renda, for pushing me, pulling me, and loving me. I’m so lucky to have a little sister like you!
Thanks to my kids for understanding that their mother is a daydreamer and that a computer on my lap is code for “I’m writing,” and for calling me a writer long before I let myself say it out loud.
Most of all, thank you to my husband, Joe, for giving me a computer for Christmas two years ago and for telling me, “This is to help you to write your novel.” You know my hopes and dreams better than anyone. Your confidence in me has opened my eyes to so many opportunities I never would’ve considered otherwise. I love you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Emily Bleeker, a former educator, discovered a passion for writing after introducing Writer’s Workshop to her students. She soon had a whole world of characters and stories living inside of her mind. It took a battle with a rare form of cancer to give her the courage to share that amazing world with others.
Emily lives in suburban Chicago with her husband and four kids. Between writing and being a mom she attempts to learn guitar, sings along to the radio (loudly), and embraces her newfound addiction to running. Connect with her or request a Skype visit with your book club at
emilybleeker.wordpress.com
.
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