Left Turn at Paradise Page 21

  Beth lifted her head. “Sorry. It’s just a dizzy spell. It’ll pass.” Then she swayed on her feet, her purse landing on the floor with a loud thud.

  Full-on panic hit her as Layla scooped up the purse and put an arm around her mother’s waist. “Can somebody help me?” she shouted.

  An apple-bellied older man wearing a back brace rounded the corner. “I’m the Manager,” he said as he rushed over. “She okay? Should I call 911?”

  Beth straightened. “No ambulance. I’m okay. I forgot to eat, that’s all.” She finished off the brave statement by grabbing onto a shelf to keep from falling over.

  Layla could feel the imprint of her mother’s ribs under her hand. It was a stark reminder of Beth’s illness. And how close she’d come to dying. Layla shuddered.

  “Is there somewhere she can sit down for a few minutes?” Layla asked. “And maybe a cup of water?”

  “There’s a couch in the office,” the manager said. “A water cooler, too.”

  He led them through the paint section and down a narrow hallway where he opened the last door. The office was remarkably similar to Layla’s, right down to the ugly green couch, although this one was covered with some sort of mottled plaid fabric.

  Layla helped Elizabeth to the couch, while the manger filled a plastic cup with water. He handed the cup to Layla and ducked out of the room. Beth sank back into the cushion, her eyelids drifting shut.

  Layla thrust the cup out. “Here,” she said, in a brusque tone that belied her hammering pulse. “Drink this.”

  Beth stirred and opened her eyes. She drank the water down in four quick swallows. Layla leaned her hip on the corner of the desk and folded her arms around her middle. As if the constraint could hold back the shivers racing up and down her body.

  “Are you sure we don’t need to call an ambulance?”

  Beth glanced up over the rim of the cup. “No. Sorry if I scared you,” she said, lowering her hand with careful precision as if to prove she was fine.

  Layla’s skin continued to prickle with unease. “You’re sure?”

  Beth nodded. “I know better than to skip a meal. One of the joyous results of my treatment is a wicked case of anemia.”

  Layla released a shaky sigh. “Missing lunch is my fault,” she said. “I was trying to get everything done fast so we could—”

  “Go back into hiding at The Paradise?” Beth suggested.

  Layla’s cheeks heated. “I just thought all the attention might be making you uncomfortable. It’s like people are looking for red horns and a tail.”

  Beth’s mouth quirked. “And here I imagined they were staring because I look so freakish now.”

  “You are not freakish, Mom,” Layla said, appalled to hear her mother describe herself that way. “You’re beautiful.”

  Beth went still, except for her hand flexing around the plastic cup. “You called me Mom,” she said, wonder filling her voice.

  Layla swallowed. “I…”

  “It’s okay,” Beth said, with a slight smile. “I don’t expect you to go soft on me all of a sudden.”

  Layla ducked her head, unable to bear the naked hope in her mother’s eyes. “Maybe we should grab some lunch now if you’re feeling stronger.”

  Beth accepted the change of subject without missing a beat. “Actually, I have an energy bar in my purse,” she said, struggling to get off the couch.

  “Stay there,” Layla ordered. “I’ll get it.”

  Beth’s purse was more like a modern-day Mary Poppins’ satchel, with depths that went on forever. Layla fumbled through the vast interior until her hand closed around something crinkly. She pulled, managing to unearth the energy bar and a leather-bound case. The case fell to the floor, landing with the cover lying open. A picture of a little boy, with curly brown hair stared up at her.

  Layla bent down to pick up the case. “Who’s this?”

  A muffled curse was the only response from Beth.

  The hair stood up on the back of Layla’s neck as she flipped to the next photo. This one featured Beth posing with the same little boy. She wore a bright purple and yellow scarf wrapped around her head so it must have been taken before her hair had started to grow back in. Layla’s lungs seized as she stared at the boy’s eyes. The same green eyes Layla saw in the mirror every day. She heard a rushing in her ears as every cell in her body froze.

  She raised her head. Beth’s cheeks had gone colorless again only this time Layla didn’t think the reaction was due to a skipped meal. “Who is he?” Layla asked, even though she already knew the answer in her heart.

  “That’s Josh,” Beth said after a charged moment. “My son. Your half-brother.”

  Layla’s eyes burned, and she stared at a spot on the floor. “We should go.”

  “Layla, please…” Beth said, moving a few steps closer.

  Layla’s hands clenched into tight fists. “Do you really want to talk about this here?” she asked, waving her arm around to indicate the office.

  Beth didn’t try to talk. Not as they made their way out of the hardware store. Not outside. Or in the car. Layla was barely aware of anything as she drove back to the house. She concentrated on the road, shoving down the relentless need to cry and scream.

  I trusted her.

  Or at least she’d started to. She should have known. How could she have forgotten that trust led to betrayal? Trust led to lost businesses, empty bank accounts, damaged reputations, and shattered dreams.

  Layla sprang from the car the moment she shut off the engine, and ran for the house. She heard a car door shut behind her.

  “Layla, will you please talk to me?” Beth called out. “Let me explain?”

  Layla paused with her hand on the screen. The urge to hurry inside and slam the door in Beth’s face was overwhelming. But something – maybe a masochistic need to know – made her stay.

  Beth took the stillness as an opening. “I discovered I was pregnant again at forty-one. It’s pathetic, I know. One can forgive a teenager for an unplanned pregnancy, but a grown woman should know better.”

  Layla glanced over her shoulder. “He was the thing that caused you to change your life, right? It wasn’t cancer. It was him.”

  “Yes,” Beth said, her voice softening with a different emotion. “The minute I held him I felt so many missing pieces slip back into place.” Naked, unabashed, mother’s love shone in her eyes, vibrating out from her body in gentle waves.

  Something shifted inside Layla as she caught a glimpse of the one thing she’d longed for all her life.

  To see her mother look at her like that. With wonder and pride.

  “And you kept him,” Layla said, the words searing her to her core. “This new baby who fixed what was broken.”

  Beth hesitated, the maternal glow dimming. “I did.”

  “And since that picture looks recent, you didn’t dump him later on when things got too hard,” Layla said, hearing the plaintive tone in her voice.

  “No,” she answered simply.

  Layla was an adult. She shouldn’t be so hurt, but the knowledge that Elizabeth McCarthy had chosen her second baby – that he hadn’t been returned like an ill-fitting shoe – nearly drove her to her knees.

  “Why did you keep him and not me?” Layla burst out before she could stop herself. “What was wrong with me?”

  Beth made a murmuring sound and reached out, but Layla jerked back.

  Beth’s hand stayed frozen in midair, and then she slowly dropped her arm. “Honey, it wasn’t you. There was never anything wrong with you,” she said. “It was always me. You have to believe that. I was a different person by the time Josh came along. I could finally be a real mother.”

  “A real mother,” Layla echoed.

  Layla thought about the picture she’d seen. The smiling little boy. Beth looking at peace, despite the scarf that proclaimed her cancer.

  The cancer.

  “You came back because of him,” Layla said.

  Beth didn’t a
nswer.

  An icy fist took hold of her heart. “Of course. Isn’t that what a real mother would do if she was afraid her cancer might come back?” she asked. “She’d be willing to brave the censure of her family and an entire town so she could ensure her son was taken care of.”

  Beth’s gaze shifted. “It’s not like that. Of course I want to make sure Josh is cared for, but I came back for you and my mother. Because I needed to make things right with my family in case I do get sick again.”

  Layla stared at her mother, the wish for some kind of forgiveness – maybe even a relationship – drifting away on a breeze. “That sounds nice,” she said. “It’s just that I don’t believe you.”

  Layla turned and went inside, letting the screen door bang shut on the image of Elizabeth McCarthy’s guilt-ridden face.

  Barbara had been dozing in her study turned temporary bedroom when heated voices on the front porch jolted her awake. She’d never realized one could hear every word uttered outside from this room. She’d never realized that a breaking heart had a sound, either, but there was no doubt that both her girls were experiencing one.

  She walked to the bay window and peered outside. Elizabeth was huddled on the steps, weeping. Barbara gazed at her daughter and wanted to cry, too.

  Because she had caused this destruction.

  She stood up and went outside.

  Elizabeth whipped around when she heard the door open, hope rising in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped. “Mom? I thought you’d gone out with Aunt Grace.”

  “No.”

  “Did you hear everything?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I heard enough.”

  “I was afraid of this,” Elizabeth said, lowering her head to her knees. “I never should have kept Josh’s existence a secret. I knew she would hate me, and I can’t blame her. I did come back for Josh, but also for her. I just don’t know how to convince her of that.”

  Barbara longed to gather her daughter up and hold her. Except, Elizabeth didn’t need cuddling.

  “So, you’re giving up?” Barbara asked. “One setback and you’re done?”

  Elizabeth lifted her head, eyes narrowed though her tears. “Would a little sympathy kill you right now?”

  “What good is sympathy?” Barbara asked, fisting her palms to keep from reaching out. “Did you think making amends would be easy?”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.

  “Do you want to win your daughter’s love?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then you fight,” Barbara insisted. “As hard as you fought to clean up your life and beat cancer. You fight for our girl, and you make her believe you’re sincere. You push and push and push, and you don’t give up.”

  Elizabeth let out a watery chuckle and stood up to face her mother. “I feel like I should yell charge right about now.”

  Barbara finally relented and allowed a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you meant it when you said you wanted a fresh start.”

  “I want it more than anything.”

  “I want that, too.” Barbara turned her head. “But I don’t think it can happen as long as Layla’s kept in the dark about what really happened.”

  Elizabeth drew in a startled breath. “Mom, I told you, it’s better if she doesn’t know. I’m not sure Layla can handle it. I’m okay with her not trusting me, but she needs you.”

  “No. She needs you, even if she doesn’t know it yet,” Barbara said. “And it’s time I fought for you. I didn’t all those years ago, and it’s my fault Layla grew up without you.”

  Elizabeth reached out. “It wasn’t all you.”

  Barbara touched her daughter’s cheeks. “Fine. We both had a hand in damaging our girl. But now I can make it right for you.”

  “Mom…”

  She laid a finger against Elizabeth’s lips. “I’ve made up my mind. I just need you to do something.”

  “What?” Elizabeth asked on a resigned sigh.

  “Bring my grandson here,” Barbara said. “I need to meet him, and I think Layla does, too.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “A secret weapon?”

  “If you want to call it that.”

  Her daughter chuckled. “Okay.”

  Barbara pulled into the driveway at the same time as Elizabeth. Barbara stared at her daughter through the windshield, and a wave of helplessness crashed through her. They’d had another fight this morning, and if the stone-faced expression Elizabeth wore was any indication, she was still pouting. Barbara couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about now. Probably her daughter’s clothes, or the ruby-red “for hire” lipstick, or yet another test the girl had barely passed.

  Barbara stepped out of the car and tried to adopt an easy, non-judgmental manner. Which was not easy at all. “Hi honey. How was school?”

  Elizabeth barely broke her stride as she started for the door. “Fine.”

  “How did your Physics test go today?”

  Elizabeth turned, her pretty green eyes narrowed. “Do you have to start now?” She slung her backpack over her shoulder, dislodging a plastic drug store bag. She quickly bent to snatch up the bag.

  Barbara held back an audible sigh. Sometimes she wished she could indulge in an eye roll or a disgusted huff, too. The pleased bubble of excitement she’d experienced as she left the Chief of Staff’s office at the hospital faded in an instant.

  “I knew you didn’t study hard enough,” Barbara said, unable to hide her exasperation. “How many times do I have to tell you? If you would only apply yourself and not—“

  “—worry so much about my appearance, I’d be an honor student. I’ve read the memo, Mom,” Elizabeth finished the sentence. “I got an ‘A’, by the way.”

  Elizabeth unlocked the door and went inside, leaving Barbara to stare after her daughter in frustration and surprise. The girl never did like to do the expected.

  She followed her daughter into the house. “I’m proud of you.”

  Elizabeth had already reached the staircase, and at the words, she paused. Almost as if she’d been shot in the back. Without turning around, she let out a sound that seemed half laughter, half sob. “Just wait.”

  Barbara’s senses sharpened, only now noticing the added tension in her daughter’s shoulders. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be down later.”

  “Elizabeth…stop.”

  Barbara moved up the steps. She glimpsed something dark in Elizabeth’s eyes. A fear bordering on terror. Plastic crinkled as Elizabeth pulled the drugstore bag in to her chest.

  Barbara’s eyes lowered at the sound. “What’s in there?”

  “Nothing.”

  Barbara held out her hand. “Don’t make me wrestle with you, Elizabeth.”

  Anger flared in her daughter’s eyes, replacing the haunted look for a moment. “Fine,” she said, almost throwing the bag in Barbara’s face.

  Barbara reached inside and removed the single item. She recognized the blue box – and its implication – immediately. She closed her eyes on a sharp stab of pain and impending doom. “Sweet Lord, Elizabeth.”

  “I haven’t taken it yet,” Elizabeth said, her voice sounding small.” It might be a negative.”

  A kind of rage built in Barbara’s chest. How many times had she warned this child? How many lectures had she given? She pointed up the staircase. “Go. Now.”

  Elizabeth swallowed and took the kit back. She raced up the stairs and disappeared into the bathroom. Barbara waited in the hall. She bowed her head against the door frame and sent up a prayer. How could things have gone this far? There was a gulf between them, and it grew wider with each year that passed. Richard used to serve as a buffer, but even he had given up trying to keep the peace.

  Now this.

  What a disaster. Her daughter’s reputation – what was left of it anyway – would be ruined forever. Her career would…

  The door opened and Elizabeth emerged, slipping into he
r room without a word. Her silence spoke louder than an air raid siren.

  In Barbara’s mind, her heart attack had hurt less than the devastation in her daughter’s eyes that day. In hindsight, Elizabeth running away from the hospital with her newborn baby, only to drop Layla on Barbara’s doorstep six months later, had seemed almost inevitable.

  For thirty years, Barbara had tortured herself over her part in the disaster. She’d tried to hide the truth. Allowed Layla to believe the worst of her mother. Barbara hadn’t fought for her daughter all those years ago. Now she would.

  Even if the price was a beloved granddaughter.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, Layla stared out her bedroom window, marveling that the world continued to go on despite the events that had torn her apart. There should have been comfort in the ceaseless march of time, but somehow Layla thought there should be at least a moment for a bout of cosmic weeping.

  She couldn’t cry anymore. Her eyes burned, and her throat was raw and sore. Mostly, her heart ached with the knowledge that her mother had only come back because of her second child. The son who’d finally given Elizabeth McCarthy a reason to straighten out her life. The miracle child who’d been tucked into bed every night with a story. The boy who’d never had to wonder why he wasn’t good enough.

  Layla tried to block out those selfish, destructive thoughts. She couldn’t blame a little boy for his mother’s actions. No, not just a little boy. Her half-brother. He was as much a victim of Elizabeth McCarthy as anyone.

  What about Gran? She was so happy to have her daughter back again. She’d be devastated if she knew the real reason Elizabeth had come back.

  A low gurgle in her stomach reminded Layla that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Her limbs felt shaky, like she was getting over a bout of the flu, but she didn’t know if the weakness came from hunger or heartbreak. At least she could do something to fix hunger. She padded down the stairs in search of food. As she reached the foyer, a voice called out in the darkness.

  She jumped, even as she realized the sound had come from Gran’s temporary bedroom. Layla looked inside to find her grandmother sitting in the easy chair next to the bed.