Chapter 6 #2
The smile slipped, and Pixie looked away. “Ms. Heddings—”
“Marlow. You’re here, so we may as well drop formality. Now tell me when you last ate. No reason to dodge the truth. As I said, you’re here.”
Again, Pixie met her gaze. “Breakfast yesterday. I’ll admit I’m pretty hungry.”
Hungry, sick, breastfeeding, caring for a baby, and without options. “Wash up and then join us in the kitchen.”
Nodding, Pixie quietly closed the door.
Cort was leaning against the counter when she came into the kitchen. “I heard,” he said. He pulled out a chair for her. “You want some soup, too?”
“May as well. I always eat when I’m vexed.”
“This is certainly a vexing situation,” he replied with enough seriousness to let her know he was teasing.
She tipped back her head. “What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, but I have a suggestion that might help and gain you a little time to think about it.”
“Let’s hear it.”
He took the seat across from her. “I have the little lake house. It’s minuscule, but Pixie is welcome to use it until we—and it is we, Marlow—can figure out how to help her.”
Blown away, she covered her mouth with a hand. “Where did you come from? Men like you don’t exist.”
“’Course they do. Don’t be jaded because of one asshole.”
She gave a choked laugh and marveled that she could find any humor right now. It was a gift, given to her by Cort.
Just then, Pixie came hesitantly into the kitchen.
Cort stood and pulled out a chair for her, too. “Take a seat and we’ll join you for an early lunch.”
Very early, Marlow thought, since she’d just been watching the sunrise before Pixie’s arrival. “He’s handy in the kitchen,” she said lightly. “I’ve already been fed by him once, though it wasn’t canned soup.”
“It smells great.” Pixie’s gaze bounced back and forth between them as Cort set bowls before all three chairs. He refilled Pixie’s glass with juice and got a bottle of water for Marlow at her request.
They ate quietly for a few minutes. It seemed a priority for Pixie to consume some food. Anyone could see that she was running on her last reserves. Food first, then some rest. Cort’s suggestion of his lake house was an excellent solution.
Marlow only had one bathroom here, and she didn’t like the idea of a stranger traipsing around her house, especially through her bedroom, when she wasn’t home.
Also, Marlow valued her privacy. This was her time, and while she couldn’t turn a blind eye to Pixie’s predicament, she also wanted—even needed—to protect her newfound peace and happiness.
When Pixie had finished her soup, three crackers, and most of the juice, Marlow asked, “Have you seen a doctor?”
She shook her head. “Not recently, not since I was released from the hospital after having the baby.”
Marlow had the same feeling she sometimes got during high-pressure business meetings, when she sensed there was more to the story than what was being presented. She put on her no-nonsense face, the one that indicated she’d see through any fabrications. “And before that?”
Pixie quailed. “Um . . . right now, I hope I only have a cold, but you’re right that I’m a little feverish.”
“You could barely stand upright.”
“That’s because I’m so tired.” She stared down at the table for several long moments, then looked up with resolve.
Hoping to encourage her, Marlow said, “May as well share everything, so we know what we’re dealing with.”
Pixie’s mouth pinched before she gave up. “I had been working as a waitress after I left the warehouse job, but I had difficulties with my pregnancy, so I was let go.”
Good. Plain speaking. Marlow appreciated it because knowing and understanding the issues would make them easier to sort out. “What type of difficulty?”
Shyly, Pixie glanced at Cort.
“Go on,” Marlow said. “He’s a Marine. He won’t faint.” What being a Marine had to do with the issue at hand, Marlow couldn’t say, but it sounded plausible.
Pixie must have been convinced, because even though her face got redder, she said, “I was diagnosed with pregnancy-induced hypertension.”
Cort said, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It was . . . difficult.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Along with high blood pressure, I had a lot of swelling in my feet and hands.” Her mouth twisted to the side. “A lot of swelling. So much that I couldn’t fit in most of my shoes. My soles and my palms itched a lot, and then there was the nausea and endless vomiting.” Her shoulders slumped a little more, and her voice lowered. “I had terrible headaches that would leave me dizzy.”
Marlow shared a glance with Cort. This young woman had faced all that alone ? Apparently. “What did your doctor suggest?”
“He wanted me on bed rest, but that was impossible since I had to take care of myself.”
“Your parents—”
Pixie shook her head. “My aunt raised me, but she’s since passed on.”
Oh, poor girl. “So you missed a lot of work and the restaurant let you go?”
“Yes, and then things got really bad.”
All of that wasn’t bad enough? “How so?”
“Like . . . I was passing out, I guess? Everything seemed to happen at once. I ended up in the hospital, and my doctor delivered Andy five weeks early with a C-section.” Despite all she’d been through, a small smile touched her mouth. “It was my birthday, and he was the best present ever.”
Marlow took the words like a blow. This petite girl had been seriously ill, alone in the world, and then responsible for a newborn? On her birthday?
“Thank God he was healthy.” Pixie sighed. “I ended up with a hysterectomy, too.” She again glanced at Cort, and practically whispered, “Because of some bleeding and stuff. In a way, it was a good thing because they kept Andy and me in the hospital a while longer.”
Alone , Marlow kept thinking, brokenhearted for her. That word hammered on her brain over and over again. Alone, completely alone.
How wretched must she have felt?
“Dylan had already passed away?”
Pixie’s entire face tightened, tears imminent again. “Yes, but I’d ended things before Andy was born.”
“Wait, what? You ended things?”
“I didn’t know he was married! I swear to God I didn’t. I’m a nobody, and when he started paying attention to me, I was too flattered to ask questions. It wasn’t until I got pregnant that he told me.”
“That he was married?”
Shamed, she bit her lips, but then bravely met Marlow’s gaze. “I thought, because I was having his baby, he’d want to get married. He’d . . . told me he cared, and he was so nice, I believed him. But when I told him I was having a baby, he didn’t have much choice except to admit that he was already married.”
What. A. Swine. “You broke things off with him then?”
She nodded. “He said it’d be okay, that he’d take care of us anyway.” Gasping, she said, “I mean . . . I know I shouldn’t say this to you . . .”
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, not by a long shot. All of Marlow’s initial rage and hurt had seeped back in, and that hollow feeling invaded her chest once more, but she refused to show her distress. Pixie had been through enough. Adding to her pain now would accomplish nothing. That left Marlow with the only option of ignoring her own feelings. “He got you an apartment and a car. I know because I received the bills after he passed.”
Pixie literally groaned as if in pain. She crossed her arms over her stomach and rocked a little as she spoke. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” Marlow nearly snapped. Seeing Pixie so cowed only infuriated her more— at Dylan . Moderating her tone, she stated, “It’s in the past.” Only it hadn’t stayed there. Nope, the past had come knocking, and now Pixie was sitting at her table. Sick, afraid, in serious need of help, and hoping Marlow had a solution.
Life could be so absurd, sometimes.
Cort’s hand settled over Marlow’s wrist, his thumb brushing against her skin. When she glanced at him, he looked proud. Of her ?
Okay, that helped. It meant he agreed that she was doing the right thing. He didn’t see her as a stooge or a sucker for a sorry tale.
Pixie’s tale was sorry. Incredibly so. And Marlow wasn’t immune to it. For now, that was all the incentive she needed to keep her going.
She was strong, but Pixie looked vulnerable.
She had endless options, while it appeared Pixie had none.
She was thirty-five, and Pixie was practically a teenager.
Seeing all that made Marlow despise Dylan so much. This was beyond the hurt he’d doled out to her. It was outright abuse. He’d used this young woman, started an affair with her when she’d been only nineteen. And when she’d needed him the most, the selfish bastard had the temerity to die.
Probably hadn’t been his intent, but still . . .
“I assume without Dylan to keep up the payments on the apartment and car, you fell behind?”
“I barely scraped by when I worked at the warehouse. Dylan convinced me to quit, saying I didn’t make that much anyway. And with his position in the company, it would be frowned on if we dated.” Pixie scowled. “I should have known something was up then, but I still never suspected he was married. If I’d kept that job, a coworker might have told me.”
“I take it things happened quickly?”
“One minute I was just me, working second shift and looking forward to the next raise so I could get new tires on my car, and the next Dylan was there, taking care of everything.”
Marlow could see what a lure that would be to someone so young.
Pixie said, “I wanted to get a different job, but Dylan said the hours would interfere with things he wanted to do.” She rubbed her eyes, leaving them both redder. “I know I was na?ve. He just made everything seem so perfect. When he couldn’t be there, he’d send flowers and other gifts.”
Picturing it all, Marlow briefly closed her eyes. What had she been like at nineteen? That was more than fifteen years ago, and what stood out most in her mind was losing her father, and a few years later, her mother. Then she’d married Dylan and started working with the Heddings. During that time she’d experienced much of the world. The idealistic, eager girl she’d been so long ago had disappeared like mist beneath the sun. Instead of worrying about the newest music concert and social media trends, she’d been brokering million-dollar deals, lunching with influential people, and pushing her pet projects.
She’d thought her marriage was secure.
Pixie wasn’t the only one who’d made grave mistakes.
“Then I got pregnant,” Pixie continued, “and Dylan told me he was already married. I ended things, got a job working at the restaurant, and he helped with the apartment, a car and credit card . . .” Dejected, she slumped in her seat. “But you know what happened with that. I got sick, Dylan died, Andy came early . . .”
Had Dylan’s duplicity surprised Pixie as much as it had Marlow? Probably more so, because Marlow had suspected that her marriage was sinking before she ever confronted him. Pixie, on the other hand, had been full of new love and hope for the future. What a blow it must have been for her.
“I made such a mess of things,” Pixie said. “The warehouse job wasn’t great, but it was better than minimum wage, we got small but regular raises, and there were nice benefits, like medical insurance and child care. I should have stayed there. I should never have dated Dylan in the first place. He wasn’t from my world, and I should have realized he wouldn’t really be interested in me.”
“His actions were despicable, but you’re not to blame.”
That statement surprised Pixie so much that her eyes flared and she drew a sharp breath, which brought up those harsh coughs again.
Foot tapping the floor in agitation, Marlow gave her time to regain her breath. She waited while thinking about the future and the past, and most of all, the present, the right here, right now.
She knew Cort was watching her, and after a moment his foot touched hers beneath the table. She stopped tapping and, grateful to Cort for being here with her, said to Pixie, “Remember, slow breaths.”
After swallowing the last sip of juice in her glass, Pixie seemed more defeated than ever. “I tried going back for my old job. The one at the warehouse, I mean, but they weren’t hiring . . .” She let her words fade, bit her lip, and again met Marlow’s gaze. “I got a call from someone who said if I ever came near any Heddings employee, they’d ‘bring the force of their considerable legal resources against me.’”
“Wow.” The audacity. Sandra had mentioned Pixie’s bid for a job, but it was incredible she’d taken her objection so far. Had she bothered to learn anything about Pixie? About their grandson?
She met Cort’s gaze, as unreadable as ever, and yet somehow, she knew he was as irked by the threat as she was.
“I don’t know what that means,” Pixie said worriedly, “but it sounded serious.”
“The Heddings family has blackballed you,” Marlow explained. “That’s what it means.” She saw no reason to tell Pixie that Sandra had discussed it with her directly. “Do they know you have Dylan’s son?”
“I didn’t tell anyone.” She frowned. “There’s no one for me to tell. I’ve never met his parents and wouldn’t have a clue how to reach them. But Dylan’s name is on the birth certificate and the person who called me seemed to know everything about me.”
With rage simmering just beneath the surface, Marlow tipped her head and asked, “Like what?”
“How to reach me, which means they knew where I was staying.” Flushing again, she said, “My phone was shut off when I couldn’t pay the bill. I wasn’t at the apartment Dylan had rented. I didn’t even have the car that he’d bought anymore. But the call came to the motel front desk and was forwarded to my room.”
“Motel?”
Pixie fidgeted. “It was an inexpensive place, the only one I could afford. Just a place along the highway, and I only stayed there a week or so, trying to figure out what to do. I didn’t have enough money to stay longer.”
“And so you settled on coming to me.”
She looked ready to jump out of her skin, then defiantly straightened. “For Andy, yes.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I used a computer at the library and found your social media account. You shared some photos of the lake.”
“Incredible.” Pixie had been not only desperate but ingenious.
“When I got to town, I asked about you and was told you were staying here.”
Cort frowned, and for the first time, he interjected a question. “Who did you talk to?”
“I don’t know exactly. It was an older woman.” She braced herself and, as if she’d committed a mortal sin, confessed, “I lied and said I was Ms. Heddings’s sister.”
Oh, the irony. Marlow gave a huff of amusement.
“I had to,” Pixie said in a rush. “I’m sorry, but I hoped maybe you’d have an idea of a job I could do—”
“You can barely stay upright. How would you work? And what would you do with the baby? Child care is expensive.”
“I know.” Pixie blinked a few times but didn’t avert her gaze. “I went over and over the possibilities in that nasty little motel room. I counted my remaining money three times. Then I got that awful call and was told to steer clear of any job related to Heddings Holdings, and it . . .” Her jaw flexed. “It spooked me.” Her gaze nervously flicked to Cort but came right back. “I could do telemarketing, but I’d need my phone for that. I could be a virtual assistant, but that requires WiFi. I could work in a day care or something, but only if I could take Andy with me, and that wouldn’t solve the problem of needing gas money and diapers.”
“And food.”
Her chin hitched higher, her eyes got redder, but she didn’t cry this time. “I’m not proud, Ms. Heddings.”
“Marlow,” she automatically corrected as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Odd as it seemed, she wanted to reassure Pixie, to offer a quick fix. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t solve the young mother’s problems. It would only put them on a very temporary hold.
“I am desperate. I know I have no right to be here, and I know this is a horrible invasion of your privacy. You must hate me, and God knows you have every right to. What I did is unforgivable, and ignorance is no excuse, or at least not a good one.”
“Calm down, or you’ll start coughing again.”
“I didn’t know what else to do! I couldn’t beg a total stranger for help. The only name I knew was yours, and I thought maybe since you’d cared for Dylan, you might care for his son, too.”
A last prayer, that’s what it had been for Pixie. Marlow saw it in her eyes. “I’d care for any baby, despite who his father might be.” The moment Marlow heard the words spoken out loud, all her defenses crumbled away. She was fighting the inevitable because she knew she couldn’t turn Pixie away. She certainly wouldn’t leave an innocent three-month-old baby without diapers or shelter.
She could, however, lay down some ground rules.
Hopeful, Pixie asked, “Does that mean you have an idea about what I could do?”
“Rest easy, Pixie.” Leaving her chair, Marlow went to the fridge and got out more juice. She stopped at Pixie’s side to refill her glass. “I’ll help you, but that doesn’t mean you’ll have an easy road ahead of you.”
“I don’t expect it to be easy,” she swore. “I’ll do anything, and I’ll work as long and hard as I need to.”
“Good. A single mother, especially one who is still ill, will have to be strong. That means you need to recover first.” She turned to Cort. “I assume you know the nearest medical facility?”
“I do.” With something bright and warm shining in his eyes, he stood. Right there in front of Pixie, he enfolded Marlow in his arms. “You’re amazing, babe. You know that, right?”
If he was too nice to her right now, she’d turn weepy as well. “I have a heart. Nothing amazing in that.”
He kissed her forehead, then let her step away. “I agree, a checkup with a doctor is a priority.”
Horrified, Pixie said, “I don’t have any money. And I’m sure I just need a little sleep.”
“Better if we know what we’re dealing with,” Marlow said. She was in take-charge mode now, using the same brisk manner she’d utilized in her work world. She decided what needed to be done, and then she made sure it happened. “You may need medicine, or a specific diet might be necessary while you’re recovering and nursing. I assume a C-section is major surgery, and with a hysterectomy?” It made her midsection hurt just to think of it. “It’s only been three months, and you’ve had a lot on your plate.”
Pixie shut down with a softly murmured, “Okay.”
“So a visit to the doctor first. I’m thinking we’ll start with a sick appointment to be sure you don’t have bronchitis or worse. The doctor can make recommendations from there.”
“There’s a walk-in clinic,” Cort offered, “but we should get there soon because they get busy by late morning.”
Surprise brought Marlow around to face him. “We?”
“I’ll be the chauffeur.” His eyes conveyed a message. “Plus, it might be a good idea if Pixie had someone with her when she saw the doctor, just to hear what’s said.”
Meaning he didn’t trust her to share the whole truth, or he was worried she was too rattled and overwhelmed to remember detailed instructions? There was also the fact that she was a stranger who’d just showed up. Marlow would bet Cort was motivated by all those considerations.
It wasn’t easy for Marlow to bend her brain around the idea that her husband had been unfaithful with this beautiful, very young woman, who now had brought her husband’s son to her for help.
Pixie was a stranger to Marlow, so Cort’s suggestion made sense, and his company would be appreciated.
“Also,” Cort said, “I can sit with the baby while Pixie sees the doctor.”
With another show of panic, Pixie said, “I can take care of him.”
“And you have,” Marlow assured her. “But you came to me, and I have a way of doing things, of tackling problems. First, I need to know what I’m dealing with, and that means taking you to a doctor. Cort’s suggestions are great, and he’s being generous with his time—something he does often, by the way—so we should probably just thank him.”
Dutifully, Pixie whispered, “Thank you.”
He accepted with the barest of smiles. “And my other suggestion?”
“I think it’s brilliant, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“It’s empty now anyway. Of course I don’t mind.”
Confused, Pixie glanced between them but wisely didn’t ask.
It was turning into quite an eventful day.
And Marlow was still determined to work her shift.