Chapter 21 #2
“Janey,” Eleanor whispers, horrified.
“No. Let me finish.” Janey’s tears spill over, but she doesn’t wipe them away. “Please. For once, let me finish.”
Her mother stares, mouth agape.
“I've spent so long trying to be the daughter you wanted. The careful one. The polished one. The one who made the right choices and smiled at the right people and never embarrassed you. I tried so hard that I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore. I only knew what would disappoint you.”
Her father’s expression crumples. “We never wanted you to feel that way.”
Janey looks at him, and her voice softens. “Maybe you didn’t. But I did feel that way.”
Eleanor’s face tightens again, anger rushing in to cover whatever else might have been there. “And this is what you want? Two men? A child with no certainty? A life people will whisper about?”
Janey inhales unsteadily. “Yes.” One small word. One absolute choice.
Eleanor stares at her.
Janey touches her belly with both hands now. “I want this baby. I want Mason. I want Brookes. I want the home we’re building here, even if it doesn’t look the way you think a home should look.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Mason turns to me, his eyes wide with hope and pride.
She’s making the choice herself, putting aside her fear and any consideration of what we want because, at last, she knows what she wants and she’s prepared to fight for it.
Eleanor’s eyes flash. “You can’t possibly love two men.”
Janey gives a broken little laugh. “I used to think that, too.”
Her mother’s mouth twists. “This isn’t love. This is recklessness. This is foolishness and selfishness. It’s lust dressed up.”
“No,” Mason says, his voice rough from holding himself back.
He removes his hat slowly, holding it in both hands.
“Reckless would be letting her stand here alone. Reckless would be pretending we don’t love her because it makes other people more comfortable.
I love your daughter, Ma’am. I know my brother does, too.
And whatever happens, our baby will be loved.
By all of us. And frankly, we don’t give a damn what other people think about it.
So long as Janey goes to sleep at night with a smile on her face, my job is done. ”
Eleanor’s eyes narrow. “You expect me to find that comforting? That innuendo.”
“I don’t expect anything from you,” Mason says. “But Janey deserves to hear it said out loud.”
I turn to her parents, though the words are also for Janey.
“I love your daughter. I love her when she’s laughing in the kitchen. I love her stubbornness, her selflessness, even when it costs her too much. I already love the baby she’s carrying, whether blood says I have a right to or not.”
Janey makes a soft sound, half sob, half breath.
“And I'm not going anywhere.”
Mason steps closer to her other side. “Neither am I.”
For a moment, everything falls away. Her mother’s anger. Her father’s shock. The dust and scent of home. Our old lives pressing at the edges of this new one.
Janey looks between us, her tears shining, and the openness of her expression nearly undoes me.
Then Eleanor makes a choked sound. “You’re all delusional.” She points toward the sedan. “Get your things, Janey.”
“No.”
Her mother blinks. “Excuse me?”
“No,” Janey says again, stronger this time. “I’m staying.”
“You're coming home.”
“This is my home, now.”
Eleanor’s face flushes. “This isn’t a home. This is some fantasy you’ve built because you're scared and hormonal and surrounded by men who are taking advantage of your confusion. You saw your friend living in sin and wanted to join her.”
Janey steps down to stand in the yard, directly in front of her mother.
“Joelle isn’t living in sin. She’s in a polyamorous relationship that’s filled with love and commitment. And I’m not confused,” she says. “I won’t pretend I’m not scared. But being scared doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Eleanor’s lips tremble with fury. “You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe I’ll regret parts of it,” Janey says softly. “Maybe it’ll be hard. Maybe people will talk. Maybe I’ll cry more than I want to. But I would rather live a hard life that’s mine than an easy one that belongs to you.”
Her father wipes a hand over his face. “Janey…”
She turns to him, and her voice gentles. “I love you, Dad. So please leave it.”
“I love you too.” His voice breaks. “I don’t know how to protect you from this.”
Janey’s smile is small and sad. “You don’t have to protect me from my own life or my own choices. Not anymore.”
He stares at her for a long moment. Then his gaze shifts to me and Mason, then back to Janey.
“Are they good to you?”
Eleanor makes a sharp sound. “Richard.”
But he doesn’t look at his wife.
Janey nods, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Yes.”
“Do they make you feel safe?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love them?”
Her breath trembles. “Yes.”
Her father’s eyes shine. He looks older suddenly, as if the last few minutes have worn years into him.
He nods once and his wife’s face hardens with betrayal. “You can’t be serious.”
Richard’s shoulders sag. “She’s standing right in front of us telling us who she is and what she wants. She’s having a child. You can’t wipe that away and pretend it never happened.”
“She’s making a mistake.”
“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But she isn’t a child anymore. Her life is hers. She has to paint her own canvas.”
Janey presses a hand over her mouth as a sob escapes. Unable to stop myself, I stand behind her right shoulder. Mason moves to her left. She leans back the smallest amount, enough that her shoulder brushes my chest and her fingers find Mason’s hand.
Eleanor’s lips curl as she looks at the three of us.
“This is disgraceful,” she says. “After everything we’ve done for you. The schools. The lessons. The connections. The doors we opened. And this is what you choose?”
Janey’s face crumples. “I’m grateful for what you gave me. But love isn’t a debt I have to repay by becoming someone I’m not.”
The words hang between them, heavier than anger. For the first time, Eleanor looks less furious than wounded. Only for a second. Then she gathers herself, smoothing a hand over her blouse like she can press the whole ugly scene flat.
“When this falls apart,” she says coldly, “don’t expect me to clean up the mess.”
Janey closes her eyes and a tremor moves through her body. When she opens them, they brim with tears.
“I won’t,” she says. “I never have. But this baby is coming, Mom. Don’t you want to be a part of her life?”
Eleanor closes her eyes, inhaling so deeply it’s as though the air is the only thing keeping her standing.
“All I’ve ever tried to do is stop you from making the same mistakes...” She stops, as if the confession will cost her too much. Then she shakes her head and turns sharply, walking back to the car.
Richard remains where he is. “Janey.”
She steps forward, and for a moment I hope he might embrace her. He looks like he wants to. His hands lift slightly, then fall.
“She needs time,” he whispers. “She loves you. She doesn’t know how to show it right.”
Janey nods, though fresh tears fill her eyes. “I know.”
He looks past her to Mason and me. His expression is wary and full of a father’s helpless fear.
“You’ll take care of her?”
Mason answers first. “We will.”
“With everything we have,” I add.
Richard holds my gaze a second longer, then he nods. He touches Janey’s cheek gently, almost like he's afraid she might vanish. I wonder what he sees when he looks at her. The woman she is or the girl she was.
How would I feel in his shoes, forced to the edges of her life while two men I don’t know fill the center of it? I’d want to know who my daughter was committing herself to. I’d want them to know that she’s precious to me.
He smiles, but it’s tainted by sadness. Then, he turns and follows his wife.
The sedan doors close. The engine starts. We watch as the car backs away from the house, turns in the wide dirt drive, and rolls toward the road in a slow cloud of dust.
Janey remains frozen until the car disappears beyond the bend.
Only then does her strength leave her.
Mason catches her before I can, one arm wrapping around her waist as I step in front of her and cup her face.
“Hey,” I say, my voice breaking despite every effort to keep it normal. “We’ve got you.”
Her hands clutch at my shirt. “I said it.”
“You did,” Mason murmurs against her hair.
“I said all of it.”
“You were magnificent,” I say, smiling.
She lets out a shattered laugh that turns into a sob. “I don’t feel magnificent. I feel like I got dragged over hot coals.”
Mason presses a kiss to her temple. “Bravery rarely feels good while you’re living it.”
Janey leans into my brother, then reaches for me, too, pulling us both close with desperate hands.
I wrap my arms around her and Mason together, the three of us standing in the settling dust while the evening folds around the ranch.
The stew is probably burning.
The horses are still tied to the rail.
The world hasn’t magically made everything right.
But Janey is still here. She has chosen this home, our child, and this impossible love we’re no longer pretending we can live without.
And as she presses one trembling hand to her belly, I cover it with mine.
Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it like a family.