Chapter 23
I’m not sure how I end up in Evan’s bed every night for the next five nights, but I do.
We don’t talk about the issues that seem insurmountable, instead letting our bodies, tongues, and hands do the talking. We go all day without communicating, with him at the restaurant and me at Lily.
By the time we get home, we’re both too exhausted to do more than fall into each other; the physical release is something I crave and need to get through the slog of the days.
That’s not to say we aren’t engaging in some pillow talk. That first night, we ended up in his bedroom, I almost left again like I did the first time we had sex. But Evan pulled me back to him and charmed me into staying in his arms while we slept. After that, I hated to admit that the intimacy was what I craved, so I just stayed without addressing the elephant in the room.
Last night, as he traced letters on my back for me to guess as I pressed up against his hard body, we laughed about a trip he took to Switzerland a few years back, where he mistook a type of local fish for cake. The conversation was inane and harmless, but those few hours in the dark, worshipping each other and then talking of ridiculous nothings, is beginning to become my saving grace.
The days are otherwise long and dreary. I fear the man from the driveway coming back. So far, I haven’t seen another sign of him, but the clock in the back of my mind on his demand ticks like a time bomb. I have the money from Mom’s life insurance in my account, but so far I haven’t touched it. If he, in fact, does come calling, I’ll use it to pay him off.
I’d rather be out from under his shady dealings than paying off a portion of the mortgage that will be there anyway. The debt weighs heavy on my mind, but I don’t offload the burden onto anyone else. No, I go to work, work some more at odd jobs, and then drag myself home to be with Evan, even though we don’t talk about anything that needs to be talked about.
Business at Lily has been doing well as the tourists venture into Hope Crest for the summer. I’m selling a bunch each day and have begun scouting new products around the area, even though no one asked me to.
I’m doing inventory on a new shipment of candles that just arrived when I hear the bell over the front door chime. I know for a fact I turned the sign, indicating to customers that I’m on a lunch break, but I wouldn’t put it past a tourist to wander in anyway.
So, when I wander up front, I’m surprised to see Leona standing there.
“Oh, hi.” I’m caught off guard.
Since my fight with Warren, I haven’t heard from many of the Ashtons. Of course, he and Alana haven’t tried to ambush me, but she did contact me initially to apologize and also tell me their reasoning.
Alana sent me a huge apology text, explaining that she wanted to talk to me in person but was afraid I wouldn’t see her. She would be correct in that assumption. I want nothing to do with her and Warren right now, which makes her being my boss somewhat difficult. While I despise them at this moment, I can’t just abandon this job. It’s good money and pretty much solitary except for the customers who shop here; I’d be hard-pressed to find a better opportunity while I think through my options.
Not that I have many, considering I’m buried under mountains and mountains of debt. Mount Everest has nothing on me.
As for the other members of the family, I mean, I’ve seen them, of course, but they haven’t spoken to me about the scholarship. I’m not sure if they know, are choosing not to get involved, or if they sided with their sister and brother-in-law. Either way, I’m not going to make an awkward subject more awkward, so I shove my feelings deep down and keep on with work.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Leona gives me a big smile and my heart twinges.
I’d have given anything for this woman to be my real mother once upon a time.
“Alana wanted to come, but the baby has been sick and she didn’t think you’d want to see her.”
A blush of shame coats my cheeks because a woman as kind and level-headed as Leona Ashton seeing me be so stubborn and brash is somewhat embarrassing. There goes my question of whether or not Warren filled the rest of the family in.
“She didn’t have to send you.” I try to stay calm.
Figures of authority, or anyone older whom I hold in high regard, make me nervous when it comes to situations where I might be punished. Not that Leona can punish me, but her disappointment is enough to send me spiraling. I was a pawn in my mother’s mind games for so long that I sweat when it comes to anyone in a role of authority coming down on me.
“She didn’t. I came on my own.” Leona moseys around the shop, picking up a knickknack here or there.
“Did you want to buy anything?” I ask lamely as if she’s here to pick up a local body wash or artisanal cooking sauce.
She shakes her head as she nears the counter where the cash register sits. “I won’t take up much of your time, but I wanted to come check on you.”
“I’m fine.” The lie pops out like it’s well-oiled and practiced.
I suppose that’s because it is. I’ve been using that line for decades.
Leona tilts her chin at me like she’s disappointed I’m lying to her. A hot-cold shame once again coats the lining of my stomach.
“I’m so sorry that so many people’s actions have made you feel manipulated throughout your life.” Leona’s sincere expression hits me right in the heart. “It’s never been fair, the hurt you’ve had to endure, and I can’t imagine what finding out about that scholarship must have been like for you. You are entitled to every feeling you have.”
Not that I need justification to feel betrayed, but if anyone can give it, it’s Leona. A small part of me sighs with relief that at least one person is giving me permission to be upset and furious.
“Thank you for saying that.” My voice is small, and I find I can’t look at her.
Her hand reaches out for mine, a comfort in a tough situation. “Do you know how many times I wanted to call the state, or adopt you myself? That I wanted to have Thomas go over and remove you from that house? It was terrible, having to watch you go through everything you did and know that the situation was so much more complicated than you just coming to live with us. There are so many systems, so much red tape, and ultimately, it was your decision what happened. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to strong arm you at times. There were nights I wanted to scream at you for going back to your mother’s house rather than coming home to ours.”
The raw sadness in Leona’s voice has tears clogging my throat.
“But I knew that we had to trust you. That if it got bad enough, you’d tell us, right? Now, I’m not so sure. Because, sweetheart, I see you struggling so much, trying to keep all that hurt under wraps, and you won’t ask a single soul for help. And I love you as much as my own children, but you’re being stubborn. And you’re wrong.”
The harshness coming from Leona is such a surprise. It feels like a swift kick to the gut. “Wh-what?” I’m astonished.
The Ashton matriarch has never been anything but unfailingly kind and loyal to me. She’s never given me a hard dose of anything, and to hear her say I’m wrong? Well, it’s the worst feedback I could hear, ever.
“You have always had such a good head on your shoulders. Even when you insisted on doing things on your own, we trusted that you’d do what was best. That you’d let us know if the water was too hot and you needed a hand getting out. But the woman I see now is just posturing for posturing’s sake. You’re sinking, August, and you’re not letting the people who love you most help you out.
“Warren loves you like a sister, like a daughter. My son-in-law would lay down his life for you. Was it wrong how he and Alana went about the scholarship? Absolutely. Am I mad that they paid for your tuition? Not one bit. You deserved every penny of it, and he deserved to take care of you.
“But I know that’s not the only thing going on. Others may not see it, but I have a mother’s intuition, August. You’re not handling this well, and none of that is your fault. Whatever is going on shouldn’t even be on your plate in the first place. But not allowing us to help? That’s the part where I tell you you’re being foolish, and you’re not a fool.”
A tear runs down my cheek because I can’t help it anymore. The thing is, she’s right. Of course, she’s right. I’ve felt horrible about how I spoke to Warren. We’ve never fought like that before, and while I can mask all my pain with fury and outrage, deep down, I’m so horribly distraught and helpless and lonely that I don’t know what to do. Those inescapable feelings are making me turn on the ones who truly have my best interest at heart.
“I-I don’t know what to do anymore.” The words come out watery and broken.
“Oh, my girl.” Leona rushes to me, pulling me into her arms, and I let free a sob.
“My whole life, I’ve done this all by myself. Any problem, any struggle, I got through it. I didn’t lean on anyone, she made me this way. I took a certain sense of pride in being able to be hyper-independent, but it’s not a strength, is it? It’s a weakness. She clouded my vision so much that I can’t even see when someone is trying to help me out of pure good intentions. It’s like she molded me to never accept help because then I’d be doing better than she was. If someone actually cared about me, she would have lost her battle to try to rob me of all love in my life.”
It’s not often that I mourn what my mother-daughter relationship wasn’t. You hear all the time in books or movies about how wonderful having a mother is. My friends would talk about their moms like they hung the moon. They’d call them their “best friends.” I had never and will never know what that’s like. Not only could I not talk to my mother about anything, but she actively schemed against me. The grief of never knowing that kind of love is one that marked my soul, and it would forever.
“But you know the truth. Deep down, you know who is here for you because they want to watch you succeed. You’ve been around us long enough, and away from her for long enough, that if you push past the fear and emotional baggage, you know what’s true. We are here to help. No loans, no favors that need to be paid back. If you need something, we will give it. Simply because we love you. All you have to do is let us in.”
That’s the hard part, isn’t it? Letting these years of built-up walls down enough to allow the Ashtons to see what I was up against. It still feels so uncomfortable, nearly painful, to do so.
But maybe this is the first step. Just admitting that I’m not okay, that maybe I can’t handle this on my own … that’s a step in the right direction. And if I keep chipping away at the cement my mother laid around my heart, I’ll be able to feel that unconditional love I’ve always heard about.