Chapter 24
BILLIE
When my notice drops in the mailbox, I rip it into a thousand tiny shreds before setting it on fire.
Is that an overreaction? Maybe. But I’m so angry I can’t think what else to do.
This lets out some of the rage inside my chest, like bloodletting or popping a blister.
It’s messy, but it helps. I’d like to say I’m angry with Jacob, but that’s not really true.
I’m angry with myself because Jacob never lied to me, not really.
His goal was clear from the beginning. He wanted the island. His coming here was just a formality to tell us.
No, if I’m honest, I’m not angry with him. I’m angry that I thought I could change him. People don’t change. Especially not people like that. Definitely not for people like me.
For a second it looked like he was realizing the joy of community, but he’s proved himself to be exactly the man I thought he was. I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s not his fault that in pretending I could fix him, I’ve been humiliated in front of the whole island.
I ask Lantigua to cover for me in the cafe for a few days after Jacob leaves.
I don’t think I can face other people right now.
The idea of them walking in and looking at me, knowing that they’re wondering what happened between me and Jacob, knowing that they want to ask or have been gossiping about it at home… I can’t bear their pity.
On the third day of moping around, my mother comes to visit me. That’s how I know things must be really bad.
She lets herself in and boils some water.
I’m upstairs when she comes in, and for a second I think it’s an intruder.
But she calls up to me, and the sudden spike in adrenaline washes away.
Not that there’s anyone in this town who could truly be counted as an intruder.
I just don’t need any person wandering in and seeing me at my worst. At least my mother won’t judge me too hard for this.
But I do have to face her.
I drag myself down the stairs in the shirt I’ve been wearing for days. I don’t know when the last time I showered was. I don’t remember how much I’ve slept.
“Mom, what are you doing?” I ask as I step into the kitchen, my bare feet warm against the floor.
“Making us tea,” she says. “Herbal, calming.”
“I don’t need tea.” I sigh, slumping into a chair at the table.
“Okay then, I’ll have it.” She continues to futz around at the counter, a spoon clinking against the mugs as she makes me tea anyway.
Closing my eyes, I say, “Mom, why are you here?”
“Is a mother not allowed to visit her daughter anymore?”
“I know you, Mom. I know there’s an ulterior motive for this. Actually, you don’t even need to tell me. I can guess.”
She comes to sit at the table, pushing a mug toward me. My favorite one, faded blue with sailing ships that have worn with time. “Well, if you can guess what I’m going to say, where’s your smart answer to it?”
I don’t have a smart answer to her question because I barely have a stupid answer.
Why have I distanced myself from everyone over the last few days? Why did I let Jacob in? Why was I so stupid to think that any of it might be a good idea?
The more I think about it, the more it makes my head hurt. It’s like all this is happening in a dream, or far away. Like I’ve turned so numb I can’t even feel any of this happening to me.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say quietly. “I don’t know how to stop this.”
“Honey,” says my mother, taking my hand as her face twists into pure pity. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” I snap. “If I’d tried harder, if I had shown him more. If I’d—”
“Then it would have been the same. It was always going to be like this.” Mom looks into my eyes, hers the same blue as mine. The blue she gave to me. “You were never going to be able to fix him. You tried your best. You can’t blame yourself for a decision you didn’t make.”
“But…” I start, trailing off because I don’t have an argument. She’s right, of course.
The fact is, I was never going to change Jacob’s mind. He’d already bought the place before we even talked. As far as he was concerned, it was his for the taking. Maybe he looked like he was changing his mind, but not enough to take any action. He had already committed to his plan.
“Go to the cafe,” says Mom. “People miss you.”
“Sure, they do,” I huff, hearing exactly how much like a petulant kid I sound.
“They do.” Mom rolls her eyes and fixes me with a pull yourself together kind of look.
“I can’t tell you what to do anymore. You’ll always be my baby girl, but you’re grown up enough to be able to make your own choices.
But you can’t hide away here forever. It’s not good for you.
Go to the cafe, speak to some people. Live here while we still can. ”
“What about when we can’t?” I whisper.
“We’ll worry about that when we get there. Go out there and live, Billie. Don’t spend what might be our final days in paradise wishing it was different.”
I want to be furious, but she’s right. If this is the end of Havenridge, I don’t want to remember it like this, as a place of bitter misery.
I want to remember it for golden beaches and happy days, for family and friends, bonfires and marshmallows, boat rides and snorkeling.
This place will always be special to me.
Jacob can take away the land, but he can’t take away the piece of my heart that lives here.
Suddenly, I leap up, the table rocking under me, our mugs sloshing and spilling, and I launch into my mother’s arms. She grunts in confusion, but then wraps her warm, familiar arms around me. And for that second, I can believe that everything is okay. That nothing is going to change.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper.
She kisses my head and squeezes me. We don’t say much else as we finish our tea. There’s nothing much else to say.
I drag myself upstairs to get dressed. Usually, I put real effort into my outfit, making sure I look cute as well as approachable, but today it’s all I can do to pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
Some effort is better than nothing. That’s what my mother always taught me.
Slowly, I head down the stairs, and Mom’s waiting for me when I get there. She wraps me in her arms and squeezes me tight. “I love you, you know,” she says, kissing me on the head.
“I know, Mom. I love you too.”
“Get out there and be my beautiful baby.”
“Yes, Mom,” I scoff, though I don’t pull away. I don’t want to let her go.
It takes me longer than usual to reach the cafe, like every step is a struggle. I’m filled with a sense of doom, like every nerve in my body knows this could be the last step I ever take on this street.
When I get to the cafe, I open the door slowly, gripping the handle like it’s taking all my strength to turn it. Lantigua is at the counter, and he smiles at me when I come in. “Hey, Billie,” he says.
“Hey,” I say quietly. I hold my head as high as I can as I walk over to the counter.
Everyone’s eyes are on me. I don’t look around. I can’t bear to see them all scrutinizing me. Everyone wants to ask if I’m all right, or what happened. I’m not going to give them a reason to think I’m weak.
I grab an apron and tie it on. “How’s it been going?” I ask with the biggest smile I can muster, which is not that big, but it’s better than not being here.
“We’ve been busy,” he says, thankfully following my lead and saying nothing about the situation. I can always count on this kid to be here for me.
“I was worried the place would fall down without me,” I joke weakly.
“You know I wouldn’t let that happen, boss.” He grins, putting on a stupid accent to make me laugh. And it does make me laugh.
Two days ago, it felt like I was never going to find joy again. This conversation is giving me the faintest spark of hope that I might be wrong.
The day wears on, and a few people cave to their curiosity and ask me about the evictions, or about the rich guy and where he’s gone.
I can’t begrudge them it, not really. I would be dying to know too.
I don’t give any of them a full answer because I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.
But fortunately, everyone seems to get the hint quickly that I’m not up for discussing Jacob whatsoever.
Other than that, it feels normal. It feels so normal that I can almost forget I’m supposed to be miserable. I guess that’s the point.
One of these days, I’ll trust my mother without arguing with her first. Maybe. Not that I’ll ever tell her that.
We’re just coming out of the mid-afternoon rush when my phone starts ringing insistently. Usually, I ignore it when it rings at work because it’s never that important. But when it doesn’t stop, I pull it out and see it’s the nurse from the clinic I use.
“Excuse me,” I say to Lantigua. “I should take this.”
“No problem, boss,” he says with a grin.
I dart into the back room, close the door and pick up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Billie,” the nurse says. “How are you doing?”
“Good, thank you,” I say, not really wanting to get into it after I’ve spent such a magical few hours forgetting about all my problems.
“We got the results from your blood test in,” she says.
“Oh… yeah…” I stammer. I’ve been so busy thinking about the way my life’s falling apart the last few days that I had completely forgotten I went for my annual checkup last week.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, an ominous feeling creeping into my bones. “You don’t usually call me.”
“Well…” she says, almost nervously, and my heart starts to sink.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, too quickly. I take a breath and hold it, staring at the crack in the wall that I’ve been meaning to fix for years. “We had to run some extra tests,” she says eventually, “because we noticed something unusual in your hormone levels.”
“Oh,” I say. “Is that bad?” I don’t know enough about medicine to know what to worry about, but the idea of it still makes me nervous.
There’s another weird pause like she’s trying to figure out which words to use to tell me. “No, no, you’ll be fine. It’s just… well… you’re pregnant.”
“I’m what?” I squawk, then clap my hand over my mouth, afraid that I spoke too loudly.
The nurse chuckles awkwardly. “We double-checked, and we can double-check again for you, but this test is very accurate.”
“I’m pregnant,” I say again, mostly to myself.
“If you need someone to talk to about it—” the nurse starts, but I cut her off.
“No, I’ll be okay. Thank you for letting me know.”
She says a few other things about my blood sugar and vitamin D, but I barely hear her. How can I, when I’ve just heard the best news of my life? The most confusing news of my life.
We only spent a few weeks together. Just when I thought he was through with changing my life.
I’m still furious with him, but how can I be angry with the father of my baby? Then, how can I ever forgive him for being the one who’s going to stop my baby — our baby — from growing up on this island that I love?
My head is spinning. This is good news, isn’t it? I want a family. I want to raise a baby. My child will be loved, no matter what.
I just never expected to have a kid with an absent father.
I’m still sitting in the corner when Lantigua comes in the back, maybe an hour later. “Billie,” he says quietly. “Are you okay?”
I look up at him and realize I’ve been crying. “Yes,” I say, and when he frowns at me, I scrub at my eyes and nod. “No, really. I’m okay.”
And I mean it. I’m getting the family I always wanted. Once my heart stops breaking, I’m going to be over the moon.
I wonder how long that’s going to take.