25. Tess #2
I thought I was always careful, stepping outside or waiting until she was sound asleep to have any kind of relationship conversation with Claire.
I must have fucked up.
Just like I did tonight.
“Sweetie, you heard that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She never even gave me a hint. She was sad about the break-up, but I thought that was just because we’d had a few outings with Claire and wouldn’t be seeing her again.
I would have handled everything differently if I knew there was even a chance Shel believed it was her fault. The whole reason I broke up with Claire was so Shel wouldn’t feel like an inconvenience.
She ignores my question and keeps shouting at me.
“Now you won’t be available to Jacinthe because you’re my mom, so she’s going to break up with you too, and then we’ll have to leave!”
My breath catches as everything starts to make sense.
She thinks it’s happening all over again, only with so much more at stake. She was hiding because she thinks she’ll get dragged away from this place.
“I don’t want to leave!” she pleads. “I love it here. I want to live here forever.”
My body goes rigid as I’m faced with the truth.
I’ve got exactly what I wanted: a place for Shel to belong. A home. A life built just for us, where she can thrive and grow and feel confident.
And I’ve put it all at risk just to sleep with somebody.
Shel’s tone shifts from accusations to plaintive begging.
“I can just stay out of your way. You don’t have to drive me places. I don’t even have to go to Ali’s house again.” She glances between the two of us, her shoulders curling inward like she’s trying to make herself smaller. “Just don’t make us move. I don’t want to move.”
If I thought my heart was breaking before, it’s shattering into a million pieces now.
“Shel…”
I try to say more, but the lump in my throat is impossible to swallow.
She looks so tiny. So scared.
I’m scaring her.
A sniffling sound beside me makes me turn my head. Jacinthe is swiping at her eyes.
“I should let you two talk.”
She gets to her feet without meeting my eyes. I’m frozen, pinned under the suffocating weight of just how badly we’ve messed this up.
All I can do is watch as Jacinthe squats down next to Shel so they’re eye to eye.
“Shel, ma belle , écoutez-moi .” Her tone is solemn.
She places a hand on Shel’s shoulder to give her a quick squeeze.
“You are always welcome here. No one is kicking you out. I promise you that, okay? I don’t know what you and your mom will decide, but you do not ever have to worry that Gabrielle and I do not want you here. We love having you here.”
She glances over at me, the flashlight beam catching in her eyes.
“Both of you,” she adds, “and nothing could change that.”
She’s gone before Shel or I can say anything back. In the silence that follows, I hear her assuring everyone in the yard that we’re fine and that people should start heading home now.
Below my feet, I become aware of the sounds of the horses. I can hear a few of them pacing their stalls and letting out agitated whickers. We must have them on edge with all the shouting and frantic searching tonight.
I stretch my hand out like Shel is another nervous horse I need to win over with patient assurances.
“Would you come sit with me, honey?”
My hand is shaking, and it takes everything in me not to snatch her up and hold her here so she can never run off like that again.
She hesitates for what feels like an age. Then she settles down next to me on the hay bale.
I let out a long, heavy sigh of relief.
“Shel, I am so sorry.”
She’s looking down at her lap instead of at me, but at least she’s listening.
“I’m so sorry you had to see something that upset you tonight, and I’m so sorry you heard that phone call with Claire. I had no idea. I would have explained things to you better a long time ago if I did.”
She tilts her head. “Explained what?”
She’s in desperate need of a tissue. I fish through my pockets, but all I’ve got to offer her is a crumpled receipt. She still takes it.
“I would have explained that absolutely nothing is your fault,” I tell her, “not now or with Claire. We were two grown-ups in a relationship. When we broke up, it was about us, not you.”
She frowns after dabbing under her nose with the crumpled paper.
“But she said it was because you have a kid.” Her voice drops like she’s ashamed. “I took up too much of your time.”
I don’t know who I want to strangle more in this moment: Claire or myself.
“Shel, you are my life.” I lean my head down and wait until she finally looks at me before I go on. “Every single minute I spend with you is precious to me. You are my number one, always, always, always.”
Her eyes are still glistening, and I can tell I haven’t quite broken through to her yet.
“That’s how I want things to be,” I urge. “You are not an inconvenience. You do not take me away from other people. When I’m with you, it’s because I want to be with you. Do you understand?”
She blinks up at me a few times before she shuffles closer to clutch my arm.
“I understand,” she mumbles.
I sigh again and take a moment to glance up at the ceiling. If this night goes on for much longer, I’m going to start offering up prayers of salvation like Gabrielle.
“Good,” I tell Shel. “Everything else in our lives fits around that. I’m the one who broke up with Claire, remember? And it’s because she just…didn’t fit.”
Something in me unclenches, like a knot I didn’t realize I’d been carrying around all these years.
Whenever I thought about Claire, I’d try to pick out the things I did wrong or the reasons I never should have tried dating again at all, but maybe it wasn’t ever about that.
Maybe it really was that simple. Maybe she just didn’t fit.
“Does Jacinthe fit?”
Shel’s question startles me back to the present. My face starts heating up.
I open and close my mouth a few times as I try to figure out how to explain this.
“Jacinthe and I…aren’t girlfriends,” I finally manage.
Shel gawks at me. “What?”
My face gets even hotter. We’ve gone over the basics of sex already. She’s aware it’s something people in relationships do, but explaining the concept of no-strings hook-ups to a ten year-old feels like way more than I can handle tonight.
I wrack my brain for the simplest way to put this.
“We were in my bed together because we…we have a crush on each other, but we aren’t in a relationship like I was with Claire. Does that make sense?”
She squints at me like I’m pulling her leg.
“Are you going to be in a relationship?” she asks.
I prop my elbows on my knees and hunch over to drag my hands down my face.
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” I begin. “We?—”
“But you like her,” Shel interrupts, “and she likes you.”
A strained laugh bursts out of my throat.
“That’s true,” I say, “but it’s a little more complicated than that.”
Shel thinks for a moment, and then her face falls. She lets go of my arm.
“Because of me.”
“No, honey.” I catch her hand and squeeze. “Because we live in the same house, and because I help Jacinthe on the farm.”
She frowns and shakes her head. “Doesn’t that make it easier? Aren’t you like girlfriends already?”
I try to tell her that’s not true, but something keeps my jaw clamped tight.
I let myself picture it: what dating Jacinthe might really be like.
Of course, we’d already blown through the first few steps of U-Hauling before we’d even kissed, but besides skipping the whole ‘getting to know each other over a few casual dates’ thing, I can’t imagine being together would look much different than what we already do.
Coffee and barn chores in the morning. Dinner with Shel and Gabrielle in the evening. Warm nights on the porch and cold ones by the fire.
Sunset trail rides. Sneaking kisses in the truck. Grabbing a beer with friends during the odd moments both our schedules allow it.
Hell, she’s even come trick-or-treating with us already. She’s teaching Shel to play guitar.
I didn’t have to ask her for any of that. She just did it.
She just fits.
My eyes begin to sting, and I have to dig my hands into the hay bale again to keep from falling apart.
“I don’t want to do anything that puts us at risk,” I tell Shel.
“At risk? What do you mean?”
I clear my throat and cough a few times to dislodge the lump that’s forming.
“Well, if Jacinthe and I ever have a fight,” I explain, “and she doesn’t want us to live here anymore?—”
“But she’ll always want us to live here, no matter what.” Shel points over at the spot where Jacinthe crouched down beside her just minutes ago. “She promised.”
Her voice is hopeful, excited, like she’s holding out a missing puzzle piece she thinks I’ve forgotten about.
A flicker of anger ignites in my chest.
Jacinthe should have asked before she said something like that to my kid.
“I don’t think she can really make that kind of promise.”
Shel looks stricken. “She was lying?”
I swallow a curse. I’m just making this worse.
“No, baby, she wasn’t lying,” I assure her. “Jacinthe wouldn’t lie to you. She’s just…”
I think back to the look on Jacinthe’s face when she squeezed Shel’s shoulder, to the tears in her eyes when she watched my daughter struggle tonight.
I think about how a whole group of people missed Shel’s hiding spot, but Jacinthe knew just where to look.
“She’s a very good person,” I finish, “and you’re important to her. That’s why she made that promise.”
Shel is still shaking her head.
“I don’t understand. You don’t believe her?”
I rest my head in my hands again.
I don’t know what to believe anymore, and all I have left to give Shel is the truth.
“I want to believe her. I really do.”
The last thing I expect is for Shel to smile. She gives me a small, almost pitying grin and pats my arm.
“So just believe her, then.”
I stare at her for a moment, and then I tip my head back and laugh.
She makes it sound so simple.
“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?” I ask, reaching to ruffle her hair.
She pouts and swats my hand away.
“Maybe it’s not complicated, Mom. Maybe you’re making it complicated.”
I bark another laugh and slump against the hay bale behind us.
“Maybe you’re right.” I stretch my legs out in front of me. “Have I ever told you you’re just a little too smart?”
I hold up my thumb and index finger just millimeters apart. Shel crosses her arms and does a satisfied shimmy.
“Yeah. You have.”
She leans back beside me. I nudge her foot with my knee.
“Hey. Can I ask you to promise me something?”
She gives me a nervous glance when my voice turns solemn. “Yeah?”
“Don’t ever hide like that again. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk or if you need to be alone. I’ll respect that, but I need to know where you are. Always. It’s very important.”
She chews her lip and nods.
“You promise?” I insist.
I hold my hand out for a shake, and she takes it.
“Yeah. I promise.”
She’s got a firm grip, and I smile at the feeling of her tiny palm squeezing mine.
She learned that from me.
“What do we do now?” she asks once we let go.
“I think it’s time for you to get ready for bed.”
She has the sense not to complain.
“What about you?” she asks. “Will you talk to Jacinthe?”
Just the thought of that is exhausting. I already feel like I’ve run a marathon tonight.
“I have a lot to think about before I’m ready to do that,” I answer. “I will talk to her, though. Not tonight, but I will. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we’ll figure this out.”
That seems to be good enough for Shel. She curls into my side, nudging at my hand until I start stroking her hair.
“My little rosy maple moth,” I murmur. “I’m so happy you’re safe.”
I’ve already declared bedtime, but I don’t make any move to get up. For now, I just stay here with my daughter.
For now, we’re all right.
For now, we’re home.