Another advantage of renting the house long-term was that there would be no need to get rid of the furniture, which had been in the Montgomery family for years. According to Pop, the furniture hadn’t been built for looks but for stability. Lyle now understood his father thinking that way, as it had survived three rambunctious sons.
He could recall when he, Logan, and Lance had accompanied their father to replace furniture that their father couldn’t stand to look at anymore--Pop’s bedroom set.Just knowing Edwina had shared that bed with another man had initiated the move. Pop had made it a family affair, and for that reason, the bed that he and Monique were presently in meant a lot to him. After that day, Lyle’s nightly prayer had been that, other than finding out where Carrie was and bringing her home, they’d be rid of Edwina Montgomery once and for all.
Obviously not.
She’d come back a few years ago, only to try to blackmail Carrie. Luckily, once Carrie’s brothers got involved, Edwina’s malicious scheme went nowhere. Carrie was with the family who loved her. In the end, Edwina had learned that no matter what, the Montgomerys stuck together.
Lyle had honestly thought that once she’d been incarcerated for a federal crime, that would be the end of it. Since the judge had given her twenty years, he assumed the family had a good fifteen before they heard from her again, if ever. Yet it had been less than four years. He couldn’t help wondering if this was an intentional move on Edwina’s part or if she truly wanted redemption.
The sad thing was, it truly didn’t matter to him.
“I spoke with Dad and Arnie earlier, Lyle. They told me to tell you hello.”
His wife’s words pulled him out of his reverie. He had loved her parents. Sadly, her mother had passed away some years ago, leaving her father to live alone. Lyle and Monique, along with her brother Arnie and his wife, visited him often.
“You did? How are they doing?”
“Great. Dad rushed me off the phone to leave for band practice, and Arnie and Debbie are taking Dad on a five-day Thanksgiving cruise with them.”
Lyle nodded. Years ago, before getting married, Mr. Oliviers had been part of a popular jazz band with his college friends. Some of the original members, now retired with plenty of free time on their hands, had gotten together and decided to do several reunion tours. It had proven to be so successful that now they often performed at several jazz spots, whose packed audiences were made up of both old and young.
“I’m sure your dad will enjoy the cruise. And it’s a great time of year for it, Nicky,” Lyle said. Nobody called her Nicky but him.
They had taken her father and Pop on a four-day cruise out of New Orleans last year, and both men had loved it. The two men had gotten along and spent a lot of their time talking about the good old days.
“Arnie and Debbie are doing great as well. One of the girls had a piano recital today. She’s getting really good,” Monique said.
“We’ll have to get to one of her recitals sometime soon. Anything else you want to tell me before we get into other things?” he asked, reaching out and caressing her arm.
He wanted to make love to his wife. Heneededto make love to her. Reading Edwina’s letter had been mentally draining. Although he knew Logan had read his, Lance and Carrie had no intention of letting Edwina into their heads. They’d left their envelopes right there on the coffee table unopened, just where they’d tossed them.
“While I was feeding the baby, I talked to Faith, Shannon, and Anna. They and their families are all doing well.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said of his wife’s three best friends.
Monique reached up and touched his brow. “You’re frowning. In fact, you haven’t been yourself since we got back here. You want to talk about it, Lyle?”
He preferred making love to her, but then, maybe they should talk. He hadn’t been aware that his mood had so obviously shifted since they’d left Pop and Thea’s place. He shook his head. “If you’re referring to the letter, Nicky, I’ve made up my mind what I plan to do.”
“And that is?” she asked.
“I have no intention of going to see her. I opened the letter and read her apology. That’s enough,” he said. He paused for a moment. “I guess we should be grateful she didn’t request compassionate care.”
Her forehead furrowed in a frown. “Compassionate care?”
He nodded. “It’s where an inmate is released to their family for more compassionate end-of-life care.” He sighed. “It’s not too late for her to ask, so don’t be surprised if that’s her next move,” Lyle said, a cynical tone in his voice that he wasn’t trying to hide.
“And what if she does ask, Lyle? What’s wrong with your mother wanting to have her family around in her last days?”
He was sure he’d told Monique the entire story—about the reason behind his mother’s prison sentence, as well as her treatment of Carrie. So why on earth would she ask such a question?
He turned to face her. The baby was asleep, the house was quiet, and Monique was staring back at him with those beautiful brown eyes. Then he saw it--the sadness in them.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
Those eyes were getting teary now. “I just recall how hard things were on me, Dad, and Arnie when Mom passed away. She died of pancreatic cancer, too.”
Damn. He had forgotten about that. “Yes, baby. I know.” He also knew he needed to make sure she understood something. Reaching out, he swiped a lone tear with the tip of his finger, then, he cupped her chin so her entire face was focused on him.
