“Oh dear.” She grabbed my hands as she studied my face. “Baby, what is it?”
“I shouldn’t have slept with him.”
“Why? He’s always been the love of your life.”
“I know.” I put the mug down and buried my head in my hands. Last night had been the best night of my life. Being with Logan, holding him, kissing him, talking like we used to, our heads on the same king-sized pillow. But why did I do it? Nothing had changed. Our situation hadn’t changed because the problem he didn’t know about hadn’t changed. Either way, Logan was going to get hurt here. Why had I agreed to see his office? His home? I’m not stupid. I envisioned what could happen in a graphic, carnal way, and I’d still eagerly skipped upstairs, my heart thrilled and thudding.
“I never understood why you broke up with him, Bellini. I’ve racked my brain. I turned the situation upside down and inside out. One day, you were happy together. The next, you looked like a ghost. You could hardly speak. You were almost catatonic after you broke up with him. When you both went to college, I know he called you, contacted you, he even came back to Montana to talk to you, but you were adamant that you shouldn’t be together. I know it broke his heart, and it broke yours, too.” She sniffled as her blue eyes filled. “Your explanations of not being right for each other, going to different colleges—they never made sense to me. Honey plum, please. It’s been years. Tell me.”
I rubbed my forehead with both hands as a wall of misery crashed down. “Mom, I will tell you, but you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else. You have to promise me you will not interfere. You will not try to fix the problem. I didn’t tell you back then because I knew how you would react, and it would have made everything…impossible. You’ll understand when I tell you. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“I will not tell a soul, not even The Sisters.”
I knew she wouldn’t. This time, I trusted her.
“You’re an adult, Bellini. Not an eighteen-year-old. I will hold my peace. I will not try to fix anything, that’s for you to do. And though I might want to charge out of here like a temperamental bull, I will not. I promise.”
“Mom,” I said, and my voice broke, multiple times, as I told her the whole thing. The full truth. Logan’s dad. His threats about the land. The secrets I held. Logan’s mother and her legacy. How I’d done what I thought was right.
“Dear God,” she said when I was done, then she pushed out her chair, bent over me, and hugged me tight. “You’re right, my dearest love. I would have tried to fix it. I would have come in like an avenging, sword-wielding goddess, and I would have made everything worse by interfering. I am so sorry, honey. I’m sorry you couldn’t tell me. I’m sorry for what happened between you and Logan. I love you, Bellini, and now, finally, I understand why you did what you did. I would have done the same thing. But, oh no. Oh no.”
We cried together. No howls. No hysterics. That’s not who we are. A few tears streamed down our cheeks as the Swan Mountains looked on. An elk stared through the sliding glass door in the distance. I sniffled.
After I made sure my mother had lunch ready for her and that one of her sisters would be over soon, I headed to work, my mind filled with the terrible problem that Logan and me being together would cause. I also worked on all the details of the upcoming T and A show, including writing a formal, cool, totally professional email to Logan.
I knew he would appreciate the dichotomy of the email he was receiving with the rolling passion of last night.
I managed to keep all my worries and anxieties out of the email.
Dear Mr. Hamilton,
I am writing to confirm details for Lady Whiskey’s T and A Christmas Burlesque Show.
Thank you for hosting this special celebration in your office downtown. It is very generous of Hamilton Architecture to donate the space.
As we discussed, we will be having rehearsals on Thursday and Friday evenings before the show on the twentieth. The rehearsals will begin at six p.m. and will end by ten p.m., latest. On Saturday, the doors will open at six for the potluck dinner, and the burlesque show will begin promptly at seven thirty, ending at about nine thirty. I do have volunteers who will be in your office by noon that day to decorate and set up tables. I will also be there.
It is my understanding the stage and catwalk will be ready for the rehearsals. Thank you so much for building both. We are grateful for your time and dedication. You are always welcome at Lady Whiskey’s for your free dinners.
In addition, please be advised that we—you and I—are act number fourteen. I expect you to be dressed appropriately. Do not forget your boa constrictor. Please make sure that you are practicing our dance routine each day for many hours so that I do not land on my head and mess up my hair.
If you have any further questions, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Ms. Bellini O’Donnell
Dear Ms. O’Donnell,
Thank you for your email.
The stage and catwalk will be ready for Lady Whiskey’s T and A Christmas Burlesque Show rehearsals, the potluck dinner, andthe final performance. I understand that volunteers, including yourself, will be arriving at noon the day of the event to get everything set up and decorated. We will be ready to help here, also.
I can assure you that I will be dressed appropriately for our dance routine. I will wear my boa constrictor, and I promise I will not drop you on your head. I do not want your hair to be messed up either, although I have seen it messed up many times, and you still look gorgeous.
I am, as always, at your service, m’lady.
Yours sincerely,
