The night of the incident... the night she and Taylor had both been running on adrenaline, fear, and something else... they had slept together. It was a colossal, stupid, life-altering mistake, one she wished with every fiber of her being she could reverse. He’d called several times since, "wanting to talk," and she'd been uninterested, brushing him off. But "uninterested" wasn't the right word.
Terrifiedwas. Terrified that this tiny, secret life growing inside her wasn't her husband's at all. It could be his.
She hit answer on the phone and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” she said into the phone.
As the security manager began to speak, he informed her that the intruder alarm at her home in Hamby had gone off. She sat on the bed as he continued to inform her of graffiti that had been sprayed on the side of her house as well.
“When did this happen?” she asked.
“A few days ago. We’ve been trying to reach you.”
Paula sighed, not sure what could be happening. There had never been anything of the sort in the past.Could it be Kim,she wondered. As fast as it crossed her mind, it terrified her.
“Can you increase security? Have someone physically on the property?” she asked.
After working out the details of the cost involved, Paula read her credit card number over the phone and assured someone would be there by morning. After she hung up, she had to arrange for someone to paint over the graffiti on her property the next day. A sheen of sweat ran across Paula’s face after she hung up the phone with them. Something was off. For a moment, she considered calling Taylor to have him look into it, but decided against it. Tonight, she needed normal; she would deal with crazy tomorrow.
AUNT MAE SATat her small, newly designed table in the back of the diner, fanning her flushed face with a laminated menu. The lunchtime rush was finally dying down, but she was exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-weary, exhausted. The familiar, chaotic symphony of the kitchen—the sizzle of the flat-top, theclatter of plates, the sharpdingof the order bell—seemed to be coming from a great distance.
The job was becoming harder. Her feet throbbed in their sensible shoes, her lower back was a constant, dull ache, and her hands, stiff in the morning, didn't grip the heavy pots like they used to. She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself. But lately... lately, it was getting harder to do it all. To serve, to cook, to clean, and to boss everyone around with the booming, cheerful authority they all expected.
She let the menu drop, her gaze drifting out over the patrons in the dining room. Mr. Henderson was laughing,reallylaughing, at something the new waitress said. The Miller kids were bent over a single, massive milkshake, their faces lit with conspiratorial smiles. The sound of quiet conversations, the clinking of silverware, the bond of this town sharing a meal under her roof...thiswas the reward. This was what warmed her heart, a deep, steady heat that no kitchen stove could ever produce.
What in the world could she possibly do sitting at home all day? Stare at the walls? Wait for the mail? The thought of that kind of silence, of being useless, was a cold, sharp dread that pierced her weariness.
Aunt Mae willed the thought from her mind and grabbed the tall, sweating glass of lemon-flavored iced tea sitting in front of her. She took a long, sharp sip, the cold and tartness a welcome jolt. No. There was plenty of work left for her to do, and she intended to do it until she flat-out couldn't anymore.
That day might be coming,she thought, a small, rebellious part of her acknowledging the truth.But it surely would not be today.
With a soft, private grunt of effort, she pushed herself up from the table, her joints protesting the movement. She ignored them, grabbed her dishrag from the table, and threw it over hershoulder like a badge of honor. She bustled herself back into the bright, loud, wonderful chaos of the kitchen, ready to give it another four hours.
THE SILENT DINNERwasmore awkward than Kayden had first thought it would be. He sat across from his mother and Heathcliff, and they all ate in complete silence. The only noises were from the forks and other silverware tapping and scraping against the fine China. Maureen had Rochelle make lamb chops, mint jelly, rice pilaf, and steamed vegetables. It was absolutely delicious, but Kayden was ready for her to talk.
Heathcliff kept his head down mostly as he ate, avoiding eye contact with both himself and his mother. Something was definitely bothering him, and it made Kayden even more curious. Wiping the corner of his mouth, Kayden put the napkin down on the table, folded his hands together, and looked at his mother, who was smiling nervously at him.
“So, are we going to wait until dessert arrives before you tell me what the hell is going on?” Kayden asked, his eyes locked on Maureen.
She plastered an even bigger smile on her face, the dimples in her cheeks looking like deep, dark holes. No matter how much she smiled, it didn’t hide the obvious guilt trapped behind her eyes. Heathcliff looked up at Kayden and glanced at Maureen before putting his own fork down, crossing his arms over his chest, and giving her his undivided attention.
“Well?” Heathcliff asked.
She looked at him, her eyes glazed over as if she was about to cry. Her hands began to tremble as she looked at Kayden, and she could hold them back no more. She burst into a sob, neitherof the men was prepared for. Kayden sat up a little, looked at Heathcliff, who, in turn, was so shocked himself that he already had his arm around her, trying to console her.
“For the love of all that is Holy, Mom, what is going on?” Kayden demanded, sounding firm, but not angry.
Maureen’s chest heaved, and she slowed her breathing, giving herself time to calm down before speaking. She wiped her face, but it did no good. Whenever she removed the salty tears, more slid in their place. Finally, she looked Kayden in the eye, then said, “Your father took his own life, and Kim was there when it happened.”
Kayden about fell out of his chair as the words slapped him across the face. Heathcliff looked over at him, his mouth opened to a small “O”. Maureen was bawling again as she looked at the devastated face of her son.
“How? Why? Why would you not tell me this before?” Kayden asked, his face filled with anguish.
“I couldn’t tell anyone,” Maureen replied through her wailing.
Kayden stood from the table and began pacing the room, running his good hand through his tasseled hair, trying to make sense of what she had just told him. He paused, looked at her, then continued to pace the room some more.
“Why did you need to keep this a secret from me and Paula?” Kayden asked with his hand on his hip.
