“Your pregnant,” I said lightly, taking her hands into mine.
She nodded.
“And he’s freaking out about it.”
“Pretty much.” She sighed.
“Given what happened after Andreas and Thiers’ births, I can understand it.”
“Deborah, I understand it, too. Heck, I was the one laying there on the bed bleeding out. I get it. But he’s being so adamant about insisting I get rid of this baby.”
I swallowed, hating to even hear those words coming from her mouth. “That’s his fear talking.”
“I know.”
“Aaron’s always been protective of you. Over you.”
Patience’s shoulders rose and fell as she inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I’m aware of that. Even the first time I ever met him when I was only fourteen, he protected me.”
I looked at my daughter-in-law in her big, innocent, brown eyes. With my left hand, I pushed back one of her stray sisterlocks behind her ear. “Sweetie, that was not the first time you two met.”
She frowned, giving me a confused look. “Trust me, Deborah, I would’ve remembered meeting Aaron before that night.”
I shook my head. “Maybe not. You were so young the first time.”
****
Then
Deborah
I could feel Robert’s presence behind me as I stared at eight-year-old Aaron, half-laying, half-sitting on the couch.
“He still isn’t eating?” Robert’s low voice questioned.
I shook my head, still staring ahead. “He’s barely eating, he won’t say a word in school, refuses to even acknowledge Carter’s presence.” I turned to Robert with tears in my eyes. “They were so close before the accident. Now it’s like Aaron hates him. He’ll barely acknowledge Joshua and Tyler, but he doesn’t hold the same disdain for them. Carter came to me the other day so upset about it. What are we going to do?”
I wiped away an errant tear, not wanting the boys to see me cry.
“He’s still healing, princess.” Robert pressed a kiss to my forehead. “He’ll come around.”
“When, Robert? He’s so far behind in school. And you know what his records already indicated.”
My husband’s face was grim. It’d been an extremely tough year for our family. Aaron—who was only a few months younger than Carter—was now our son to raise, after Jason and Jesse had died in a terrible car accident. The doctors had said it was a miracle that he survived. Though he came out with some physical scars, I was more concerned about his mental state. Not only did the car accident and the aftermath have a major impact on his behavior, but the huge argument that’d occurred between Robert and Jason beforehand had scarred him.
“Who knows what that shithead brother of mine filled his head with before he died,” Robert growled.
My first instinct was to tell my husband not to speak ill of a man who was no longer alive to defend himself, but I thought better of it. Robert was right. I’d seen the bruises on Aaron’s body the night of his eighth birthday. Jason Townsend had turned into Robert Townsend Sr., and resorted to physical persuasion and violence to get his way with a child. And the mental abuse … I didn’t even want to think about it.
“He had it, too.”
I turned to stare at Robert’s profile. He was staring straight ahead, watching Aaron.
“Jason was dyslexic. I assume, at least. Father would always pick on him about it. Asking him why he was so stupid, calling him a dummy and a loser for not even being able to spell his name correctly. I thought Jason needed to apply himself more. To focus more than the rest of us, and that he just refused to do it.”
“When did you realize the truth?” I questioned.
He gave a one shoulder shrug, still looking ahead. “A few months after I left Stanford and was working full-time at Townsend when my father had his first stroke.”
