14. Hannah

14

HANNAH

I should have told them the truth. They deserved to know. They should have heard it from me before I gathered up mine and Liddy’s meager belongings and fled like a scared fugitive. I knew leaving without telling them the reason why was the coward’s way out.

Even the warmth of Liddy’s hugs and her consistent chants of, “It’ll be okay, Mama,” did nothing to ease the ache in my heart. I had to leave. I’d been telling myself that every day, a thousand times a day, over the entire summer.

“One of them might be your biological father,” I whispered to myself while pulling my work clothes from my closet. A shudder of disgust rolled through me, tightening my stomach with a painful cramp. It had been a few weeks since I’d left the mansion. The feelings I’d developed over the summer were real and overwhelming with their intensity. Every time I thought about them, tears sprang up.

I had to find a measure of control before I left my room to begin my day. I did not want to let any more sad emotions show around my baby girl. She picked up on them so easily and I needed to stay strong for her.

The need to curse, to punch the wall, to shout and scream about the unfairness of it all drove me to my bed. I grabbed a pillow and screamed into it until I lost my breath. It wasn’t enough, but it helped. I’d finally found decency, honesty, and generosity. All three of my silver foxes—though not mine anymore, I reminded myself—were the kindest, most decent men I’d ever met.

Exactly like Dad.

“Fucking damn it. Fuckity, fuck, fuck.” I punched the pillow, then slammed it back onto the mattress. “Clean break,” I told myself as I pulled it together and faced the mirror. Red splotches of anger and dried tears stained my cheeks. I needed to put some makeup on.

“Mama, I’m ready.” Liddy was dressing herself now, a new request since school had started.

She bounded into the room, her pink tutu skirt fluffed around her hips. She wore pink tights underneath, and a pink sequined top that sparkled every time she moved.

“You look beautiful.” I pasted on a smile and yanked on my one good pair of black slacks, followed by a gray button-up shirt. I twisted my hair into a low bun to keep it out of the way during the school day and found my shoes beneath the bed. A cool breeze traced the bottom of my foot as I began to pull on socks. A hole bigger than my thumb was in the heel of one of them. A wave of frustration rolled through me, starting at my toes and ending with a prickling across my scalp.

“Uh-oh. That’s bad.” Liddy patted my knee in solace. “You want a pair of my socks?” She held up a foot and wiggled her toes.

“Thanks, baby. I have another pair.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn’t help me. No one could. I’d given up our life of security and luxury to come back to this.

The guys had been leaving me alone as I’d asked. Part of me hated them for that—as awful as it sounded, I’d almost expected them, wanted them, to pursue me. The fact that they hadn’t only proved my theory. I’d been nothing more than a plaything for all three of them. Frowning, I yanked open the dresser drawer that held my socks. The handle came away in my hand. I bit down on my tongue to keep the rapid-fire curse words behind my teeth. I set the handle on top of the dresser and dug my nail into the crack, prying the drawer open and chipping off most of my polish.

“All better?” Liddy asked when I sank onto the bed and pulled on a new pair of socks.

I kissed the top of her head. “All better. You ready to go?”

“Yes.” She bounced onto her toes, did a twirl with her arms out by her sides, and giggled. “I get to make new friends today.”

We stopped at the front door to pull on our shoes. “Mama, mine are too tight.” Liddy dropped onto the floor and held out her feet. “They hurt.”

My stomach dropped. We’d gone school clothes shopping before I’d left and I’d used some of the money I’d earned over the summer despite the guys insisting they’d pay. I still had enough for Christmas, but not if Liddy kept growing out of everything week after week. “Grab your ballet slippers. They’ll be okay for today,” I told her. We’d stop on our way home and exchange the shoes. Thankfully, the shoe store allowed that for kids Liddy’s age, understanding how quickly they grew.

Liddy waited for me at the top step with her hand outstretched while I closed and locked the door. A police siren blipped then screamed past, the red and blue lights flashing. Liddy covered her ears.

I scooped her into my arms and set off in the opposite direction. Our shabby little house matched the rest of the run-down neighborhood. One shutter hung sideways and the driveway needed sealing. Our neighbors were nice, though, and I knew better than to take that for granted. I’d rather have a shabby house and nice neighbors than a gorgeous house and neighbors I couldn’t trust.

If only there was a way to have both. I’d never been happier than the three months we spent with Arthur, Ryland, and Scott. They’d treated me like a queen. Had I not found that picture, an item that placed so much doubt in my mind, an item that blew apart my fairy tale, I’d never have been able to leave.

My breath shortened. I had to stop thinking about them. They were not a solution to my problem. If anything, they were my problem.

Liddy kicked her feet. “I want to walk.” Thank goodness. My legs and arms ached from the dozen or so yards I’d carried her.

Our schedule continued in the same pattern. Day after day, nothing changed except for Liddy. She thrived in her school environment, making friends and learning. She picked up the alphabet and numbers with ease after hearing me teach it last year. She loved all her classmates and looked forward to going to school every day.

By Halloween, she’d outgrown most of the clothes in her closet. The Christmas money I’d tucked away dwindled faster than I thought possible. Every time I saved a few bucks, an unexpected expense came along to eat away at the funds.

The approaching holidays caused anxiety to eat away at me. With every month that passed, my hopes of giving Liddy the Christmas I’d dreamed of whittled away to nothing.

I woke early one morning and stumbled to the bathroom as nausea cramped my stomach and sent me rushing to the toilet. I groaned and heaved, nose and throat burning. Great. I’d finally succumbed to the stomach flu that had struck my class a couple of weeks ago.

Liddy walked to the edge of the bathroom door. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and grimaced. “Yuck.”

“Definitely.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sat my weak ass down on the threadbare rug beside the tub. “I need you to stay back, okay? Mama has the flu, and I don’t want you to get sick.”

Liddy took a step backward and tucked her stuffed rhino beneath her chin. “What about breakfast?”

Oh God. My stomach twisted again and I bolted back to the toilet. A piece of cracked linoleum broke against my knee when I lunged and crashed with my hands on the toilet rim. When I looked up, Liddy stood beside my bed, her eyes wide. “Do you think you can get yourself breakfast from the cabinet?” I asked her. She had cereal bars and a few other quick foods that she could open for herself. “I’ll be here for a little while.”

“Should I call 911?” Liddy’s hand inched toward my phone.

“No, Liddy. It’s not an emergency. I’ll be okay soon. I promise.” Even as I talked, my stomach settled. The nausea faded, and a sudden, gnawing hunger took its place. Weird. I was never hungry in the mornings, especially not when a stomach virus was involved. Food poisoning? No. Liddy and I ate the same things yesterday, and she showed no signs of illness.

I checked my temperature, found it normal, and took inventory of my entire body. No sore throat, no aches, not even a headache. No cough or runny nose. What the hell was going on?

I managed to drag myself up and onto my feet. I’d sat on them so long pins and needles shot up my legs, forcing me to hold onto the sink until full feeling returned. Shadows ringed my bloodshot eyes, and a hollowness in my cheeks struck me into stillness.

The last time I’d seen my face look like this I’d been pregnant with Liddy. No . The instant denial shot fear through my veins. I placed a trembling hand over my flat belly. A slight mound rested beneath my palm, just enough that I’d not noticed or attributed it to bloating due to my approaching period.

The sour stench of my breath when I exhaled prompted a thorough brushing of teeth and mouth rinse, followed by scrubbing my face until it shone pink beneath the lights.

When was my last period? I never kept track because it was never regular. My birth control was supposed to help with that, but it was so spotty I’d learned to deal with it.

“Are you better?” Liddy peeked around the edge of the door.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I smiled. “I’m better for now. I might get sick again later, though. Or tomorrow. We’ll have to wait and see.” In the meantime, I needed a pregnancy test.

Thankfully, I had one under the sink. My OB/GYN insisted I take a pregnancy test every six months before she renewed my birth control. After years of going to the same doctor, plus the rising costs of healthcare and insurance, she’d allowed me to start using home tests and emailing her proof of the result.

“Liddy, can you get me a glass of water? I need to use the restroom, then I’ll come to the kitchen.” I closed the door and dug the test from its box beneath the sink. My hands shook so much it took three tries to tear open the packaging and put the stick in place.

It couldn’t have happened again. The universe was not that cruel. Or maybe she simply hated me and had determined my life to be a living hell. I framed my stomach with both hands and closed my eyes. A baby was not a catastrophe. My inability to afford said baby was the issue. I could barely make ends meet for me and Liddy.

“You don’t know for sure yet. No need to panic until the test is finished,” I quietly told myself before taking several deep, cleansing breaths. I’d left my phone in the bedroom, and counting in my head was useless since I kept stopping to allow myself to panic over and over again.

When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I peeked one eye open and picked up the test.

Two pink lines. My throat convulsed. Pregnant. Again.