“Yeah. He’s nine. We . . . we live in Boston with my mom.”
Aha. So Chase was divorced. Good. I hoped his wife got everything. “Be a good sister and talk to him about this when the time comes.” I stood up. “Well! Good talk! Enjoy your dessert.” I went back to my table. Ben stood a second longer, eyes on Chase, then came with me.
“Why did a stranger just lecture me on date rape, Dad?” I heard Brielle ask, and there was something in her voice that told me she knew . . . and it wasn’t exactly a surprise. No, there was steel in that voice. “Why would she come to your table and launch into that speech?”
I didn’t pay attention to his fumbling, stumbling words. A second later, they left, Brielle saying, “Dad? Explain what just happened. Dad!”
“Everything good?” my father asked. My mother’s eyes were narrowed and fixed on me like a laser.
“Everything is great,” I said. I sat in between Hannah and Ben, across from my parents.
“Everything doesn’t seem great,” my mother said. “Do you want to tell us something, Liliana?”
I hesitated. But, just as Ben never needed to know the accident caused me to lose a baby, my parents and sister didn’t need to know about something that had happened a quarter of a century ago. I was over it. I was finally over it.
All these years, and I’d only talked about my near rape a few weeks ago. All these years of buried fear and rage and shame. The assault—because that’s what it had been, no matter that I’d gotten away, no matter that I’d willingly stumbled into his bedroom—had been secondary to the car accident and my injuries, I’d always told myself.
I never focused on why I’d been in Ben’s truck.
I hadn’t realized that, by burying that night so deep that I never spoke about it, I’d created some kind of . . . link to Chase Freeman. I’d given him power over me, let my fear from that event prevent me from dating for years afterward. No wonder I’d picked Brad, who’d seemed so gentle—who had been so gentle—so unintimidating. The kind of guy who’d never give me trouble, never physically scare me. We used to joke that I was stronger than he was, because it was true. Brad had been the kind of guy I could beat in a fight. Who would always follow my lead in bed and in life (until he didn’t anymore). He was not a strong man in any sense of the word, and maybe that was exactly why I’d picked him.
“The only thing I want to tell you,” I said, “is that I’m very happy to be with my family.”
“Hmm,” my mother said. Dad stared at me, and thankfully, the waitress brought me a martini.
“I ordered that for you,” Hannah said. “Same kind I drink, so you know it’s top of the line.” She smiled and squeezed my hand. “Oh, hang on, before we toast Lillie, just one second.” She pulled out her phone, tapped it a few times, and my son’s face appeared via FaceTime.
“Dylan!” I said, my eyes filling with happy tears. “Hi, baby!”
“Hi, Mom! Happy birthday!”
How sweet that Hannah had thought of this! How adorable was my son? We chatted and laughed, and I was toasted, and we sipped our drinks, Dylan drinking Gatorade and saying he loved me before hanging up.
And all through this, from the moment he’d sat next to me, Ben Hallowell held my hand. It wasn’t until dinner was served that he let go. Then, when Dad was cutting into his steak, my father said, “When are the two of you gonna tell us you’re dating?”
“What?” Mom yelped. “Oh, my God, Lillie, a fisherman?”
“Marry your father, they say,” Hannah murmured. “Whoops. Too soon to mention the M word. Sorry.”
Ben and I looked at each other. He shrugged. I smiled, and Ben looked at my dad. “Your daughter’s not quite ready for dating,” he said, giving me a wink. “But when she is, I’ll be first in line.”
Dad looked up from his beef. “About damn time,” he said. “About damn time.”
CHAPTER 33
Lillie
It was not my plan to be Melissa’s midwife, but God had the last laugh. Wanda had gone to Jamaica for an uncle’s funeral, and Melissa called after her water broke, panic in her voice, Brad yelling in the background.
That was thirty-seven hours ago. Way too much time with my ex-husband. He was rather . . . useless, fluttering around, getting in the way, just the way he’d been whenever Dylan was sick as a child. At one point, a mere fifteen minutes after they’d arrived, he told Melissa, “Just breathe the baby out,” which earned him a smack in the face with her flailing hand. But it wasn’t until he said, “I don’t remember you making such a fuss, Lillie,” that Melissa and I both agreed that Brad needed to take a long walk outside. Over the course of the day, he’d taken several. Unfortunately, he was back now, and Melissa was at the pushing stage, though she was exhausted and wrung out.
“That’s it, Melissa, you’re doing so well,” I said, smiling at her. (I know. It was weird for me, too.) “Great job. Take a couple deep breaths, and give me a nice, strong push.”
She did, gripping the pull bar and heaving herself forward, grunting. “I can’t do it,” she said. “Lillie, if I die, will you raise Ophelia and my baby?”
“Sounds good to me,” Ophelia said from the corner where she’d been hiding.
“You’re not going to die, Melissa,” I said, almost fondly. “Okay, another contraction. Relax your shoulders, relax your legs and just bear down, really strong. Good girl.”
Then I checked to see where the baby was in the birth canal.
Shit.
“I can see the head!” Brad said, sticking his face down near mine. “Babe! The head is coming!”
“Brad, I need you to step back,” I said firmly. “Melissa?” She lay back, panting. “The baby is breech, honey. That means it’s coming butt first.”
“No,” said Brad. “I just saw the head, Lillie.”
“It wasn’t the head, Bridiot. Brad. Sorry. Go stand with Ophelia.” I pushed the help button on the bed. “It’s gonna be okay, Melissa. Hang in there.”
“Is my baby okay?” she asked, and her voice was so small.
“Absolutely.” I held the doppler on her abdomen, and there was the heartbeat, nice and strong. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement, and then Ophelia was standing next to Melissa.
“It’ll be okay, Missy,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
Melissa clutched her hand and tried to smile, but another contraction gripped her and she pushed. The baby came a few centimeters closer. “No need to rush this, Melissa. Take a little rest in between contractions, honey.”
Jane opened the door. “I’m here.”
“We have a frank breech here. Can you assist?” I asked.
“Yep. I’ll get Isabel,” Jane said. “Back in a flash.”
“I thought the head was down,” Melissa said, panting. “You said it was down!”
“Sometimes, the baby turns at the last minute. It’s not a problem, Melissa. You can do this.”
“You got this, Missy,” Ophelia said.
It would just be harder. Another contraction, and the baby came closer. Brad was hovering behind me. “That is the butt,” he said, since I obviously needed male confirmation of this fact.
Jane and Isabel came in. “We’re just here to watch,” Jane said. “Looks like you’re doing an amazing job.”
“Total champion,” Isabel agreed. But they were here just in case.
“Jesus, she’s stretched out,” Brad muttered. “It doesn’t even look like a vag—”
“You’re doing great, Melissa. Nice push here,” I said as the baby’s butt emerged. The trick with breech was to let nature do the work and not pull the baby. Melissa was whimpering in pain. “Just breathe. Take a deep breath and hold it, then let it out nice and slow.” Brad was supposed to be helping with breathing, but . . .
“Nice and slow,” Ophelia repeated. “Doing great, Missy.” She looked at me and made a face of horror. Well, this would keep her from having sex too young, that was for sure.
Another contraction, a few more centimeters. It was a girl, I could see. Her legs were still tucked up, so I gently slid my finger under her left knee and bent it, and it popped out.