Christy-Lynn smiled. “I can’t help you there, but it must be nice to have some alone time.”
Missy gave the question some thought then shrugged. “You’d think so, but I actually miss the little monsters. The house is too quiet when they’re gone, and I’m not sure I know what to do with alone time anymore. I know it’s crazy, but I like running around with my hair on fire. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for my kids, but I guess it comes with the territory.”
“Not always,” Christy-Lynn said more gloomily than she intended.
Missy’s expression softened. “You mean your mother.”
Christy-Lynn waved the remark away. “Forget it. I didn’t mean to get all maudlin. I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
Missy’s gaze narrowed. “I’m guessing that’s not because you’ve been binge-watching the last season of Game of Thrones.”
Christy-Lynn considered changing the subject but knew better than to think she’d get away with it. “There’s been . . . a development.”
“What kind of development?”
“A little girl,” she blurted quickly, like ripping off a bandage. “Stephen and Honey had a little girl.”
Missy sat frozen, absorbing the news with a faintly stunned expression. “Well,” she said finally. “He really was a bastard, wasn’t he? How did you find out?”
“I’ve seen her—at Rhetta’s. It was like someone knocked all the air out of me. All I could see was Stephen and Honey looking back at me.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Missy breathed, reaching for Christy-Lynn’s hand. “And you’ve been carrying this around all by yourself. Why? You know I’m always here for you, don’t you? That you can tell me anything?”
Christy-Lynn nodded. She did know. But in the three weeks since she’d learned of Iris’s existence, she hadn’t been able to work her into the conversation. Except with Wade, of course, but that was only because she’d blurted it all out in a moment of weakness.
“I guess I’ve been processing,” she said finally. “It’s embarrassing, finding out your husband fathered a child with another woman and managed to keep it a secret for three years. And if his car hadn’t gone off that bridge, I still wouldn’t know.”
Missy huffed so hard her bangs fluttered. “Look, I know you’re upset, honey, and you have every right to be, but you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Christy-Lynn shrugged half-heartedly. She wanted to believe the words. But wanting and believing were two different things. Stephen had been no saint. She’d come to terms with that, but her willingness over the years to turn a blind eye to his character flaws was hard to deny. She’d been content with the status quo, happily ensconced in a false sense of security, and in her blissful state of oblivion had enabled an affair—and by extension, the birth of a little girl whose childhood eerily mirrored her own.
Missy was looking at her, waiting for the rest of the story—because of course she knew there was more. The woman was like a bloodhound. And so it all came tumbling out—the stomach-dropping moment she had first seen Iris, the check Rhetta had been too proud to accept, the awful moment Ray Rawlings had called his niece an abomination.
Missy was still shaking her head when Christy-Lynn fell silent. “My God. A little girl with no parents, and that poor woman with a child to raise at her age. I honestly don’t know who to feel sorrier for.”
“It’s awful. The house they live in looks like it would blow over in a stiff breeze. There’s no yard, no phone, no neighbors close by. But the worst is Honey’s brother refusing to take Iris if something happens to Rhetta. She could end up in foster care.”
Missy looked thoughtful as she smoothed the creases from her linen slacks. “I know it’s awful, honey, but at the risk of sounding heartless, it really isn’t your problem. This is her parents’ fault, and it’s up to her family to deal with it.”
Christy-Lynn stared at her lap, wadding her napkin into a ragged ball. “He called her an abomination, Missy. An abomination born in sin. Her own uncle called her that.” She swallowed convulsively, her heart aching at the unfairness of it all. “None of this is Iris’s fault, but she’s the one who’ll pay.”
Missy let out a long sigh. “You’re up to your neck in this, aren’t you?”
Christy-Lynn nodded, though deep down she knew the ache in her chest wasn’t only for Iris. For some terrible, twisted reason, fate had conspired to put this little girl in her path, an unwelcome reminder of the childhood she’d been trying to outrun for decades. And now, for better or worse, there was no going back.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I am. Am I crazy?”
“Yes,” Missy answered without a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t know a woman alive who’d give a rat’s behind about a kid her husband fathered with his girlfriend. But you do—so that’s that. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. It’s a drop in the bucket, but I finally got Rhetta to cash the check. She called a few days ago to let me know she finally has a phone and to thank me again. I can’t make her understand that in every way that matters that money belonged to Iris.”
“Hate to break it to you, honey, but not many people would see it that way.”
Christy-Lynn remained quiet as she sipped her fizzy orange juice, weighing the wisdom of what she was about to say. If Missy already thought she was crazy, what would she think when she heard the rest? “I’ve been thinking about setting up a trust,” she blurted. “For Iris.”
Missy’s gray-green eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“You know I’ve never been comfortable with all that money. It’s just sitting there, piling up month after month. Why not give it to her?”
“What? All of it?”
“I don’t know, but a good chunk. She’d have money for doctors, tutors, schools—hell, a decent roof over her head.”
Missy shook her head dolefully. “For now, maybe. But you said it yourself, Rhetta isn’t long for this world, and her uncle doesn’t want anything to do with her. Money might come in handy today, but it’s only a short-term fix. I hate to say it, but it sounds like foster care may be the best option. At least the poor thing will be looked after and have a shot at a happy home.”
A happy home.
Christy-Lynn looked away. She’d said it so casually, as if going into foster care was some sort of solution. But then she couldn’t expect Missy to grasp the reality—or the horror—of what such a future might mean. People who grew up with puppies and swing sets would never understand that the foster care system, well-intentioned though it might be, could quickly become the stuff of nightmares for those trapped in it. Or that a child like Iris, with nightmares and inhibited verbal skills, would be starting with two strikes against her.
“I realize it doesn’t fix the long-term problem. It’s just . . . what I can do.”
“Have you discussed the idea with Rhetta?”
“Not yet. I need to do some homework first. And then I’ll have to convince her to let me do it. I can’t even imagine what Wade’s reaction will be.”
“What’s Wade got to do with it?”
“He caught me off guard the day I met Iris, and I ended up blurting out the whole story. He knew Stephen. I thought he might have some kind of insight.”
“And did he?”
“He says Stephen had no conscience.”
Missy scowled. “Hard to argue with him there.”
“He thinks I’m too invested, that I’m setting myself up for more heartache and should just let it all go.”
“And what do you think?”
“I agree with every word. I should just let it go. I’m just not sure I can.”
“Then I guess you’d better get started on that homework.”
Christy-Lynn blinked at her. “You don’t think it’s a bad idea?”
Missy’s smile was tinged with sympathy. “This is your business, honey. It’s not my place to tell you how to handle it. I just want what’s best for you. Speaking of which . . . you said something before about not sleeping well. Are you taking care of yourself?”