Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Did you and Dad ever want more children?”
She looks startled. “Well. I suppose so. Your father did, certainly. He wanted at least three.” A flare of bitterness darkens her expression. “And he got his three, so …”
“What about you?” I swiftly steer the subject away from Dad, partly because I’ve been enjoying our noncombative interactions, but mostly because we’re stuck with our hands in these heaters which means I’m effectively trapped here with no escape.
“I didn’t, no,” she finally admits. “I was happy with just one child. You know I don’t enjoy chaos. And growing up with three older siblings was very chaotic, especially having two older brothers who played sports. Your uncles were always tormenting me and Jacqueline. So, yes, I was content with one child.” She hesitates again, for much longer this time. “With that said, I can’t deny I was elated when I got pregnant for a second time.”
I can’t stop my loud gasp. “You were pregnant again after me?”
Mom’s eyes flick across the room. The manicurists are chattering away with other clients, oblivious to our conversation.
“Yes.” Her voice becomes very soft, as if she doesn’t want to be overheard. Or maybe the subject is too emotional for her. Mom’s not a fan of feelings. “I got pregnant when you were ten.”
“How come I never knew this?”
“Your father and I didn’t want to tell you yet. We were already having problems in the marriage, and then I lost the baby at nine weeks.” She sighs. “They advise you not to announce the news to the world too early. Wait until the end of the first trimester to see if it sticks. And it didn’t stick.”
My heart squeezes. There isn’t an ounce of emotion in her voice, but her eyes tell a different story. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother appear this vulnerable.
“I’m sorry. I wish I’d known.”
“No, I’m glad you didn’t. You would have gotten your hopes up for a sibling and then been devastated when it didn’t happen.”
“You could have told me after the fact,” I point out. “Once I was older.”
“There was no point. The baby was gone, and then your father and I got divorced.” Something in her tone changes, a sliver of regret slicing through it. “Although it may have contributed to why I fought for full custody of you.”
She voices the confession then pulls her hand from the dryer and casually examines her nails, as if she hadn’t just dropped a major truth bomb.
“What do you mean?” I push.
“Maybe it wasn’t fair to your father, but after losing the baby, I clung to you a little tighter than I should have.” She pauses. “Perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to do, but … well, you can’t change the past, can you?”
She quickly adopts a cavalier expression, unruffled by the fact that she just shattered my entire world view. Or at the very least, altered my view of her. I’d always believed she insisted on full custody to be spiteful, to get back at Dad, but this potential new motive provides another glimpse into my mother. A softer side I didn’t know existed.
I reach over and touch her arm. “I’m really sorry, Mom. That must have been tough to go through. A divorce and a miscarriage around the same time.”
“It’s fine, sweetheart.” She jerks away from my touch. Not in a rude way, but it’s clear I made her uncomfortable. Physical comfort—any comfort, really—isn’t something we typically offer each other. Maybe I was overreaching by going for that consolatory pat.
The main lesson I’ve taken from this conversation, though, is that Tate was right.
We never truly know our parents.
CHAPTER 26
CASSIE
I never gave much thought to pep talks. In school, I didn’t play sports or belong to a team. But I’m fairly certain a pep talk is supposed to pump your teammates up, not make them fear you. The Hartley twins never got that memo.
“Let’s hear it again,” yells Evan. “Louder this time! What are we gonna do?”
“Murder,” the two non-Hartley team members recite. Thoroughly unenthused.
“And who are we gonna murder?” shouts Cooper.
“Your girlfriends.”
“Hey, assholes,” Genevieve calls. “We’re right here, you know.”
Evan turns with an expression of the utmost innocence. “Baby, hey. Didn’t see you there.”
She just snorts.
Mac, meanwhile, seeks out the authorities. “Hey, Deb,” she says, waving a hand. “Any chance we can switch sandcastle stations? Our neighbors are obnoxious.”
“Tattletale,” Cooper taunts.
Debra Dooley waves back. “No, siree! We’re about to start!” Our Beach Games host looks exactly like her name sounds. Short, plump, with a helmet of brown hair and bangs slashing a straight line across her forehead. She’s wearing khaki shorts, a white polo, and a pink adventure hat that would make my dad drool.
Looks like we’re stuck next to Hartley and Sons. To our other side, huddled about six feet away, are the women from the Soapery, the store on the boardwalk that Grandma loves so much. Their team consists of the owner, Felice, her manager, and two employees. To be honest, I’m more worried about them than the Hartleys. They hand-carve all their soaps. A sandcastle should be easy for them.