Melissa looked wary, but Abby smiled. “I can help.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“What happens after the house is finished?” Melissa asked.
Not the question Liz wanted to answer. “We’re going back to San Francisco.”
Melissa and Abby exchanged a look. Tears filled Abby’s eyes while Melissa started shaking her head.
“No, we’re not,” she announced. “We’re staying here. We live here.”
“I know it will be hard,” Liz began.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Melissa stood up. Her face was red, her eyes bright with tears she blinked away. “We’ll run away. We don’t need you.”
Abby stood, too, then leaned into Liz who hugged her close.
“I’m sorry,” Liz murmured into her hair, hanging on tight. “I’m sorry.”
“W-what does Dad say?” Abby asked in a whisper.
“That you’re going to stay with me.”
Abby raised her head. “He doesn’t want us, does he? No one wants us.”
“I want you,” Liz assured, wishing she had the power to take away their pain and make them feel safe. “No matter what, we’ll be together. Your dad being in prison isn’t about you. It’s about him. If he wasn’t there, he’d still be here.”
“With us. Where we belong,” Melissa snapped. “In our house. You’re going to sell it, aren’t you? And take all the money.”
Liz continued to hold Abby, but turned her attention to the teenager. “I’m going to fix it up. Then the three of us will sit down with a real estate agent and discuss the benefits of renting it versus selling outright. Either way the money will go into trust for both of you. For when you’re older. This isn’t about taking anything from you and I think you know that.”
“You’re taking away everything,” Melissa said, losing her battle with the tears. They spilled down her cheeks. She brushed them away and glared at Liz. “You can’t do this to us.”
“Tyler and I can’t stay here. San Francisco isn’t so far away. You’ll be able to visit your friends.”
“How?” Melissa asked.
“Tyler will be coming back to see his dad. You can come with him. I’m not trying to make this worse. We need to settle in to being a family. I want that. You girls are important to me.”
“I’m not going,” Melissa said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can’t make me.”
Abby stared at Liz. “I want to be with you.”
Liz kissed her forehead. “I’m glad. I want you to keep in touch with your friends. We’ll work on that. Okay?”
Abby nodded.
“She’s lying,” Melissa told her sister. “She doesn’t care about us at all.”
“If she didn’t care, she’d just leave,” Abby noted, still holding on to Liz. “Like Bettina did. We don’t have a choice. There’s no one else.”
The simple words spoken with the wisdom of a child, broke Liz’s heart. No eleven-year-old should have to be so keenly aware of life’s unpleasant realities. Tyler was the same age and he didn’t know anything about how the dark side of the world operated.
“I want to make it work,” Liz reiterated to Melissa.
“I’m not leaving,” Melissa told her and walked out.
“She’ll get over it,” Abby said, stepping back. “It’ll take a while, but she will. She was scared when we were alone before.”
“Weren’t you?”
“Yeah, but I had someone taking care of me. She didn’t have anyone.”
“I’m sorry,” Liz apologized. “I wish I’d known about you before.”
“Me, too.”
AFTER LUNCH, THE FOUR OF THEM went to the community pool. They found a cool spot in the shade. Liz leaned against a tree, opened her laptop and prayed for inspiration. Technically her deadline was generous enough that she wasn’t exactly behind. Not yet. But give it another few weeks and she would feel the panic.
While her computer booted up, she gazed around the pool, taking in the other mothers and kids. Most of them seemed to know each other. One of the blessings-and curses-of small-town life.
She turned her attention to Tyler, spotting him easily from years of practice, then finding Melissa and Abby. Their red hair made them stand out in the crowd. A good thing, she told herself. After the morning she’d had, she was due for a break or two.
The streak didn’t last. Five seconds later, someone spoke her name.
“Liz.”
She didn’t have to look up to recognize Ethan, who was very possibly the last person she wanted to see right now. Or ever.
“Tyler told me that you’d be here after lunch.”
She kept her gaze firmly on her screen. With practiced ease, she opened her word processing program, then loaded the book in progress.
He dropped to the grass next to her. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”
Grateful for the big hat she’d pulled on and the sunglasses shielding her eyes, she turned toward him. At least she didn’t have to worry about him seeing she was more hurt than angry. He wouldn’t know about the bitter taste of betrayal on her tongue or the lingering sense of having been hit in the gut.
“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he explained.
“Right. So you’re apologizing for me hearing it but not for saying it. Thanks for the clarification.”
His gaze sharpened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it? It’s what you said.”
“Dammit, Liz, give me a break.”
“Why? You spent the first part of the morning telling Tyler that it’s my fault you and he don’t know each other and the hour before noon telling your mother that I don’t mean anything to you. I wasn’t expecting you to declare I was the love of your life, but a little respect would have been nice.”
“You’re right.”
“But that was too much. Instead you threw me under the bus. I’m not even surprised. You’ve done it before.”
His gaze never left her face. “Why is it you get to tell me to stop bringing up the past, but you get to do it as much as you want?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. She was angry and hurt and didn’t want to admit he had a point. One she was going to ignore.
“We slept together, Ethan. We didn’t plan it, but it happened. We have a child together. You can’t say we’re on the same team to my face, then undermine me every chance you get.”
He drew in a breath. “I know. I’m sorry. I keep saying that and I mean it. Everything is different. Complicated. I’m trying to figure out what happens next.”
“What happens next is we come up with a plan. A way for you to spend time with Tyler.”
“I am spending time with him.”
Despite the fact that he couldn’t see her eyes, she looked away. “For later,” she clarified. “When I go back to San Francisco.”
His jaw tightened and his eyes darkened. “You’re leaving? When?”
“I’m not sure. I want to fix up the house. I’m hiring a contractor to do the work. Then we’re leaving.” She turned back to him and pulled off her sunglasses. “This isn’t about keeping you from Tyler, I swear. We’ll do alternating weekends, share holidays.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“That’s not an option. I can’t live here. I have a life I need to get back to. A job.”
“You can write anywhere.”
“You speak from experience?” she asked, her voice sharp with annoyance. “I hate it here. Everyone is very
