Michelle felt guilty for insinuating that Guy didn’t know about her parents, but judging from Mrs. Pierre’s expression, he hadn’t told her. Standing there in the foyer, she looked around the place. She had never been inside their house before. Choosing to keep their relationship a secret meant no home visits. Sometimes they would go to a movie, sometimes they would drive into the city. And sometimes, they would just sit on their bench and talk about their days, lives, and dreams.
Right now, Michelle desperately needed him to hold her. When he had driven her to Jo’s place last night, she had tried to convince him to come inside, but he had been too nervous. Last night was the first time they had let the mood carry them over the edge.
She felt her cheeks redden. Was he ashamed of what they did? She swallowed. Aren’t you?
Michelle looked up at the sound of slippered feet shuffling against the carpet. The look on Mrs. Pierre’s face stopped her cold. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s not here.”
What did she mean? Where else would he be at seven in the morning?
“I’ll call Evan or Darryl.”
She watched as Mrs. Pierre made two phone calls. Each call ended with her shaking her head.
“There’s no note or anything?” Michelle was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. How could it be when she was shaking like a leaf?
“The fridge,” Mrs. Pierre stated. “We leave notes for each other there.”
Michelle followed Guy’s mother into the kitchen and watched as she reached for the yellow note on the fridge. Mrs. Pierre’s eyes darted back and forth. Her skin lost its color, pallor taking its place. She sunk into a chair, a hand over her chest. “Non, non,” she said with a shake of her head.
Michelle grabbed the note before it fell to the floor and read the words that brought tears to his mother’s eyes.
Manman-
I had to leave, I could not stay. When I can, I’ll send you my address. Please do not worry, I’ll be okay. But I couldn’t stay. I just couldn’t.
-Guy
Michelle sat up, gasping for air. The vestiges of the dream clung to her. It had been years since the memory had invaded her dreams. She wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead. She flung the covers back and trotted to her bathroom.
She blinked, noting the puffy eyes. That’s why you shouldn’t cry. Closing her eyes, she tried to slow her heart beat. The dream always made it pound. It seemed like yesterday when she had discovered Guy had left Freedom Lake. Without a good-bye. No sorry. Nothing. He just took her virginity and ran.
A light rap sounded against her bedroom.
“Come in.”
She stared at Jo’s reflection in the mirror.
“Hey Chelle, how did you sleep?”
She shrugged. Confessional was over. No way would she relive the details about her recurring dream. Especially since she hadn’t had it in years. “It was sleep.”
Jo nodded.
“Out with it.” She stood and faced her friend.
Michelle knew her friend was trying to find the words to handle the situation delicately. Jo never wanted to step on anyone’s toes.
“I guess I just wondered why you didn’t share something like that. We were inseparable back then. Why wouldn’t you have told me or Chloe?”
Michelle rested her head against her hand. “There was no way I would tell Chloe. You know how religious she’s always been, and I didn’t want her guilting me. And you...” she faced her friend. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I don’t know how to explain but to simply say, I didn’t think I could tell you or Chloe.”
Jo nodded, but the sad look didn’t fade. “I’m sorry you didn’t think we’d be there for you. I hope you know that’s not the case now.”
Michelle nodded. Shame and guilt did something to a person. How could anyone ever be sure they wouldn’t receive condemnation from the people that mattered the most?
“What did Guy think?”
She bit her lip and Jo raised an eyebrow.
“Did he know?” her friend whispered.
She shook her head.
“Oh, man, Chelle. Are you ever going to tell him?”
Tears smarted and she wanted to groan in frustration. She would end up going to work looking like Rocky if she kept on crying. “Not in the foreseeable future.”
Jo let out a sigh. “I’ll pray for you, girl.”
“That’s all that can be done right about now.”
GUY POURED MILK INTO the three bowls. It was a cereal kind of morning. Last night he had tossed and turned for no apparent reason. When he woke up, a ball of dread had formed in the pit of his stomach and wouldn’t disappear. The desire to do anything remained absent. He didn’t want to cook. Definitely, didn’t want to go to work. So instead, he got up and went through the motions.
He placed two bowls in front of his girls.
“Thank you, Papa,” Rachel said with a grin.
“Thanks, Papa,” Rebekah said around a mouthful of Captain Crunch.
“Welcome, girls.”
He sat down and took a spoonful of his cereal. Why did he feel so discombobulated? The feeling that today would be a bad day clung to him like a burr. In the past, he would have prayed and asked God for peace. Unfortunately, that seemed a little hypocritical now. If a bad day was coming, praying to God wouldn’t change anything.
Rachel cocked her head and studied him. “Are you sleepy?”
“Not really,” he said with a shake of the head.
Her brow crinkled and he inhaled sharply. She had the same look Charlene used to get.
“Something’s wrong.”
“What wong, Papa?” Bekah studied him, her eyes widening with confusion.
“Nothing, girls, I’m fine.”
Rachel shook her head. “No you’re not. Maybe you should pray.”
He stopped, his spoon held in mid-air. Where in the world did she get that? He never taught them about God.
“What do you mean?” he spoke slowly, cautiously waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.
“Grann says pray when you have bad day. Nana Baker says the same thing.”
The urge to drop
