He studied her face, as if making sure she really was ready, before nodding. “Okay.”
A little while later, introductions complete, they were seated at a small round table, facing the older couple. Lydia seemed nervous, which ironically put Meg more at ease.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Walter said. He had gray hair and, now that she allowed herself to really look at him, kind eyes.
Meg swallowed hard. “You’re welcome.”
Lydia leaned forward in her seat. “How are you feeling?” she asked Meg.
“I’m fine. I was pretty lucky early on. The morning sickness wasn’t that bad, and now I’m feeling good.”
The older woman nodded. “That’s good.” She paused before speaking. “I wanted so badly to carry a child.” She smiled, but her eyes appeared sad. “It wasn’t meant to be for us, but we were lucky enough to be able to adopt.”
Meg didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. Beside her but beneath the table, Scott reached over and clasped her hand in his. He always knew when to offer silent support, as if he could read her mind or her moods.
“I’ve always been hands-on with children’s charities, and it made sense to me to adopt a baby that everyone else might not would want.” Lydia wrapped her heavily jeweled fingers around a cup of hot tea, as if needing the warmth. “Mike had fetal alcohol effects,” she explained. “We didn’t know what the impact would be on him long term, but we thought we were equipped to handle it.”
As if sensing she needed his strength, Walter reached over and took his wife’s hand away from the cup, covering it with his own. Meg watched them, surprised. She hadn’t expected a loving couple, and both her heart and her mind told her this wasn’t a performance for her sake. The affection between them was real.
“I take it Mike was . . . more than you anticipated?” Meg asked gently.
Lydia’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. “He didn’t have the physical problems sometimes associated with a mother who drinks, but he had the behavioral issues. As time went on, things got worse. And with the inherited addictive tendencies, when he started drinking at a young age and hanging out with the wrong kids . . .” She shook her head. “We tried counseling, outpatient treatment, inpatient treatment . . .” She trailed off, her voice catching.
“I had no idea,” Meg said. “When I met Mike, I didn’t notice anything wrong. He was working construction. I met his friends . . . There were no warning signs. Until he lost his job, and then he changed.”
She recalled that night, the first display of temper, and she shuddered. He hadn’t hit her then. In fact, he’d never laid a hand on her until she’d told him about the baby, but the sudden shift in his mood had been terrifying.
“Losing a job is something that happens often, I’m sorry to say,” Walter said.
“He did get another one quickly, so I didn’t think much of it. Except he was laid off pretty fast from there too.” Meg took a sip of water. “He used to say you wouldn’t help him because he wouldn’t be the person you wanted him to be, that your expectations were too high. Then again, he found my expectations too high, and all I wanted him to do was pay his share of the rent and come home at night instead of partying with his friends.”
Scott stiffened beside her, clearly not happy with the replaying of her past.
“It’s not your fault,” Walter said. “My son is good at manipulative behavior and getting what he wants from people.” He met his wife’s gaze with a sad nod.
“This is all well and good, but we need to figure out how to get Mike to back off and leave Meg alone. He’s threatened to help her get rid of the baby, and he just sent a beheaded doll as a warning in the mail,” Scott said, his angry tone reflecting his frustration.
“Oh my. I’m so sorry.” Lydia shook her head, unable to meet Meg’s gaze. “What can we do?”
“From what Mike has said, this is all about money. Just assure him that if he signs the papers relinquishing his rights to the baby, you won’t cut him off. That will take the edge off his anger and get him to back off and leave Meg alone.”
Meg knew it wasn’t a guarantee, but she agreed with Scott that it might be a start.
“I’m sorry but we can’t,” Walter said.
Chapter 11
“Can’t? Or won’t?” Scott asked the older man, disappointed for Meg’s sake that the last twenty minutes of understanding and kindness had still led to disappointment.
“Scott—” Meg said in warning.
“No, he’s entitled to his opinion. We’ve heard it all before,” Walter said.
“Have you ever dealt with an addict?” Lydia asked.
Meg shook her head.
“Well, it’s simple. We can’t enable Mike in order to ensure good behavior. It doesn’t work, it won’t last, and in the end, more trouble will come down the road. You’re asking me to keep paying him, which will only feed his addiction. And I promise you, it won’t keep you safe,” Walter explained, and in that moment, he appeared older than he had on first meeting. When speaking of his son’s problems, the lines in his face, the extreme sadness, were more pronounced.
“Meg, it’s not that we don’t want to help, it’s that we’ve had almost thirty years of experience raising him, the last I-don’t-know-how-many years being taught how to deal with addictive behavior,” Lydia said, her imploring stare on Meg’s as she spoke.
“Then what do you suggest?” Scott asked, well and truly pissed off.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a suggestion, and I know that’s not what you want to hear.” Walter met Scott’s gaze. “If you need money to help keep the mother of my grandchild safe, just say the word—”
“Thanks, but I’ve got this,” he said too harshly.
Meg squeezed his leg beneath the table. Scott took the hint, but he didn’t
