That morning, I left Willa with Kira and Pam. The two women made fast friends, and I had the feeling Pam was thrilled to find out she had two surrogate daughters and not just one. Just before I walked out of the house, my sister hugged me tightly.
“It’s going to be okay. All of this will work out, and you’re going to be fine,” she whispered.
I wasn’t sure I really believed her, but I thanked her anyway and left for work. I drove there with a heavy sense of dread in my belly. A kind welcome certainly wasn’t on the horizon, but I didn’t want to face the wrath of the entire Freeman family, either. That was something I hadn’t even considered. All this time I’d only been worried about Darren and how he was going to feel about the situation. It wasn’t until he said his mother mentioned a lawyer that I started thinking about his family and how this impacted them, too.
In the time I’d been working at Freeman Racing, I’d really come to like the family. From elegant but warm and welcoming Minnie, to stubborn Gus, to sassy Merry, and even the brothers though I didn’t see them as often. I’d come to feel like part of the family and to really appreciate how much of a family-oriented company they were. Now it was really sinking in how hard it would be for the entire family to find out about the deception. That made the worry about going into work even more pronounced. It wasn’t just discomfort around Darren I needed to dread, but a chilly if not outright hostile reception from all the Freemans.
When I pulled into the parking lot, I immediately noticed Darren’s usual bike wasn’t there. I knew he sometimes chose different ones to drive around, but I didn’t notice any others, either. Heading straight for the garage, I hoped it would be equally empty, but instead found Gus sitting there. He drank coffee slowly and scrolled through something on his computer. I resisted the urge to feel like he was there waiting for me. Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t be able to not talk to him. He felt like the first layer of defense in the family, and I wanted to get through it as fast as I could.
Taking a deep breath, I walked up to him.
“Should I be collecting my things and cleaning out my locker?” I asked.
It was blunt and straight to the point, but I didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with sugarcoating anything right then. I had to know what was going on and if it would compromise the future I was building. Gus handed me a cup of coffee and shook his head.
“No. I’m disappointed, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not directly in the middle of the situation. I’m in the orbit of it, so I guess I can be a bit more objective.” He took another sip of his coffee, and I waited for him to give me some sort of evaluation of what was going on, but he didn’t. He simply closed his computer and lifted his eyebrows at me. “Let’s get to work.”
We worked well together just like we always did, and I was glad no one else came along throughout the rest of the day. I only took half a lunch break, skirting around the edge of the field so I didn’t have to cross through where the family would be eating. Instead, I got back in my car and ate from the bag of food Pam packed for me. It was becoming a tradition and one I wouldn’t turn my back on anytime soon. She was a fantastic cook, and it was nearly as comforting having her cook for me as it would my mother.
We spent the rest of the afternoon putting the final finishing touches on getting Greg’s bike back in one piece. It had been a much bigger undertaking than I’d anticipated and required us to order several parts, break the bike down completely, and rebuild it a couple of times. Gus talked to me about work, but I kept my head down and focused on the task at hand, only talking when I really had to. I figured the more I kept my mouth shut, the less chances I had of rocking the boat.
29 Darren
I might have gone to bed Sunday night feeling like I’d drowned the anger and was mentally better off than I had been for the rest of the weekend, but I woke up Monday morning physically feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, backed over, and hit one more time. Even before I opened my eyes, I could feel the pain. Since I didn’t go out all the time and usually drank only sparingly when I did, having a hangover wasn’t a terribly familiar sensation. Of course, I’d had them before, particularly early in my days of drinking when I was still testing out my tolerance level or attempting to match up with those around me who drank much more. But even when I got drunk like I did at Quentin’s house on family Sundays, usually I didn’t suffer a hangover afterward.
That Monday was a reality check if I’d ever had one. I was lying flat in my bed, yet it felt like the entire world was tossing back and forth. Pain crept in around the edges of my eyes and up the back of my skull, soon taking over my entire head.
