Jacqueline knew right away which argument he referred to. Sheremembered saying it, weeks before they finally broke up, as clearly as sherecalled the stricken expression on Casey’s face. She’d hated herself forinflicting that pain, and knowing Sean had heard it brought a new wave ofself-loathing. “I didn’t mean that. I was hurting and I didn’t handle it well.”
“I used to wonder if you’d ever felt that way about me, but youwere stuck with me because you adopted me and couldn’t give me back.” Havingclearly lost his interest in breakfast, he set his plate on the counter next tothe turkey bacon.
“Oh, Sean.” Her heart ached for the twelve year-old version ofher son. “We didn’t give Elle back because we didn’t want her. We did, so much.Just like we wanted you. We didn’t have a choice. It tore me up to let her go,and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I took my grief out on your mom.”
He stared at his hands and bent his fingers back one by one untilhis knuckles popped. “I wasn’t always easy.”
“You were ours. And we loved every bit of you.”
“It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
“It does—” She grappled for what to say, but he was gone beforeshe got a chance. She set down her own plate and went after him, but as sherounded the corner she ran into Casey lurking in the hallway. The door toSean’s bedroom slammed.
*
Casey let Sean pass by her without a word. Like Jacqueline, whenhe was hurt or angry he needed space. She was debating whether to enter thekitchen when Jacqueline barreled into her. She caught Jacqueline by theshoulders when it seemed like she wanted to run over her to follow Sean. Shegave a little squeeze, but Jacqueline still tried to force her way past her.She pivoted and pushed Jacqueline against the wall to get her attention. Butwhen Jacqueline’s pain-filled eyes found her, she almost wished she’d let hergo. They’d had too many of these emotionally charged moments lately, and giventhe conversation she just overheard, she didn’t think she had the armor forwhere this was about to go.
“How much of that did you hear?” Jacqueline’s voice was rough.She grasped Casey’s waist, her hands flexing as if trying to imprint heranguish into Casey.
“Only enough to break my heart.” She’d heard Sean’s warning aboutthe status of her current relationship with Jacqueline. But her worry aboutthat was eclipsed as soon as he started talking about Elle.
Jacqueline shook her head. “I thought he understood at the timewhy we couldn’t keep Elle. To find out he carried that around with him allthese years shakes me up.”
“I know.” Casey fought the urge to embrace her as she had thenight before.
Jacqueline looked down at her own hands, then deliberately openedthem. Casey stepped back, giving her room to escape.
“I should go.” Jacqueline brushed past her.
“Wait. Let’s talk about this.” Casey grimaced as the words cameout. She didn’t want to talk about it any more than Jacqueline did. But ifJacqueline felt half as torn apart by Sean’s words as Casey did, she didn’twant to let her go, alone and upset.
“I can’t, Casey,” Jacqueline said, halfway to the front door.
“Of course not.” Jacqueline’s predictable reaction—flight—hadalways angered her. She’d never been able to get over the sense of rejection atknowing that when she was hurting, Jacqueline wanted to be anywhere but withher.
“What?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” Casey turned toward the kitchen. She shouldlet Jacqueline go, but she couldn’t watch her leave.
“What did you say?” Jacqueline came back across the room, nowfollowing Casey.
“You haven’t changed. You still want to walk away when things gethard.” Casey had struck low and dirty with that one, but she couldn’t helpherself.
Sean’s bedroom door opened, and he strode down the hall carryinghis backpack. He kept his head down, but the fringe of his hair didn’t hide hisred eyes and flushed cheeks.
“Sean, hey, I wanted to talk to you about—”
“Not now, Mama. I’m going to meet some friends.” He didn’t quitecarry off a casual tone, but the message was clear.
When the door closed behind him, Jacqueline glared at Casey. “Goahead, say it.” She jabbed a finger toward the door. “That’s my fault, too.”
Casey sighed and sat down on the couch. Moments ago she’d beenitching for a confrontation with Jacqueline. Arguing with Jacqueline felt muchmore comfortable than the other emotions she’d been experiencing around herlately. Anger, she could handle. Compassion, tenderness, arousal—they were moredifficult.
“We had to give her back.”
Jacqueline’s tortured words sent a bolt of agony through Casey’schest. Her response was a machine gun of clipped words because she didn’t havethe breath for more. “I was there.”
Jacqueline shook her head and continued talking. “The socialworker took her from my arms, and she might as well have ripped a piece of myheart out.” Her eyes welled up.
“Don’t you think I felt it, too?” Casey sagged against the backof the couch. She’d always been quick to judge Jacqueline’s emotionalavailability. And while she’d been an open book compared to Jacqueline, now,she had to admit, she’d held some things back as well. “I felt guilty,” shewhispered.
“Why?” Jacqueline sat down next to her.
“We had so much to give. A good home, money, security. I wasblessed. I really thought I had it all.” She barked out a sarcastic laugh. Whata joke her perfect life had turned out to be.
“Casey—” Jacqueline touched her arm, but Casey shook her off.
“I felt guilty and selfish—so many kids desperately needed thosebasic comforts, and we could have—I resented you for making that decision forboth of us. I blamed you.”
“Yeah, that part I figured out.” Jacqueline angled to face her morefully. “So we blamed each other and it blew us apart. But you went on to fosteragain, so you can’t really regret it.”
“It’s more complicated than regret or not. I didn’t want to loseyou—”
“You told me to go.”
Casey nodded. “And you did.”
“What if I’d stayed? What if I’d fought for us?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you
