“Another state?” Deborah rubs a hand over her face. “Oh dear, I know your father talked about moving away. I don’t remember finalizing anything.”
“See, that’s what I mean!” Fletcher looks pained. “This has got to stop, Deborah. My father is engaged to another woman. This isn’t healthy.”
Deborah’s jaw drops, and she stands in uncomfortable silence.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He shifts his weight to the other leg. “I know he’s not going to man up and confront you, but I will.”
“Is that right? He’s engaged?” Deborah clutches at her chest. “I wonder why he never mentioned it.”
“Deborah,” he says gently, “maybe we could chat for a minute?”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“I’d really like a cup of tea.”
Miles settles himself in a chair, and seeing as she doesn’t have a choice, Deborah busies herself with the teakettle, waiting for him to talk. He’s crossing and uncrossing his legs, and Deborah can tell he’s riddled with anxiety. She recognizes it because she sometimes does the same thing.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t your father come with you?”
“Because he doesn’t know I’m here.”
Deborah says softly, “I didn’t know he was dating anyone else. And he asked me to move with him . . . I just don’t understand.” Her jaw quivers. “Why didn’t he break up with me himself? He hasn’t returned any of my calls lately, and I could sense something was wrong.” The kettle whistles, and Deborah pours the hot water into three mugs, just in case she has another visitor.
Dropping the tea bags in to steep, she realizes Miles is waiting for her to continue.
“How long has he been . . .”
“Engaged?” Miles wrinkles his nose. “A few months. But he’s been seriously involved with her for a long time, over a year.”
“Why didn’t he tell me,” she whispers. “I feel so stupid. And like what we had was a sham.”
“Did you think you were in a committed relationship?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But a relationship means you hang out and talk and see each other, Deborah.”
“I realize this.” Handing him a mug, she fixes him with a bewildered stare. “But we did those things.”
Miles seems puzzled by this admission. “When did you hang out and talk? You mean, when you would call for help with your security system or a break-in?”
“No.” Deborah ticks examples off on her fingers, naming a couple of their dates and what they did. Now that she’s reflecting on their time together, she realizes it was never in public, minus the one time he stopped at the grocery store to meet her . . . in a different town.
Shakily, Deborah sinks down into a chair, not caring it’s Jonathan’s old one. “Look, Miles, I know we’ve had some issues because of the past. With Kristin—”
“Don’t bring her up to me,” Miles says in warning. “I don’t want to talk about Kristin.”
“Okay, then, about your mom . . .”
“Can we please”—Miles’s hand goes to his collared shirt, as if he’s choking—“stop talking about that night and what happened sixteen years ago. Can we please move on? It can’t keep defining our small community and our lives.”
Deborah slumps in her chair.
“I forgive you, Deborah. Dad admitted the affair, and we’ve all moved on.”
Fidgeting with her pendant, she murmurs, “What affair?”
Miles clenches his hands around the mug. “The one that cost my mother her life.”
Deborah stares at him glumly. “You never did talk to your father, did you?”
He rewards her with a death glare. “What’re you insinuating?”
“That if you had an honest talk with your father, you wouldn’t be accusing me of sleeping with him when he was married to your mother.” She sighs. “Maybe it’s you that needs to move on from old rumors and lies.”
Blood rushes to his face. “I’m tired of your bullshit, Deborah. You were trying to get my dad to leave my mom for you. He wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it, so you got jealous.”
“Listen to me.” She peers at him closely. “I didn’t want this to come from my mouth—I hoped your father would fill you in—but here it is. You remember Edward, one of your father’s best friends?”
“Of course.” He scowls. “I was at the funeral, but I didn’t see you there.”
“Edward was my first boyfriend, my first love. We started dating when we were in high school. Edward was Sibley’s father.”
“What’re you talking about?” Miles grips his throat again, as if her words are strangling him. “I know Edward had a wife—or ex-wife, because my dad . . . well . . . never mind.” He asks, “When was this?”
“Well, Miles, I don’t need to break down conception for you. It happened thirty-four years ago. We dated and got pregnant. He left for the military, and I married Jonathan. We both moved on with our lives.”
“But he never said anything . . .”
Deborah swallows hard. “I know.”
“So my mother died for nothing, all based on pointless rumors . . . when you were really sleeping with Edward?”
“I wasn’t sleeping with Edward then.” Deborah shakes her head sadly. “I was trying to leave Jonathan. Your father was helping me.”
Miles pounds his fist on the table.
Using a soft voice, Deborah tries to diffuse the situation. “Miles, I had no idea your mother was going to follow Robert to our house that evening. He was the mastermind helping me to leave Jonathan.” Her hands tremble. “After Cindy told Jonathan at church that Sibley wasn’t his, it was a ticking time bomb.”
Deborah doesn’t want to dive deep into more old history with Miles, because she doesn’t care for him, and it’s none of his business. His presence is annoying to her. He has no right to sit down and demand her time.
“My mother told Jonathan no such thing!” Miles clenches his fists at his sides. “You’re lying, Deborah. It’s pathetic. After all this time, you’re still trying to pin the blame on my poor, innocent mother. You’re going to hell for—”
He’s
