A Lady Under Siege - By B.G. Preston Page 0,15

first adult romance. They slept together twice a week for three weeks until she figured out he already had a girlfriend, and confronted him. “I’ve dropped her,” he said. “Oh? When?” “Now.” After that, they saw each other every night, and within two months Betsy happened—an accident, obviously. Seth expressed true love while lobbying for an abortion, and Meghan had agreed to it, had made the appointment, but at the last minute couldn’t bring herself to go through with it. And that’s how Betsy came to be.

“Betsy’s not a disaster,” he protested. “You could say congratulations. She’s going to have a sister.”

“Half sister.”

“I want you and Irena to get along.”

“I should be friends with the woman who destroyed my marriage.”

“I destroyed our marriage,” he said, looking at her finally.

“Is that the new version? The first was, you were too weak, and she came on too strong. She did know you were married, even if you forgot.”

“You’ll need to forgive her, and me. And in time you will. Give me some credit, I helped set you on your life’s path. You were just an aimless girl taking vague courses toward a useless degree, I’m the one who saw talent in your drawing and got you into OCA.” There was truth in this—prodded by Seth she had switched to the Ontario College of Art to study design and illustration, juggling classes and motherhood through her early twenties, while most of her peers were partying it up. But she was in no mood to give credit.

“Thank you, Mister Svengali, I’d be nowhere without you.”

They locked eyes for a moment. Seth looked away first. Being a man, he hated emotional scenes like this. He’d said what he needed to say, and was actually relieved when Meghan said, “You should go now.”

She moved to the front door and opened it for him. On the doorstep he turned and said, “I think Betsy will like spending time with us, once she has a sister. More of a family environment.”

“Goodbye.” Meghan slammed the door on him. She leaned her forehead against it, and composed herself. After a moment she walked back through the living room, and the phone rang. Without thinking she picked it up. It was work, more specifically her friend and workmate Jan, catching her up on the latest rumours about job cuts and rolling heads. Nothing new or substantial to report, just Jan venting, mostly, until she remembered the real reason she had phoned, that a meeting about a book cover Meghan was working on had been moved up to tomorrow. She’d need something to present by ten in the morning.

“Can you do it?” Jan asked.

“Yes of course. I’ll be up half the night though.”

“Don’t kill yourself over it.”

“I have better reasons to kill myself,” said Meghan. “Though I’d rather kill Seth right now.”

That started a whole other conversation, and by the time she hung up the phone, and went to the kitchen and looked at the clock, she realised with a shock thirty minutes had passed. Betsy. Through the backdoor window she could see her daughter happily bounding up and down in the air. Up and down, on what? A trampoline. She opened the door and took in the sight of her neighbour Derek watching her daughter from his back yard. His elbows rested on top of the fence and he was drinking beer from a can.

“One, two, three, go for it, Bets!” he shouted encouragingly.

Betsy did a full forward somersault and landed on her feet. Her face was flushed with excitement and pride as she rebounded skyward.

Meghan called out, “Betsy!”

At the top of her trajectory, Betsy met her mother’s gaze. Her body froze, and completely forgetting herself she came down hard, catching her feet on the metal edge of the trampoline. It pitched downward and catapulted her—she frantically waved her arms and legs for balance, but in an instant she’d been projected like a missile, head first onto the lawn, crash-landing in a full-on face plant of the kind that wins prizes on Funniest Home Video shows.

Meghan raced over to her in a panic. “Are you alright, are you alright?” she cried out, but Betsy was already pulling herself to her feet. She batted her mom’s helping hands away, shouting, “I’m fine. I’m fine! I’m not hurt at all.”

“Let me look at you.”

Betsy felt her lips. “I’ve got grass in my mouth,” she said. “But it really didn’t hurt.”

“Grass and dirt,” said Meghan. “All over your face.”

“Think they used pesticides on it?”