you will choose to honor her memory, as she so rightly deserves.
Peace be with you, child.
Father Baldwin
Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known. Jeremiah 33:3
I placed the letter on the table and opened the church program, noting a mass to be said in my mother’s memory on the day specified in my father’s letter. I had purposefully not shown up at each of our pre-arranged meetings over the past few months. I was angry at my father for getting himself into whatever mess he was in. I was angry at my mother for knowing what happened and keeping it from me. I was angry at Tyler for using me to get to my father. But I was mostly angry at myself, if for no other reason than I knew my anger toward other people wouldn’t make me feel better.
As my eyes remained glued to the postscript of the letter, I felt something I hadn’t in months. Hope. It could have meant nothing, but a small part of me believed my long-term absence from the church made my father reconsider shielding me from the truth of what was going on. I prayed he would come clean with all the secrets so we could go back to having a normal father-daughter relationship…or as normal a relationship as we could.
Folding the letter and bulletin, I hid them in one of my kitchen drawers and spied the time. I groaned, not really feeling like going to our traditional Friday evening girls’ night, but I couldn’t break from my routine. The last time I strayed from the normalcy of my life, I ended up heartbroken. I needed to find comfort in my routine once more, regardless of how tempting curling up in my bed sounded at the moment.
I made my way down the hallway toward my decent-sized master bedroom, then stripped off the yoga pants and tank top I had put on when I got home from work earlier. June had come and gone too quickly for my liking. It was now the middle of July and I was seventeen weeks pregnant. It seemed as if my stomach had grown overnight. What was just a small bump last week was now more pronounced. My small and slender frame made it even more noticeable, and I knew I couldn’t cover it up much longer.
Turning on the shower, I allowed the hot water to wash over me, cleansing me of everything as I tried to clear my mind. All the books I’d been reading told me to maintain a low stress level so my baby didn’t become stressed. I couldn’t help but think he or she had nothing to be stressed about…no paying bills, running a restaurant, or finding the father of the kid growing inside you. Brayden was right. Tyler needed to know. I just worried he would want to be a part of my baby’s life, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that because that would make him part of my life. I was certain I didn’t want that. That was what I tried to convince myself anyway.
After an invigorating shower, I headed toward my closet and picked out a long maxi dress that was tight around my chest, then flowed to my ankles. It was comfortable and hid my stomach. I towel dried my hair and placed a touch of gel in it to tame the waves. Putting a bit of powder on my dark complexion, I then added a hint of blush and some dark eyeliner, giving my hazel eyes a dramatic feel. After applying some pink gloss to my lips, I stepped back and surveyed my five-foot, four-inch frame, satisfied I didn’t look how I felt…
Shattered.
Broken.
Lost.
Putting on a smile that masked my true feelings, I rushed down the hallway and was met by a chubby gray cat meowing at me. “Ready for dinner, your majesty?” I asked Meatball. He rubbed against my leg, purring in appreciation. “Okay. Let’s get you fed.”
I bent down, grabbed his bag of kibble from the cabinet, and poured it in his bowl. Giving him a quick scratch on his tail as he ate, I made my way from the condo, taking the elevator down twelve floors to the lobby.
“Hey, Mackenzie!” Paul, the security guard, said when he saw me emerge. He was in his late fifties or early sixties, and had distinguished gray hair and brilliant blue eyes. He had been retired from