Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 39
Paige
The Cooper-Barnes hospital is the best on the East Coast for endocrinology care. Initially, I feel self-conscious, dressed up with a bodyguard trailing behind me down the sunlit halls toward the elevator. But soon, I realize my vanity; no one will notice me in this place while they suffer over the precarious fate of a loved one.
Oleg keeps his word and blends into the background as we approach the endocrinological unit. I walk down the hallway alone toward room 611. I pause outside the door, wondering how I’ll explain what happened, but I decide to deflect. I must protect my family by not telling them the truth. We have more important things to discuss. I pull my wedding ring off and toss it into my purse.
Emma texted me the bad news that Dad’s condition had worsened, and he had to be admitted. Our father lies asleep in his bed, hooked up to machines that hum, beep, and keep him alive.
“Paige, you’re here.” Emma runs toward me, and I catch her in my arms. I hold her tight as if I could take her with me. She steps back, and her gaze travels over my new dress and the fussy hairstyle.
“It’s good to see you.” I hold her at arm’s length, forcing a sincere smile onto my face. Emma’s clear skin has broken out into a rash of pimples over her cheeks and chin. Her hair is dull, frizzy, and scraped back into an overly tight ponytail. The poor kid looks like she’s carrying the weight of our family’s misfortunes on her tiny back. And she is. While I’ve been fighting with Andrei, I left her alone to deal with this mess.
“I’m okay,” Emma replies, as if she can read minds. “But I’ve been worried about you. What happened? Where have you been?”
Concern disappears and turns into an interrogation. Except for the bandage, I do not look like I’ve been kidnapped or mistreated.
“We’ll talk later.” I halt in place as my eyes focus past the bed on the woman sitting beside Dad. Apprehension gives way to anger, and anger is replaced with simmering hate. “What’s she doing here?”
Emma clasps her hands together and rocks up on her toes. “Mom came back, Paige!”
Our mother, Cynthia Reyes, left when I was thirteen and Emma was six. I wondered if I would recognize her if I ever saw her again. That question has been put to rest now.
Something beyond her aging looks tells me it’s her. Her hair is darker than I remember, but streaks of gray glint under the overhead light. Her face is a little rounder, but her smile remains the same. Not that we saw much of it before she ran out on us.
I would’ve run in the other direction if I had seen her on the street. I would’ve pretended not to know her as my hate choked my throat. Every ounce of control is keeping me from screaming in her face now. I’m surprised the hate in me is as fresh as it was on the day she left.
My feelings haven’t changed.
I resent her for coming back into our lives, as if she has a right to be here while my dad lies dying. We don’t need her anymore.
I can still remember the years leading up to their inevitable break. When she would bring men home, not caring that my father was there and use their bedroom. Emma was too young to understand, and I did my best to shield her from what I knew while I sat with dad and watched him drink away the humiliation with tears in his eyes.
And every time, they’d fight after her latest lover leaves. Drunken shouting matches that would scare me into my room with Emma, where I tried to distract her from the reality of our broken family.
And it seemed like my distractions worked. Because Emma squeezed my hand, smiling, and said. “Isn’t it great? Mom came back.”
Cynthia sits and waits with wide, uncertain eyes. Is she expecting a hug? Does she expect gratitude for gracing us with her long overdue presence? Should I be thankful that she decided to return after we suffered for ten years without her?
After she humiliated dad so openly like that?
I look at my dad, barely conscious in his bed and worn thin from his treatment. He’s barely aware that she’s present. For ten years, I slaved like an animal, being everything to everyone that she left behind. Does she think I want her here now?
Cynthia stands from the chair and looks at me expectantly.
“How long do you plan on staying?” The bitterness seeps into my harsh voice. The vitriol would’ve made a lesser person wince with shame. But not Cynthia Reyes. The woman stares at me as if my tone is disrespectful. As if I am still a child. Her child. Not anymore. I haven’t been a child since the day she ran away.
“Paige.” Her gaze matches mine. “You look well. Your sister says you’ve been gone for a month.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s still nine years and eleven months short of a decade.”
Cynthia presses her lips together. Is she annoyed that I brought that up? Hurt? I don’t care. She has no right to compare our situations.
“Your cousin Kenney told me that your father was sick.” She places her hand on his bed. “I thought I should come and see him.”
“To gloat?” I ask.
“Paige.” Emma looks annoyed as my truth bomb goes off. “Mom says she’ll help out.”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe we should speak in the hall,” replies Cynthia.
I look over at Dad, whose eyes are shut, and wonder if he’s really asleep. I walk out into the hallway and wait. Cynthia stands beside me, and in a low voice, I tell her what I have to say.
“Why are you here?” I ask. “He doesn’t have any money. Why don’t you just leave us be?”
She notices my earrings. “Emma said you disappeared.”
“I had a good reason, which is more than what I can say for you!”
“I’m sorry, Paige. But you were too young to understand the circumstances.”
“I understood plenty, Cynthia.” I reply bitterly. “I knew what you were doing with all those men while dad listened in the kitchen. But go on, then. Tell me now. Tell me why you left. I get it if you wanted to leave Dad. But why me? Why Emma?”
Cynthia glances over at the nurses’ station, and though they’re busy, it’s too quiet in the hallway not to be heard.
“This isn’t the place to talk about what happened,” she says, her voice shuddering. “I didn’t know how sick your father was. So when I heard, I came back.”
“To ease your guilty conscience,” I scoff. “Is that it?”
Her eyes turn cold and a small part of me regrets having said it. But what does she expect? Mom left Dad, but she abandoned us.
“Paige, I missed out on a decade of all of your lives, and I am truly sorry. I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good,” I snarl. “Because you’re not getting it.”
“I want to give your father a chance to make things right.”
Is she out of her mind? “You want to give Dad the chance to make things right?” I sputter. “With whom?”
“We kept secrets that you couldn’t be told,” she replies. “Both of us. Now, you have a right to know, but not here. Not now.” She tries to take my hand, but I pull back. I don’t want her touching me.
“Paige,” Cynthia sighs. “I thought about you and your sister every day I was gone. I made plans for the three of us. It took longer than I thought. I understand if you want nothing to do with me. But think about Emma. You’re an adult now, and I’m glad to see you have a life, but Emma needs me.”
“Emma doesn’t need you,” I scoff. “She has me. She’s always had me.”
“You didn’t see the way she clung to me when I walked into the room.” The hurt is unmistakable in her voice. “I know you, Paige. I know you hate me now. But if you knew why I did what I did, then you wouldn’t hate me.”
It takes everything in me to keep myself from yelling. “Then tell me!”
“Not here.” She shakes her head and keeps repeating those two grating words. “Please, you have to understand.”
I take a breath. Maybe I can understand after what’s happened to me. Mom walked out, but maybe there was a good reason. I have a reason. Why not her?
And what’s stopping me from running from Andrei? Not Oleg. I could call the authorities and tell them what Andrei did. He wouldn’t chase after me. For what? He warned me there are worse people. But that’s no reason to stay. Temptation makes me stay. Silly pride that someone like him wants me. That someone like him went too far to get me.
Mom grasps my hand, and this time I don’t pull back.
“Paige, please,” she pleads. “Just hear me out. You will understand if you do.”
“Fine.” I nod. “Maybe I will.”
“Did your father tell you anything?” she whispers. “About any of it?”
The hallway is cold, but her tone makes me feel even colder. “About what?”
“Of course he didn’t.” She shakes her head. “If he had, you wouldn’t ask me that. There’s a restaurant near where I live. I’ll give you my number, and we can talk there. The sooner, the better, Paige.” Her grip tightens enough to tell me her urgency, but not enough to hurt. “I’m not the monster you think I am.”
I don’t feel like reassuring her with a lie, so I don’t reply. But I will give her a chance.
***
Emma sits on the edge of her chair, watching as we walk back into the room. Her bottom lip quivers as she grips the edge of the chair.
“You’re shaking.” I speak softly.
“Where have you been, Paige?”
“I can’t tell you right now. Maybe later.” The irony hits me as I say the words. Maybe Mom is right. Maybe she’s not the monster I think she is.
“Are you coming home with us?” asks Emma.
“I can’t.”
“Don’t worry, dear.” Mom places her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I’ll be there for you.”
My self-control amazes me as I watch Emma smile in return. Her hands leave me as she lets Mom pull her into an embrace. I feel my heart being torn in two at the sight. I should be happy, even relieved, that Mom will be there for Emma. But I can’t help but think about myself.
Where were you when I needed you, Mom?
Dad murmurs in his bed, a faint smile on his lips. A smile of victory, perhaps? I glance at Mom. For a brief moment, it’s like I’m staring into a mirror.
I recognize the look in her eyes as she looks at Dad.
It’s the same resentful look I reserve for Andrei.
