10
Harper
“Do you think I should check on her?” I shut off the light beside the bed and roll over to face Remy.
He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “You shouldn’t check on her again.” He leans in and gives me a peck on the lips. “You said good night. Then you went back and said good night again. You told her to let you know if she needs anything. She’s sixteen years old. She’ll let you know if she needs something.”
I tuck my head under his chin, press my hand to his bare chest, and breathe in his scent that’s burgundy wine, warmth, and French-milled soap. I used to think it was weird that he used the same soap his mother always used when he was a child. Now it’s part of his identity to me. You have to love a man who likes girly, nice soap.
It feels so good to have him in bed with me again. Not just for sex. But to have him here all night. After he moved out, he rarely stayed the night anymore, and when he did, he slipped out very early in the morning. I don’t know if Jojo knew we were still sleeping together occasionally or not. She never mentioned it, so I don’t think so. It was Remy who didn’t think he should stay the night. He was afraid it would confuse Jojo. She took the fact that he was moved back in so nonchalantly that, thinking back, I doubt she would have cared. Remy doesn’t like it when I say things like this, but I think Jojo’s too wrapped up in herself to care. He doesn’t get that when I say things like that about her, I’m not being critical. She and I get along well most of the time. We’ve been a team since Remy left. I love her as she is, but as her mother and a female, I think I see her more realistically than he does.
“I think today went okay.” I snuggle against him. “It went okay, right? She seemed to enjoy walking in the park. She liked that dog. Do you think we should get a dog? We’ve been talking about it.” I look up at him even though it’s so dark I can’t really see his face. “You think we should get a dog?”
“I think we should go to sleep.” He kisses the top of my head.
I close my eyes. Breathe deeply. I washed the sheets yesterday and they smell divine. “I think things went okay,” I repeat.
He doesn’t say anything.
I’m quiet for a moment, but my thoughts are going in so many directions that I can’t stay quiet. “I was thinking we’d go shopping tomorrow. The girls and I. She didn’t bring much with her. Katrina said someone would be getting more of her things for her from her house, but maybe she doesn’t want those things. I don’t know if I would, if I were her.”
Remy doesn’t say anything. He’s not asleep yet, but he’s close. I’ve never seen anyone who can fall asleep as quickly as he can. I find it annoying. I sometimes lie awake for hours, unable to relax, replaying things I said, did, during the day. “Remy?”
He exhales and rolls onto his back. I follow him, lying on my stomach, resting my head on his chest. “What do you think? Should I take them shopping? Get her some clothes? She’ll need shoes to go with her uniform. Maybe do lunch somewhere fun? What’s the name of that courtyard restaurant in the Quarter Jojo likes?”
“Harper.”
“The one with the fountain. Jojo likes their crab cake sliders. I don’t know if Georgina eats crab. Maybe we should go there? You want to meet us?” I run my hand over his chest that is just hairy enough to be masculine without being too hairy. “I know you don’t want to go shopping, but you could meet us for lunch. You said you have to go into the office for a couple of hours, but maybe you could meet us for a late lunch?”
“You can’t take it personally, Harper.”
“I’m trying to figure out when to take her to see Daddy. I know he won’t remember her, but he’ll want to see her. He still remembers when she was born. But that might be a lot for Georgina. We should probably hold off on the nursing home visit.”
“Did you hear what I said?” His tone is gentle, but he’s not going to let it go. “Harper?”
I know what he’s talking about. And he knows I know. You don’t marry a man, have two children with him, lose a child, divorce, reconcile, and have your child miraculously returned to you fourteen years later and not know each other intimately.
And the tears come again. I roll onto my back to lie beside him. “I’m her mother,” I whisper. “And you’re her father.”
“Biologically, yes.”
“She’s my child.” I pull my arms across my body, almost as if I can cradle her to my breast again.
“Harper.” He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He puts his other arm around me. “Can you imagine what it must have been like for her to have the police show up at her door and ask her mother if she kidnapped her? Have her mother admit right in front of her that she wasn’t her child? That she, the woman Georgina loves more than anyone in the world, abducted her when she was a baby?”
I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about it. “She’s our daughter,” I repeat.
“She was our daughter. And she will be again. But right now . . .”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
I press my lips together trying to fight the wave of panic rising in my chest. This afternoon, when I asked Georgina what she wanted, she said she wanted to go home. She wanted her mother. That woman. That monster. Not me.
“I love her so much,” I whisper.
“I know you do,” he says in my ear. “And I love her, too. But Katrina is right. This is overwhelming for all of us. And . . . I know you might not want to hear this, but I think maybe it’s more overwhelming for her on several levels. She never knew we existed until last week. We’ve been loving her all these years, Harper. Even when she was gone and we thought she would never come back to us. But she didn’t know about us.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and I say a little prayer to the Holy Mother. I ask for her blessing. For her guidance. A little extra to go with the fifty-four-day novena that I might just start again as soon as I’ve completed this one.
Remy rests his head on my breast and strokes my arm.
We’re quiet for a long time, but I can tell by the way he’s breathing that he’s not asleep yet. “Remy?”
“Mm?”
“Do you think this is going to work out? Not with Georgina. I mean with us. With you and me.”
“Baby, I don’t know,” he murmurs, just on the edge of sleep.
It’s not the answer I was hoping for, but tonight I’ll take it.