Heartwood (6 page)

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Authors: L.G. Pace III

Tags: #A Carved Hearts Novel

BOOK: Heartwood
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Still, I was open to the possibility that my judgment was clouded. I hadn’t been nearly so anxious before the twins, and the last thing I needed was to be in denial. I was concerned enough that I’d gone to visit Dr. Greene a couple of days ago to get a second opinion.

“Molly...” He replied, dropping his pen onto his notebook after thirty minutes of listening to me explain why Dr. Myers was completely off base, “You might not have postpartum, but you do sound...off. Lack of sleep alone can do that to you. One baby is an upheaval to a household. Two? It’s got to be like getting hit by a freight train.”

“Preach.” I agreed, sipping from the bottle of water he’d offered me on the way in.

“Have you gone back to work?” He asked.

I think I surprised us both when I burst into tears. Once they started, I couldn’t stop them. I thanked the Lord, sweet Jesus, that I hadn’t worn any makeup, since I didn’t need the telltale raccoon eyes when I got home to Joe.

“I’m not working. I don’t have any plans to return. They just don’t need me.” I blubbered, and he jumped up and grabbed a box of tissues, which he slid across the desk at me. I managed to pull myself together a couple of minutes later, and he waited until that time to delicately respond.

“What I’m hearing you say is that you
miss
working.”

“No shit.” I scoffed, and his mouth twitched in amusement. “I’m a terrible mom! I am dying to go to work, even for a few hours a day... a few days a week. It’s pathetic. I
need
to get out. I need to cook up some new kick ass recipes. I need to have some damn adult conversation.”

He pulled off his glasses and sat back in his chair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But the babies...” I started.

“Will be just fine.” He interjected.

I considered this.

“Does Joe object?” Dr. Greene asked, picking up his pen.

“No.” I replied. “He says he doesn’t care as long as we have someone we trust to watch them.”

“And Joe doesn’t trust easily.” He smirked.

“Would you?” I shrugged. Thinking about Joe’s late wife and their dead baby made me morose.

“Well, it’s no wonder you need someone to talk to with Joe as your main social outlet.” He mumbled.

Greene’s penchant for sarcasm normally amused me, but intense anger surfaced in me so suddenly that it shocked us both.

“That’s a shitty thing to say, Will. Joe’s my best friend. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. I couldn’t have designed a better father for my children.” I stopped when I saw his stunned expression, and realized I was over reacting. Logan had kept me up late and I needed some damn coffee. I sucked in a deep breath and shifted gears. “You were joking...I’m so sorry. That was over the top. To answer your question, he loves that I’m home with the kids. He claims he has no opinion on when or if I go back to work, but who knows how he’ll act when I do. And you’re right, I do rely on him to be my entire social life. He’s so sweet about it, but I bombard him like a needy shut-in every day when he walks in the door. I can’t help it. I miss people. But when I leave the kids, even for a little while, I feel so anxious that it’s hard to have a good time. And when I do let loose, I feel so guilty.”

He exhaled audibly. “Molly. I want you to listen to me carefully. You’re going to be fine. I don’t feel that you need antidepressants, but that’s up to you. You might need a little something to help you sleep and I’d be glad to refill your script for situational anxiety, but honestly, how you feel is completely normal. It might be a good idea to get someone to watch the twins for a few hours a couple of days a week so that you can get back out there. You’ll be more fulfilled and the twins will be happier with a happy mother.”

Another sob escaped me and he thrust the tissue box in my direction.

Dr. Greene’s tone was emphatic. “It’s not a sign of weakness that you want to get out of the house and work. Everyone’s different. There are no rights or wrongs here.”

“You sound like Joe.” I sniffled.

“No. Joe sounds like
me
.” He volleyed the snark back into my court, and I smiled in spite of my tender nose and watery eyes.

Thinking back on my visit with Dr. Greene, I felt an element of calm seep into me. I inhaled and held my breath to focus. Maybe I
had
told Penny about the key. My memory was shit these days. I had to keep lists for everything from which twin I’d fed last to which truck I needed to sign payroll for. I hadn’t slept a full eight hours (except for that hot night at The Driskill) since I’d been discharged from the hospital. It was entirely possible that I told her in a fit of delirium. Maybe I’d told Joe and he had mentioned it to her. After all, they were extra chummy over the privacy fence which wasn’t quite tall enough for my taste.

I watched her disappear into our house as if she owned the place. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Though my conscious mind screamed at me that I was being a dumb ass, something deep and primal told me to look alive. I glanced over my shoulder and half expected someone to be standing behind me wielding a machete. Running a shaky hand through my long bangs, I looked up and down our street and saw nothing but empty sidewalks and rows of parked cars. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to relax them; there wasn’t a soul in sight.

Get it together, Molly.

Penny resurface from my house with two black beanies which had “Mom” embroidered on them in a tattoo-style heart. She brushed passed me as if I were a yard fixture and tugged them onto each of my babies’ heads.

“There!” She pronounced, as if she’d just planted the American flag on the Moon’s surface. “Y’all are ready to hit the town.”

“Great.” I gripped the handle of the stroller and forced a grin. “Well, gotta split.”

“Y’all should come over the weekend after next. My hubby will be in town. We could grill.” Penny’s husband worked in the oil business and was gone so much that I couldn’t remember his name.

I pretended to look disappointed. “You know, we’d love to...but it’s my niece’s birthday. Robin and Mason have this whole thing planned.”

She nodded, appearing unfazed. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe.” I chirped.

“Tell Joe I said ‘hi’.” The twinkle in her eyes was unmistakable. I had the overwhelming urge to pull her hair and push her onto the ground like I was in the second grade. Surprised by my intense jealousy, I clamped my mouth shut and nodded. I let my feet carry me away as I stuffed my earbuds in one handed.

Women of all ages enjoyed looking at Joe. This had been true since the day I first laid eyes on him. Hell, I hadn’t even been in high school then, and I’d been one of those fawning idiots following him around.

After we became reacquainted as adults, I’d learned he had quite the rep for getting around. I’d never let his popularity with the female gender bother me much. Thanks to my ex-husband, I’d learned long ago that I had no control of what my guy chose to do with his penis when I wasn’t around.

Wanting to make the most of my cardio time, I picked up my pace as I strode purposefully in the direction of South Congress. My sudden territorial streak made me nervous. It was unlike me, and I wondered if it came from some residual insecurity from Drae’s affair. Joe would always have admirers, and I needed to deal with it like a woman, not some silly child. I was not going to become
that girl
.

I decided to chalk it up to lack of sleep. Stretching my arms above my head, I leaned slightly to both sides in an attempt to warm up. I paused at an intersection, waiting for a passing car. The sedan’s windows were darkly tinted, and it slowed so much that for a moment, I thought it was going to park. I was about to start forward when it sped up and zipped by, narrowly missing the stroller.

“Hey!” I shouted, scowling down the road at the retreating car.

Texas. This entire fucking state could use a remedial driving course.

Reaching into the baby bag, I pulled out a Xanax and swallowed it down with a large swig from my water bottle.

Shaking off both the Penny experience and the shitty driver, I turned up my IPod in an effort to distract myself with the upbeat playlist my friend, Jay, had made for me. Enough screwing around. I was going to use the jogging stroller for its intended purpose.

After all, no pain, no gain.

 

 

 

 

 

“I BOOKED OUR honeymoon.” I turned to Molly, and smiled at her cute pig tails. She fidgeted with her seatbelt and fumbled with the zipper on her sweatshirt. Her anxiety was contagious as she nervously ran her hands over the knees of her pants. They were black, and covered in tiny pink skulls. They fit her like a glove and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. Most women nearing age thirty couldn’t pull off pig tails or skulls. My girl not only
owned
the look, she bent it over and made it her bitch. Trying to ignore her obvious agitation, my thoughts wandered in a filthy direction, and I realized Molly was pointing at the wind shield.

“Green light, big boy.” She teased and as if to concur, the driver behind me laid on their horn. Molly glared in the side mirror and rolled her eyes. “So where are you taking me?”

“I thought you wanted it to be a surprise.” I replied, easily maneuvering the truck through the homicidal downtown traffic. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the twins. They were sleeping peacefully. I had the most precious cargo on board, but having lived here my entire life, I was used to being in defensive driver mode.

“I do.” She exhaled, and the sound reeked of wistful regret. “Is it a direct flight?”

“Yep.” I replied. “Just like you ordered.”

Her smile was like a crackling fire on a chilly night. “Just tell me how I need to pack. Sweaters...flip flops...dressy...casual?”

“I plan to keep you naked as much as possible.” I deadpanned, but when her bawdy laugh echoed through the cab, I erupted in a grin.

“In that case, I suppose I’ll just bring a carry-on.” She joked. Seconds later, we came to a stop in front of her father’s old restaurant, and her playful expression wilted. I watched as sorrow settled over her perfect features. A fading realty sign reading “price reduced” had been tagged with bold graffiti reading “Tear this bitch down”. The former site of Hildebrandt’s Barbecue served as a harsh reminder of the light that had been extinguished when her father passed.

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