The Girl Before (16 page)

“I was never meant to have a son,” Mama says, still not looking at me. I follow her gaze out the window, but see nothing that would catch her attention. A glance at her face tells me that she is far away, someplace in the past where I cannot follow. “I was broken after my third girl. I wasn't to have any more children, and I had not left Papa with a successor. He would have been right to get rid of me and find someone who could provide what he needed.”

I keep my face neutral, but inside my thoughts churn. I do not know of any girls who would be Mama's daughters, born of her body. There is only Glen. My sisters and I are Mama's only daughters.

“Papa G was the oldest of five brothers,” Mama continued. “He expected to have his pick of successors. When we found out we were pregnant again, we were horrified, expecting a fourth girl. But the joy on his face was worth it all when we found out Glen was a boy.”

Mama's eyes crinkle as her lips turn up into a small smile. It is a rare expression on her face. I hold my breath, not wanting to interrupt the moment. I am craving more information about Glen as a baby, Glen as a child. There is so much I do not know, so much to learn about him. My future has taken a sharp turn in the past forty-eight hours, and I am ready to soak up whatever knowledge I can, just as I do in all my lessons.

“When Glen was born, he was small, sickly. We weren't sure he'd make it. But he did. He grew to be stronger than the other boys, and he made his papa proud. He has always made his papa proud.” She turns to face me, her eyes drilling into mine. “Until he met you.”

She could just as well have stabbed me through the chest, so severe is the impact of her words.

“I don't understand,” I say, my voice small. I am determined not to cry, and I clasp my hands together in front of me to hide the trembling.

“Glen was always meant to pick a mate,” Mama says, still glaring across the table at me. “There are plenty of girls who would be suitable. You are not one of them.”

I take a deep breath. Glen has already promised we will be together. If that is the case, I must be brave with this woman. “Why am I not suitable, ma'am?”

Mama's eyes flash. “You have been trained for more than that, Clara,” she says, and my mouth drops open in shock I cannot hide. “You could be on the arm of a tremendously important man, and instead, you will be hidden away from the world, your talents wasted. You are, simply put, too good for him.”

This is not what I expected at all. The opposite. Despite what Glen has told me, I assumed Mama was upset that Glen had not made a better choice.

“I love my son,” Mama says, reaching across the table to cover my hand with her own. “But it will take him years to pay Papa back for you. And our reputation will be tarnished.”

Of course. It is the money. And the reputation. Mama does not actually hold me in high regard. It is about the business. It is always about the business. That's why they are disappointed in Glen and angry with me. They believe his choosing me will damage their precious business. We will have to prove them wrong. I straighten my shoulders, shrugging off the weight of Mama's judgment.

“I love your son as well,” I say, summoning my courage and returning her glare. “And my talents will be useful in helping the business to grow even further. You have taught me well, and I know you have much more to teach me. I am eager to learn and to take my place at Glen's side.”

Mama regards me, her eyes distrustful. My speech has had little impact. She stares at me for a few moments longer. “So I cannot convince you to let Glen go and fulfill your original obligations?”

This is new. I feel as if I have a choice. If I wanted to, I could meet with my client in a few months as planned. I could bring money and prestige to the man and woman who raised me, and grow their business further. Or I could take Glen's offer and be with him and risk the entire operation.

It is not really a choice for me.

“I will always choose Glen,” I say, standing. Mama does not protest as I exit the room.

The sickness comes in waves now, unpredictable, but I am prepared for it. I have all the crackers I could want, and peppermints help as well. I only wish I had Mama's special morning sickness tea to keep the nausea at bay.

A doctor came yesterday. One who specializes in babies. She estimates that I am almost two months pregnant. A little late for morning sickness to start, but she points out other times I have felt sick and dizzy and attributes those episodes to the pregnancy as well.

I cannot believe there is a child growing inside me. This is the fourth time Glen and I have created a life together. Of course, the timing isn't ideal, but I refuse to complain. I close my eyes as I think of those who came before this child, whom I have christened “my little Nut.” Those tiny souls whom I never got a chance to meet. A blanket of fierce protectiveness falls over me, and I cross my arms over my still-flat abdomen. Nothing will happen to this child. I will keep him safe. I am terrified and excited. This time will be different. This time I have a doctor watching over me. This time I will not let our miracle slip away. I confessed my anxiety to the doctor and told her
about my three previous pregnancies. She assures me that all is well and the baby is healthy. I want to believe her. There is nothing I want more than to keep this baby safe, to carry it to full term, to give birth with Glen by my side. We've been parents for years, but never to a baby, never to a child we made. When this baby comes, my bond with Glen will be stronger than ever.

The doctor says we will not find out if the baby is a boy or girl for several more months, but I don't need an ultrasound to know. I am growing a tiny Glen inside of me. Even though Glen cannot be with me, he has left a piece of himself behind. He has made sure I will be protected, cared for, in case he is unable to do it. It is further proof of our love, of the love that the people around me are trying to question. They cannot question it now.

The door opens and Connor walks in, followed closely by Jay. Connor's face is tight with concern. He worries about me, but he does not need to. My Nut is with me now.

“Can I have some books to read, please?” I ask, and his eyebrows rise in surprise. I have not spoken much outside of our questioning times and rarely ask for anything besides the chance to see Glen.

“Of course,” he says, retrieving a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. I've noticed that Connor is never without something to write on. How many thoughts must be swirling through his head to need to always be writing something? “What kind of books would you like?”

“Books about pregnancy,” I say. “And maybe a couple novels? And some children's books to read to Nut.”

“Nut?” Jay asks.

“That won't be his name when he is born, of course.” I smile. “But it suits him now, don't you think?”

The men nod, but they do not understand. How could they understand the joy of sharing your body with a miracle?

Connor writes on his paper and slips it back into his pocket. “Clara, do you still want to see Glen?”

I perk up. “Yes.” There is no hesitation in my answer. Glen will be so excited.

Connor nods. “I'm going to leave it up to you,” he says. “But I want you to consider waiting to tell Glen about the baby. Maybe even hold on to the news until your next visit, until you see the doctor again.”

I frown. That makes no sense. The doctor already said everything looks good with this pregnancy. “Why? He'll be so happy.”

“Just . . . wait, okay? If it seems right, tell him, but wait at least ten minutes.”

My brow wrinkles, but I nod. “Okay. How long will I have with him?”

“Twenty minutes.”

My heart sinks. “Such a short time.” But longer than our last visit, I suppose. If I'm cooperative enough, maybe we'll get a full hour sometime.

“Are you ready?” Connor does not respond to my despondence over his time frame.

I stand. “I've been ready since I last said good-bye.”

Jay stands aside as Connor leads me out. They do not bother cuffing me in the van for the short drive to the prison. We take the same route as last time, and the room we enter is exactly as I remember it. Glen sits at the table, cuffed to a ring in the middle, head down. He looks up as we walk in, and I gasp.

Glen's face has stretched over the bones of his skull so his cheekbones are hollow, his eyes wide and their look bleak. They brighten as they focus on me. “Clara,” he croaks.

I cannot move closer. I turn to Connor. “What have they done to him?” I hiss.

“Prison is not easy on people like him,” Connor responds.

Tears prick my eyes. People like him? Glen is the love of my life. How can they treat him so poorly? I take a deep breath and turn to give Glen a wobbly smile. His guards move toward the door, unlocking his hands from the table as they pass. It appears we will be given privacy without even asking this time.

“Twenty minutes,” Connor warns as he pulls the door shut behind him. “That's all. Think carefully about what you say.” And then he is gone.

My feet feel like they are slogging through mud as I approach the table. I want to run toward him and away from him at the same time. I move around until I am standing by him, and I drop to my knees.

“Glen?” It is a question, because I need to know that he is still in there, that my Glen is within the depths of this emaciated figure before me.

He turns, and his hands rise to clasp my face. “Clara,” he breathes, and bends, resting his forehead against mine. My eyes flutter closed, and I feel him. It is Glen. My Glen.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“You don't want me to answer that.”

“Dammit, Clara,” Glen snaps, but there is a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before. I am drawing him out. He cannot be defeated. “I look like shit, and I feel worse.”

We are quiet for a few moments. “What is it like, Glen?” I cannot believe how brave I am being, but I take my strength from Nut.

He closes his eyes. “I don't want to talk about it. I hope you never have to experience a place like this, Clara.”

I do not tell him that I have. That I still have nightmares sometimes where I am covered in blood, a sharpened toothbrush protruding from my stomach. I wonder if even through those nightmares, Nut was trying to tell me of his existence, trying to hint that there was
something there. I silently apologize for not knowing sooner and pray that the dream is not an omen of things to come.

“Have you said anything?” Glen asks, his voice low.

“Only the basics,” I say. “Things they already know.” I pause. “Mama gave me your message.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “I heard you put on quite a show.”

“I learned from the best.”

“She'll visit you when she can, Clara. I don't want you to feel alone just because I can't be there.”

“I'm not alone.”

His head jerks up. “You mean those agents you're always with? That tall one, I don't like the way he looks at you.”

Glen is always jealous, especially since Joel. “Connor is trying to help me,” I say, and I am surprised to realize I believe the words.

Glen's eyes harden. “None of these people are trying to help us, Clara. They're trying to separate us.” He slumps in his chair. “I hate feeling like I can't help you. I don't like being away from you.”

It's like he is shrinking before my eyes. I make my decision then. “Glen,” I say, my voice sharper than it has ever been addressing him. “Do not give up. Do you hear me?”

His eyes are surprised, and I see a storm brewing. Good. I want to get him worked up, angry. Passionate. He needs to care again. I lean in.

“I found out this week, Glen.”

He moves closer. “Found out what?”

I rub my stomach. “I'm pregnant, Glen. We made a baby, and he's alive in here.”

Glen's mouth drops open.

I nod, a smile growing across my face. “So don't you dare give up. I will not let my son be born into a world where his father has given up. Promise me you will fight, Glen.”

He sits up straighter, and I see fire in his eyes.

Connor chooses that moment to come in. When I see the disappointment in his face, I know he has overheard. I do not know how much, but I know that he wanted me to keep the baby a secret. As I watch Glen's strength grow before my eyes, I understand why.

I sigh and lean back in my chair, my hands covering my stomach as I draw in a deep breath. The crisp autumn air sharpens my senses, which have been dulled by a rich feast of South Dakota's best cuisine. I laughed when Glen presented the steak and potatoes meal, since it's not much different from what we have at home, but in a way it is completely different, and the best meal I have ever had. I would continue eating, if only to prolong the experience, but there is barely room left for the dessert Glen and I share.

Glen scoops up the last of the custard and grins at me. “Happy?” he asks.

“Incredibly,” I say, returning his smile. “Thank you for this.”

He reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lips and leaving a sticky kiss. “Will you walk with me?” he asks, pulling me to my feet as I nod my agreement. He drops several bills on the table and leads me down the path behind the lodge. I can see the lake from where we ate, and there is a path beside it. We walk in comfortable silence for a while.

“Clare?”

“Hmm?” I ask, distracted by the play of the moon on the soft ripples of the water.

“Are you . . . happy? I mean, with how things are?”

He has my attention now. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I asked. Are you happy?”

I wrinkle my brow. “Of course I'm happy, Glen. I'm with you.”

“You . . . you don't wish you had ended up with your rich client?”