Page 62 of Cowboy

Scarlett

My mother calls the day after my freak-out in the baby store, and because I’m riding a strange new high of emotion for Bull, I answer my phone. Bull’s gone to the dairy barn while I’m on my way to a maternity clothing store in Burlington, a little over an hour from Dunham. While I’m only slightly starting to show, I’m curious about maternity wear and think I might need some more stretchy materials soon.

“Scarlett Joanna Russell, where are you?” There isn’t any concern in her tone but a screeching demand to know my location as her voice filters through the Bluetooth. “It’s been almost five months since we’ve seen you.”

While I’m used to visiting with my parents once a month for a torturous lunch date, I’ve missed the last few due to my move to Vermont, which I find I must remind my mother of.

“I’m in Vermont,” I state.

“Still?” Her shrill voice doesn’t surprise me, but what does bother me is the fact she cannot believe I’m still where I told her I’d be. “What about Shelton?”

“What about him?” I snap in response.

“He’s your husband, Scarlett. When are you coming home?”

“Mother, we’re getting divorced.”

Her gasp tells me she wasn’t listening to me when I told her I’d be filing such a thing months ago. As I travel the highway through the countryside, I ignore the subtle hardening of my belly or the pain shooting up my spine. The technician said these things were normal.

“What do you mean you’re getting divorced?” my mother questions.

“I can’t believe I need to spell this out for you. Shelton cheated on me. I’ve already told you this. He slept with a medical student. He got her pregnant, and he plans to marry her. Which he can’t do unless he divorces me.”

“What’s this talk about divorce?” my father projects next through the line.

“Dad,” I groan, gritting my teeth through another tightening across my belly.

“Scarlett, you need to come home.”

Considering his words, I realize Boston is no longer my home. My home is here in Vermont, with Bull, with our future.

“Dad, I am home.”

“At your apartment?” Mother asks, and I realize I’m on speakerphone with them.

“No. My new home in Vermont.”

“You’re living there?” she shrieks again. I’m forty-two years old, and I do not understand what is so difficult for them to understand about this concept. I’ve moved. I’m getting divorced. And there’s one more thing I haven’t mentioned to them.

“Oh, and congratulations. You’re going to be grandparents.” I smile to myself, chewing my lip as I tell them the news. It’s the first time I’ve really broken the information to others. Audrey and Zara found out through my initial vomiting at work and Bull blurted it out with his brothers, so this feels different.

“You’re what?” The shock in my mother’s tone shouldn’t surprise me, yet it hurts. This is what they wanted. She told me I should have had a child. She told me I worked too hard. Although, those things were in reference to my life with Shelton.

“Strawberry, you must come home.” My father’s use of my childhood nickname pierces my heart. They were tough parents to please, tough parents to love, but they were the only parents I had. I wanted their approval. I wanted their love, but most of all, I wanted their support. “You and Shelton need to be together so he can take care of you.”

“Dad, he left me for another woman. He impregnated her.”

“Pfft. You’re his wife. He needs to be with his child,” Dad states, and I couldn’t agree more—if I was to remain his wife, if he was the father of my child, and if I wanted him. But none of those things are true.

“I’m not going to be his wife much longer. And it’s not his child,” I tell them because I’ve made a decision about that paternity test. Despite its results, it won’t matter. Bull is the man for me and our child.

“Did you have an affair?” Mother gasps. Is she listening to herself? Does she hear what she’s asking me?

“No, Shelton did.”

The other end of the line is silent for a second.

“Scarlett, first it was journalism school where you ended up working for that rag of a company for too many years. Then it was Shelton who you could not keep satisfied.” My mouth falls open at this remark from my father. “But this . . . this is just incomprehensible. How could you do such a thing? You’re a married woman.”