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A strangled sob came through the phone.
Hannah closed her eyes. Her shoulders drooped as grief squeezed her heart.
Damn, you, Mary Anne.
All this pain and sadness. All this confusion and hardship. All these heartbreaking moments came from a conscious decision Mary Anne had made. How many times over the past few months had Hannah shouted to the heavens and asked her sister what the hell she’d been thinking?
Too many to count.
But then, her sister’s choices, however convoluted and wrong, led to Kayla. And there wasn’t a person on earth who would condemn the choices that led to the precious child’s existence.
What a mess. What an absolute disaster.
“Look,” she said over the sound of her mother’s sobs and her father’s murmurs of comfort. “I think we need to cut JP and his family a little slack. Give them some time to settle in and get their feet under them. Then I think you should approach them as Kayla’s grandparents. Mom, from what I’ve seen of this family, they will welcome you with open arms.”
“I can’t. Hannah, I just can’t. She belongs with us. Not with those people. How can you not understand this? Michaela Hudson lived a life of debauchery and drugs. She’s a substance abuser. The others are crass and vulgar. The father looks like a hoodlum. And his father is in jail, for goodness’ sake! Is that the kind of environment you want your only niece to grow up in?”
“Mom, once you meet them—”
“No!” her mother said with heat. “You need to think about that child, Hannah. Really think about her and the type of people you want influencing her development and caring for her. Do you want her to end up on drugs? Or in a gang? Or…selling herself?” She whispered the last part.
Hannah sighed. “Of course not.” Her mother needed therapy. Probably medication, too. Her anxieties and fear of something happening to those she loved had always been over the top, but since she got sick, it’d become pathological. She could barely function outside her home because she was constantly worried about everything from a gust of wind to a shooting ten states away.
“Look, Mom, I’m going to stick around here a little bit longer.”
“Yes! Yes, that’s good. You’ll find something, Hannah. I know it. The only way we can make sure she grows up safe and the right way is if she’s with us. Just document anything suspicious that you find. Check the house for drugs and unsecured weapons. Michaela Hudson’s, too. I’ll just bet she has some illegal substances stashed somewhere. Our attorney said those are great details to have.”
Hannah’s heart hung like a heavy mass in her chest, pressing down on the rest of her organs. She shook her head, letting it fall forward. “Mom, I’m not staying for that reason. I’m staying so I can see my niece. So I can get to know the family. At some point, I’ll have to tell them who I—”
“No! Please, Hannah. Please don’t. I can’t…” Her mother sucked in a wheezy breath then coughed.
“Patricia, it’s okay. Sit down. Breathe slowly. There you go. I’ll get your inhaler.” Her father’s calming tone and endless patience floated through the phone. “Hannah, that’s enough for today. We’ll talk another time.” The line went silent.
“That went well,” she mumbled into the quiet room.
With a weighted sigh, she flopped back against the soft bed. Then pressed a pillow over her face and let out a scream that would have rattled the windows.
As if she didn’t have enough guilt over deceiving the Bensons swirling in her gut, now she could pile on the remorse of sending her mother into yet another panic attack. If only there was a time when she could catch her father without her mother around. Maybe then he could be convinced to seek professional help for Patricia. The demons living inside her head grew stronger all the time, and if something wasn’t done about it soon, her mother would cease to be functional.
Her mom’s mental health was another reason she’d avoided pursuing a long-term relationship. How could she subject a man to a woman who’d question every move he made? Who’d constantly fear he had ill intentions toward her daughter? Who’d invade his private life looking for dirt?
After another muffled scream, she let her arms drop to her sides. The pillow remained on her face. Releasing a little pent-up tension felt great, but didn’t do squat toward erasing her problems.
She couldn’t tell JP who she was. Not yet. Not until she was certain her parents’ attorney wouldn’t be able to have Kayla taken from him. Once the Benson’s found out who she was, they were sure to kick her straight out of their lives. She wouldn’t be able to protect Kayla or them from her mother’s delusional goal of getting custody of her granddaughter.
