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Suddenly, her stomach twisted into several nautically inspired knots. Her knee bouncing with the fervor of a part-time Santa Claus with a shit ton of anxiety issues.
In other words, a total fraud.
She closed her eyes and visualized a calming meadow with daffodils blooming and the sound of water trickling over moss-covered stones. If she were being honest with herself, she’d admit the thought of facing Mia’s father for the first time in over fourteen years was causing her some serious angst.
After she and her younger sister, Maisie, had skipped town that God-awful night, it was weeks before either of them got a solid night’s sleep. They dozed with one eye open, waiting for the police to pound on their motel door. The inevitable result of Lucas Santos hunting them down and pressing charges.
After Mia was born, Birdie allowed herself to breathe easy, believing she and Maisie were long forgotten and she was more than just dead to Lucas Santos. She was persona non grata.
A blip in his life lacking in consequence and devoid of worth. Someone who skipped town leaving him in a life-altering lurch. However, rather than seeking retribution, he waved her off like a bothersome gnat. A sign of “good riddance.”
What would he think of her after meeting Mia? Was he aware that Maisie was gone? Would he care? Their own parents didn’t.
The religiously devout Wayward couple had disowned them, refusing Birdie’s calls after she and Maisie finally stopped at a roadside motel to get some sleep and begin their trek to… somewhere far from Wayward… the next morning they discovered that Maisie’s cell phone had been deactivated.
Birdie had never been given one. She had earned her own money doing odd jobs for the neighbors and bought herself a Jitterbug flip phone. Regardless, once their parents terminated Maisie’s cell service both sisters knew there was no point in calling from Birdie’s phone. They were on their own
The last communication between the parents and daughters was a handwritten note from Birdie on the back envelope of a water bill stating she and Maisie had decided to live elsewhere and they’d be in touch soon.
It had been Marshall, years later, who had informed Birdie her parents had passed away. Probably an accident. She remembered him asking her if she wanted the details and she told him she didn’t. The less time she spent burrowed in the past the better. Besides, she was busy working on the future
Her parents didn’t care about her or Maisie, so she couldn’t care less about the details of their passing. Causing a turmoil of conflicting emotions to erupt in her chest that she never took the time to open up and unpack. She didn’t know whether to feel sadness or condemnation. So she decided to not think about them at all.
Pulling their memories from the tightly concealed compartment of her brain, she wondered if they ever knew they lost a child? How could parents not care enough to even check on them, or maybe get their side of the story?
Which, in hindsight, may not have been in the sisters’ best interest. The truth of what happened that last night in Wayward was anything but redeeming.
One thing was for certain, if the self-righteous Lucas Santos took one ounce of his ire out on Mia, she would personally wrap his balls in duct tape and hang him by his manly bits in the nearest magnolia tree.
Because when her savvy, beautiful, smart-mouthed, soon-to-be-incarcerated daughter arrived to Wayward, she deserved nothing less from her father than a low-country celebration with a fifteen-piece brass band and a couple pickup trucks filled to the brim with out-of-state illegal fireworks. If he dared to respond with anything less, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
Birdie smelled something offensive and eyed a nearby standing ashtray. Why in the hell would they allow visitors to smoke in such a high-end facility? A place where the health of its patrons was meticulously monitored and the cost similar to that of the yearly budget of many small countries.
“Mrs. Shepherd?”
Birdie stood as the familiar voice and face greeted her. “Hey, Jeanette.” She gave her a side-hug. “How’s Ernie doing?”
“He’s just fine,” she said, tilting her head. “I was so sorry to hear about Mr. Shepherd.”
“Thank you,” she responded with the usual awkwardness, replying with a widely known fact. “He was a really good man.”
Jeanette nodded in agreement. “Just so you know, I don’t believe a single word coming from those nasty news outlets.”
“I appreciate that,” Birdie said, beginning to feel her eyes tingle. “More importantly, how is Miss Pearl today?”
Jeanette’s face lit up. “Miss Pearl is having a good day,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “She’s outside sitting by the fountain. Why don’t you go on out and say hello?”
Birdie squeezed Jeanette’s hand as she began to make her way that direction but then stopped, turning toward the attendant with uncertainty. “Everything else okay? No… strange visitors showing up since Marshall’s… passing?”
A confused expression came over Jeanette’s face as she shook her head, her eyes narrowing as if trying to recollect any questionable visitors. “I don’t believe so. Not on my shift anyway.”
“Would you please contact me personally if something regarding Miss Pearl… doesn’t feel right?”
“Should I be concerned about something, Mrs. Shepherd?”
Birdie shook her head. “No, not at all. With Marshall gone, I just want to make sure nothing slips through the cracks.”
Or someone.
