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She looked at the two employees who were ignoring the four girls. Then she looked at the three sisters. “I do, but like Ren, I can’t get out of my own way.”
35
His Gut
The following Saturday, Ren was packed up and ready to leave for Zara’s before Max’s morning nap.
He’d loaded the car up the night before, learning his lesson. Then in the morning went about their routine like normal, put the rest of the things in his SUV and left for Max to sleep on the drive there.
He was itching to get back to Mystic and wasn’t sure the last time he’d felt that way.
Two days ago, he’d gotten a second letter from Michele apologizing for the way her first letter came off. It said that she was worried and concerned and wanted to make sure her grandson was being taken care of. If Ren could please call and they could talk.
He debated for an hour what to do. He’d called Thomas who said it might not hurt to talk and see or hear what she has to say. It could be the truth, that she wrote the letter in frustration and desperation, or there might be more to it.
So last night, he bit the bullet and made the call.
“Hello, is this Michele Wilson?”
“It is,” Michele had said. “Who is this?”
“Ren Whitney.”
There had been silence on the other end. “I’m so glad you called. When I didn’t hear from you after my last letter I realized I shouldn’t have done what I had. I’m grieving my daughter and hadn’t known she had a child.”
“How did you find out?” he asked. He’d give the woman a pass since he knew what it was like to react on raw emotion and not think things through himself.
“I hadn’t known Rachelle had passed. We didn’t have the best relationship. Rachelle was a troubled child.”
“I didn’t know your daughter that long,” he said.
He shouldn’t be giving information out like that and Thomas would probably shoot him, but what he’d heard about Michele from Thomas’s research was the woman had a job. She worked in an office at a manufacturing plant and had been there for years. A single mother that looks to have struggled financially, yet always worked.
There wasn’t anything negative on Michele that Thomas could find. No criminal records. No tickets. She paid her taxes and rented an apartment and her credit score was decent.
Nothing to show the woman was evil or vindictive and could be more concerned than anything about the grandson she’d just found out about. He was going with his gut because too many times in his life he went on raw emotion or overthought things and they backfired.
His gut said to make this call and talk but be selective in what he said.
“I’m not surprised. Rachelle had some mental health issues. She was into drugs on and off. She wasn’t always stable.”
“I hadn’t been aware she was using,” he said. “Not when we were together.”
“That is something at least,” Michele said. “She’d have periods when she was clean. With any luck it was while she was pregnant. Can I ask if you know?”
“I don’t know,” he said. That was as close to admitting he didn’t know Rachelle was even pregnant with his child, but it could be taken in any context.
“I’m concerned for my grandson. I don’t know you. I don’t know the type of person you are. I was rash and sent that letter. I found out Rachelle passed when the life insurance company tracked me down. I’d spoken to someone in her company, and I’m sorry to say I hadn’t even known where she was working let alone living at the time. They were able to give me the address of where she lived. It had taken me time to track down the landlord and reach out to go through any possessions.”
None of that had occurred to him. “You still hadn’t known about Max?” he asked.
“No,” Michele said. “I took a few days off and went to get Rachelle’s things. I packed them up, what was left, and it wasn’t much. They’d had them in storage. I came home and put them in her room. It’d taken me a few weeks to work up the courage to go through them. I know Rachelle and I had our differences. I might have been hard on her growing up. Life wasn’t easy, but I tried the best I could.”
It was interesting to hear this from a parent’s point of view. Maybe being a father now, he could understand that.
He was making mistakes, but he was trying his hardest too.
“I’m sure you did,” he said.
