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“When I stayed with Nan and Pop?”
She nods, and her smile widens. “You had so much fun with your grandparents that week. Every time I called to check on you, you were at the zoo or the movie theater or eating ice cream. But when your father and I came back from our trip, do you remember what you did?”
I shake my head, eyebrows pushing together as I try to recall that distant memory.
“You refused to talk to Nan for two weeks.”
My head tilts. “I don’t remember that.”
“Oh, you were so mad at her. She’d come over for dinner and you’d pretend she didn’t exist. She’d ask to play with you, and you’d yank your toys away and tell her to leave you alone. She was absolutely heartbroken.”
“Why though? Why was I mad at her?”
“You weren’t. You were mad at me—and your father, for leaving you. But you couldn’t take it out on us because you were so happy that we’d come back from vacation. You displaced your anger and took it out on the one person you knew you could. Nan was the one you felt like you could treat badly and get away with it, because you knew she’d love you no matter what.”
Understanding settles into my bones.
“Noah might be angry with you for lying, but she’s really angry with Tara for abandoning her. That pain runs deep, and since she can’t take it out on Tara, she’s taking it out on you because she knows you won’t ever leave her. She’s going to hurl it all at you, and you’re going to take it. We carry the weight from the pain of our children, Grant. It’s what we do. Nothing hurts us more than seeing our children hurting, even if we’re the ones who caused it. But you did what you did to protect her from a very different life.”
“What if Tara stayed clean? Maybe she got her act together after almost dying, and I deprived Noah of having a mother in her life.”
“She didn’t stay clean, sweetheart.”
My eyes dart to hers. “How do you know?”
“Because I kept in touch with her parents.”
“Why?”
“You had to keep Noah safe. And I had to keep you safe. When you called me from the hospital the night Tara tried to take her life, I was relieved that you wanted to take Noah away from her. But I needed to make sure that decision didn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Tara’s parents could’ve fought for partial custody of her. They could’ve taken you to court, and it would’ve drained your bank account and your energy when you needed to focus all of it on your newborn baby. So, I stepped in and offered to pay for Tara’s rehabilitation to give her a chance to get clean as a show of good faith. Her parents were grateful for that. They believed that if Tara got clean, then she’d want to be Noah’s mother. We had to show them that we believed that as well.”
But she didn’t stay clean.
“I also convinced you to send Tara’s parents pictures of Noah throughout the years—which you were adamant about not doing, if you recall. You were furious with me for meddling in your business, but I knew it was the right thing to do in the long run.” She pauses. “Tara has fallen off the wagon multiple times since Noah was born. Every time she tries to stay clean, she ends up back where she started. So you need to rest assured knowing that you made the right decision for Noah, whether she sees it that way or not.”
I let my head fall back against the couch and exhale a long breath. “I don’t know how to make this better.”
“At this point, honesty is the best thing for her. Now that she knows, don’t leave her in the dark with her thoughts. It won’t be easy to tell her the truth, but she needs to hear it.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. “It’s going to break her heart.”
“Then be there to help put it back together again.”
I open my arms and pull my mother in for a long hug. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”
“I wish I could say I came for you, but the real reason I’m here is to meet that lovely woman Noah is staying with.”
A dry laugh rips from my throat. “I’m surprised you waited this long to say something.”
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Elena. She lives across the street.”
She arches an eyebrow. “If you’re entrusting her with Noah, then she must be more than ‘Elena who lives across the street.’”
Warmth seeps into my chest. “She is more.”
“Oh?”
