Page 37 of The High Tide Club
“Sometimes,” Marie admitted. “Not at first. I mean, I waited until I was over forty to have you. So I’d had a great career, and when I finally did get pregnant, it was such a shock, I thought, well, I should just stay home and raise this miracle child of mine. And that ought to be enough.”
“And then?” Brooke prompted.
“I couldn’t get you to sleep or nurse. I was a miserable failure. And I wasn’t used to failing at anything. I’d always been good at everything when I was working.”
“So what did you do?”
Marie reached over and stroked Brooke’s hair, tucking an errant strand behind her ear. “I did what you should have done. I finally called my mother and told her I needed help.”
“That’s when she moved down to Savannah to live with us?”
“Yes. She literally saved my life. Yours too.”
“God. It must be an inherited trait. Remember? I had to quit nursing Henry after two months because he wasn’t latching on. And he didn’t sleep the whole night until he was almost two,” Brooke said, shuddering at the memory.
“You should have told me,” Marie scolded. “Why wouldn’t you call me up and tell me what you were going through?”
“I don’t know,” Brooke said. “I guess I thought it would be like surrendering. Admitting that I couldn’t take care of my own child.”
“You can’t do it all alone, honey,” Marie said softly. “Nobody can. Not even you.”
“I see that now,” Brooke said. She stretched out on the sofa and put her head in her mother’s lap. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or just having you here, but all of a sudden, I sort of feel okay. I think maybe it’s gonna be okay.”
“I’m glad,” Marie said. “You’ve changed, you know, since you moved down here.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet. One thing that I think is good is that you’re not as driven as you used to be when you were working in Savannah. You used to scare me, you were so focused. Work, running, work. I used to wish you’d slow down and have some fun.”
“And the bad?” Brooke was almost afraid to ask.
“Oh, Brooke.” Marie sighed. “Your self-esteem is so low. What happened to my golden girl? The triumphant soccer player, the kid who went to summer camp by herself at the age of six and never looked back or acted homesick? It hurts me to see you being so hard on yourself.”
Brooke felt a tear slide down her cheek. She swallowed hard and tried to find the words.
“I screwed up. Royally. Let you guys down. Left poor Harris standing at the altar. Left Dad holding the bag for that hideously expensive wedding. Quit my job, ran away from home, and if that’s not enough, I got myself knocked up. Had a kid out of wedlock. I’m like some big, stupid sitcom. Only nobody’s laughing.”
Marie pushed Brooke off her lap and prodded her back into a sitting position. “Look at me, Brooke Marie. Tell me the truth. Do you regret not marrying Harris?”
“No,” Brooke said quickly. “Just the way I handled everything.”
“Do you regret having Henry?”
“Never! He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“That’s what I thought,” Marie said. “So you made some mistakes. Doesn’t everybody?”
“Maybe,” Brooke said, still unconvinced. “But you can’t pretend you were thrilled that I got pregnant the way I did.”
“The baby was definitely a surprise,” Marie admitted. “I wasn’t even aware you were seeing somebody. And you still haven’t told me anything about Henry’s father. All I know is that you say he’s not in your life anymore. That’s the part that’s really hard for me. I know you, Brooke. I know you don’t have casual relationships. So this man… this mystery man. He’s still Henry’s father. Our boy has his DNA. And I’m only human. I can’t help but wonder about him. Why aren’t you together? Did he hurt you that badly? Are you still in love with him? Is he a good man?”
Brooke looked into her mother’s dark blue eyes and saw only love and acceptance. She felt herself exhale slowly. Holding the secret of Pete, she realized, was exhausting. And senseless. And selfish.
“His name is Pete. Pete Haynes,” she began. “Henry has his smile. And his big feet. And yes, he’s a very good man. I think you’d like him. And I know he’d love you.”
The words came tumbling out, like a dammed-up torrent of story and emotion.
She told her mother how she’d met Pete during her summer job in DC. Her harmless secret summer fling. How she’d run into him at the barbecue restaurant in Savannah, at a lunch meeting with her wedding florist, for God’s sake!
