Color of Forgiveness (37 page)

“Know what? What time the package is
supposed to get there?”

“No. I took a test.”

“You what?” Susie shrieks.

“You can’t get mad at me because you don’t
know the whole story yet.”

“You took a pregnancy test
without
me
?” Susie shouts. “Why didn’t you fucking call me? I’m
so
mad at you right now.”

“Trust me I was a mess at that point. I just
couldn’t have.” Myra quickly tells her about Natalie catching her
throwing up, guessing that she was pregnant and taking her upstairs
to take a test.

“So the sister in law trumps the VBB now,
huh? I swear I’d love to choke you right now.” She takes in some
deep breaths. “Okay. I’m over my fit now. So is my VBB pregnant or
not?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! My Myra’s
going to be a mommy. This is the best day
ever
. I know the
timing on this is just awful for you and Dylan, but I just can’t
help but be happy for you. You are going to be the best mother that
ever lived. Congratulations a billion times over!”

Myra smiles as she wipes tears from her
eyes. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you crazy. So when are you going to
tell Dylan? How in the world are you going to do it? I’m starting
to freak out for you.”

Myra takes in a deep breath. “I already
did.”

“
What?
Oh my god! He knows? This is
so like a real-life soap opera. I need something chocolaty to chow
down on while I listen.”

Myra rolls her eyes and starts the story by
telling her about seeing Sabrina at the cemetery. Susie interrupts,
giving her own commentary on the situation.

“She was totally following you guys. There’s
no doubt in my mind that she’s your stalker. No way was that just a
coincidence. I think she might seriously go all slasher on you when
she finds out you’re preggers. She’s completely psychotic.”

“I don’t think it was Sabrina,” Myra says as
she describes the monkey that Sabrina was holding and the
expression on her face. “For some reason, I just feel like she
didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“You’re just too nice, Myra. You only see
the good in people. I see the evil because I know and understand
the dark side, since it happens to be one of my endearing
qualities. So how did you tell Dylan that you’re carrying his
beautiful bun?”

Myra tells her about shouting at Dylan to
pull over, her throwing up and his reaction.

“That big weenied dickhead… Did he really
say that to you? I hate that man, that male chauvinist pig-snouted
pigface.” Susie makes a loud growling sound. “Ugh, I want to jump
on a plane and beat the shit out of his fine ass. But I know I’d
like it too much because your man’s ass is so fine, and then I’d
have to beat the shit out of myself for getting all hot and
bothered over beating his ass.”

“Can you shut up for a minute?” Myra shouts.
“Now let me finish my story.” Myra then tells her about Dylan’s
reaction to finding out she got pregnant on the anniversary of
Mel’s death.

“Now I feel horribly guilty for wanting to
do horrible things to his fine ass. That poor man… that would
really mess with your head, you know? Maybe this was Mel’s way of
letting Dylan know that it’s okay for him to move on. Like God is
giving him a gift or something. Ugh, I’m getting all religious and
sappy now. It makes me want to run to a church and shout hallelujah
and run up and down the aisles while I start speaking in
tongues.”

Myra giggles as a visual of Susie doing that
pops into her head.

“So what did you do when he was practically
passed out?”

Myra tells her about calling his family,
Sabrina showing up, and getting back home to find her house
burglarized.

“Well, at least his family knows, and
everything’s out in the open. I still think Sabrina’s responsible.
She could have driven to your house on Saturday, tried to break in
and then drove back to Boise. She probably saw Dylan’s truck at
Chad’s house and then followed you to the cemetery.”

“Maybe…”

“So are you and Dylan talking? What’s going
on with you two?”

“Not really. He said he needs some time. I’m
staying with Jackie right now, and he’s asleep on the porch.”

“On the porch? What are you talking
about?”

“He showed up last night with his dad, and
they camped out on the front porch. His dad had some sense and came
in and slept on the couch. But Dylan refused and stayed out on the
porch all night. He said he was going to protect me and the
baby.”

“He slept on the porch, in the cold, to
protect you and the baby? Good Lord, Myra. He’s a dick, but he’s
such a sweet dick. I can’t believe that man did that. That is like
so protective and beautiful and… ugh! I really want to hate him
right now, but I can’t.”

“I was really touched by it,” Myra admits.
“To have him do something like that when he’s been so upset about
everything…”

“
Mmm
… What a man. He’s just a fucking
ignorant man who happens to be in love and is too stupid to realize
it.”

“I don’t know,” Myra argues. “Well, I need
to go. I’m going to take him some breakfast.”

“Ah, take care of that sweet stupid dick.
Call me as soon as you get my package, all right?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Myra takes another quick bite of a cracker
before she fills a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast. She pours
a cup of coffee for Dylan just as Dennis steps into the
kitchen.

“Good morning,” he greets her in a cheery
voice. “It sure smells good in here.”

“Thanks. Are you hungry?”

“I sure am. Where are the plates?”

Myra opens a cabinet and hands him one. “I
was just going to take Dylan…” her voice trails off as she waves to
the plate and coffee.

“Oh.” Dennis smiles. “I’ll get the door for
you.”

“Thanks.” Carrying the plate and cup, she
follows Dennis to the front door. Jackie comes skipping down the
stairs.

“Good morning, Myra,” she says in a merry
sing-song voice.

“Hi, Jackie, breakfast is in the
kitchen.”

“Yummy,” she says.

She murmurs a thank you to Dennis as he
opens the door for her. Dylan doesn’t stir. She figures he must be
really exhausted. She quietly sets the plate and coffee down and
stares at him for a moment. He looks so beautiful with his mouth
hanging slightly open as he breathes heavily through it. There are
no frowns, no deep creases in his forehead; he just looks so
untroubled for once.

Reaching out, she touches him slightly on
the shoulder. “Dylan?”

Startled, he sits up, his eyes wide and
bloodshot.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I brought you
some breakfast and some coffee. It’s really cold out here. Are you
sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Nah,” he grunts in a scratchy voice.

Myra takes in a deep breath. “Okay.”

She picks up his plate from last night, and
sees the scraps of dried up food on it and gets slammed with a wave
of nausea. Dropping the plate, she runs to the far end of the porch
and hangs over the railing, throwing up the crackers she just ate.
She hears Dylan scrambling behind her and feels him grabbing her
hair and holding it up for her. Once her stomach stops heaving, she
wipes her mouth on her sleeve and straightens. Dylan drops her hair
and stares at her with brows furrowed together. “Should you be this
sick?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been pregnant
before.”

He sighs heavily and rubs his neck. “Is
Jackie working today?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I thought I’d just go back to the house
until she gets home.”

Dylan nods. “I’ll start working on your
kitchen again…”

Myra’s mouth drops open slightly. “You’re
not going to call Ray?”

“Call Ray for what?” he snaps back. Then
understanding crosses his face. “No, I’m not calling Ray. I started
this job, and I plan on finishing it.”

“Oh. I just thought you might not want to
after everything…”

He ignores her and walks back over to the
steps. He sits and picks up the plate she brought him and starts
eating.

Sighing softly, she picks up his empty plate
and thermos. “I’ll get my things together,” she mumbles.

He nods but doesn’t look up at her.

* * *

Dylan sets his tool bucket on the kitchen
floor with a little more force than necessary. He didn’t like
seeing Myra throwing up like that. Is that shit normal? Sabrina
never threw up. Is there something wrong with Myra? Is the baby
okay? His chest tightens. He needs to call Natalie and ask her
about it before he drives himself fucking crazy.

“You ready to start on those countertops?”
his dad asks.

He nods and they head out to her garage to
get the first section. Once they get the first piece installed and
leveled, he hears a knock on the door. His heart rate picks up pace
as his eyes meet his dads. As they both walk towards the front
door, he hears Myra’s footsteps coming down the stairs. A quick
look out the window, and he sees a guy dressed in a FedEx outfit, a
large box sitting next to him.

“It’s FedEx,” he mumbles.

“I’m expecting a box,” Myra says. He opens
the door and eyes the delivery guy up and down, not trusting anyone
anymore. He steps back when he thinks it’s safe.

Myra signs for it, and Dylan steps forward
to pick it up for her.

“Where do you want it?” he asks.

“Um…” She rakes her teeth over her bottom
lip, looking nervous. “Could you take it upstairs for me?”

He nods.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Dennis says.

Dylan follows her up the stairs and swallows
hard when she opens the door to her bedroom. Why the hell did she
have him bring it up here? Why couldn’t she have done it
downstairs? Is she doing this shit to him on purpose?

She waves her hand towards the bed, her
cheeks pink. “You can just set it there. Thanks.”

Setting it down, he steps back, staring down
at the bed for a moment. Flashes of him on top of her, inside of
her, his lips on her soft breasts and between her thighs torment
him. She did do this shit on purpose. He throws Myra an angry look
before he turns and stomps out of her bedroom.

He wishes he’d never met that woman, he
wishes he’d never taken this goddamn job and he wishes she hadn’t
been so tempting and beautiful and kind and sweet and all that
other shit.

He angrily stomps all the way to the
kitchen.

And if he hadn’t met that damn woman and
fallen in love with her, he… He freezes, his mouth dropping open.
Dennis looks up at him. “You all right there, son?”

No, he’s not all right at all.

* * *

Myra locks her bedroom door. “Okay. I’ve got
the package,” she tells Susie.

“Eeeek! Okay, open it. Hurry up. I’m going
to take a break. I need some chocolate.”

Myra struggles with the tape, but finally
gets it open.

“Just start yanking stuff out and I’ll talk
you through it,” Susie says.

Myra groans when the first thing she pulls
out is a box of condoms. “Susie!”

“What?”

“Condoms? It’s kind of late for that now,
don’t you think?”

“No. This’ll be for next time. Now read the
post-it note I put on it.”

Myra squints at Susie’s terrible
handwriting.

I told you to make that man wear a custard
catcher! You never listen to me, woman!

Myra giggles and rolls her eyes as she sets
the box to the side.

“That was funny, huh?”

“No.”

“Okay. What’s next?”

Myra shakes her head when she pulls out
several ruffled pink dresses, pink socks, and tiny pink ballet
shoes with little rosebuds on them. “Clothes, socks, shoes…”

“Aren’t those ballet slippers to die for?
Imagine the teeny tiny little piggies that are going to fit into
that itty bitty shoe. God, I love baby feet. What’s next?”

“Um, some prenatal vitamins… I actually need
those.”

“See? I do come in handy every once in a
while.”

Myra frowns when she holds up some wrist
bands with a small plastic ball sewn into the inside of them. “What
are these wrist bands for?”

“Oh. Those are awesome. They help with
nausea, and they’re perfectly safe. You put it on your wrist,
making sure that little ball is on your pressure point, and it’ll
help your stomach. They helped me when I had mild morning sickness
with Weston, but nothing helped with Tucker. Oh my god, I was so
sick with him. I puked every single day for four months straight,
and I gagged over everything. I thought I was going to die.”

Myra giggles as she slips the wristbands on.
She looks back in the box.

“Diapers?” she says as she pulls them
out.

“Oh, they’re newborn. I opened them up. Look
at how tiny they are. I’d forgotten how sweet little baby asses
are. Pull one out and take a look.”

Myra pulls a diaper out and marvels at how
small it is. Her eyes start to water for some reason.

She looks in the box again. “Five pregnancy
tests? I only needed one.”

“Well, you can save those for future use
because I think the both of you need at least five kids, minimum.
And the way that guy sexes you up you don’t have a chance of not
having a basketball team.”

Myra pulls out the last item. She turns it
over and reads the label. “Stretch mark cream, are you crazy?”

“No, you have to listen to me on this. Start
using it now. My gut looks like a two year old went nuts with an
etch-a-sketch. I didn’t use anything back then because I didn’t
know any better, and I wish I had. Start using it now as a
preventative measure. Stretch marks are revolting.”

Myra looks down into the empty box and sees
a letter sitting on the bottom of it. She pulls it out.

“There’s a letter in there too,” Susie
says.