Megan's Way (9 page)

Peter’s face softened. “I know, Meg, no hard
feelings.”

He took a deep breath, and said, cheerily,
“It is weird. You’re just a freak, I guess, and I’m just used to
it. I’m surprised you aren’t.”

“I didn’t even feel anything weird until two
days after she was born, until after Holly’s baby—” she turned
away, unable to finish the sentence.

The silence between them was filled with
grief from long ago. Megan busied her hands organizing her brushes,
and Peter gazed out the window. When he felt the sorrow subside, he
carefully eased into the subject he was there to discuss, “By the
way, are you doing alright these days?”

“Uh-oh, Holly got to you, right?” Megan
asked. She stood up and admired her painting.

“No.” Peter walked to the window and looked
out at the busy street. “Okay, yes, she’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m fine, really.” Megan felt
a pull to tell Peter the truth, but squelched it, knowing he would
try to change her mind. She feared that if he told Holly, she would
not be able to remain true to her decision. “Peter, if you knew you
could save someone you loved heartache, would you do it?”

“Of course I would.” Peter paced along the
hardwood floor.

“No question in your mind?” Megan asked. “No
question.”

“Tell Holly not to worry—and not to send a
messenger next time!” Megan snapped, annoyed. She turned her back
to Peter and picked up her paintbrush.

Peter watched her resume her work on the
painting from behind. He knew she was not telling the truth, but
wanted to believe her just the same.

Megan walked into the Chatham Village Café
looking forward to telling Holly the news about Olivia’s kidnapper.
She spotted her in the rear of the dining area and hurried toward
her. Megan threw the newspaper down on the table, and smiled
victoriously. “Did you see it?” she raised her eyebrows, excited.
“They got him! The fool was stupid enough to go to the
hospital!”

“I know, I saw!” Holly stood up and hugged
Megan. “What about the younger guy?”

“They said they have a line on him. They
tracked down his truck and apparently he and this guy are related
somehow. He skipped town, or that’s what they think, but I know
they’ll get him!” Megan sat, cringing as the wooden seat hurt her
bottom. “Life is getting better!” she said with a smile.

“How’s Olivia taking it all?” Holly
asked.

“Olivia’s been acting just like her old self
again. It’s like it all never happened, but I’m still worried about
her.”

“That’s so weird. I would think it would have
been more traumatic for her, that there would be some lingering
effects.” Holly noticed the dark bags under Megan’s eyes. “How
about you, Meg, are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m not so sore anymore, and since the
police came and went over LivI’s online conversations with those
men, I’m not as concerned. They said she didn’t give out any
personal data, thank god!” She shifted in her seat.

“You know, Meg, you were quite the hero,”
Holly swallowed the wish that she had been the one who had helped
Olivia.

“No way! I was just a mom. You would have
done the same thing.”

Holly looked down at her food, wishing she
had a daughter to worry about. Megan laid her frail hand on top of
Holly’s strong one. “I’m sorry, Hol, I didn’t mean to make you
sad.”

“I’m not sad,” she said, smiling. “Okay,
well, sometimes I’m sad,” she admitted. Tears welled in her
eyes.

Megan took a deep breath and began to tell
Holly about her decision. “Holly, you know, sometimes god does
things for bigger reasons. Maybe you were put here to take care of
me and Olivia. Maybe we are your surrogate children. I mean, you
spent night after night at my house while I went through treatment,
and you are
always
here for us.”

A tear slid down Holly’s cheek. “Maybe,” she
said, softly. “I just always thought I’d have a child of my own—and
poor Jack, he didn’t sign up for a life without children.”

Megan swallowed her confession, knowing that
at that moment, it would only hurt more. “He signed on with you,
Holly, with or without children. Jack is happy with you, he doesn’t
need more.”

“You think?” Holly wiped her face, and
silently wondered if she were selfish to keep Jack to herself, or
if she should let him go make a real family with someone else. “Oh,
Holly,” Megan slid into Holly’s side of the booth and wrapped her
in her arms, “Jack loves you. You are his family!”

“Look at me. What a mess I am. This is the
time we have to talk about you and Livi and what you guys went
through, and here I am, taking center stage and being selfish.”

Megan laughed, “Nonsense. There is no
my
time or
your
time. There is only
our
time!”
“Thanks, Meg.”

“Listen, Olivia and I started seeing the
therapist that the doctor recommended. It’s weird, you know, that
one day can change your entire life so dramatically. Anyway, she’s
really good and is helping me and Livi communicate better. Things
have been…weird lately. Maybe you should talk to her about…all
this.”

Holly jumped at the chance to steer their
conversation away from her pain. “You two have never had trouble
communicating. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been busy and she
misses me, or misses my attention.”

“You’ve been more than busy. It’s almost like
you want to be away from her. It’s so unlike you, Meggie. You have
always spent your time with Olivia. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Megan snapped, and then looked
down at her lap. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been a little stressed.”
Hearing her friend’s concern only magnified the torturous feelings
of guilt that were eating away at her.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Holly
said.

Megan wrote down the therapist’s number and
told Holly that her next doctor’s appointment was on June 30 and
that she was welcome to go along with her.

In an effort to lighten the conversation,
Holly brought up Megan’s birthday, May 1st, and the annual ritual
that she, Megan, Jack, and Peter held around a campfire, as they
had been doing together since their college years to celebrate her
birthday.

A chill ran down Megan’s spine as she
realized that the night of the ritual was perfect to carry out her
plan.

Olivia had been swimming in her own thoughts
for weeks. Concerned about why her mother was lying to her and
disgusted with herself about the myroom.com incident, she felt like
her whole world was spiraling out of control—if only she had
something solid to hold on to.

She looked around the hallway, watched the
girls huddled together and the boys slapping the lockers as they
walked by. She felt as though she no longer belonged in school. The
other kids’ lives were so
normal
, and hers felt anything but
normal lately. She didn’t even feel as though she could relate to
the few girls she normally strolled the halls with. She flipped
open her cell phone and quickly dialed.

“Peter?” Olivia pleaded.

Olivia sat silently in Peter’s car. She
looked out the window and fidgeted with her seat belt. Peter
watched her out of the corner of his eye. She had seemed on the
verge of tears when she called. She spoke quickly about having to
get out of school fast and not feeling very well. He had tried to
reach Megan, and when he had been unable to, went to pick her up.
With what she had recently been through, he could understand her
feeling overwhelmed and out of place. Now she simply seemed
uncomfortable in her own skin.

Her hair was swept off her neck in a loose
pony tail, and her green tank top set off her eyes. Although her
coloring was the opposite of Megan’s, she reminded him of how
beautiful Megan had been before her illness.

He couldn’t help but be angry with god that
Olivia had had to endure her mother’s fight with cancer.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Olivia said as
she stared out the open window, wisps of her hair blowing in the
wind.

“No problem. Are you alright?” Peter asked,
trying to sound very non-parental.

“Do you know who my father is?” she asked.
Just like that, simple and plain, she laid it out before him with
no warning.

Peter’s heart beat faster. He was caught off
guard, and took a minute to gather his thoughts, then decided that
honesty was best. “Well, no, not really.”

She turned to him, pulled her legs up onto
the seat. “Come on, Peter. You know everything about Mom! I can’t
ask Holly, she’ll tell Mom I asked. Please?” she pleaded, her hands
clasped together under her chin.

Peter shifted his position and spoke gently,
“Olivia, I think you should ask your mother.”

“Come on, Peter. I know you know, and I know
my mother. She couldn’t keep that big of a secret, not for this
long—and she tells you
everything
!” Olivia was testy. Her
voice grew louder. “I’m fourteen years old!
Fourteen
, Peter!
Don’t you think I’m old enough to know?”

“That’s a question only your mom can answer.
Olivia, I really truly do not know. I promise you that, and you
know I’ve never lied to you!”

“Whatever,” she said, and set her eyes on the
passing trees beyond the passenger’s window.

Peter pulled the car over. He reached out,
and with his index finger, lifted Olivia’s chin toward him.
“Olivia,” he said sweetly, “I promise you that I don’t know. What
is all this about? Why are you wondering now?”

Tears, fresh and warm, streamed down her
cheeks and over Peter’s hand. “She’s gonna die, Peter, and I’ll
have no one,” she whispered, then, completely overwhelmed by the
thought of losing her mother, she collapsed into his arms.

Peter held her tight, his own eyes brimmed
with tears. “She’s not going to die, Olivia. She beat it,
remember?”

“But she’s throwing up every day, and she
never eats!” Olivia burrowed into his chest. “I know she’s lying to
me. I know she’s really sick! I can just…feel it.”

“Olivia, your mother doesn’t lie to you. It’s
probably the stress that you see her going through. You know how
her body reacts to stress.”

“Maybe,” she said, sniffling. “What will I
do, Peter? if she dies, what will I do? grandma can’t take me,
she’s too sick, and I don’t want to be alone! And I have no idea
who my father is, and—” she sobbed into her hands.

At the height of Megan’s illness, Peter had
thought of this scenario often. He had asked, many times in fact,
who Olivia’s father was. Megan had insisted it was someone from
overseas, someone she had met on her three-month painting excursion
a few years after college, but Peter had never believed it. He had
tried pushing, but she had always maintained the same story:
It
was a fling with a handsome foreigner
. The story was too cliché
for Peter to believe. Megan didn’t
do
flings. She hadn’t
dated many guys in college, always too busy with painting, classes,
or Holly. There was no one
who turned her head and set
butterflies loose in her stomach
, or so she had said. She had
been content to hang out with Peter and Holly. Peter had always
believed that some day she’d come around and tell them the truth,
or at least tell Olivia.

“You can’t think this way, honey. Your mom
isn’t going anywhere, and if she were, well, she’d make sure you
were well taken care of.” Peter felt his heart crumble with
sadness, and tried his hardest not to give in to the tears that
were threatening. He knew Olivia was right. He could feel it in his
soul, but he held that secret deep within.

Peter remembered the night, several years
before, when Megan had asked Holly and Jack if they would adopt
Olivia if something were to happen to her. At first, Holly and Jack
didn’t even want to think about it, but Megan had insisted.

Since she was a single mother, she had
explained, she had to think about those types of things. Holly had
cried, Jack had been strong for Megan, and Peter had felt left
out.

Though now he understood that raising a small
child would have been an all-consuming responsibility that he had
been nowhere near ready for, back then he had simply wanted to be
included.

Peter looked at Olivia’s fourteen-year-old,
confused face, and realized for the first time the true depth of
her turmoil and pain. Unsure of exactly what to do, he did what he
knew best. He was kind and loving. He smiled comfortingly and said,
“Come on, sweetie, what do you say we go find some chocolate?”

Olivia smiled up at him, “You won’t tell Mom
I asked?” “Of course not,” Peter said, and hugged her again,
silently hoping that Megan was not ill once again.

“Thanks, Peter. I’m sorry. I just get so sad
sometimes, and I don’t want to do something stupid again.”

“What was
that
about, Olivia? That was
so unlike you,” he said, immediately regretting his parental tone.
“I mean, it’s a pretty typical teenager thing to do, but you
usually err on the side of caution, not the typical.”

She gazed out the window again. “I was so mad
at Mom for not spending time with me, you know?” She turned her
green eyes toward Peter, solemn and serious.

“I understand, I guess. You were pissed, so
you did something that would make her pissed?” Peter asked.

“Yes, exactly! I did something that was
wrong, for once!”

She laughed a quiet, ashamed laugh. “Only it
wasn’t fun. I was scared the whole time. Even when I met the guy
who was my age, I knew it was wrong.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“I’m such a mess, Peter.”

“No, you’re not a mess, Olivia. If you only
knew all of the stupid things I’ve done. You are just a
fourteen-yearold girl, doing what fourteen-year-old girls do!” He
smiled. “Hopefully not everything that fourteen-year-olds do!” he
laughed.