husband or father. I couldn’t wrap my mind around him washing a car in the driveway in front of a pretty clapboard house, or spending his Friday night at a children’s choir recital instead of the gun range. It didn’t fit.
Or maybe it did.
Before Sinful, I wouldn’t have pictured myself with even one friend that I confided in and trusted, much less several. Granted, some knew more about me than others, but I’d let all of them become part of my life. I shook my head. The problem with the future was there was so much unknown. If only someone could look past today and tell me what to do.
My feelings for Carter had taken me completely by surprise. And that surprise had led me to make foolish decisions that had only resulted in hurting both of us. I regretted hurting him, but not what I felt for him. Never that.
Without warning, my thoughts shifted to my mother. It was amazing to me how after so many years, I could still picture her as if she were standing right in front of me. I could still smell the coconut body lotion she always wore. I could feel her fingers gently pushing my bangs out of my eyes.
Did she love my father? I guess she must have. She married him and had me. I was young when she died, but I couldn’t remember them arguing or even disagreeing.
I frowned.
Maybe that was the most telling thing of all. My feelings for Carter were real and I believed his were as well, but that hadn’t stopped either of us from arguing. Two intelligent people couldn’t be expected to agree on everything, but yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall a single instance of disagreement between my parents. Were they careful to make sure I never heard? I doubted it. Kids tended to hear everything eventually. Or were they just pretending to be the perfect couple?
I stretched my mind, trying to remember what daily life had been like when my mother was alive. My father was gone often for work, sometimes weeks or a month at a time, so it was just my mom and me most of the time. But when I thought about the times I remembered my father at home, I couldn’t recall him doing anything with us or anything with my mother. I remembered having a sitter once when they attended a funeral, but otherwise, I was never far from my mother’s reach.
I slumped back in my chair and blew out a breath. Why hadn’t I ever thought about my parents’ marriage before? My father was cold and uninterested in raising his own child. I had never stopped to consider that his disinterest might have also included my mother, but thinking about it now, it must have.
Derrick Redding could be charming when he wanted to be, and likely that charm is what sucked my mother in. And maybe in the beginning, he’d really wanted her or thought he did. But at some point, his narcissism took over and everything became about him. Or maybe it always had been and he’d simply been able to hide it for a while. Playing the role of the devoted husband and father. He played roles every day in his work. The only difference was this role didn’t have an expiration date. Until my mother died.
I reached for the wine and downed half the glass. This was too much to think about. There was no way I’d ever know the truth, and dwelling on it would only depress me even more. I remembered my mother as a kind and happy person. I didn’t want anyone or anything to alter that memory.
Chapter 8
“ F ortune , wake up.”
Ida Belle’s voice was in my dream but I couldn’t see her. The room was black. Then I felt someone touch my shoulder and I bolted upright. Ida Belle stood next to my bed, wearing a worried expression.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. “Where’s Gertie?”
“She must have been in the shower when I called,” Ida Belle said. “I left a message for her to meet us here.”
I looked over at the clock. Seven a.m. Not the crack of dawn, but considerably earlier than an accepted time for house calls. “Did someone at the hotel recognize
Or maybe it did.
Before Sinful, I wouldn’t have pictured myself with even one friend that I confided in and trusted, much less several. Granted, some knew more about me than others, but I’d let all of them become part of my life. I shook my head. The problem with the future was there was so much unknown. If only someone could look past today and tell me what to do.
My feelings for Carter had taken me completely by surprise. And that surprise had led me to make foolish decisions that had only resulted in hurting both of us. I regretted hurting him, but not what I felt for him. Never that.
Without warning, my thoughts shifted to my mother. It was amazing to me how after so many years, I could still picture her as if she were standing right in front of me. I could still smell the coconut body lotion she always wore. I could feel her fingers gently pushing my bangs out of my eyes.
Did she love my father? I guess she must have. She married him and had me. I was young when she died, but I couldn’t remember them arguing or even disagreeing.
I frowned.
Maybe that was the most telling thing of all. My feelings for Carter were real and I believed his were as well, but that hadn’t stopped either of us from arguing. Two intelligent people couldn’t be expected to agree on everything, but yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall a single instance of disagreement between my parents. Were they careful to make sure I never heard? I doubted it. Kids tended to hear everything eventually. Or were they just pretending to be the perfect couple?
I stretched my mind, trying to remember what daily life had been like when my mother was alive. My father was gone often for work, sometimes weeks or a month at a time, so it was just my mom and me most of the time. But when I thought about the times I remembered my father at home, I couldn’t recall him doing anything with us or anything with my mother. I remembered having a sitter once when they attended a funeral, but otherwise, I was never far from my mother’s reach.
I slumped back in my chair and blew out a breath. Why hadn’t I ever thought about my parents’ marriage before? My father was cold and uninterested in raising his own child. I had never stopped to consider that his disinterest might have also included my mother, but thinking about it now, it must have.
Derrick Redding could be charming when he wanted to be, and likely that charm is what sucked my mother in. And maybe in the beginning, he’d really wanted her or thought he did. But at some point, his narcissism took over and everything became about him. Or maybe it always had been and he’d simply been able to hide it for a while. Playing the role of the devoted husband and father. He played roles every day in his work. The only difference was this role didn’t have an expiration date. Until my mother died.
I reached for the wine and downed half the glass. This was too much to think about. There was no way I’d ever know the truth, and dwelling on it would only depress me even more. I remembered my mother as a kind and happy person. I didn’t want anyone or anything to alter that memory.
Chapter 8
“ F ortune , wake up.”
Ida Belle’s voice was in my dream but I couldn’t see her. The room was black. Then I felt someone touch my shoulder and I bolted upright. Ida Belle stood next to my bed, wearing a worried expression.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. “Where’s Gertie?”
“She must have been in the shower when I called,” Ida Belle said. “I left a message for her to meet us here.”
I looked over at the clock. Seven a.m. Not the crack of dawn, but considerably earlier than an accepted time for house calls. “Did someone at the hotel recognize
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