A Borrowed Life by Kerry Anne King

Author:Kerry Anne King [King, Kerry Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2020-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

May 12, 2019

Dear Me,

Abigail did not take well to my yard sale. Of course she didn’t. Even for me, looking at the almost-empty house is a graphic and brutal reminder that Thomas is dead. But I want things to change. Abigail does not. When she first walked through the door, she thought we’d been robbed and I had to stop her from calling 911. And when I explained? Well. I knew she’d be sad. I figured she’d get angry. Her reaction went way beyond anything I anticipated. On the good-news front (?), I seem to have broken through her emotional containment field and given her an opportunity to express herself. But the picture she painted of me and my behavior was devastating. The words “violation” and “betrayal” are still reverberating.

I guess I shouldn’t have done it. Truth is, I wasn’t thinking at all. Just reacting. I felt hurt, violated, betrayed, and I turned around and did the same thing to my daughter. Only I didn’t mean to hurt her, that’s the thing. I’ve managed to tear the veneer off the surface of our relationship and discovered a seething, festering pit. I don’t know that this can ever be healed.

Confession time now. As emotionally blown to bits as I am by all of my discoveries and the blowup with Abigail, there is a dark streak in me that is amused. Abigail came home to control me, to do everything in her power to keep me and the house from changing. And then I pull a stunt like this! I guess neither one of us knew I had it in me.

I still don’t know what to do about those letters. Do I tell her that her father locked up her dreams in that desk drawer? Because what I’ve done to the house is nothing in comparison to the weight of that disclosure. Part of me says I should burn those acceptance letters and take the secret to the grave. But what if they mean freedom for her? She’s still so young. She could still be a doctor.

And to add fuel to my emotional drama, I haven’t heard a word from Lance. No matter how many times I tell myself I don’t care, the truth is that I do. How will I ever face him at rehearsal?

I am completely out of courage and lacking backbone this morning. If I could, I might gladly retreat to the safety of my righteous widow persona. But I’ve blown that bridge to bits and there’s nothing to do but move forward. Next step? Find a house. I am moving, with or without my daughter.

It’s been a long night. I’m too old for sleeping on the floor, as it turns out. What with aching muscles, my uneasy conscience, and a storm of conflicting emotions, I’ve been awake more than I’ve been asleep. Moses approves, though. He shared my dislike of the bed for reasons of his own, but he has spent the last two nights curled up by my feet.

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