A single pipe-organ note echoed through the church hall. Father Fleming lifted a jade paperweight on his desk and put it back down. “I can only imagine how much of a burden this has been for you. But it sounds like you did the right thing, giving the child up to a family who really wanted her.”
“Uh huh.” Emily’s throat itched, a sure sign she was about to cry.
“It must have been hard to give her up,” Father Fleming went on. “But you’ll always be in her heart, and she’ll always be in yours. Now, what about the father?”
Emily jolted up. “What about him?”
“Does he know about this?”
“Oh my God, no.” Emily’s face felt hot. “He and I broke up long before I knew I was . . . you know. Pregnant.” She wondered what Father would think if he knew that the dad was Isaac, one of his parish members. Isaac’s band had played at quite a few church functions.
Father Fleming folded his hands. “Don’t you think he deserves to know?”
“No. Absolutely no way.” Emily shook her head vehemently. “He would hate me forever.”
“You can’t know that.” He picked up a ballpoint pen and clicked it on and off. “And even if he’s angry with you, you might feel better if you tell the truth.”
They talked for a while longer about how Emily had weathered having a baby on her own, what her recovery had been like, and what her college plans were. Just as the pipe organist launched into a long, droning variation of Canon in D, Father Fleming’s iPhone chimed. He smiled at her kindly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you now, Emily. I’ve got a meeting with the church board of trustees in about ten minutes. Do you think you’ll be all right?”
Emily shrugged. “I guess.”
He stood, patted Emily’s shoulder, and guided her toward the door. Halfway down the hall, he turned and looked at her. “It goes without saying, but everything you’ve told me is just between us,” he said softly. “Still, I know you’ll do the right thing.”
Emily nodded dumbly, wondering what the right thing was. She considered Isaac again. He’d been so nice at Hanna’s dad’s town hall meeting. Maybe Father Fleming was right. Maybe she owed it to him. It was his baby, too.
Heart thumping, Emily pulled out her cell phone and composed a new text to Isaac.
I have something to talk to you about. Can we meet tomorrow?
Before she could change her mind, she pressed SEND.
13
RING, RING, IT’S REAL ALI
A few hours later, Aria sat in the kitchen at Byron and Meredith’s house, her laptop on the table in front of her. An IM from Emily appeared on the screen. Any news?
Emily obviously wanted to know if Aria had gotten a message from A. Nope, Aria replied. I haven’t gotten anything yet. She hoped to keep it that way. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t know anything interesting about Mr. Kahn. A had no new reasons to torment her. The secret would stay locked away forever.
Are we still on for Saturday? Emily wrote next.
It took Aria a moment to remember that Emily had wanted her to go to the open house at the property on Ship Lane. Definitely.
The front door slammed, and then came the sounds of keys dropping into a bowl and Meredith cooing soothingly to Lola. Meredith strode into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. She was dressed in stretch pants and a baggy white sweatshirt, a yoga mat tucked under her arm. Her dark hair was in a ponytail, her cheeks were flushed, and she looked very relaxed. Lola was strapped to her torso in a baby carrier, sound asleep.
“Ugh, I’m so out of shape,” Meredith moaned, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I went back to teaching a little too soon. I couldn’t even do a handstand today.”
“I was never able to do a handstand,” Aria said, shrugging.
“I could teach you how if you want,” Meredith offered.
“Sorry, I’m not really into yoga,” Aria said. The last thing she wanted was for Meredith to teach her something.
Meredith placed the water bottle on the island and cleared her throat. “I really appreciate you going to Fresh Fields for me the other day.”
Aria grunted, staring at an abstract painting of the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz that Meredith had brought from her old apartment. If it weren’t for Meredith’s stupid dinner, Aria wouldn’t have happened upon Mr. Kahn’s awful secret. She couldn’t help but blame her a little.
“And I am sorry . . . about the reason behind the dinner.” Meredith’s voice cracked.
At first Aria bristled, but then realized she actually had something she wanted to ask Meredith. “When you and my dad were dating, did you tell anyone about it?”
Meredith stiffened. After a moment, she adjusted the baby carrier so that Lola was more comfortable. “No,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t. I mean, when we were first together, your dad was my teacher—I didn’t want to get him fired. It wasn’t until you guys left for Iceland and I thought things were over that I told my mom. She was furious at me. She thought it was awful that I was fooling around with a married man.”
Aria stared at the floor, surprised. She had assumed that Meredith bragged about her older professor boyfriend to her friends, laughed about the family she was destroying, and snickered at how much of an idiot Ella was for not suspecting something was going on.
“When you guys came back from Iceland and your dad and I started dating again, I didn’t dare tell my mom what was going on,” Meredith went on. “I worried about telling anyone else, too, in case they told her—or judged me harshly. I knew what I was doing was wrong.”
Aria traced her finger over a jute placemat, surprised again. Meredith had seemed so confident when she and Byron were secretly dating, insisting that she wasn’t a home wrecker because she and Byron were in love. She hadn’t expected Meredith to care about what other people thought.
“So you didn’t say anything to anyone? That whole time?” Aria asked incredulously.
Lola stirred, and Meredith grabbed a pink pacifier from the table and popped it into the baby’s mouth. “I was afraid the secret would get out. I was terrified your mom would catch us.”
“But she was going to find out eventually,” Aria pointed out.
“I know, but I didn’t want to be the one to break the news.” Meredith pressed her fingers to her temple. “I really didn’t set out to destroy anyone’s life, I swear. It might not have seemed like it, but I had a very hard time with what we were doing.”
Aria shut her eyes. She wanted to believe Meredith, but she wasn’t sure if she could.
“You know, I saw you when you discovered me and Byron kissing in his car,” Meredith said softly. “I saw the look on your face, how devastated you were.”
Aria turned away, that horrible memory flooding back to her.
“I felt terrible about it. I wanted to explain myself. But I knew you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”
“You’re right,” Aria admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”
“And then you started showing up everywhere,” Meredith went on. “You came to the yoga studio—I recognized you right away. Then you showed up at my art class. You threw paint at me, remember?”
“Uh huh,” Aria mumbled, staring at the floor. She’d drawn a red scarlet A for “adultress” on Meredith’s dress. It seemed so immature now.