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“I am. That’s why I don’t want you to go.”
“I know Dad did bad things. I know he’s probably going to make a plea deal and go to prison for a long time.”
Erica tried not to show her surprise at her daughter’s statement. “You’ve been doing online reading about more than transitioning out of a crib.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the internet. You can find out anything.”
“I hadn’t even gone that far,” she admitted. “I was still caught up in your dad getting a better lawyer.” A plea deal? Peter had mentioned the feds were trying to get him to cooperate. That implied there would be something in it for him. But to plead guilty and go to prison?
“I want to see him.”
Erica knew she wouldn’t change her mind. “Okay. I’ll take you.”
Summer shook her head. “You don’t have to. I talked to Grandma earlier and she said she would do it.”
Erica wasn’t sure Peter would approve his ex-mother-in-law as a visitor, but under the circumstances she would guess Mara was a better alternative than seeing his ex-wife again.
Summer picked at the blanket, then looked up. “You’ve done a lot.” She paused. “No, I asked for a lot and you said yes. You didn’t have to, but you did.”
She glanced back at the bed. “I don’t think many of my friends’ moms would have been so open to all of this.”
Erica suspected that was true. Not that she deserved a lot of credit—if there was even one other option, she would happily toss out Allison to pursue it.
But there wasn’t, so here they all were.
“Allison and Jackson are your family,” she said lightly. “And you’re mine. This is how it’s supposed to work.”
With a little luck, Killion would be right and Summer would remember this for the rest of her life. That almost made it worth it.
Her daughter scrambled up the bed and hugged Erica. “Thank you, Mom. You’re really good to me and I know I can be difficult.”
“And childish,” Erica said lightly, holding her tight.
Summer laughed as she drew back. “I can be mature.”
“Yes, you can, but you often don’t choose to be. Now go to bed. It’s late.”
Summer stood and started for the door. When she got there, she paused and looked back.
“Do you think Allison is scared?”
Erica considered various answers, then decided that the truth was usually best.
“I’m sure she is. I would be.”
“Me, too. I’m glad we’re here for her. Night, Mom.”
“Good night.”
Allison fell asleep the second her head touched the pillow. Unfortunately two hours later she woke unexpectedly, her heart pounding as anxiety poured through her. She got up and walked around her spacious room, trying to calm her body. The reaction woke Bethany, who seemed intent on kicking her way out.
As Allison paced, telling herself she was fine, that yes, she could breathe and eventually this would pass, she also had to deal with the sharp ache in her chest by herself. There was no Peter to hold her. Before he’d been arrested, when she had a panic attack he would walk with her, his hand in hers, as he offered support and reassurance. Later, when the angst faded, they would return to bed, where he stayed close, his arm around her, until she fell back to sleep.
But tonight there was no Peter to offer comfort. She was alone, responsible for her children, in a strange place, at the mercy of her incarcerated husband’s first wife. The reality of her situation was nearly enough to bring back the panic, but she fought it and walked until her heart rate slowed.
Once she felt a little better, she checked on Jackson and Summer. Both were sleeping soundly. Allison returned to the hallway, not sure what to do. She’d had the movers put the TV from the living room into her bedroom, so she could watch that. Only she still felt as if she needed to keep moving.
She made her way downstairs and walked through the large, quiet house. The rooms were unfamiliar, the shadows menacing. Time, she told herself. She would get familiar with the place in time.
