None of them hear me and focus completely on Mr. Palmer and the morsel of information they know he's about to share with them. That is why people come here instead of protecting their privacy and going to Pine Bluff. Unless they’re a dumbass like me and don't think ahead to make the twenty-five-minute trip into the slightly larger town. Granted, I didn’t actually know that a trip to the pharmacy would be part of my day.
“I think it's quite understandable that Wren has turned to Griffin in a time such as this,” Mr. Palmer continues with sincerity oozing in his voice. I have to commend him; I almost believe he’s being sincere.
“After all,” he continues, “her best friend did just give birth to Liam’s baby. I saw her heading out of town earlier today, and she did not have her car seat with her. Poor baby. She must've already been dropped off with a relative. Surely she couldn't have done what I heard her talking about.”
Now he had my attention. I grunt a warning, letting him know that I can hear every word he has been saying. “Don't stop on my account, old man. What did you overhear that little slut say she was going to be doing? Is there another marriage she plans on ruining, maybe the pastor or the mayor?”
I know that she’s the mother of my grandchild. That should grant her some forgiveness. Maybe under other circumstances it would. I can’t even drum up some compassion due to the fact that without her affair with my son, I wouldn’t be married to the love of my life right now. My personal happiness will never erasethe pain I saw on Wren’s face. Not even since that pain showed me that she wasn’t the spoiled brat I let my son convince me she was. Yes, I wanted her, but I didn’t let myself respect her until I saw the depth of her character. There was an entire world present in the agony that I saw her handle with grace.
His mouth gapes open with indignation, another tool from his arsenal about how to fake sincerity, an act I haven't believed since Liam was in diapers. “Now, Griffin, you can hardly judge that poor young woman, especially considering your current relationship status, surely you must know that the heart cannot always be denied what it wants.”
My teeth clench so hard I can hear them grinding against each other. It takes effort not to have the following conversation with my fists, but Mr. Palmer is just this side of ancient. It would not be a fair fight if he were my age, since the only man who would stand a chance at kicking my ass is Charlie, but it’s especially reprehensible if I were to beat up the crypt keeper.
“You've known me a long time, Mr. Palmer, so you know that I don't have the best track record with keeping my shit under control, so how about you tell me what the fuck you're talking about before I lose my shit? Feel me?"
Mr. Palmer sputters, looks around his store, probably trying to see if he has an audience big enough for such a dramatic event, before realizing that the women have already noticed me and scurried away. As juicy as this gossip is, it does not overcome the fear a lot of people in this town still carry for me. Sometimes my asshole exterior does have benefits. Not when it’s scaring away my Baby Bird, but I don’t give two fucks about scaring away the bored housewives of Harriston.
Finally, when he realizes that no one is here to witness our little exchange, he drops the façade of indignation and answers my question. I have no doubt he will tell this story with a lot more flair to all of the people who come in later on today, oruntil something bigger happens in town. Can't imagine what could be bigger than marrying your daughter-in-law, but this is Harriston, and people will rise to the challenge.
“I overheard Audrey telling someone on the phone that she was going to be leaving baby Natalie with the child's father. She didn't name Liam, however, we all know who the baby’s dad is.”
I inhale slowly through my nose. This is the last thing I fucking need. God knows my son is not capable of taking care of a baby. “When?” It’s the only word I manage to speak.
“Earlier this morning, probably about four hours ago?”
"Are you asking me, or telling me?" I snap at him.
Mr. Palmer nods his head, his comb-over flopping across his forehead. “Telling it was definitely shortly after I opened. Mrs. Jones is the one who checked her out, but I could see that she had diapers, formula, and all the necessities that one would get if they were going to be gone for a few days. There were clothes hanging out of her bag, and it was stuffed to the breaking point.
I slap some money down on the counter. “I need Mrs. Howell's prescriptions, and you're going to get them for me very fucking fast.”
For once, he has nothing to say and goes about doing his actual fucking job. Which is a very good thing because I have one more stop to make, apparently.
Chapter Two
Griffin - Past
My truck growlsas I push it to the limits, as I lead foot my way across town. My hands would be shaking if I weren’t white knuckling the steering wheel. It only takes me a couple of seconds to guess the likely state I’m going to find my son in, considering his car is in the front yard with the driver’s door open.
The interior lights are off, which means the battery is probably dead. He had been driving a beautiful Mustang until I found out he’d manipulated Wren into spending the insurance money she got after both of her parents died in a car accident when she was seventeen.
As if pushing her to spend the money her parents intended to use to take care of her wasn’t bad enough, he also ran up a bunch of other debts in her name that she didn’t know about. Selling the car was a small step to digging her out of the hole my selfishson had put her in, but it was a move in the right direction. Apparently, my son only cared about that hunk of metal because, since I pushed Wren to sell it, he’s fallen further and further into his addictions. For a moment, I had hope that he was coming around, but it appears that, as with most things concerning my son, I was wrong.
A tightness squeezes my chest, and for a second, I think I might be having a heart attack. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and I’ve found myself googling what a panic attack feels like. Death, apparently, because for the few seconds anxiety grabs hold of me, I feel like I might actually be kicking the proverbial bucket.
I can’t tell Wren about it, because she would get the wrong idea. I’m thrilled that we’re having a baby. I never thought I’d get a second chance to have a whole family. While some people dream about making a lot of money and all of the material things that wealth can bring, I only ever wanted to have a family of my own. I wanted to create for my kids what I didn’t have growing up. Sure, my parents were still married, but only because they were too apathetic to get a divorce. They accepted their poverty early on and escaped with alcohol. I was just there, an accident they had just resigned themselves to dealing with.
I’m ashamed to say that Liam didn’t get the life I had wanted to give him. His mother cut and ran when he was two years old. I didn’t escape with women, booze, or drugs, but I clearly wasn’t enough to give him a foundation to lead a successful life. That is precisely what is causing my body to test drive a heart attack, because what if I will never be enough? What if I go on and ruin another child?
I know Wren isn’t Melinda. She isn’t going to walk out one day and leave her child behind. I don’t have the tiniest doubt that she is going to be an amazing mother. It’s me I’m worried about. She’s already had enough heartbreak in her twenty-fouryears. First losing her parents, then being, well, abused is the only word for how my son treated her. Not that I can give her back the five years she lost being married to Liam, but I can spend every day of the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.
I’m afraid I’m going to have even more to make up to her if Mr. Palmer was telling the truth and Audrey really did drop off the baby with Liam. I don’t even trust him to take care of himself, much less a newborn. But how do I ask my pregnant wife to help me look after the baby born from the affair between her ex-husband and former best friend? If I don’t step up, what will happen to little Natalie? No matter what the circumstances surrounding her birth, she’s innocent, and she’s still my granddaughter.
The front door isn’t locked, so I let myself in. As soon as I open the door, I’m assaulted by a horrible stench. It’s a mixture of vomit, piss, shit, and cheap beer. Just inside the living room, I find a red-faced baby waving her arms and legs around in a fit of anger, but she’s obviously cried herself hoarse by this point and is barely making a sound. Her diaper is leaking all over her. She’s soiled and in desperate need of a bath to keep from getting an infected rash.
However, she is not the only source of the foul smell. Liam is lying in the hallway in a puddle of his own vomit, and he’s also pissed himself. Thankfully, his chest is still rising and falling, which means he’s going to live long enough for me to kill him.
I kick him in the thigh. He groans, but doesn’t wake up. More than fed up with his shit, I fill a pot with water. It’s one of the few things that is actually clean in this place, probably because my useless son has completely forgotten how to make food.
