I know what I need. I could write you a check right now. No. Why not? Because I’m not a charity case, Lucas snapped, louder than he meant to. Mason startled, his face crumpling. Amelia bounced him automatically, making soothing sounds until he settled. Lower your voice, she said calmly. And stop being an idiot.
Excuse me? You heard me. You’re being an idiot. You have someone offering to help, and you’re too proud to take it. She stood, pacing with Mason. You know what pride gets you? Nothing. It gets you exactly nothing except the satisfaction of drowning alone. I’m not asking you to save me. I know. That’s the problem.
She stopped, looking at him directly. Lucas, I’ve been where you are. Different circumstances, same desperation. And you know what I learned? Sometimes you have to swallow your pride and accept help, or you lose everything trying to prove you didn’t need it. Lucas stared at the bills. $42,000. He could work three lifetimes and never see that kind of money free and clear.
If I take it, he said slowly, it’s a loan. I pay you back. With interest. I don’t want Those are the terms. Take them or leave them. Amelia considered this, still swaying with Mason. Fine. 10% interest, payment plan we work out later. Deal? Deal. She held out her hand. Lucas shook it, her grip firm and businesslike.
It should have felt like defeat. Instead, it felt like he could breathe for the first time in months. I’ll need a few days to move the money around, Amelia said. I can’t just write a check that large without raising flags. Flags with who? Her expression shuddered. People who are looking for me. Your ex? Among others. She sat back down, Mason sprawled across her lap.
There are people who want me to fail, Lucas, who want to prove I can’t survive without the company, without the infrastructure they built around me. They find out where I am, they’ll use it against me. How? By making me choose between my freedom and my responsibility. By forcing me back into a life I walked away from.
She looked tired suddenly, older than her 30 years. I came here to disappear, to figure out who I am without all the noise. But the money’s still tied to that noise. Everything I touch is. So, don’t help me. Keep yourself hidden. No. She said it firmly, no hesitation. You need this. Your kids need this. I’m not going to let my problem stop me from doing something good for once.
Lucas wanted to argue, wanted to tell her to protect herself first, but Emma would be home from school in an hour, and there was dinner to plan, and Mason needed a bottle, and the weight of imminent homelessness was finally, finally starting to lift. Thank you, he said quietly. Amelia nodded. You’re welcome.
They didn’t talk about it again. Amelia spent the next 2 days on her laptop, locked in the guest room, doing whatever financial maneuvering required to move that kind of money invisibly. Lucas worked the farm, fixed what he could, and tried not to think about what he’d just accepted. Emma noticed the shift in mood immediately.
Are you happy, Daddy? she asked that night at dinner. Lucas looked up from his plate. What? You’re smiling. You don’t smile a lot. I smile. Not really. Not like that. Emma turned to Amelia. He’s smiling, right? He is, Amelia agreed. It’s a good look on him. Lucas felt his face heat. Can we not See? Now he’s embarrassed.
That’s even better. Emma giggled, delighted with herself. After dinner, Lucas took Emma upstairs for bath time, while Amelia handled Mason’s bedtime routine. It had become their unspoken division of labor. Lucas with Emma, Amelia with the baby. It worked. Lucas tried not to examine why. He was reading Emma a bedtime story when he heard it.
Amelia’s voice from down the hall, singing. Not the nonsense song she usually hummed to Mason, but something real, something haunting and sad and beautiful. Emma heard it, too. What’s that song? I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s pretty. Yeah, it is. Lucas finished the story, kissed Emma good night, and found himself walking toward the nursery instead of his own room.
The door was cracked open. Inside, Amelia sat in the old rocking chair, Mason asleep on her shoulder, still singing softly. Hey, Lucas said quietly. She looked up, startled. Stopped singing. Sorry, did I wake Emma? No, she liked it. He leaned against the door frame. What was that song? Something my mother used to sing before she decided I was more useful as a business asset than a daughter.
Amelia stood carefully, transferring Mason to his crib. The baby didn’t wake. She died 5 years ago, lung cancer. We hadn’t spoken in three. I’m sorry. Don’t be. We made our choices. She adjusted Mason’s blanket, her movements gentle despite the bitterness in her voice. She wanted me to marry someone appropriate, someone who could expand the family business.
I wanted to build my own company, make my own choices. We fought about it until we stopped fighting and just stopped talking. Is that what happened with your ex? He was appropriate? Amelia laughed, sharp and humorless. Oh, he was perfect. Rich family, good connections, everything my mother wanted. And I convinced myself I wanted it, too.
Convinced myself that building an empire together was the same as love. She moved past Lucas into the hallway. Turns out empires are easier to build than relationships. They went downstairs. Amelia poured herself a glass of wine from a bottle she’d bought during one of her grocery runs. Lucas grabbed a beer from the fridge, also courtesy of her shopping, and they ended up on the porch again, watching the sun finish its descent.
“Can I ask you something?” Lucas said after a while. “Sure.” “Why are you really here? And don’t give me the running away answer. There’s more to it than that.” Amelia took a long drink of wine. “You want the truth?” “Always. I’m here because I was tired of being empty, tired of building things that didn’t matter, making money I didn’t need, surrounded by people who only cared what I could do for them.
