Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2) - Page 46

“I-I never drank before.” The more Emily lied, the more she believed herself. “I only took a little sip, Mom. I promise. You know that I would never do anything like that. I’m not—I’m not bad. I promise.”

Her parents exchanged a look she could not decipher.

Franklin cleared his throat. “It was either Blakely, Fontaine or Morrow. They’re the only ones you’re ever around.”

“No,” she said, because he didn’t know them like Emily did. “They wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Goddammit!” He banged his fist on the counter. “You’re not the Virgin Mary. Just come out with it. Some boy put his cock in you and now you’re knocked up.”

“Franklin!” Esther warned. “Enough!”

Emily watched in shock as her father reined in his temper. She had never seen this happen before. Esther never asserted her authority at home. Yet somehow, she seemed to be in charge now.

“Mom.” Emily’s throat worked as she swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” Esther said. “Baby, listen to me. I don’t care how it happened—whether you wanted it or not is immaterial. Just tell us who did it so that we can make this right.”

Emily didn’t know what was right. She thought about what Mrs. Brickel had said about options. And then she thought about Nardo blowing smoke in her face, Blake making some snide remark about the fit of her jeans, Clay completely ignoring her as she sat half-assed beside him at the table for nearly fifteen years.

She felt jolted by a sudden, stark realization. She didn’t love them—not the way she thought she did. She didn’t want any of them. Not even Clay.

“Emily.” Her mother kept repeating her name like a mantra. “Emily, please.”

Emily forced herself to swallow the glass in her throat. “I don’t want to get married.”

“And I don’t want to be a fucking grandfather!” Franklin exploded. His fists were clenched, but he pressed his hands back down to his sides. “Jesus Christ, Esther. We talked about this. Just take her somewhere and get rid of it.”

“We did talk about this.” Esther stood to face him, taking Emily out of the discussion. “Someone will find out, Franklin. Someone always finds out.”

He waved this away, skipping to the next step in the playbook. “Hire someone. Use cash.”

“Who would I hire? One of my clerks? The housekeeper?” Esther was standing in her stocking feet, pointing her finger in Franklin’s face. “You’re the mathematician. Calculate for me how long it would take before someone came along with enough money to loosen their lips? How long before everything we’ve worked for implodes because of one stupid mistake?”

“It’s not my mistake.”

“It’s your reputation,” she shot back. “You’re the one who goes to conferences and speaks at churches and—”

“For you!” he yelled. “For your sainted career!”

“Do you think the Washington Post would give two shits about a second-rate economics professor if it wasn’t for his wife single-handedly bringing New Federalism to the state of Delaware?”

Emily had never seen her father look contrite before. He actually tucked his chin into his chest.

Then he asked, “Adoption?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know how terrible the child welfare system is. We might as well cast the poor thing into the sea. And the number of people who would have to be read-in on the crisis would grow exponentially.” Esther wasn’t finished. “Not to mention that Reagan will permanently strike me from the list if there’s even a whiff of this kind of scandal.”

“As if his own daughter wasn’t scandalously premature,” Franklin huffed. “Here is some math for you, Esther. It could take years before someone talks. You’ll be seated by then. A lifetime appointment. You can tell them to go fuck themselves.”

Emily felt the glass return to her throat. She might as well not even be in the room.

“Do you not understand how devious the opposition can be? Look at what they’re doing to Anne Gorsuch. She’s barely been at EPA for a year and they’ve already put a target on her back.” Esther gripped her hands in front of her face. “Franklin, I’m not a Kennedy. They won’t brush a scandal under the rug when a conservative woman is involved.”

Emily watched her father stare at the floor. Finally, he nodded his head. “All right, we’ll get my mother to take her to a clinic somewhere safe, like California or—”

“Are you insane?” Esther threw her hands into the air. “Your mother barely even remembers her own name!”

“She knows enough to keep an eye on her own damn child!”

Tags: Karin Slaughter Andrea Oliver Thriller
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