I was staring at the computer screen agonizing over what I should do. This is such an invasion of privacy but I almost need to see the truth for myself, even if it is ugly.
I drop my head into my hands, wondering if this is the end of a twenty-year friendship. My mother's voice snaps my head up, "Looks like you need an eye break. Staring at that thing will make you cross-eyed." She watches as I roll my eyes from the doorway and then adds, "Ryan came outta here all huffy. Thought I'd check in."
"Annabeth drama," I tell her vaguely.
"Shocking," she mutters and then crosses into the office. Her eyes search the room like it's her first time in here and she runs a finger along his leather-bound books as she says, "I gotta go into town and get our costumes figured out for Founder's Day. Darla just called and said we need to get in there."
"I didn't want to go to Founder's Day last year and I definitely do not want to be paraded about this year," I tell her. I minimize the screen so she can't see Annabeth's messages.
"Why not? You were fresh off a scandal last year. This year you are a newlywed gettin' to ride in the parade with Ryan. I'll even have Darla give him a higher ranking uniform," she says, like that will get me to jump up and shout, "I'm in!"
"You do remember the weekend I had right?" I snap to her and she stops organizing my father's pictures long enough to stare at me and reply, "Yes dear. And this will help get your mind off the trauma."
"Online shopping is helping with that," I tell her but she won't let me off the hook that easily.
"Sawyer Mae, only a handful of people know you missed that trial because you were in the hospital. If you don't stand on top of that parade float this weekend, people are going to think you are hiding from Rory." She says as she points her dainty finger at me. "You need to be fierce and standby what you and Molly did."
"Mother, I don't have the energy to be the face of a movement right now. I'm all over the place emotionally, this shit with Annabeth has me anxiety-riddled. My hormones are making me feel like I could burst into tears at the drop of a hat. I am fine to stay tucked away in here."
She frowns and places her hands on her cardigan-covered hips, "Molly Hamilton is going to be on her float. You're going to leave her alone in all this?" I look to her and she has me there. I can't hang Molly out to dry again. I wasn't with her in that courtroom after I promised I would be.
My mother takes my silence as an opportunity to guilt trip me some more, "You also had the volunteers up the design on our float and apparently they spent hours creating a cannon that can shoot confetti. You need to be on that float, rising above the crowd showing everyone nothing is going to stop you from being Sawyer Sweeney, Hollis Belle, Ryan Hart's wife and town darling."
"Alright mother, I will go to Darla's with you and ride on the float, but that's it. No two stepping this year, no barn rehearsals, no volunteering me to work an event that day. Got it?" I tell her and this satisfies her... for now.
************
When we pull up to the costume shop dread washes over me. I remember running into Whitney and Jackson here last year and I wonder if I'll bump into anyone today.
Mainstreet is always busy the week of Founder's Day. The party planning committee takes the entire week to decorate and pass out event information. People are either renting their costumes or wandering the fabric stores, looking for pieces to make their own. Volunteers hang red, white and blue ribbons down lamp posts and parking meters, while street sweepers make the parade route litter free. It's hustling today, so I pull the hood of my black sweatshirt over my head and shove massive sunglasses onto my face.
"Oh, real conspicuous darlin'," my mother mutters to me before pushing her way out of the car. I hear her greet a few D.A.R members that are strolling along the other side of the street so I hustle out of the car and into the shop quickly.
Darla's head snaps to the front with the sound of the doorbell chiming overhead and I wave to her as I maneuver around the parasol bins. There are only a few older men in here, over in the uniform section, rifling through buttons and pins.
"There's the Sweeneys! I was worried there'd be slim pickins if y'all didn't get in here soon," she tells me and she pulls a measuring tape around her neck.
"I know, we're sorry. Things have been a bit hectic at the Sweeney household," I tell her and she nods. Her soft face suddenly frowns, adding wrinkles to her sweet face, "I read the paper, my dear girl. I am so sorry about that whole Cunningham business." She grabs my hands with her cold ones and gives them a squeeze. I am so grateful that no one knew of my pregnancy, I can handle talking about the Cunninghams, I couldn't handle anyone asking about the baby. She gives me a kind smile with her thin pink lips before saying, "Let's put ya in something pretty."
My mother finally comes in behind me and slides her sunglasses into her updo, "Afternoon, Darla. How are you?" She asks and Darla is already heading into the back of the store. From the register, she calls out, across the store, "Fine, fine Mrs. Sweeney. Is it the four of y'all this year?"
My mother starts poking through pearl hair pins as she calls out, "Well, there will be four but Ryan Hart will be taking Mr. Sweeney's place." I snap my gaze to her, "Father isn't coming to Founder's Day? He's never missed one."
I watch some emotion flash across her poised face, but she stuffs it away immediately, "Apparently he's putting out a work fire this week and can't get away." She looks away from me quickly and refuses to meet my eyes.
"Does he even know about Rory? Or that I was in the hospital?" I spit out, suddenly furious at my father for not being here. Unless my mother told him to give me some space, he has had no reason to not check in on me.
"He is aware of what's been happening. We can discuss this further at home," she tells me in a tone that demands I drop it. I look to her and wonder what is going on. I know he's hardly around, but Founder's Day is a non-negotiable. I'm an emotional wreck and she's having me try on antebellum dresses. I can't imagine what could be so pressing that he can't get away for a weekend.
Darla comes back out with a rack of poofy dresses and slides it over to the 3-panel mirror, "Come on over here darlin's," she calls out and we meet her at the mound of ruffles.
"Now I know I put ya in pink last year Sawyer, so I was thinkin' a pretty purple or teal might look nice this year," she says as she starts pushing the hangers back so I can get a better look. My heart isn't in it and I really don't care what I wear or how I look on Saturday. I could wear Whitney's Big Bird costume from last year and not care. My mother, on the other hand, is absorbed in the different options so I let her pick for me.
After ours is chosen, she negotiates with Darla to get matching costumes for Austin and Ryan. I wander around the store and pick out a new lace parasol and some hair pins while my mother gabs. I hear loud laughter coming from outside and my gaze is drawn to the massive storefront windows that face the sidewalk. I watch as Annabeth and LulaBelle walk side by side with their matching strollers and Annabeth catches my gaze through the window. I haven't seen Kingsley since the hospital, so my feet start walking toward the door before my brain catches up with me. They both stop when I open the shop door and Annabeth isn't good at hiding her emotions. She looks like she was caught red-handed, with a pink face and minimal eye contact.
"Hey ladies," I say with a wave and I wander over to the strollers. LulaBelle also looks to me nervously, probably wondering if I know Garrett's little secret.
"Hi, Sawyer. I am surprised to see you out and about," LulaBelle says while her hand flies to adjust her light brown sunglasses.
"I'm about to be paraded around town in a few days, figured I could handle seeing Darla," I tell her and she quickly drops it. I peer over the top of the sunshade and glance down to a sleeping Kingsley. Even though he is still a pink bundle of mush with a rubber pacifier taking up half of his face, I can tell he has Gus's dark curly hair and round nose. I wonder if Annabeth is going to bring up the Baptism scheduled for next weekend.
"He looks like his daddy," I tell her and I watch LulaBelle dart her eyes away from us. Annabeth nods in agreement but doesn't add anything else. She doesn't fill me in on how he's doing, so I guess I have to drag it out of her. "How is he doing? Is he a good sleeper?" I feel my throat squeeze as I have to choke back tears. This is so much harder than I thought it was going to be. Seeing her and seeing a precious baby. I am not ready for this. It's all too much.
I don't even let her answer before I snap my head away from the sleeping baby and say, "Oh I forgot my purse inside. I should probably get back to that." I spin away from their quizzical looks to get back inside. Right before I push the door open I hear Annabeth, "Sawyer..."
I flit my tearful eyes to her and manage to squeak out, "Yes?"
"Maybe we can do lunch this week yeah?" She asks reluctantly, in a tone I can't quite make out.
I nod, "Just text me." I push the door open and find my mother still gabbing at the register. I stride back to the rack of petticoats and let out a muffled scream.