Page 90 of Merging Wright

“The cancer was localized, but I had them remove what remained.” A hysterectomy.

Mach’s eyes don’t leave my face, but he blinks as if fighting a glance at my stomach. As if seeing me from the outside will offer him a glimpse of my insides.

“The survival rate is pretty high, and I’m past the five-year mark. I did preventative radiation, and I’m on medication. There are no signs the cancer spread anywhere else in my body.” There was no way to detect if cancer would return or if I’d develop it in some other location in my body, but as far as my lady parts were concerned, I was free and clear. The doctor reminded me not to live my life on ifs but to enjoy every second I had before me as some women aren’t so fortunate.

“How could I not know this?” Mach’s voice is tender. A crease forms between his brows.

I shrug. “I scheduled appointments on Fridays. And worked remotely on occasion.” And sometimes worked even when I felt sick. Thank goodness I was in an office that allowed distance-days based on need. Only our Human Resources person knew the truth for insurance reasons. I was too new at Impact to willingly share the information with others.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. And I’m sorry I didn’t know.” I know enough about Mach to know that he means what he says. He might have even been generous in some capacity like he has been with other employees in the office, but I didn’t want those acts of kindness. I battled through the ordeal with only my sisters knowing the truth.

“I don’t think there’s any secrets left to share with you,” I admit. I wasn’t someone who had a large past. Ripley. Miscarriage. Ovarian cancer. Those were my three hits in life. My closet was now empty to Mach.

Mach’s hand leaves my chest, and he flips to his back. He stares upward before slipping a hand behind his head. “I’m Tucker’s brother. Myles and I are Tucker’s brothers.”

I’ve heard rumors of the sort but have always dismissed it as office gossip, calling them brothers from another mother to dispel the eerie hint of possibility.

“Tucker’s father was Jonathon Ashford,” Mach explains.

This I know. Tucker is a descendant of the famous Ashford’s, a once-thriving department store that had locations throughout the country. Eventually, the company was bought out by a larger conglomerate minus the flagship location in downtown Chicago, making that first, and now only store, a historical landmark.

“My mother went off to Charleston when she was seventeen. She worked at the perfume counter of a new Ashford’s there. She wanted to work in fashion, clothing, makeup.” Mach waves a hand around his face. “And she met Jonathon. He was much older, and he seduced Ma.”

Mach exhales. “She swears he didn’t force her into anything. He was just charming, and she was young. He made promises, and she believed his city slick words. She didn’t know he was married or had a child.”

Mach turns his head to face me. “When she found out she was pregnant, he didn’t believe her. He didn’t think her babies were his. But I believe Ma. He’d been the only man she’d been with then.”

I hate the idea of an older man taking advantage of a young, naive woman from a small town. What is wrong with men? Especially a married man with a child at home.

“Tucker is two years older than Myles and me. We didn’t know the truth when we were young. Ma guarded that secret like it was the last coveted cookie in a jar. She refused to tell her da, which is one reason Fischer was so angry with her. Her mother showed mercy for the sake of the children.” Sarcasm drips from Mach’s voice. “Granny didn’t live long enough after our birth to know us, or us her.”

Mach takes a breath. “When I finally learned the truth, it was right around the time everything happened with Tracy. I was more determined than ever to face off with this man, tell him what I thought of him. I didn’t want his money, but Ma deserved something for her heartache and hard work over the years. Years of sacrifice and taking her father’s emotional abuse.” He shakes his head. “But I was too late. Jonathon was dead. He and his wife died in a plane crash.”

The history of the famous Ashford’s department store couple was common enough knowledge.

“I was ready to take everything out on Tucker when I met him. Ashe, he went by then. He had everything Myles and I hadn’t. Recognition. Privilege. And money.” Mach sneers and he stares up at the ceiling again. “Only Tucker wasn’t anything like I expected. He’d had a similar dislike for his old man . . . our father . . . who had more than just Myles and me as illegitimate children.”

Mach rolls his head and then twists his body to lay on his side again. His hand returns to my belly, fingers toying with the sleep shirt covering my skin.

“He abandoned Myles and me, but he hadn’t ever really been there for Tucker either. And he had other children he refused to recognize.” Mach’s focus remains on my stomach. “And it’s one reason I hold hard to people when I let them close enough. I’m afraid they won’t want me like he didn’t. Like Fischer didn’t. And they’ll leave me behind for something better or someone else. Like Tracy did.”

“Oh Mach,” I whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead like he’s a child instead of a man. But isn’t that the way of things? Despite how old we are, the child inside all of us still harbors hurts, regrets, and silent fears.

The final part of his confession doesn’t settle well with me. I don’t know anything about his first wife or her feelings, but I’m certain of one thing. “She loved you, Mach. Why would she marry you if she didn’t?”

Mach’s head snaps up, and he stares at me.

I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat. “You and I are different,” I try to assure him. Our situation is a consensual arrangement. He dangled the proposition of a partnership over my head like an engagement ring, and my agreement to help him was because . . . why did I really agree?

Deep down, the answer is clear, but I’m not about to share that nugget with Mach. Maybe I do still have one secret I’m keeping from him.

He shakes his head, lowering his eyes to my belly again. “But she loved Myles, too.” His quiet tone is full of sorrow, and the child inside him has shifted to a hurt twenty-something on the verge of manhood. I don’t want to believe Myles slept with Tracy, got her pregnant, or convinced her to stay behind. The romance of Mach and Tracy is almost palpable when Mach speaks of her. They were young and in love with a lifetime ahead of them.

Mach shifts, placing his head on my stomach, and my fingers thread into his hair, gently scrubbing at his scalp. Our secrets float around the room. While the truth isn’t always comfortable, our position is. He slips his arm around my waist and tugs me flat to the bed while never lifting his head from my belly. I finger-comb his hair and rub his head until he grows heavier against me, where my insides are empty of lady bits.

My heart makes up the difference because it is full of love for this man.

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