Mom, Don’t Marry My Father

Emily's POV: My mother, Claire Bennett, was hopelessly in love. She had congenital heart disease. Surgery could have improved her condition if she'd had it early enough. Instead, she kept putting it off for my father until her condition became terminal. Every time, my father would take her hand, his eyes brimming with tears. "Honey, open-heart surgery would take so much out of you. I've consulted an alternative medicine practitioner. We'll try nonsurgical treatment. Even if I have to sell everything we own, I'll be right here with you." My mother was moved to tears. Even later, when she spent entire nights in too much pain to lie flat, she believed she'd married the best man in the world. The truth was that he'd taken the 600,000 dollars meant for her surgery and bought his first love a home for their future together. In the end, all it took was one more excuse. "I don't want you covered in tubes, turned into some undignified monster." My mother died that bitter winter, and he collected a death benefit of 1,200,000 dollars. Before a week had passed since her death, my father brought that woman and the son from his affair home. I never called him Dad again. After I enrolled in a combined medical degree program, finding a targeted treatment strategy became an obsession. I worked without rest or sleep until the strain brought on cardiac arrest. I died beside a cold dissection table. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my parents got engaged. I watched my father gaze lovingly at my mother as he prepared to slip one of their matching engagement rings onto her finger. I snatched up the hot coffee on the table and flung it in his face. The noisy banquet hall fell silent. My mother froze for a moment, then grabbed a napkin from the table and frantically dabbed the coffee from Nathan Foster's face. "Where's security? Get this waitress out of here!" 'Does she think I'm a waitress?' I looked down at my black vest and white shirt, then at my hands. Only then did I realize I hadn't returned to my childhood. I was a stranger, a young woman the same age as my mother. The woman before me was radiant and full of life. She was nothing like the patient with end-stage heart failure I'd known in my previous life, who couldn't even turn over in bed. I wiped my eyes and pointed at Vanessa Cole, seated with the bridesmaids-to-be. "Mom... Ms. Bennett, she's Nathan's first love. Do you really think she came here out of the goodness of her heart to wish you well?" Vanessa's hand jerked, spilling wine from her glass onto her dress. "She and Nathan have already promised to spend their lives together. They're waiting for you to pay for a house. Once he's gotten enough out of you, they'll make their relationship public." Vanessa's eyes filled with tears. She looked around the room as though she'd been terribly wronged. "Claire, I don't even know her," she said shakily. "She's a waitress. How dare she make up lies about me?" Nathan wiped the remaining coffee from his face and pulled my mother back to his side with a sneer. "Claire, she's obviously a con artist. She came here to ruin our engagement party. Don't believe a word she says." The guests began murmuring. "You're making some pretty serious accusations. Where's your proof?" "People will do anything for money these days. Have they no shame?" My mother took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye. "Vanessa is my best friend. She's going to be my bridesmaid. And Nathan would never betray me. We've been together for 3 years. I know how well he treats me." All I saw in her eyes now was suspicion and disgust. "I don't know who's paying you, but you're still young, so take my advice and leave. If you don't, I'll have to call the police." It hurt to see her defending them, but I couldn't give up. Then I remembered something. In my previous life, I'd gone home once after Nathan moved Vanessa in. The letters they'd secretly exchanged for years had been left out on the table in plain sight. One of them had been dated shortly before today. I could still remember some of what it said. I stared at Vanessa as she tried to avoid my eyes and recited each word deliberately. "Nathan, I went too far last night." Her face went white. She stepped back involuntarily and bumped into the chair behind her. "Go ahead and marry her. I won't stop you. But you promised that once the Bennett family's money helped you get established, you'd do right by me." The room went quiet. Every eye turned to Vanessa. I stared at her and asked coldly, "Vanessa, did you write that letter?" Nathan stepped in front of her. "This is ridiculous! You can't just walk in here and slander people with some made-up story. Claire, don't listen to her. She's out of her mind!" I couldn't stand looking at him any longer. Instead, I told them exactly where the letter was. "It's in the old dictionary in your study, the one with the cover missing. Look under the back endpaper." Nathan stiffened, his fingers clenching the hem of his suit jacket. "The letter's still there. It's in Vanessa's handwriting, too." I looked at my mother, keeping my voice level. "Are we getting it now, or waiting until he's had a chance to go home and destroy it?" At the mention of that hiding place, my mother faltered in her defense of them. Her face drained of color, and her hand went instinctively to the left side of her chest. Her breathing quickened. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. I knew that look, the way she tried to hide her pain, and my chest tightened. I stopped arguing with him and hurried to her. "Have you been getting tightness in your chest? Does your heart race after even a little activity?" She jerked her head up and stared at me in shock. "Is it worse at night? Do you have to prop yourself up on pillows just to sleep? Have you even fainted for a few moments? There's something wrong with your heart. You need a full examination as soon as possible." Her lips trembled, and panic crept into her voice. "Only my parents and Nathan know about this. Who are you?" I didn't answer. I could only stare at her pale face. In my previous life, she'd kept insisting she was fine, blaming every symptom on being tired. I'd been little then. All I could do was cry and beg my father to take her to the hospital. I hadn't known he was making excuses to delay her treatment. This time, I wouldn't let her miss her best chance to get well.