“After you,” Reed ungraciously offered.
“Oh, no, please, we’ll follow you.” Peter waved his arm toward the house.
Sam and I both laughed, yet we all remained firmly planted as if our shoes had melted into the concrete.
From the house we heard Sarah yell, “Samantha Marie are you here?”
Peter smirked at his sister. “We’re right behind you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Reed didn’t look too sure, but he led the way, flowers out in front as if he were storming a castle and the roses were his shield. Peter and I did follow, but at a leisurely, almost non-existent pace. The August sun that would burn my fair skin in a matter of minutes had nothing on the heat I was sure we would experience once we entered Dante’s Inferno. A line from the poem came to mind. “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate,” which meant, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” It was much more accurate than the welcome mat that greeted us at the door.
We stopped at the gate of hell where Peter kissed my nose ring and ran his hand down the length of my tattoo, as if he were reminding me how much he loved those aspects of me and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought about them. I grabbed his butt because I loved that aspect of him and we both needed a reason to smile before we entered. It did the trick.
We walked in to hear the normal level of chaos going on in the kitchen, but this time Joseph emerged and met us in the entryway. He patted Peter on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son.” Then he turned his sights on me and before I knew it I was dislodged from my husband and wrapped in Joseph’s embrace. This was a new one for me, so much so it took me a minute to respond properly and revel in what my father-in-law was offering. I forced myself to relax and return the hug.
“I’m glad you came, honey.” He had never used that term of endearment when addressing me. I wasn’t sure anyone had in such a way. It sounded fatherly. I felt the genuineness of it in his embrace and in the kiss on the head that followed. This is what it must feel like to have a father. Like a safe harbor.
I wanted to stay docked in that harbor when Sarah appeared, sure to bring a category five storm to beat upon me. She stood stunned in the hall, dark clouds starting to swirl in her blue eyes, but by some miracle they dissipated. I stepped away from Joseph, but father and son flanked me as if they had rehearsed the move in battle preparation. I was no wilting flower, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. I stood tall between my self-appointed protectors, waiting for Sarah to say something about my bare midriff and bohemian skirt her eyes darted toward. Instead, she steadied herself and tiptoed toward us. Very unlike her normal march. It made more sense when I glanced up and noticed the warning in Joseph’s eyes. For half a second, Sarah’s eyes resented the warning, but before we knew it, she began to channel June Cleaver. Well, sort of.
“I’m . . . glad you . . . both,” she choked on her words while squarely focusing on Peter, “made it.” She exhaled dramatically as if that was the toughest performance of her life. Yes, it all came off as an act, but I gave her credit for trying to play the part and gave her a hint of a close-lipped smile.
Peter must have been wary too as he took my hand and nodded.
Joseph broke the tension by clapping his hands together. “Dinner is almost done. Come on back.” He went to his wife’s side and put an arm around her. Sarah at first stiffened but must have decided it was a good offer. She leaned into him as if she was gathering strength. How sad it was that we all needed it to tolerate being in each other’s presence.
The entire Decker clan awaited us in the kitchen, even our nephews, who were trying to help themselves to the overabundant food that filled the counters. Avery was doing her best to smack hands away, but it was a losing battle. The boys had outgrown their mothers and they were quick and moved in a pack, which made them more successful. Avery gave up, knowing it was better to pick her battles. Besides, our entrance into the foray was much more interesting.
James walked in from the back porch with a large tray of steaks. With the amount of red meat this family ate, it was a wonder no one had had a heart attack. I typically only ate salad and fruit during our adventures here, occasionally having a bite of Peter’s steak. That didn’t help engender any fuzzy feelings with my mother-in-law. She took it as a slight that I didn’t partake in the weekly consuming-of-the-fatted-calf ritual. Cat and Ron were vegetarian, but like everything in my life, they left my palate choices up to me. I don’t know if it was nature or nurture, probably the first because nurture was not a strong suit of Cat’s and Ron’s, but I leaned toward a more plant-based diet with fish for protein. And cereal, but I used almond milk instead of cow juice like Peter. Occasionally I would eat a hamburger or something, but nothing to the extent of Peter’s family.
James’s grin said he was ready for the fireworks to ensue. Mimsy stood with a bottle of water, itching to sprinkle it on someone. Reed was poised in front of Samantha, ready to take any direct hits from Mimsy.
Joseph looked around at his pensive clan with a resolve to bring us together if it was the last thing he did. He did linger on Reed for a bit longer with squinted eyes that said you aren’t off the hook yet for stealing my baby girl away. Joseph was about to speak until Mimsy stole the spotlight.
Mimsy looked between James and Avery. “Do you two have any skeletons in your closet or your attic?” She bounced on the balls of her feet, eager. “I promised Giovanni I would return to prison with a juicy story.” She frequently referred to the assisted living home as a prison.
Did James give Avery a guilty look? If he did, it got lost in translation when Sarah asked, “Who is Giovanni?”
“My lover.” Mimsy bared her teeth in an evil grin as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment to spring this latest bit of the soap opera that seemed to always play out at the assisted living home.
“Lover!?” Sarah exclaimed while the rest of us, by the shocked and squeamish faces that erupted around the room, were trying not to imagine what that entailed.
“Don’t look at me like that, young lady, I told him I don’t do the horizontal mambo until he buys the cow. No free milk for him.”
That was it; I lost any appetite I may have had. Though I must say I enjoyed the angst Mimsy was causing her daughter. Sarah spluttered for words.
“It’s your own fault,” Mimsy continued. “You’re the one who imprisoned me there looking like this.” She waved a hand over her tiny body like she was a beauty queen. “They can’t keep their hands off me. You don’t know what a turn on it is that I still have my own teeth and that my tuckus only takes up one cushion of the couch.”
Bursts of laughter erupted first from the boys, spreading to the rest of us, minus Sarah.
“Mom, what about Dad?” Sarah cried.
“What about him? He’d want me to have some fun. And you know what they say about Italians. It’s all true.”
Sarah crossed herself and looked up to heaven.
Joseph let out a defeated breath. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter Twelve
It was the first time I had ever felt the slightest bit at ease at the enormous custom-made dining room table. For once, I wasn’t the one who made Sarah distraught. We may have all been a bit overwrought. The only sounds were the clinks of utensils against the china and chewing while we all tried to digest Mimsy’s news and the graphic details she gave us about the STD video they made all the residents at her home watch after a massive rash of herpes and gonorrhea spread through its residents. She informed us it was another reason she was refusing her Italian lover’s advances. She would not be a statistic or a sinner, she assured us. Afterward she handed out cash to her great-grandsons, thankfully not from her bra this time. Apparently, the wad of cash she had stashed there previously caused some irritation, so it was back to her pockets.
I couldn’t make this stuff up. If only I could put it to good use and base a character off her, but it would be too obvious
to Sam and Avery.
The reprieve of Sarah, as I was calling it in my head, was too good to last very long. After she took a long sip of her wine, she set her sights on the newlyweds. “I see you announced to the world today that you eloped.” Sarah’s voice at first was sharp, but unnaturally lightened by the end.
I had read Sam’s post earlier in the day too. It was titled “Full Disclosure.” It was a play on how Reed had signed her NDA, which allowed him full access to her, and how she was fully disclosing her secret elopement to her fans. She got real about how hard it was to love herself again after her divorce, maybe love herself for the first time ever. How much courage it took to let Reed love her. She didn’t go into too much detail, unlike her grandma. She bravely spoke about being scared to be intimate with Reed, but how grateful she was that he took his time, not only waiting for her to be comfortable in her own skin, but in the actual act itself and how that made all the difference for her. How it gave her confidence in a way she had never experienced with her ex-husband. She basically said if you aren’t with the kind of man who instills that in you, something needs to change, and it may even mean finding a new relationship. It was a post I would be sure to have my assistant put on my website. It was something every woman needed to hear.
I glanced at my husband, who was enjoying a decent home cooked meal. He was the kind of man Sam spoke of. I rested my hand on his thigh under the table and squeezed. He smiled at me as if he knew I was trying to nonverbally say I loved him.
Sam paused before responding, as if she too couldn’t believe her mother’s change in trajectory. The entire table seemed to be perplexed except for Joseph, who smiled at his wife. He must have had some talk with her.
Sam reached out to touch her mom’s forehead. “Are you okay?”
Sarah batted away Sam’s hand, but gave her a strained smile. Or was that trained? “I feel fine. I’m just . . . It’s just that I was thinking since you’ve announced your marriage, it would be nice if we still had a celebration.”
Sam and Reed looked at each other, grimacing.
“We appreciate the thought, but football games start in less than two weeks and my book is coming out around the same time. The next little while will be crazy for us.”
Sarah’s face reddened, but she took a breath and plastered on a faker smile than before. “What if we did something this coming weekend?”
Sam shook her head. “There’s not enough time to put a party like that together, not to mention book a venue.”
A cat-like grin replaced the fake one. “Honey,” Sarah said, sickly sweet. “You know I was already in the process of planning your reception with Bethany Vargas. Remember, I introduced you two at church last month? She runs a party planning business out of her home and she said she could squeeze us in this weekend. Not to mention Janice Kilroy, who owes me a huge favor, is willing to cater all the food.”
Sam leaned back in her chair, obviously not interested. “Are you talking about the woman who thought chartreuse would be a good color for bridesmaid’s dresses?”
Did anyone look good in yellow-green?
Sarah patted Sam’s hand. “She likes to think outside the box, but don’t worry, I already told her I wanted . . . I mean, we wanted pale green, black, and white.”
“Ma. I said I was thinking about those colors, but it doesn’t matter now because—”
“It matters to me. I’m your mother and I wanted to share in this time with you.”
Was she going to cry? We all looked alarmed.
“I was looking forward to celebrating your special day, and so were all the people who love you and watched you grow up, including those around this table.” Sarah knew how to lay it on thick. Some tears did appear.
“Amen,” said Mimsy.
Even Joseph was nodding.
Sam looked to Reed for a lifeline. Before Reed could respond, Sarah plunged the shovel of shame deeper into the pit of guilt. “How did your parents feel about it, Reed? You’re their only child.”
Reed rubbed his neck. “They weren’t exactly happy—I mean, they are thrilled Samantha is my wife, but—” He stopped himself before he went down the rabbit hole.
It was too late, though, Sarah’s shovel just lengthened. “See how important this is? This could bring us all together.”
Reed’s expression said he had nothing after that.
“Ma,” Sam sighed, “maybe we can do something over Christmas break.”
“The holidays are a terrible time; everyone will be busy with company and family parties. Let’s just do it now. I promise you will hardly have to lift a finger.”
“This coming weekend is in six days. That’s insane.” Sam wasn’t giving in. “We can’t even get invitations out that fast, and where would we have it?”
“Oh, honey, get with the times. We’ll use Headnovel.”
The nephews busted into gut-splitting laughter.
“You mean Facebook?” Jimmy could hardly breathe that out, he was laughing so hard.
“Don’t laugh at your grandma.” Sarah sat up dignified. “Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Even if we could get the word out and Reed’s parents are available to come, we still don’t have a place.”
“We could host.” Avery wagged her eyebrows at Sam. Avery loved a good party.
Sam wasn’t pleased with the suggestion. She returned Avery’s offer with an I-thought-you-were-on-my-side glare.
Sarah turned toward Avery with a bright smile for her favorite daughter-in-law. “That’s sweet of you, honey, but your place isn’t big enough.”
Avery’s face fell while James forcibly pushed back his chair. “I think I might have left the grill on,” he grumbled on his way out of the dining room.
Peter and I shared a concerned look. James’s reaction was only validating our suspicions that something wasn’t right. But there Avery sat with a brave smile like nothing was off. Except her smooth skin—which looked like it belonged on a twenty-year-old, not someone in her forties—was blotched and she was blinking as if she was staving off tears.
Peter started to whisper in my ear, “I’m going to go check on—”
He didn’t get to finish because somehow we had made it through the first circle of hell only to find ourselves at the cusp of not the second, but more like the tenth. Dante’s nine circles had nothing on us.
I vaguely heard Sarah say, “I already have a place in mind,” when a loud ringing in my ear occurred. Or was that the loud collective gasp that escaped every person at the table? The most unexpected words came spewing out of Sarah’s mouth, albeit stilted, as if even she couldn’t believe what she was suggesting.
“I think it would be . . . love . . . ly if we had it at Peter’s house . . . and Delanie’s.” I was an afterthought she obviously was hoping to forget. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time she said my name. She usually only used pronouns or unflattering adjectives when referring to me. But none of that mattered now because I was reeling in shock. Peter’s dazed eyes said he was too. For a moment, all we could do was stare at each other in disbelief, but Sarah interrupted us.
“What do you think?” she asked, batting her eyes.
What did I think? I thought she was out of her mind. It was only a few days ago that she was disparaging our home and accusing me of selling drugs and my body to pay for it.
Thankfully Peter spoke before I broke my new no swearing on Sunday rule in honor of my husband.
“Ma, as much as we would like to help celebrate Sam and Reed,” he gave the newlyweds a pressed smiled, they in return looked at a loss for what to say. Everyone seemed entranced by the undiscovered tenth circle of hell we’d found ourselves in. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he continued. “We haven’t furnished it yet and our backyard is going in this week, so—”
“That’s what makes it perfect.” Sarah was giving us that unnatural, or was that unholy, smile? “We can rent cocktail tables and chairs.” She had obviously thought this through.
“Bethany said that receptions at homes are all the rage now.”
“Ma.” Sam came out of the fog we all seemed to be in. “If that’s the case, we can have it at our home or not at all. We don’t want to put anyone out.”
“Honey, you can’t host your own reception; that would be tacky. Besides, your brother’s house is bigger, and we wouldn’t have to move any furniture out since they don’t have any.” That sounded like a slight there at the end.
“Ma, Delanie works from home, so—”
“We would only need to come in and take a few measurements during the week and set up on Friday,” Sarah interrupted Peter again. “Besides, it would give us the opportunity,” she made herself look at me, “to get to know each other better.” She immediately reached for her wine and downed the remainder of the glass. I swore she swished a little of it in her mouth like she was rinsing out dirty words.
If only I was still drinking—ever since we started trying to have a baby I’d given it up. What I wouldn’t do for a margarita right now.
Before I could string two words together, Joseph changed the game entirely. “I like it. It’s exactly what this family needs.”
We needed it like blunt force trauma to the head.
Chapter Thirteen
“Crazy day, huh?” Peter stroked my hair.
I pulled the sheet around us and sighed against his bare chest. “What did we agree to?” The better question was how did I get talked into it? The man who I shared my bed with and his father were the main culprits. Two good men full of unrealistic ideals and a desire to keep their family together.
The Secretive Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 2) Page 10