The Rattle Box: A Baxter Boys Novel

by Jane Charles

  “Coffee?” Then she shakes her head. “No. Not coffee. What do teens drink?”

  I hold up my cup. “Coffee.”

  Kelsey smiles or is it a grimace before she grabs a mug and begins to pour from the pot. Her hands are shaking, and for the first time, I realize she isn’t as cool and collected as I thought.

  “Let’s go into the living room. We can watch for your mom from there.”

  Once again, I follow her into another room. That’s all I’m doing, following? I should say something. I had all kinds of speeches in my head while I was riding the subway, but I can’t remember any of them right now

  This wasn’t thought through, but I’m here now, and I need to make the best of it. As I walk through the living room, I glance over to a wall of pictures. Tons of family photos of her kids, some of the family as a whole, but what makes me pause are the pictures of me.

  My heart skips a beat, and I walk over. They aren’t the photos like she has of her kids, but Kelsey has framed articles from the paper where I’m pictured with one award or another. I am mixed in with the rest of her family, as if I am part of it.

  There’s only one real photo of me, and that’s the one that was taken when I was born.

  The one she swiped along with the rattle box. Beside it is a shadow box with sheet music, a pink rattle, a birth certificate and a picture of her and some guy. I take a step forward. They are so young.

  “Is that my dad?”

  “Yeah,” she says coming up beside me. Tears are in her eyes, and my earlier anger starts to slip away.

  Kelsey walks to a cabinet, opens a drawer and takes something out before coming back to me. “I had a copy made before it started to fade so you would have one too.”

  My eyes mist as I run my fingers over the face of my dad. The man who didn’t even know I existed but would have wanted me. “He’s handsome.”

  “He was.” She sighs and then clears her throat. “So, you found the letters.”

  Nothing like cutting right to the heart of the matter. “Last week.”

  She nods and walks to the blue and yellow plaid couch. “Come sit with me.”

  I do as she asks even though I’m a little too anxious to sit. I was so pissed coming here, and I’m having a really hard time holding onto that anger.

  Sinking down beside her, I sip from my coffee and try to put my thoughts in order. “I found them last week. I was grounded, and one of my punishments was cleaning the house from top to bottom.”

  “What did you do to get grounded?”

  “I was ticked when you wouldn’t take me as a student, so I left the competition with my best friend, Peyton. We were gone like two hours and freaked our teachers and chaperones out.”

  “You shouldn’t have left the campus,” she chastises.

  I almost tell her that I already have a mother and don’t want to hear it from her too, but stop myself. “I got suspended for three days, but then I got in more trouble.”

  Kelsey frowns. “How, if you were grounded?”

  My face heats. I want her to like me and not think I’m a problem kid or something like that, but I’ve already told her I was in trouble. “Peyton had tickets to see Christian Sucato. I’d never seen him perform, and I couldn’t pass that up.”

  Her lips quirk.

  “I snuck out, but it was so worth it. He is so freaking awesome.”

  Now she’s biting her bottom lip as if she’s trying to keep from smiling.

  Then I remember what Peyton said about the Christian she went to school with. What if wasn’t still a “what-if”. “Do you know him?”

  “Christian Sucato?”

  I nod.

  “Yes. He’s a very good friend.”

  Oh. My. God! “Is he the Christian who went to high school with you? Peyton wanted to think so, but I never really thought it was possible.”

  “He is.”

  Peyton is going to die when she finds this out. And, she’s going to be so jealous.

  “I even played the keyboards for a couple of his earlier recordings. Once when he was still with a band and once when he started off on his own.”

  My jaw drops. I have every one of his records, from the very beginning. Now I’m going to have to go through them to see where she’s listed. This is so freaking cool. And proof that there can be a future in music, especially when your mom is Mrs. Dosek and her friend is Christian Sucato.

  “I met him at the event. Peyton introduced us, and it was like he recognized me or something.”

  “He probably did. He certainly knows your name and has been in this house enough to see the pictures.”

  This is so surreal.

  “Do you hate me?” Kelsey finally asks.

  Talking about Christian Sucato was the easy stuff. The rest is hard. “No.”

  “Do you understand?” Tears flood her eyes.

  If I’m going to have a relationship with my mom, if it’s allowed, it’s going to be an honest one. Being honest with my adoptive mom is not always easy. She doesn’t get me. She doesn’t understand anything.

  I take a deep breath. “I found the box in the attic and looked in it. Mainly because it was the only thing not covered in dust. When I saw the letters, I started reading them.”

  “Did your mom know?”

  “Not until today.” And then I tell her about hiding and reading them. “I didn’t know I was Brandy. I felt sorry for the girl who wrote the letters. I couldn’t imagine being pregnant at 16. I just turned 17.”

  “I know,” she says with a smile.

  “I felt really bad for her, and I got why she did it. It didn’t click until the letters about me being sick.”

  “That was so hard,” she blows out.

  “That’s also when Alex showed up in your letters, and I figured his wife is the one I wanted lessons from.”

  Her face colors.

  “Then you married him and everything fell into place. I read the letters really fast then, and got more and more pissed.”

  Kelsey looks down into her cup of coffee as if she’s unable to look into my eyes.

  When I think about all those emails that went unanswered, and her rejecting me at the competition and my mom always being worried I had contact with Kelsey, I start getting pissed all over again.

  “Were you two in on it?”

  She jerks up. “What?”

  “My not getting lessons? You give them to everyone else who asks.”

  “Not everyone,” she argues, but her tone is more defeated than defensive.

  “Did you and Mom talk behind my back to make sure I couldn’t get lessons?”

  “Madison, the last time I talked to your mother was when you were six years old and she told me that the bone marrow transplant had worked. I wasn’t allowed to have contact with you, or even know anything about you. If you weren’t winning competitions, I still wouldn’t know anything.”

  “Why won’t you give me lessons?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?” I stand. “I’m your daughter!” I cry.

  Kelsey slowly comes to her feet and reaches for my hand. “Because you don’t belong to me.”

  Twenty-One

  I don’t know what I was expecting when I came here, but it wasn’t to be rejected again. It’s as if she just sucker punched me in the gut. Yanking my hand away, I run down the stairs and out of the brownstone. Kelsey is calling after me, but I’m not stopping. I don’t want to see or talk to her again.

  Mom and Dad must have just pulled up. They are getting out of the car, and Alex is there too. He must have dumped their sons off at this Dylan’s house, and came back. What was he supposed to do, protect Kelsey from me?

  “Take me home.”

  Mom and Dad share a look but don’t move.

  “I said, take me home.” I haven’t been this bratty since I was about thirteen, but I don’t care.

  “Madison!”

  Dad’s sharp tone stops me in my tracks. He isn’t the one who yells at me,
or doles out the discipline. That’s my mom. He gets irritated enough, but she’s the punisher.

  Well, except that one time I mouthed off, also when I was thirteen, and then slammed my bedroom door.

  He removed it from the hinges and left it that way for two months. I was too stubborn to apologize, and he was too stubborn to give in. That damn door would probably still be off if I hadn’t finally said I was sorry.

  “Maybe we should go inside and talk,” Alex says.

  “Why?” I hate that I’m about to cry. I want to be stronger and more mature, but it hurts. A lot. She gave me up, and I get that but even now she doesn’t want me around.

  All of those fucking letters were a lie.

  “She doesn’t want me.”

  “That’s not what I said, and it’s certainly not the truth,” Kelsey says as she comes down the steps toward me. “I said I can’t teach you right now.”

  “What’s the big deal?” I scream. “Am I not good enough for you?”

  Kelsey looks at my mom. “I made an agreement, and I must stick with it.” Then she focuses on me. “I promised never to contact you. It was the deal I made so you could have a full life with loving parents. Only you can come to me and allow me into your life, and you can’t do that until you are 18, if you even want to know me after today.”

  Right now I don’t care if I ever see her again. If she can’t help me now, then she’s useless to me in the future.

  “Maybe we should go inside,” Dad says.

  “What’s the point?”

  “Because I don’t want to watch you pout all day, ruining Thanksgiving.”

  “I’ll stay in my room.”

  “I can remove that door again, and if this attitude keeps up, I’ll do that as soon as I walk in the house.”

  I just glare at him but know better than to say anything.

  “You’ve read the letters, Madison. It’s time to talk about this.”

  “Can’t we talk at home?” I glare over my shoulder at Kelsey. “She doesn’t want me here, so why stay?”

  “I do want you, Madison. You aren’t listening.” She says.

  “Not enough to give me lessons and not until I’m 18.” I turn full around. “By then, I intend to forget you.”

  She straightens, her eyes wide with shock and mouth open, as if I struck her.

  “Madison Anne Cross, you will apologize right this instant.”

  What the hell? Mom is mad at me. She’s the one that kept Kelsey from me, now she’s siding with her?

  “Fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Have a nice Thanksgiving with your family.”

  “You’re not too old to take over my knee, young lady.”

  Crap, I have pissed Dad off. That’s next to impossible to do.

  Blowing out a sigh I let my head drop. “Sorry.”

  “Now, let’s go inside and talk about this like reasonable adults,” Dad says.

  The four of them head into the brownstone. I hang back.

  Mom turns to look at me.

  I smile. “I’m not an adult, remember?”

  “You’re certainly not acting like one. If you want your grounding to extend until spring break, then stay out here. Otherwise, get your butt in here.”

  Well, I don’t want to be grounded into infinity, and I am kind of being a brat. I know I am, but I’m still pissed. Or, maybe it’s disappointment. It’s a lot of both.

  “Can I get anyone coffee, tea, water? Mr. Dosek asks when we get inside.

  “Got anything stronger?” my dad grumbles.

  Alex laughs. “Come on up. We could both use something.”

  Dad glances back at Mom. “It’s time.”

  Tears fill her eyes. “I know.”

  Clearly, the two of them have been preparing for this day for a long time.

  “You got this, and you’ll see I’m right.”

  I watch as Dad and Alex head up the stairs as Mom and Kelsey walk into the music room. What the hell is he talking about? What does she have, besides control over my life?

  Twenty-Two

  “You’ve done well for yourself, Kelsey,” Mom says as she does a slow turn in what I guess is the library music room.

  “It was a fluke, really. All I did was play keyboards for a couple of records. Then, the musician who wrote the songs made it big, and I’ve gotten a huge chunk of the royalties.” She shrugs. “I still do.”

  It’s got to be the song she played with Christian Sucato. What else would it be?

  “So, you don’t teach at the high school anymore?” Mom is frowning as if confused.

  “How did you know I teach at the high school?” Kelsey asks slowly.

  “I’ve kept tabs on you. You did give birth to Madison, and I knew she’d want to meet you one day, and it was important to me to know what kind of a person you are.”

  Kelsey just nods. “I still teach.”

  “Why?” Mom holds out her arms, as if taking in the whole room. “When you have all of this? Teaching can’t pay well.”

  Leave it to Mom to be thinking about the career that feeds you.

  “Because I can. The kids at that school have nothing, barely a home. I was one of them. If I hadn’t been sent to Baxter, who knows what would have become of me. I’m just giving forward.”

  “Is that why you teach kids who can’t afford a teacher?” I find myself asking.

  “There are a ton of excellent teachers out here, Madison, and three times as many students that can pay for those lessons. I take the talented ones who have a passion for the piano or singing but have no money to make their dreams come true.” Her eyes lock with mine. “It’s important to pay it forward. For everything you are given, you must give more going forward.”

  “Isn’t that give back?” I ask. I’m pretty sure that is how the saying goes.

  “That’s what I used to think and had I kept thinking that way, I would have taught at Baxter, where it all started. Halfway through my student teaching, I realized the school where I was placed needed me ten times more than Baxter ever would, so I stayed when they offered me a job, and I haven’t left.”

  “Why did you keep all of this from me?” I demand of my mom, the adoptive mom.

  “At first you weren’t old enough to understand.”

  “I get that, when I was six.”

  “I was afraid if I told you before you were 18 that I’d lose you.”

  Shock hits me. Lose me? Where the hell was I going to go?

  “We argue all the time. You tell me that I don’t get you or understand.” Tears fill her eyes. “There’s times I think you hate me.”

  This isn’t funny, but I can’t help but smile. “I’m 17. I’m supposed to hate you, aren’t I?”

  She doesn’t smile back, and I get it for the first time, my mom is really worried. Maybe even hurt. Afraid. She raised me. Loved me and took care of me. Kelsey may have given birth to me, but she’s not my mom.

  “Then there is the music.”

  Crap, we aren’t going to argue about this again.

  “I can’t play an instrument. I can’t sing. Hell, I can’t even dance.” She glances up. “Just ask your father.” Then she’s looking at me and there is so much sadness in her eyes that I want to cry. “I don’t understand your passion for it, but Kelsey does. You both have that, and I knew that once the two of you met, you’d have something I’d never understand.”

  Mom’s tears are falling now.

  “She’d be able to teach you something I couldn’t. You’re going to be an adult next year, then graduate from high school. You won’t need me anymore.”

  Now I’m crying. “I’ll always need you. You’re my mom.” Kelsey may not want to hear that, but she did give me up.

  Kelsey wasn’t the one sitting next to me in the hospital for weeks on end while I was getting transfusions and then the bone marrow transplant. She wasn’t the one who distracted me each time someone wanted to test my blood. She didn’t sit and read with me for hours on end each ni
ght, or work on my spelling and math, just so I wouldn’t fall behind in school. She didn’t take me for ice cream when I was one of the few girls not asked to my first high school dance.

  My real mom, the one who raised me, is the one who taught me that it’s a person’s actions and words that matter and not the label in their clothing, last name or size of their bank account. She did buy our piano and found a way for me to have a secondhand cello and violin, even if she doesn’t get music. And, I expect her to be there when college gets hard, or I finally do have a boyfriend, when I marry and someday when I have kids.

  I can’t stand that she’s crying like this and have to hug her. Before I know it, we are both crying.

  “I can’t imagine not needing you,” I finally say and sniff.

  “It’s just that your brothers and sister have gone off to college, and I hardly ever see or talk to them. When you go, you’ll have those letters. Someone else to replace me. They don’t have that. I was afraid you’d have even less to do with me than they do.”

  When I get home and get my phone back, my older siblings are getting a call. I get that they are busy, but they need to come home more, and not just at holidays, and call of a hell of a lot more, and not just when they need money.

  “That’s why I’ve been pushing a community college. To keep you home just a little longer.” Mom pulls away and wipes her eyes. “It’s unfair to you. I know that, but I’m not ready to let go.”

  “Just because I want to go to a university doesn’t mean I’m going to leave for good. Just because I met my birth mom doesn’t mean I’ve found a replacement for you.”

  She smiles sadly. “That’s easy to say now, but you want to study music. She’s the one you will go to for advice.”

  “On music and those classes, but that doesn’t mean I’ll call her if things are crappy.”

  Her hand cradles my cheek. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you. And Dad, even when I’m mad, even if I act like I hate you sometimes.”