“Well, I guess that’s that,” I say, totally trying a little reverse psychology.
“What’s what?”
“You’ll have to start looking at other girls. The kind who like that sort of thing.”
He gives me a dubious frown. “Mom, I’m not four. I know what you’re doing.”
Shoot.
My cheeks warm. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah, you do.” He stands and heads back to the door. “I just needed some time to cool off. I’m going back out there. I might stop wearing the lip ring and eyeliner, but I’m not giving up my skateboard. And that’s final.”
Yes!
If I had a dime for every Christmas present I’ve ever gotten from my kids, I’d be… really poor. But for some reason, this year, they put their money together and bought me a DVD edition of Gone With the Wind with special features, including interviews.
My children know it’s my all-time favorite movie, so it makes it that much sweeter—that they made sure what they bought for me would be something I love. That speaks more to me than if they’d let their granny pick out something and put my name on it as usual. Although I always appreciate the sentiment, this is different. It proves that God is healing our family.
Christmas morning leaves me all weepy. Tommy is so excited over his skateboard that he actually hugs me and kisses my cheek. Then tells me I’m getting skinny. If he’d have told me that a week ago, I’d have sprung for the board that cost twenty-five dollars more. But how was I to know?
Ari laughs when she opens her book I Kissed Dating Goodbye, which I bought mostly as a joke and before she got back together with Patrick. She does love the diamond stud earrings she’s begged for each of the last three years. Not only did I not have the money for such an expensive gift before, I didn’t think she was grown up enough. Things have changed, and that was a little last-minute gift.
The little boys got their usual games, toy guns, remote-control cars, and books.
The morning goes by way too fast and I want to hold on to every minute I can. I fix blueberry pancakes and link sausages. I’ve been planning the Christmas breakfast for a month, and I’m so excited I can barely contain it as I call them into the kitchen.
“Wow.” Ari’s eyes are wide. “Mom, this is great.”
My heart swells as they scarf it all down in fifteen minutes flat. “That was good, Mom,” Shawny says with his chipmunk-cheek smile. “We should have that every Christmas morning.”
Tommy pipes in, agreeing with his brother for the first time that I can remember in recent memory. “Yeah, we could have a tradition.”
Jake frowns and rains on our parade. “I don’t like blueberries.”
Oh, well, can’t win them all.
“Then maybe I should make you some chocolate-chip pancakes next year.”
A grin splits his mouth, making it clear he did not receive his two front teeth for Christmas.
Finally, at ten till eleven, I give a reluctant sigh.
“It’s time?” Ari is getting pretty good at reading me.
I nod, trying to hold back tears. Rick has always conceded Christmas Day to me. I don’t know why. Guilt, maybe? Because he wasn’t married? Who knows why? But this year, he’s decided to take his court-ordered holiday. It’s only fair. I know that.
But that doesn’t make it any easier.
We pile into the van and as if by unspoken agreement between themselves, the kids give an effort to contain their excitement, as there’s no way I can hide my dread over spending Christmas Day without them.
“You could stay and have dinner with us, Mom,” Ari says, breaking the silence. “You know Darcy wants you to.”
Yeah, I know she does. I’ve told her no at least ten times. “This year you need to be a family with Dad and Darcy. Without me.”
“You’re not running off, are you, Mom?”
I nearly swallow my gum. “Tommy! Good grief, where’d you get such an idea?”
He shrugs. “Just making sure those pancakes weren’t a guilt breakfast. Losing all that weight, wearing makeup. I don’t know. It just seems like you’ve got something going on. Like a trip to Mexico to get married or something.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. The kid is too clever for his own good.
“Hey, I told you I’m turning over a new leaf. Besides, I would never get married in Mexico.”
“Mommy’s going to marry Sadie’s daddy, anyway. Aren’t you, Mom?”
At Jakey’s question, a tension fills the air.
“You mean Lewis?” Tommy’s voice is filled with a hostility I don’t really get. “There’s no way I’m living in the same house with that little brat of his.” Ah, now I get it.
“My teacher? That’s not a good idea, Mom. Conflict of interest.”
Good grief, Shawn. “Where’d you learn ‘conflict of interest’?”
“I’m not a baby.” The child has no idea how smart he is. It’s rather disturbing.
“So answer the question, Mom,” Ari says. Partly, I know, as a joke. But partly because I can see she’s starting to put two and two together.
“I’m not marrying anyone.”
“Never, ever?” Jakey asks.
Well, never say “Never, ever.”
“I promise there would be a family discussion before something like that ever happened. And besides, I’m not dating anyone.”
“Do you want to date Mr. Lewis?” Shawn asks.
“That is my private business, Mr. Conflict of Interest.”
We are pulling into Rick and Darcy’s circle drive and for the first time since they married, I don’t feel a bit of jealousy. Hmm. Methinks perhaps I’ve come to a little intersection we like to call the Building Blocks of Character Development. Next I’ll pull onto a road named Moving on with My Life.
“Are you going to be okay all by yourself, Mom?” Ari asks after the boys have bounded toward the house and are already descending upon poor Darcy. The kids are maniacs on Christmas Day. Between the excitement of new gifts, the sugar-filled, carb-loaded blueberry pancakes they had for breakfast, and all the chocolate Santas they found in their stockings and ate before breakfast, she’s going to have quite the time trying to corral them.
“I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Ari’s just closing her door when I see Rick coming to greet me. You’ve changed, I keep reminding myself. You can face him now in a spirit of forgiveness.
I watch his ears and nose go red from the cold. I roll down my window. “Merry Christmas.” It’s halfhearted at best. But I’m putting forth this effort. Faith in action. Determination to heal from my wounded past.
His eyebrows lift as he returns my greeting. “Did you have a good morning with the kids?”
“Try to beat my gift to Tommy.” I give him a cheeky grin.
“You got him the skateboard, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
He tosses back his head and gives a hardy laugh. “Claire, so did I!”
“No!”
“I guess we’d better confer from now on.”
To his credit, he doesn’t mention that he’s tried to reach me at least a dozen times in the past month. And no way I’m bringing it up.
“So, I’ll let you get in and enjoy your day with the kids.”
“Uh, Claire. Before you go. We want you to come in for a minute. We have something to tell you.”
Oh, Lord. Here it comes. I open my mouth to take a rain check, but his hand covers mine.
“Please.”
I gather a steadying breath and nod. “Let me roll up the window.” He steps back as I do so. I kill the motor.
As I follow him into the house, I try to rationalize. Maybe they’re not going to tell me Darcy’s pregnant. Maybe they’re building a new house and given my reaction to this one, they’ve decided they need to break it to me gently. Perhaps they’re moving to Indiana or Chicago or anywhere besides here.
Darcy is radiant as we step inside. She is w
earing a gorgeous red-silk pantsuit with a poinsettia-decorated scarf. I look down at my jeans and Rudolph sweatshirt, and once again I feel like the nerdy chubbo next to the gorgeous cheerleader.
She hugs me enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas! I made apple-cinnamon muffins. Do you want one?”
“No thanks.” I am finding it difficult to muster any responding enthusiasm. “We had blueberry pancakes.”
Her expression drops a bit. “Oh, then the kids probably won’t want any either.”
Oh, why do I always love her so much? Forced laughter finds its way to my lips. “These are my kids, remember? They’ll find a place for your muffins. You’ll be lucky if there are any left for you and Rick.”
She smiles at this and I feel Rick squeeze my elbow. Okay, hands off, bud. I move away oh-so-subtly. I have to congratulate myself for not recoiling and jerking from his thank-you gesture.
“Well, then. What’s this you need to tell me?”
“Let’s go into Rick’s study.” Darcy leads the way, her heels clicking on the ceramic tile.
Once we get inside the room, she moves in close to her husband. Her husband. Rick slides his arm around her and draws her ever so slightly closer. I steel myself.
Darcy’s eyes fill with tears. “Claire, I’m pregnant. We’re telling the kids today, but we wanted you to know firsthand from us.”
The tunnel is dark, and even though I knew what was coming, I still find myself sliding toward that place of obscurity. My heart is racing. I drop to the closest seat, which happens to be Rick’s office chair.
“Claire?” Rick moves toward me. “You okay?”
I hold up my palm and he halts.
The shock is wearing off and anger has risen to the surface. The past couple of weeks, I’ve known she was probably pregnant. I’ve waited for the announcement and imagined my cool and levelheaded reaction. But faced with the reality that Rick is getting a second chance at a great life with a beautiful, perfect wife and most likely a perfect kid, I blow a gasket. I stand. “Congratulations, Rick.” The venom flies from my tongue as everything on my mind spews into the room. “It isn’t enough that you ruined one family. Here’s a good idea. Why don’t you start another one?”
I turn to Darcy. “Enjoy him until you lose your figure, honey. Because that’s about how long he’ll stick around. One consolation. At least you’ll have a baby to love. And the child support will make a nice little nest egg for Junior’s college tuition.”
I fly past the black-leather chair and maneuver around the couple as they stare, dumbfounded. I yank open the door and beeline for the exit. If I don’t get out of this house . . .
“Claire Everett, you stop right there!”
I do. Because I’ve never heard Darcy’s voice trembling with anger and outrage. I whip around. She stands before me, her face bright red, tears streaming down her face.
“Take it easy, sweetheart,” Rick says.
She turns on him. “Don’t tell me to take it easy. Will you go away and let me deal with this? Your kids are waiting to spend Christmas with you. Go feed them muffins and stop hovering over me.”
I think Rick’s more shocked than I am. Regardless, he meekly obeys her order and disappears toward the kitchen.
“Well?” Inside I’m feeling nerves I never knew I possessed. I don’t like being confronted. I do the confronting. I turn to mush when it’s reversed.
“I know it’s hard for you to be the one who got left behind. The one who was cheated on. The woman scorned. But once and for all: I DID NOT COMMIT ADULTERY.”
Sheesh. Tell the whole neighborhood.
“I know that, Darcy.” I’m proud of my calm response, spoken in an even tone that will elicit a calm exchange from her.
“You know, but you don’t act like it’s true. You treat me like the other woman. I’m not the other woman. I am married to the man I love, baggage and all.”
Hey. Now I’m baggage? Besides, that wasn’t the calm reply I was going for with that whole “even tone” thing.
“I’ve tried and tried to be your friend. I’ve been nice to you, loving to your kids, gone the extra mile because I understood your feelings. I knew you were hurting and I wanted you to know that it’s okay.
“Do you know how difficult it is to follow in your footsteps, Claire? You were the childhood sweetheart. The mother of his four kids. The smart woman who worked two jobs so you could bank every cent of child support. The gritty ex-wife who not only tried to write a book but finished it even while working so hard. And then you even got published. For the love of Pete, Claire, who does that? The one who is now a bestselling author. A local celebrity. Do you know what I’m considered? The doctor’s arm piece. Eye candy. The stupid blonde midlife-crisis bimbo. And you have the audacity to reduce my wonderful pregnancy to something less than the single most amazing event in the history of the universe?”
I can’t even speak. I can’t defend myself. I haven’t got a leg to stand on. How can I explain to her that it’s Rick, not Darcy, that I’m angry at. That if Darcy were married to anyone else, I’d be the first one to congratulate her on being pregnant. The fact is, I just can’t stand the thought of his happiness when I’m all alone, raising the four kids we had together before he walked out. Darcy sees none of this inner struggle. And now that she’s finally letting it all hang out, I find she’s not quite finished.
“Do you think I don’t feel hurt? All my life I’ve been the bastard child. The result of my mother’s affair with a married man. Oh, yes. You didn’t know that, did you? I grew up in a town with two thousand residents. My mother was a wild child, my dad a local realtor. He wanted excitement, she wanted love. He got what he wanted. She didn’t. She got pregnant and ostracized. I never had a chance in that town. So don’t tell me I don’t understand. Every time I passed my father’s wife on the street, I saw the pain in her eyes. Pain that I caused her because every time she saw me, she remembered what her husband did. I see that pain in your eyes every time I look at you, too.
“But I am not to blame here. I didn’t even know Rick until you two had been divorced for three years. Why can’t you just give me the chance to love my husband, love my sweet baby, and yes, Claire, love you.”
I start to speak this time. But Darcy doesn’t give me a chance.
She stomps past me and opens the door. “I want you to leave my house, Claire. Until you can treat me with some respect, you are not welcome here.”
My jaw drops. My stomach churns. I step outside with my head high.
The door slams shut behind me. Time stands still as I wait on the porch, trying to make sense of what just happened.
I hear Darcy’s heartbroken wail on the other side of the wooden door that separates us. My own tears form and come fast. I make it to my van amid sobs, crank the motor, and drive away. I stop at the park a block away. In the parking lot, in front of a deserted pond, I weep. I weep for Darcy, for her father’s wife, for her mother, for me. For all the women of the world who have been the victims of infidelity. I cry for hours. It’s Christmas Day, and while the rest of the world celebrates family and friends, I’m all alone.
28
It’s lightly snowing as I pull into my driveway. Normally, I adore a soft It’s a Wonderful Life-ish snow. But right now my head is aching and my nose is stuffy from the tears. Not much could lighten my mood.
The last thing I want to do when I walk inside my house is talk on the phone. It’s ringing. I try to ignore it, but even in my state of depression I can’t resist the urge to peek at caller ID.
Greg.
“Claire? What’s wrong? Your voice sounds funny.”
“Just an emotional morning.”
“Sounds like you need to come be with people. Mom and Sadie and I want you to come down and have Christmas dinner with us.”
I feel my eyes well up again. How sweet of them to think of me.
“Greg, I’m so sorry. I would love to any other day, but I need to be alone right now. Okay?”
/> “I understand. If you want to come by for dessert later, you’re more than wanted.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. Good-bye.”
I hang up and flop onto the couch. I look around my messy living room. The wrapping paper and gifts the kids had to leave behind are still lying all over the place. The remnants of our morning together.
Anger shoots through me. I hate that I had to give up my babies today. I hate that I don’t have one family member to have Christmas dinner with. I’m so angry with Rick at this moment I could just yell. So guess what? I do. “I HATE THIS, GOD!”
I picture them sitting around the dining room table, Darcy radiant and perfect, Rick carving the turkey or ham or whatever they’re having. The black-and-white TV sitcom family. “Gee whiz” and “Oh, golly.”
I kick at a pile of wrapping paper. What’s the point of even trying to make a decent home? I can’t give my kids what Rick can. Not anymore. They’re going to have a little brother or sister now. Are they even going to want to live with me when they can be a family with two parents and a baby over there? I wouldn’t put it past Darcy to go get a puppy. From the Humane Society, of course.
The Christmas decorations are really bugging me all of a sudden. The kids are staying at Rick and Darcy’s until New Year’s. So what’s the point in leaving the tree up? And it’s not like I really have much else to do.
In a split-second Grinchy decision, I stomp up to the attic. The kids tossed everything everywhere. No rhyme or reason to how these decoration boxes are thrown around. I head to the corner of the attic to grab first the boxes for the ornaments. Under the boxes I find my old wooden rocking chair. The one my mother handed down to me when I was pregnant with Ari.
I drop the boxes and pull the chair from the corner. There are some scars from four babies’ worth of use. I can’t resist the urge to sit. Memories move across my mind like a slideshow as I rock back and forth. I wrap my arms around me and longing washes over me in waves. A longing for that American Dream life I’d so hoped for as a girl in love with the captain of the football team. I almost had it all. Almost.
Leave It to Claire Page 25