Fade to Us

by Julia Day

  “Wow. You’ve got it bad.”

  “I know.”

  “If it’s any comfort, I think he has it bad, too. I’m happy for you, honey.” She sighed. “Jeff hasn’t figured out yet that you’re dating Micah, which is just as well. He wouldn’t be able to keep it from Natalie.”

  “I’m hoping the issue won’t come up. There are only two weeks until Micah moves home.” Which was something else I couldn’t let myself think about. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

  “I like the direction your relationship with Natalie is heading, and I think you know you’re putting that at risk by hiding this from her. But I’ll respect your wishes.” She patted my leg. “My turn. The league supervisor called me to ask if I’m having problems with any teams.” Dismay echoed in her voice.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Someone must have filed a complaint.”

  “Finley?”

  “He would know better than to do that. So maybe his coach. Or a fan.”

  Wow. My mom prided herself on how fair and objective she was, and she should because that was the reality. I might be biased, but she didn’t make many bad calls. “What does it mean?”

  “Nothing, really. They get regular reports from coaches, and I suspect mine are good, but it’s still something that’s noticed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Shrugging, she merged onto the off-ramp for Mei’s neighborhood. My mother would stay in the car when I went to get Natalie. Although Mom and Mei were civil, they’d both been married to Jeff. That tension never went away. Now that I knew Natalie’s mom didn’t like me, the tension would be there for me, too.

  Mei and her husband, Terry, lived in a white brick house near Duke University, in a neighborhood of old mansions with manicured lawns and massive trees. Mom pulled into their circular driveway but didn’t cut the engine. I hopped out and stood at the front door, waiting in the dark for someone to respond to the doorbell.

  The porch light went on as Terry answered the door. “Hello, Brooke. Come in. Natalie is reluctant to leave.”

  “Thanks.” I trailed him into their den. Natalie had curled into a ball on a recliner, the family’s schnauzer wedged against her chest. Her grandfather sat in the chair beside her, watching some unfamiliar sporting event on the TV. Her mother, brother, and grandmother weren’t around.

  “Ready to go?”

  She wouldn’t look at me. “No.”

  “Mom’s tired and wants to get home. Can you make it easy on her and come on?”

  Natalie sighed loudly and slid from the chair. After rummaging around for her shoes, she brushed past me into the foyer.

  I turned to Terry and found him staring after Natalie, mouth open.

  “Didn’t expect that?” I asked.

  “I’m shocked.”

  “She loves being in Oklahoma! She won’t do anything that might jeopardize getting to her next rehearsal.” I stepped around him. “Good-bye.”

  When I got in the car, Natalie was already buckled up in the back. I smiled at her, hoping to distract her from her grump. “Did you take any photos of Luke?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because I’d like to see them.”

  She smacked my shoulder with her phone.

  I swiped through her photo gallery. “He’s adorable.”

  “Yes, he is. He has lots of dark hair, which people mention all the time, although I don’t see why. Bald babies can be cute, too.”

  “I agree with everything you said.” Luke was asleep in most of the photos, but sometimes not. “Whenever you held him, his eyes were open.”

  “Mama says he likes me, which is predictable. We share DNA. There has to be an echo of it, connecting us. Even though he senses it, they won’t bring him with them when they come to Azalea Springs. Nai Nai will stay behind to babysit Luke.”

  Wait. “Who’s coming to Azalea Springs?”

  “Mama said she wants to see one of my performances. Terry said he’d drive her down.”

  My mother shot me a concerned glance. Yeah, I was concerned, too. What if Mei wasn’t well enough to make the trip?

  “I will love it if they come.” Her hand appeared beside my face. “I’d like my phone now.”

  * * *

  We pulled into our driveway around midnight. Jeff awaited us at the door, lights blazing. Natalie dashed up the sidewalk and skidded to a stop next to him. She launched into a brain dump as they entered the house together.

  I waited until the front door was shut before turning to my mother. “What do you think about Mei coming down here?”

  “She probably believes that she can, but I worry that it’s more than she can handle. Jeff says that she’s been responding to her medications, although her days are inconsistent. I’d be concerned the stress of showing up on a bad day could set her back. How did she act tonight?”

  “I never saw her. They said she’d already gone to bed.”

  “I’d better tell Jeff, so he can be prepared. If Mei doesn’t make it to a show, it’ll be disastrous for Natalie.”

  Disastrous for us all.

  26

  A Moment to Breathe

  When Mom and I got home from church, there was a standoff in progress between father and daughter. If I’d thought it through, I could’ve guessed Natalie’s visit with her mother might stir her up. What I hadn’t realized was how much.

  “Sunday brunch is something we do together,” Jeff was saying as we walked in from the carport.

  “You can do it alone today.” She lifted her chin defiantly.

  “It’s not a choice, Natalie. It’s your responsibility.”

  “It was your responsibility before I came here. You don’t need my help.”

  “True, but I want it.”

  “Jeff, we don’t—” my mom started.

  His glare cut her off. Reaching into a cabinet, he brought down a stack of plates. “Set the table, Natalie.” When she didn’t move, he said, “Now.”

  Her lower lip rolled out mutinously. She huffed twice and snatched the plates, slapping them onto the table with punishing energy.

  He gave us a hard squint, and we took our seats. A platter with pancakes and bacon appeared.

  “Sit, Natalie.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then you can watch the rest of us eat.”

  That had to be one of the most uncomfortable meals of my life, and the most unbending I’d ever seen Jeff with his daughter. He ate his food steadily, efficiently, and silently. Mom took tiny bites and slurped down three cups of coffee. I tried to open a conversation about the church service, but abandoned the effort after a sentence or two.

  Natalie sat beside me, hunched over, chin to chest, radiating misery.

  The instant my stepfather put down his fork, she spoke. “Can I go now?”

  “Yes.”

  He’d hardly formed the closing consonant before she was gone, her feet pounding up the stairs.

  “Jeff—” my mom started.

  “Not now, Jill.”

  “But I think we should—”

  “Watch it. I’m at my limit.” He ground his teeth in frustration. “While we’re on the subject of how I treat my daughter, why is it that I can never please you? You’re pissed when I’m too hard on her, and you’re pissed when I’m not.”

  “I’m a trained educator, Jeff. When I suggest that your problems with her are a matter of timing, I might know what I’m talking about.”

  “And I might be making mistakes with her, but I’m doing the best I can. I need you to respect that.”

  Mom’s chair scraped against the floor. She tossed down her napkin and stalked into the utility room. The side door slammed.

  “Can I say something?” I asked him.

  “No, Brooke.” He shot out of his chair and out of the kitchen. The side door slammed again.

  Guess that left the dishes to me. It would give me time to wonder how temporary the tension between them was. And what I should d
o about it.

  I stacked the dishes in the sink and added water and soap. A movement in the backyard caught my attention. Unease prickled over my skin at the sight of my mom gesturing at my stepfather, words pouring from her mouth while he towered over her, hands on hips. Looking away, I prayed that Natalie hadn’t seen or heard them, too. The last thing she needed was yet another thing to stress over.

  After I finished the dishes, I grabbed the newest Hatcher Khan mystery and headed to the hammock. Flipping open at the turned-down corner, I read.

  “Jill and Dad had a fight.”

  I looked up from my book. I must’ve been deeply engrossed because I hadn’t heard Natalie approach. “I know.”

  “Could you hear any of it?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

  “I did want to. It was about me. They don’t agree about how strict to be. It went back and forth so much that I can’t tell what they actually plan to do.”

  “I’m really glad I didn’t hear that.”

  She rubbed her fingers over her knuckles as she frowned at her bare feet. “How long will they stay mad at each other?”

  “Not long.”

  She paced around the oak trees. I closed the book and clutched it to my chest. This conversation wouldn’t be ending soon. Not that I blamed her for wanting to cover the topic. It concerned me too, although not as much as it did Natalie. I’d had nine months to witness this stuff.

  “Do they often argue when I’m not here?”

  “Depends on how you define often.”

  “Every week?”

  “More like a couple of times per month.” The frequency had increased since Natalie moved in.

  “Mama says that she and Dad never fought when they were married. I would think that no arguing would be a good thing.”

  “You argue over things you care about. If your parents weren’t arguing, maybe that’s because they stopped caring.”

  “Good point.” She paused from her pacing. “Clearly, they stopped caring, since they divorced. It changed fast. They had a whispered argument one day at dinner. At the end, Dad hugged me, and his eyes were red and watery. Then he left, and he never lived with us again.”

  “You remember that?”

  “I was seven years old. Of course, I remember. It was the worst day of my life, and I’ve had plenty of bad ones.” She came to stand beside me, worry creasing her brow. “Dad drove away in his truck after he and Jill ended their fight.”

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  “Where do you think he went?”

  “Probably driving around. It’s his way of cooling down.”

  “Should we do anything?”

  I shook my head with confidence.

  “Do you really believe it’ll be okay?”

  “I can’t be positive, but I want them to be fine so that’s the story I’m sticking to.”

  She blinked and barked out a laugh. “We have a major commonality.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Disregarding things that we don’t want to face.”

  * * *

  I spent Sunday afternoon editing the newsletter for the camp. Once Elena had given me access to the information, I’d formatted it and added some candid photos that I’d snapped, but it was still too boring. I emailed Lisa, suggesting a “Director’s Corner”—just a few sentences to let parents know how the show was doing. I’d give her until nine to respond before sending the newsletter.

  There was a bang at my door. Natalie’s version of a knock. She stuck her head in. “Dad wants to take us out for pizza.”

  “Did he say where?”

  “Bella Napoli.”

  “That’s in Fayetteville. It’ll be a bit of a drive. Does this mean the two of you have forgiven each other?”

  “He doesn’t have to be forgiven to take us out for pizza.”

  “I guess that’s true.” Hopefully, Mom and Jeff had patched things up. Pizza wouldn’t be fun if they hadn’t resolved their argument.

  “He says it’ll be a family meeting.”

  I groaned. “Oh, great.”

  “What? I like family meetings.” Natalie gestured for me to move. “How good is Bella Napoli?”

  “A miracle.” I closed my computer, slid off the bed, stuffed my feet into flip-flops, and chased her down the stairs.

  * * *

  Micah texted me while I was inside the pizza place.

  Call me

  I responded.

  Out with family

  Later?

  K

  What a strange contrast to brunch, because this was one of the nicest meals my family had experienced together. The food was delicious as always. Mom and Jeff were openly affectionate and whispering things that I was pretty glad I couldn’t hear. I hoped Miss Better-Ears-Than-You couldn’t hear either.

  Surprisingly, Natalie was the life of the party this evening. She shared the funniest observations about her visit home yesterday, and she was an excellent mimic.

  This was the way a family should be. Laughing and talking. Creating inside jokes and happy memories. If I’d ever been able to picture the ideal family moment, it would look like our ordinary pizza night.

  As the meal continued, though, my happiness became edged with guilt. I loved the family we were right now. I loved the Natalie we had tonight, and I hated lying to her about Micah. But I hadn’t found the right opportunity to be honest, and I was beginning to wonder if I ever would.

  * * *

  By the time we got home, it was after ten. I ran up to my room, locked the door, and called Micah. “Hi,” I said when he answered.

  “Hey.” He sounded happy. “You busy?”

  “Some. Jeff asked me to create a photo gallery on his website, and I’m making a plan.”

  “When will you be done?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Can I come over?”

  My heart sank. “Now?”

  “Yes?”

  My feelings were jumbled into a sloppy mix of confusion, regret, and dread. I couldn’t handle Micah. “Not tonight. It’s too late.”

  “I’m … really disappointed.”

  “Why?”

  “Time’s running out.”

  I slumped on the bed and took a moment to breathe through the reminder. There had been too many of them this weekend, and I’d rather put it from my mind. “Time was running out before we started.”

  “Fine. Later.” He ended the call.

  I plugged my phone into its power cord and turned off the lamp. Without bothering to change clothes, I stared out the window at the moon and hoped for sleep to overtake my churning thoughts.

  27

  My Best Imitation

  With only ten more days until opening night, we had our first complete run-through of the production. It was harrowing. Missed lines, missed cues, and too much giggling. I kept sneaking peeks at Lisa, wondering if she was panicked by what a total mess it was, but her expressions ranged from calm to thoughtful. Never upset.

  I cornered Micah during morning group, which today doubled as intermission. “Is it always this bad during the first full try?”

  “You thought that was bad?” His gaze never left the guys in his group, who were currently putting on a silly skit that the other campers were finding hilarious.

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Just the opposite. I think it’s moving along well.” He frowned. “Is Mom disturbed?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t worry.” He laid his hand on my waist.

  “Micah.” I jerked away from him.

  “Right. I’ll go back to being your secret.” He returned his attention to the skit.

  I hesitated, remorse and yearning battling for supremacy. Then I saw Natalie in the corner, laughing with her group. The distress of her return from Mei’s had fled. Today’s Natalie fit in, and that’s the way it had to stay.

  * * *

  After a quick chat with Elena, I returned to the stage, stopping when I f
ound Micah in the wings. Instead of getting out of my way, he blocked my path. “Natalie says she’s got an appointment in Lillington with your parents tonight.”

  “Yeah, they do. Why?”

  “You said you’re creating some media for your stepdad’s website. Are you planning to use any video?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but I guess I could.”

  “Why don’t I bring over my Mac? We could experiment with a few things and see what you think.”

  That was an idea worth considering. Micah would do a much better job of producing video with a Mac.

  Oh, who was I kidding? We’d have alone time. “I would love that.”

  He glanced around. Other than us, the area was empty and quiet. Sliding a hand to my neck, he bent over me. “We haven’t kissed since Saturday.”

  “True.” I pressed closer to him, mesmerized by the look on his face.

  “May I?” He touched his lips to mine in an all-too-brief kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you.” Something dark teased at the corner of my heart, but I ignored it. This moment was sweet, and I would claim it in peace.

  * * *

  Mom and Jeff picked up Natalie after camp and left for the psychologist appointment in Lillington. Micah assured them that he could give me a ride home.

  It was quiet in the arts center without the campers. While Lisa wrapped up a phone call, Micah and I were in the campers’ lounge. I was sorting through the snack cabinet, throwing away anything that had expired. Micah was sitting on the counter, getting in my way.

  “Hey,” I said, nudging his leg. “You’re blocking the drawer.”

  He scooted over a couple of inches.

  Not good enough. “What’ll it cost me to get you to move?”

  “Easy.” He leaned forward until our lips touched. Clung. Held.

  There was a rap at the door and Lisa strolled in. “Really. Guys,” she said with a chuckle.

  “How can we help you, Mom?”

  “An arts council board member has volunteered to print the playbills. Can you drop off some samples at her shop? It closes at seven.”

  “Sure.” He kissed a spot below my ear and whispered, “I’m getting down. You’d better move.”

  “Got it.” I backed away and grabbed my purse.