Nobody's Fool

by Sarah Hegger

  “It’s not my fault.” Emma’s eyes filled up like fish bowls and her lip quivered. “You can’t make this my fault.”

  “I’m not saying it’s your fault she’s pregnant.”

  Emma wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman of twenty-four, standing in front of her, crying tears aimed at drawing pity and feeling sorry for herself. This shit was getting old.

  “It’s nobody’s fault Portia is bipolar, but we can’t pretend everything is okay. You’re the one closest to her. You’re the one who would notice any deviation in her behavior. And you did notice, didn’t you, Emma?” Holly took a step closer, and still Emma wouldn’t look her in the eye. “You noticed and you said nothing. Why?”

  “Maybe I’m tired of it all.” Emma glared at Holly reproachfully.

  Holly wasn’t going on that guilt trip.

  “Maybe I’m sick of looking after Portia all the time. Always worrying about Portia, always watching Portia.” Emma heaved a large sniff and scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “What about me?” She held her hands out to Holly like a supplicant. “I matter. I count. Not just Portia. I want to live my own life without having to worry about my sister all the time.”

  It was bloody ironic. Holly threw back her head and laughed. “‘This is your life,’” she parroted back at her sister with relish. “Remember what you said to me?”

  “You’re being mean.” Emma’s tears continued to flow.

  “No, I’m not. We may not like it, but Portia’s disorder affects all of us. We have to shoulder our share of the burden.”

  “You’re being so unfair,” Emma wailed.

  She was being unfair? “None of this is fair.” Didn’t Emma get it? Fair had bugger all to do with it. “To any of us. It just is.”

  “You can’t expect me to babysit Portia for the rest of my life.”

  “Really?” Holly’s anger vibrated through her until she almost hummed like a tuning fork. “Because it seems to me that’s exactly what you expect me to do. You expect me to step in and take care of Portia and you. You two screw up and I get to fix it.”

  “That’s not true.” Emma’s tears vaporized. “You take over everything and expect us to go along with it like good little girls. You treat us like children. Telling Portia and me what to do and whom to do it with. Lecturing away like you have the right to push us around.”

  Holly opened her mouth and shut it again. She had to leave before she said or did something she would regret. She yanked open the door and stepped outside.

  It was barely eight in the morning but building toward a scorching hot summer day. It hit her like a wall as the door swung shut on her heels. The heat bled out of the sidewalk in sticky waves clinging to her hair and skin.

  She walked through humidity thick as butter. She had no particular destination in mind, letting her vague memories carry her forward. She’d lived so many different places they blurred. Not that she confused one with the other. More like she stopped taking particular note of one as different from the others.

  Willow Park stood out. It was here the disease finally won its battle with Melissa. There weren’t many happy memories connected with this place. Mostly the Partridge girls had hidden in their house and concealed the extent of what happened behind closed doors.

  Melissa’s death had been devastating, but Francis hadn’t allowed it to change the daily routine of their lives much. By that time, Holly was already in charge, and the other girls automatically turned to her.

  And now Emma wanted her own life. Emma didn’t want to be stuck with the responsibility of Portia.

  Holly laughed.

  Oh, she understood that feeling all right. She knew what it was like to be young and dragged down by responsibility all the time. People rushed forward with their lives around you, and you were stuck.

  Emma didn’t know the half of it. She and Portia would never understand. The twins had been sheltered because she and Grace had made sure. Emma and Portia were older now, but the habit of protecting and guarding was as intrinsic to Holly as breathing. And she had sheltered them so well the twins were lost in a permanent adolescence.

  She’d been mother and father to them. She’d made decisions for them, guided them, and indulged them. And she had got exactly what she had created.

  How could she not have seen this coming? Was Portia’s pregnancy a rebellion? Had Holly, however unwittingly, set it up this way?

  Grace had been saying as much for years.

  She stalked to the end of the block, determined to ignore the heat. Past a veterinarian clinic and a florist she vaguely remembered. Across the street there was a woman’s clothing store. The sort that sold highly priced wisps to women who looked like Lucy, so they could make the most of the gifts nature had showered on them. She was sure the store was new. It was the sort of place Josh would shop.

  A thick layer of sweat lined Holly’s skin as she turned the corner away from the main street. If memory served, there was a park down here somewhere. Lindens, maples, oaks, and ash cast deep shade over the road but did nothing to cut the heat. It was like trying to walk through syrup, but Holly refused to slow her pace. She wished she’d brought a bottle of water, but this charge along the neighborhood wasn’t exactly planned.

  She needed to think, to clear her head, and she couldn’t do that with other people constantly underfoot. Her sisters were one thing, a nagging but familiar worry. The situation with Josh was another thing altogether. It was impossible and getting more so. She should turn around, pack up her sisters, and go stay in a motel until her passport came through. It was the logical thing to do, and yet she hesitated.

  She dressed it up to look like staying with Josh was more convenient and easier. Portia was better when she was kept stable, blah, blah, blah.

  She didn’t want to go. She liked him; she really, really liked him, and it wasn’t getting any better as the days wore on. She wanted to trust the evidence he showed signs of a man looking for more than a sexual connection. He cared for her, he helped her, he made his own life difficult to help her. He’d even stood up to his mother on her behalf.

  And still she hesitated, too scared to trust what she felt to be true and in too deep to do the logical thing and walk away. It was such a bloody mess.

  Five blocks later the heat won, and Holly slowed down to a stroll. Her shirt stuck to her back and her hair hung heavy and sticky on her neck. She checked her pockets for something to use as a restraint. Nothing.

  Holly grabbed a handful of hair and held it off her nape.

  Emma did have a point. She was autocratic and dictatorial, and it had become a habit over the years. There was always so much to do and only her to do it. She had stopped asking for opinions and input some time ago.

  It galled her to admit Grace might have called that one right as well. The twins had got totally used to having her run their lives for them. They sat back and let her do it, and she held the reins as tightly as she could.

  Josh, on the other hand, didn’t need her for anything. It was strange and unsettling. His life was fine without her at the helm. He didn’t need her to bolster his flagging ego or keep him focused.

  She had a calendar pinned to her fridge at home. Portia, Emma, and her own schedule neatly color-coded in careful columns. She also had Steven’s life in a well-ordered column of its own, a bit like his mother.

  Gross. She didn’t need her two years of a psychology degree to unpick that one. No wonder their sex life was as tepid and inspiring as dishwater.

  Josh treated her like a woman, a woman he desired and enjoyed. Yes, he had a tendency to want to rescue her, but he didn’t lean on her. It was like she was playing a familiar board game by different rules.

  She turned the corner. Thank the Lord, she hadn’t forgotten.

  The park sat at the confluence of six residential streets, an emerald-green oasis amid the houses. Ancient trees stretched their shading canopy over the small family groups clustered to enjoy the glorious summer day.<
br />
  Small children clambered enthusiastically up and over the wooden castle and bridge of a central jungle gym. Where did they find the energy? A group of mothers satin the shade, taking a welcome respite from their turbocharged offspring.

  Holly headed straight for a large concrete culvert that formed a small shallow pool and water fountain, perfect for soaking tired legs and hot feet. The hardier souls braved the full sun and leaped in and out of the bubbling sprays lined up like soldiers along the length of the culvert.

  She eased onto her butt and slipped off her flip-flops. The icy water brought instant relief to her hot feet.

  “Holly?” called a soft voice with a touch of cognac hanging on the end.

  Holly squinted up against the sun.

  In the glare, Lucy’s rambunctious blond hair clustered around her head like a halo. She lowered herself slowly to sit beside Holly and handed her a bottle of water. “You look as if you need this.”

  Lucy was an angel.

  “What about you?” She didn’t want to be responsible for the dehydration of a pregnant woman.

  “I have another and mine’s bigger.” Lucy produced a larger version from her capacious handbag, with a grin so mischievous Holly was forced to grin back. “Richard is a firm believer in the daily constitutional.” She indicated her walking shoes. “I come up here to look at the children.” Lucy twisted the cap off her bottle and drank deeply. “I look at the children and their mothers and wonder why the hell I ever thought I would be any good at it.”

  “Really?” Holly turned to look at her. Lucy didn’t seem the sort to have doubts about anything.

  Lucy nodded and smiled. “I’m excited and terrified all at once. Thank God I have Richard to keep me on an even keel.”

  “He seems very special,” Holly said.

  “He’s a keeper.” Lucy winked. “I see my shorts fit.”

  Holly looked at the shorts and then at Lucy. She took a sip of her water. “Are we going to keep pretending the shorts are yours?”

  She caught Lucy in the middle of a sip. Water exploded out of her mouth and nose.

  It made Holly feel marginally better about the whole unmitigated gorgeous thing.

  “No.” Lucy spluttered into a laugh. “I suppose we aren’t.”

  It was a sweet thing to do. “You have great taste.”

  “No,” Lucy said, her green eyes wide. “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh.” She’d guessed Josh, the sneaky sod, was behind her transformation. It was kind of cute. Annoying, but caring. “I don’t know whether to be grateful or kick his ass.”

  “That’s men for you.” Lucy toasted her with her water bottle. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Brooding.” Holly kicked her legs up. Water droplets slid down her shins.

  “Hatched anything good?”

  “Not so good, actually.” Holly pulled the corners of her mouth down. “I was pretty much beating myself up when you did me the favor of breaking up the fight.”

  Lucy watched a toddler of two or three try to catch the water jets in his chubby fist. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “I don’t do the whole talking thing.” Holly squirmed inside. She liked Lucy, but she didn’t share.

  Lucy smiled. “Okay.”

  And Holly got the feeling it was okay. The comfortable silence worked the kinks out of her neck muscles. “I met Donna this morning.”

  “Is she back?”

  “Apparently. I don’t know who was more surprised.”

  “I sense a story.” Lucy bumped shoulders with her.

  Holly’s face heated.

  Lucy crowed triumphantly.

  “Do you get on with Donna?” It was easier to focus on Donna rather than the jumble of confused impressions and emotions fighting for space around Josh.

  “Oh, yeah.” Lucy smiled fondly. “I adore Donna, but I virtually grew up with her. I’m closer to Donna than I am to my own mother.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Now you’re going to have to tell me the rest of the story.” Lucy turned to look at her. “You can’t open with a leading question and leave me hanging. It’s plain cruel, and after I gave you my water.” Lucy raised her eyebrows to add weight to her statement. “A pregnant woman gives you her water.”

  Damn, the other woman was good. “All right.”

  Lucy gave a smug smile and settled herself comfortably. “Even if you’re not much of a talker. I’ll get the story from Donna or Josh anyway.” She patted Holly on the arm.

  “I didn’t make the best impression.” She could still see Donna’s face in her bedroom doorway. She gave Lucy the abridged version, and still her face got hot.

  Lucy threw back her head and laughed.

  After a few minutes, Holly managed a weak smile. It was kind of funny.

  Lucy listened carefully when she glossed lightly over the kitchen this morning.

  “There are three boys in the family,” Lucy said after a pause. “Donna is a great mother to all three of them, but I think there’s a special place for Josh in her heart. Richard was always his dad’s son and Thomas is—” Lucy shrugged. “Thomas is his own man through and through. I don’t think anyone has told Thomas what to do since he was two years old.”

  Lucy took a hefty swig of her water. “Josh was always Donna’s little ally. And there’s the fact that he’s ridiculously beautiful.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Girls are always hanging on to Josh. I think Donna is more territorial with him than she is with the other two. Give her time. She’ll come around. At the end of the day, she loves her boys and only wants what makes them happy.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Holly’s chest tightened. “I won’t be here that long.”

  Lucy turned those glowing green eyes on her. “Really?”

  It was as if Lucy could see right through to the soul of her. She certainly hoped not. It was a pretty dark and dismal place for the most part. Holly avoided it at all costs.

  “Really.” She dropped her eyes to her legs. “I have to get back to my life.”

  “What a pity.” Lucy squeezed her arm. “Then we’ll have to enjoy you while you’re here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Donna put down her book. She’d read the same line four times and still had no idea what was on the page. She lifted her glass to her mouth and watched the sunlight dance across the top of Lake Michigan. The large windows of the loft condo framed the serenity like a painting, and she paused a moment to appreciate the beauty. The condo was quiet around her, everything neat and in its place and about as welcoming as a hotel room.

  She worried about Joshua and this curious detachment of his. He was everybody’s favorite guy, especially the women. Even the ones he broke up with stayed in his life as friends. Josh always knew the right thing to say, the best form of comfort. He got the chocolate thing, he listened, and he was always ready with a timely rescue. He was everything to everyone and yet nothing to anyone special.

  It didn’t matter how many times she talked to Josh about Des, and how his father would have forgiven him within moments of the fight ending. Josh carried that scar on his conscience. Mostly, it was a good thing that kept him from hurting anyone else.

  Since Laura and the subsequent argument with Des, Josh guarded his feelings so carefully he’d virtually embalmed his own heart.

  Until Holly Partridge reappeared in his life.

  Over the years, the women had come in all shapes and sizes. Josh didn’t have a type because he genuinely enjoyed women. Of all of them, why did he have to choose this one?

  Donna snorted and took another sip of her wine.

  Okay, she was always going to be hard on whoever got her Josh.

  Holly Partridge. She hadn’t immediately recognized the woman who stared at her from Joshua’s bed, but Donna remembered them now. The family had kept to themselves, but speculation had run rife through the neighborhood. Willow Park was a small neighborhood, and like most small neighborhoods, they knew each other’s bus
iness. It was a point of pride.

  Things had gone on in the Partridge house that had the mothers of the community clustered together and clucking over those four innocent chicks.

  Holly Partridge, all hair and secrets in a tiny bundle of determination. Her eyes were what stuck with Donna the most. They had been the eyes of a woman twice her age in the face of a teenager. The eyes hadn’t changed; the shadows still lurked in their depths.

  Of course Josh had ridden to the rescue like the knight he was. Responding to some intangible call to rescue the damsel.

  Women had spoiled Josh since the day he first batted those indigo eyes in his chubby baby face. They fell over themselves to make Josh’s life a nicer place to be. He’d taken Holly’s brush-off, all those years ago, as an affront to his considerable teenage ego.

  Donna had heard the story of the Valentine’s Day dance from a variety of different sources. It was one of the harshest lectures she’d ever given her middle son.

  The family disappeared after the mother died.

  Until now. Now, they were camped out in her home, dripping complications all over her floors, and Josh was determined to make himself indispensable to them.

  And she, Donna, was jealous. Pitifully jealous.

  She’d never had to share her boy with another serious contender. She’d always been number-one woman in his life, and she was truthful enough with herself to own that she didn’t want to share.

  The play of light across the water soothed her.

  Richard was happily settled with his Lucy, and now it looked like Josh had found his one. Whether she liked her or not, Donna had the strongest feeling Holly Partridge would be part of her life from here onward.

  Josh wasn’t happy with his mother. His anger in the kitchen and then the car had been unwelcome and unexpected. He had taken her to task for her treatment of Holly.

  Another first.

  Donna sipped her wine. She hadn’t behaved well. Her reaction had been 90 percent shock at the situation and 10 percent mama bear. All right, maybe 50/50 was a little more accurate. She’d been tired and jetlagged, and the surprises had taken her by storm.