by Sarah Hegger
“Grace.” Holly didn’t disagree with Grace. Emma and her whining about her rights and what mattered to her was enough to make a saint snap, but they had enough on their plates right now.
Grace shook her off.
“I said,” Emma swallowed convulsively and stuck her chin out, “Portia and I have rights in this family, too.”
“Rights.” Grace threw up her hands. “Rights?”
“Yes,” Emma said doggedly.
“Don’t you dare talk to me and Holly about your rights.” Grace rounded on Emma like a feral thing. “You had the right to be taken care of, to be fed, to wear clean clothes, to get to school, and we made sure of that. Holly and I, we gave up everything for your damn rights.”
“Gracie …” Holly tried to reel her in.
“No.” Grace shook her head. “She needs to hear this. She can’t keep hiding behind you or the mystic shit she mouths off. We protected the two of them so well, Holly, but we forgot about ourselves. Who took care of us, Holly? Who? And who’s stopping us from screwing up our lives now? They have you.” She pointed at Emma. “Who do we have?”
Thunderous silence filled with the heavy choke of the tears Grace still didn’t shed.
Grace’s words sank in, finding the cracks in Holly’s armor and widening them.
“I can’t deal with this shit.” Grace scraped her chair back loudly. “I’ve been traveling and I’m tired and sticky and I want to … I need …”
“I’ll show you where you can get settled.” Donna stood in the doorway with Josh.
Holly could barely look at them. She had no idea how much they’d heard and she felt stripped right down to the bone and exposed. The Partridge girls in all their dysfunctional glory.
Emma shot out of her chair and ran from the room. She pushed past Grace on her way up the stairs.
“This way.” Donna led Grace out of the kitchen.
Holly was hollow, detached inside.
Emma would find Portia and comfort there.
Grace’s words still rang in her ears. Who would comfort Grace? Who would comfort Holly?
“Emma and Grace, they don’t get on.” Holly raised her hand and dropped it again.
Josh was beside her. “Holly?”
“I’m fine.”
He reached for her and she stepped away.
He dropped his hands and shoved them into his pockets.
He saw too much. She couldn’t control it when he gave her his empathy. “Grace is angry.”
He grunted his agreement, his gaze heavy on her.
She couldn’t look up. If she did, it would be over; she would walk into his arms and the comfort they offered. It wouldn’t change a damn thing, however. “She’s been holding it together for so long she’s frightened if she lets it go, it will overwhelm her.”
Still he didn’t move or speak.
“It’s like this big sore festering inside her, and she’s terrified of what will happen if she exposes it. It could poison everything around her.”
“I don’t think that will happen,” he said.
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t. Because she was strong enough to survive in the first place, and she’ll be strong enough to handle what happens next.”
“But you can’t be sure.” Holly turned to look at him, unable not to. “You can’t be sure she’ll be okay.”
“Yes, I can, because she’s strong.” He stepped toward her. “She’s stronger than she knows.”
“No, she isn’t.” Holly gave a brittle little laugh. “She isn’t strong at all. It’s an act, and it’s going to come crashing down around her ears any day now.”
“Holly.” He reached for her.
Holly shook her head and dodged him. “I can’t.” How to make him understand when her mind kept yelling its defiance? “I can’t do any of it. You have to see that.” Please, God, don’t let him make her explain. “It’s too difficult.”
“Josh?” Donna appeared in the doorway. “Could you drop me home?”
Josh took a step back. “I’ll come back later.”
“No.” Holly took the escape offered. “I need to go and see if my sister is all right.”
“I put your sister in Josh’s old bedroom.” Donna headed for the door. “Feel free to use mine. There is room enough here for all of you.”
Holly nodded, not able to meet the older woman’s eyes.
Donna’s footsteps drew closer. “He is right, you know. You have the strength for this.”
“We were talking about Grace.” They both knew she was lying, but the alternative was to break down and weep.
“Indeed.” Donna cleared her throat. “Bonne chance, ma petite. You have more friends than you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holly wanted to bust out of her skin.
Thankfully, dinner was over quickly. Grace sat nearly silent throughout and Emma sulked magnificently. Portia had put in an appearance and spent the entire meal pushing food around her plate. As soon as they finished, the twins excused themselves and disappeared upstairs.
Holly didn’t even mind that they didn’t offer to help with the dishes. She was glad to see the back of them.
Josh still hadn’t returned from taking his mother home. Maybe he wasn’t coming back.
She put the dishwasher on and tried to shake the flat nothing in her middle. She was a mess. Her family was in crisis, the girls at one another’s throats, and she was worried she’d pushed Josh away hard enough to keep him away.
“Hey?” Grace came up beside her. Her sister had changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Even dressed casually, she looked like you could toss her down a runway.
“So, about earlier with Emma.” Grace tucked her hands into her pockets. “I got pretty intense there.”
“Uh-huh.” Holly glanced at her out of the corner of her eye because there wasn’t much she could say to that. It would be nice if Grace could back off, just this once, but Emma made Holly want to have a screaming shit fit, too.
“She gets me so mad.” Grace shook her head. “She has this way of being unbearably self-righteous, I want to take her head off.”
Emma’s smug complacency wasn’t easy to take, but Holly tended not to let Emma get under her skin. Perhaps through living with Emma, Holly had developed immunity to her.
“And now she’s sulking.” Grace’s lip curled in disgust. “And she can keep that up forever.”
“You know Emma.” Holly wiped down the countertops. “She’s got a different set of rules for the rest of the world.”
Grace made a rude noise.
“Perhaps you could talk to her about it sometime.” Even as she made the suggestion, she mentally kicked herself. Like hell Grace and Emma would sit down for a heart to heart.
“I said pretty much all I needed to say.” Grace stuck her determined chin out.
And there you had it. Normally, she would have charged right in and made the bad thing go away. Now, she paused and waited; perhaps she didn’t need to keep making everything all right. She shrugged and let the subject drop.
Grace poured them each a glass of wine. “Donna seems nice.”
Nice? Not the word Holly would have chosen to describe Josh’s mother. She took the glass Grace offered. “She’s not happy about the situation.”
“Who can blame her?” Grace shot back. “None of us are jumping for joy.”
True, that. Holly finished cleaning and sipped her wine.
Grace stared out of the window in a moody silence.
Holly searched for some clue to Grace’s mood. “How long are you here for?”
“I’m not sure.” Grace leaned her butt against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “I didn’t have any fixed plan to come. I packed a bag and worked out where I was heading when I was already on the road.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.” Holly laughed. Grace used to plan the next day’s outfit down to her hair bands.
“No.” Grace sighed and
shook her head. “It doesn’t, does it?”
“Well, I’m still glad you’re here.” And she meant it, Emmagate aside. “Perhaps you can drive me into Chicago tomorrow, I have an appointment for a passport.”
“Sure,” Grace said and went back to her middle distance staring.
Holly couldn’t contain the question any longer. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’d rather not,” Grace said, but softly and without bite.
“But there is something going on.” Holly edged closer carefully. Grace was hair trigger at the best of times.
“Yes.” Grace crossed one leg over the other “Can we leave it at that, Holly?” She looked up suddenly. “Do you think you can do that? Just know there’s something and trust me to talk about it when I’m ready?”
“I could try,” Holly answered as honestly as she could. “You know that’s not my strong suit, but I’ll do my best.”
Grace’s expression gave her nothing.
“Tell me if I should worry?”
“You always worry,” Grace scoffed, but lightened it with a smile.
Holly rolled her eyes. Worrying about her sisters was as ingrained as all the rest of the crap. “Any more than usual?”
“No.” Grace shook her head. “In fact, I think you should be glad—sort of. I think I’m better than I have been in a long, long, long time—sort of… I think.”
“Oh?” Holly laughed on the inside, way down on the inside. “That clears things up nicely.”
Grace gave a bark of laughter and sipped her wine. “Where’s Josh?”
“He took his mother back to the condo and went to pick up some things.” Holly refused to look at the empty driveway again.
“Is he staying here tonight?”
Holly shrugged. She wished she knew. “I think so.”
“The question is …” Grace drew the words out. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“Ah, Grace.” The million-dollar question, right there. “I wish I knew.”
She needed some fresh air and stepped out into the cooling evening. Thank God there were no mosquitoes out tonight.
Grace followed her out. “Emma is full of shit, you know.”
It was a typical town garden, neat and orderly with fast-blooming summer color. Large trees provided enough shade to make it comfortable for sitting outside.
“In the general sense or the specific?” Holly tossed over her shoulder.
“Both.” Grace smiled. Then grew serious. “What I meant was you and Josh. You are entitled to a life. Your happiness doesn’t always have to be sacrificed for Emma and Portia.”
If only it were that easy. Here Emma, here Portia, take your fucked-up lives and run with them. Take Grace with you while you’re at it. Holly lowered herself onto the grass and rolled over onto her back.
The sky spread from wall to wall in an aching arch of blue. The warmth of the evening sun crept like a caress over her skin. Holly closed her eyes and soaked in the calm around her.
It was impossible to relax. She could feel Grace beside her, always stewing and fulminating about something. Grace was exhausting to be with sometimes. Holly almost laughed out loud. Josh said much the same thing about her. “Do you think I should chill?”
“Duh.” Grace stretched out beside her.
Holly let her eyes drift from one sister to another.
It was late and the twins had reappeared before going to bed to resurrect an old family ritual of milk and cookies. Even Grace and Emma tacitly agreed to a cease-fire.
Holly had been glad to see everyone gathered at first. It gave her a brief feeling of togetherness. The warm and fuzzy feeling had faded fast. Unsaid words hung heavy between them.
The crunch of cookies and the slurp of milk broke the silence.
Holly placed her glass on the table with more force than strictly necessary.
Portia jumped.
Emma grimaced and crunched at her cookie.
Grace raised an eyebrow.
She couldn’t stand it. “Are we really going to do this?” Holly demanded of nobody in particular.
Emma flickered her eyes briefly in her direction but went back to her dignified stare.
Portia frowned in confusion. “Do what, Holly?”
Grace got it immediately, and a nasty grin spread across her face. “Of course we are, Holly.” She plastered a big fake grin on her face and waggled her head. “We always do this. It’s the Partridge girls, pretty as a picture and just as perfect.”
Holly pushed back from the table. The frustration throbbed just beneath the surface of her skin. “Well, it sucks.”
“You said it,” Grace agreed heartily and pushed her plate away. Holly quelled the desire to yell. She was in serious danger of losing it. Portia, Emma, and now Grace, and it all felt like too much. And they sat there and crunched cookies.
The pretend thing had grown old. She wished she could rip off all the scabs and have them air all their shit for once. Instead, they followed in the picture Francis had created for them. Everything’s okay here, as long as you don’t look too closely. Added to which Josh hadn’t come back, and it ate at her. And then it bugged her that it ate at her.
“I don’t understand,” Portia said.
“Sure you do.” Grace tilted her head at Portia. “You’re bipolar, not stupid.”
Holly nearly swallowed her tongue. “Grace!” she and Emma yelled in sync.
Portia paled.
“You’re right.” Grace flushed and shifted in her seat. “Sorry, Portia, I know you can’t help it.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Emma’s soft challenge to Grace hung in the air.
Holly waited for the explosion.
Grace simmered down again.
Surprising.
“I haven’t got a clue.” Grace pulled the corners of her mouth down in a rueful expression. “I never thought I’d see the day when I came back to this place.”
“Why are you here?” Emma never knew when to quit.
Grace’s eyes flashed a warning. It was too much to ask that she didn’t react for a second time in as many minutes.
Holly opened her mouth to intervene, to soothe away the nasty, then stopped. Fuck it. Not two minutes ago she’d wanted them to air their crap. Why not let them have at it?
Emma and Grace stared each other down.
Surprisingly, Grace looked away first.
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” Grace made a face. “I don’t want to be here, but I couldn’t seem to stay away.”
“It was the same with me,” Portia surprised Holly by saying.
“None of us wanted to come back here,” Holly said, without knowing why. “This place is full of ghosts for us.”
Silence settled over the kitchen again.
“They put me on drugs for seeing ghosts,” Portia said.
They turned to look at her.
Holly wasn’t sure who started it, but all of a sudden they were laughing. Laughing as if they could never stop.
Grace collapsed her head into her hands on the table. Her shoulders shook so hard they rattled the table.
Holly laughed until tears streaked down her face.
Even Emma was laughing, hanging on to Portia and hugging her, but laughing.
It wasn’t really funny, but the laughter felt good; it felt healing. Eventually they subsided. The atmosphere between them was less charged.
“Greg and I are getting a divorce.” Grace’s face stayed carefully blank.
Holly kept her head lowered. Relief flooded through her.
Grace would have her ass if she dared voice it.
It didn’t surprise Holly that much. Grace and Greg were the perfect dual-income, no-kids couple, both lawyers, both pulling in big salaries, and both living the high life. And yet there always seemed to be something missing between them. As if Grace had constructed her marriage into the perfect picture.
A cold shiver snaked down Holly’s spine. It sounded awful
ly familiar.
“Why?” Portia recovered first.
Grace shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“You have to have some idea?” Emma sniffed at her sister.
Grace managed a small laugh. “I know why we say we’re getting a divorce. I don’t know how and why we got to this point.”
Holly understood perfectly. She nodded
“Why do you say you want a divorce?” Portia’s brow furrowed.
“Because we both want different things from our lives. We’ve grown apart—yada, yada, yada.” Grace got up abruptly and filled a glass of water from the faucet. She stood by the sink with the glass in her hand.
“Is there any chance of reconciliation?” Emma’s lips puckered up. “Marriage is such an important commitment. Too many people today give up on their marriages. It’s a thing you have to work on constantly.”
Say what? Holly stared at Emma.
“You know, Emma …” Grace turned her hazel eyes on her sister like two death rays, “I would take this lecture more seriously if you had actually ever been in a relationship.”
“I have relationships.” Emma’s voice quavered.
“Real relationships?” Grace leaned into her. “Where you actually have sex with someone?”
Emma went all shades of red from her neck to her hairline. “Having sex isn’t the definition of a relationship.”
“It relates to intimacy.” Grace banged her knuckles on the table. “I don’t think you’ve ever had anything close to an intimate relationship with someone else, man or woman.”
Emma’s eyes flooded and her lip quivered.
Here we go. Holly’s gut clenched.
“Don’t you dare. I swear to God, Emma.” Grace leaped out of her chair and got right in Emma’s face.
Portia jumped.
Holly bit back a groan. The peace was too good to last.
“If you start bawling,” Grace slapped her hand on the kitchen table, “I am going to give you something to bawl about.”
Emma stared at Grace, her mouth open.
Grace loomed above her, as tense as a bowstring. “If Portia is supposed to be the depressed one, how come you’re the one always crying?”
“I’m not always crying,” A tear slipped down Emma’s cheek and she dashed it away.
Holly needed to change the subject because the tension between them made her head hurt. God knew what it was doing to Portia. “What does Greg say?”