by Hope Ramsay
Ella’s remorse morphed into defensiveness. She stepped back, turned, and picked up another handful of books. They served as a nice barrier between herself and her mother, and they gave her something to do while she tried to process what Mom had just said.
Mom thought she’d hurt Dylan on purpose?
Damn. The anger hit her so hard that she felt dizzy for a moment, right before she let loose in a voice loud enough for even the nearly deaf residents of Bayview Vistas to hear.
“Of course I didn’t hit him on purpose!”
Mom made hushing motions with her hands, which only fanned the flames of Ella’s sudden need to defend herself. And what better way than to deflect the blame. “Honey, I didn’t say you—”
“You know, Mom. I’m not the troublemaker. Dylan is. Do you know that he told me right to my face that he wants to break you and Jim up?”
“Isabella Louise,” Mom said, using that tone—the one Ella hated most of all. “You know better than to say something ugly like that. Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s true.” Her voice hardened. “And if he told you I hit him on purpose, that’s just a lie.”
“I didn’t say that he said—”
“You know, y’all, your voices are kind of loud,” Jim said, strolling into the living room and standing with his hands on his hips. Until this moment, Ella could have sworn that Jim never lost his temper. But he looked pissed off right now.
“Honestly, Ella, why do you always have to make trouble?” Mom said, then turned and stalked toward the bedroom door. As she passed Jim, she said in a loud whisper, “Maybe you can talk sense into her.”
Great. She’d always wanted a real family with a mom and a dad and a sibling or two. But maybe she should have had her head examined. She met Jim’s stare. The man had incredibly bright blue eyes, but for once they didn’t twinkle like Santa’s.
“Your mother is under a lot of stress,” he said.
“She’s not the only one.”
His jaw flexed. Was he grinding his teeth? Because of her? Boy, he needed to open his eyes and see the truth.
Jim took a step forward. “Ella, just calm down, okay? You know your mother loves you, and we can—”
“No. I won’t calm down,” Ella interrupted as her self-restraint collapsed under the weight of her anger. “I’m trying hard to make Mom happy, okay? But your son doesn’t seem at all concerned about her happiness. And I’m trying to get my life together at the same time. Has anyone ever thought about that? No. I’m weary to death of having to tiptoe around angry, demanding people. When do I get to be angry and demanding and difficult?”
She slammed the books in her hand onto the shelf, turned, and stomped past the delivery guys, who were now manhandling a ginormous washing machine. She strode into the hallway and kept going all the way down the stairs and out onto the street.
* * *
Dylan stood in the doorway to Nancy Jacobs’s bedroom, his head throbbing, as Ella finally stopped apologizing and just let fly with the truth. Why on earth hadn’t she told her mother or Dad about his plans for breaking them up before this?
Dylan hadn’t asked Ella to keep it a secret, and when she’d refused to join him in the plan, he’d fully expected her to go off and tattle to her mom. But she hadn’t. Why?
And why on earth would Brenda ever think that her daughter had purposefully clocked him with that breakfast tray?
In a cogent instant, he understood. With a mother like that, Ella had probably spent her whole life being careful about the things she said out loud.
“I give up,” Dad said under his breath, as if to confirm Dylan’s worst fear. He hated the idea of his father having to run interference between Ella and Brenda all the time.
But someone had to do it, because blaming Ella for the breakfast tray mishap was unfair. He stood there for a moment to see if anyone would follow Ella, but Dad just shook his head and wandered back into the bedroom.
Well, hell. Someone needed to go after her, so he headed toward the condo’s front door. He wasn’t able to easily slip between the appliance guys, like Ella had done. She was small and agile and had moves like a star running back.
He had to wait a minute before he could slip past the delivery guys. By then Dad and Brenda were fussing at each other in the bedroom. He was glad to get away from that scene. All this drama was making his bruised head ache.
Luckily, Ella hadn’t gone far. He found her not more than half a block away, leaning up against Bayview Vistas’ front facade, sobbing.
Dammit. Tears undid him. They made him itchy and uncomfortable.
He fought against the burn in his throat. “Hey,” he said, taking a tentative step forward.
“Oh my god,” she replied when she turned toward him. She straightened, her shoulders going rigid. “You.”
Her red nose and puffy eyes made him want to head for the hills. He didn’t want to get emotionally involved, but then again, he’d still followed after her to make sure she was okay.
He needed to man up and face the fact that he bore some responsibility for the devastation written on her face. The woman needed a brotherly hug.
“Come on,” he said gently, reaching out to take her shoulders.
She whirled away from him. “What the hell, Dylan. Did you tell them I hit you on purpose?”
“Of course not. I told you on Thursday when you apologized for the fifteenth time that I didn’t blame you.”
“Great, then you could do me a favor and go tell your dad the truth. The whole truth. Because he seems to think I injured you on purpose, and no one believes you really want to break them up.” Her voice got thin, and water streamed out of her eyes. “And, by the way, I didn’t know I gave you a concussion. I feel so bad about that. I…crap.” She hid her face in her hands.
He was seriously allergic to crying people, so the urge to hug her came as a total surprise. This time when he moved in to provide comfort, she didn’t pull away. “I accept your apology. I accept all of them. It was an accident, and I’m fine.” He pulled her into his arms.
She leaned against him, hiccuping and getting snot all over his old T-shirt. He stood there being her human snot rag while half a dozen Bayview Vista residents passed by. Most of them scowled at him, and he accepted their censure with equanimity.
On the other hand, he didn’t quite know what to make of the people who beamed at him. What was up with that?
Ella finally stopped bawling and pulled away, dashing tears from her red cheeks. “Thanks,” she muttered, staring at her feet.
“It wasn’t anything.”
She looked up. “No?”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. He should go now, but he didn’t want to go. He wanted to solve the problem that was Ella McMillan. “Why do you take all the world’s troubles on your shoulders?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?”
He didn’t exactly know how to explain the thought that had wormed its way into his slightly shaken brain. “You apologize for stuff that’s not your fault.”
“But dropping the tray was my fault. I mean, I shouldn’t have put that many plates on it, and I shouldn’t have let that jerk at the table rattle me and make me walk too fast, and I—”
“I’m not talking about the tray. I’m talking about everything. I heard what you just said about tiptoeing around. That’s what you do. You didn’t tell your mother about my plans to break them up because you didn’t want to rock the boat. You didn’t want to make her angry. You didn’t want—”
“Stop, okay? Look, thanks for the shoulder, but I’m not going to dish dirt on my mother, even if she ticked me off a minute ago. And just because I got angry with her doesn’t mean you should use my anger to your advantage. I’m not going to help you break them up. Mom loves your father. And I’m kind of ashamed that I yelled at him. I should apologize.”
“For what? Speaking the truth?”
“No, for getting so angry. It wasn’t his f
ault.” She sighed and glanced back toward the condo’s entrance. “I just don’t feel like facing them right now.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t need your approval.”
“I wasn’t giving approval. I was validating your feelings.”
She cocked her head. They might as well have been speaking two different languages.
“Look, can you do me two favors?” she asked.
“I’m at your service,” he said, trying not to show any amusement. A few days ago, she wouldn’t have asked anything of him. Maybe they did have a future as stepsiblings.
“First, you can tell them that I didn’t hurt you on purpose. They will believe you. And second, you can give my apologies to Granny. I’m going back to the inn, and I’m taking a long bath and maybe a short nap. And then I’ve got a gig.”
“You have a gig?”
“Yeah. At the inn. I’m playing at the afternoon tea service. I booked it at the last minute. It might turn into a regular thing though. So tell Granny I’m sorry I lost my temper and I’ll see her at church tomorrow. Also, I’ll be back to help her unpack her books on Sunday afternoon.”
She turned and headed down the street.
“Do you need a lift?” he asked to her back.
She turned, backpedaling. “No. I just told you what I needed.”
He nodded. “Okay, I’m on it. But, um, we need to get together to work on the engagement party.”
She stopped, her hands fisting on her hips. “Are you still determined to break them up? Because if you are, I’m not going to help, even if you did come out here to validate my feelings.”
He cracked a smile in spite of his determination not to. “I promise that I won’t use the engagement party as a means to break them up,” he said.
She gave him a probing stare. “You know, that was a non-denial denial. You could still work like mad trying to bust up the romance, outside of the party planning.”
“I guess I could.” He wiped the smile from his lips and aimed his best poker face in her direction. It wouldn’t do for her to know how much he was starting to like her.
“I’m going to be watching you.” She pointed at him. “And I suspect Mom and Jim will be too. So in my opinion, you should stop this little game you’re playing. You might have a lot of regrets if you keep this up.”
Maybe. But he might have more regrets if he didn’t try to get Dad to see reason. And Ella was the best argument in his favor. He hated to think about his father spending the rest of his life tiptoeing around Brenda’s anger the way Ella did.
He wanted to save Dad from that. And weirdly, he wanted to save Ella too. But he had no idea how he was supposed to do that.
* * *
Brenda stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was an idiot. After all these years of hoping that Ella would come back home so Brenda could make amends and start over, she’d just fallen back into the same behavior that had driven Ella away in the first place.
When would she learn? She turned around, unable to look herself in the eye, and leaned her back against the bathroom vanity. Tears filled her eyes.
What on earth had possessed her to think that Ella might have hit Dylan on purpose? Her daughter wasn’t the same rebellious teen who had once challenged her at every turn.
Ella was a grown woman now. She wouldn’t have purposefully hit Dylan, although now that she thought about it, Jim’s son probably deserved it if what Ella had said was true.
Instead of fussing at Ella, maybe she should have applauded her daughter’s actions.
No. No. No. She pressed her face into her hands as the room started to close in. This would not be a good time to have an anxiety attack, and yet her heart rocked precipitously in her chest and charged off in a full-out gallop.
She groped her way to the commode, lowered the lid, and sat down, dropping her head to her knees as a wave of dizziness struck.
“Brenda?” Jim was outside the bathroom door. And the dear man was so respectful of her privacy that he hadn’t blundered into the room even though the door was unlocked.
She took in a big breath, counting out four beats as she inhaled, held it for seven beats, and then exhaled slowly for eight more. She’d learned this technique years ago as a single mother, running from her abusive husband, trying to make ends meet and restart her life and education.
She repeated the deep-breathing pattern one more time.
“Brenda, are you okay?” Jim’s voice was kind and concerned, and he drawled a little like a Southerner even though he’d been born in New York. A lifetime of living in South Carolina had slowed him down.
Just like her heartbeat was starting to slow. Funny how the sound of Jim’s voice worked better than the breathing technique she’d learned from the social worker in the women’s shelter all those years ago.
That winter, after she’d run from Keith’s abuse, had been the longest of her life. She’d promised herself during that dark time that Ella would never go through the same thing.
And she’d failed. Cody might not be the complete screw-up Keith had been, but that man hadn’t been good for her daughter. It broke Brenda’s heart to see Ella alone and struggling to figure out what came next. Brenda had been through that. She’d had to look reality in the eye and give up on a lot of dreams. But it had been worth it. She’d poured everything into Ella.
But Ella didn’t have a child. Ella was alone.
“Honey?”
Brenda’s new life was just beyond the door.
“I’m okay,” she said, speaking the truth. The dizziness had started to fade. Weary beyond measure, she wiped away the tears that had leaked from her eyes, then opened the door.
Her heart swelled with the sight of him. He was her anchor. He’d pulled her from her depths of her misery. And now she was afraid to rock the boat too much. Maybe she should shut up about Dylan. Dylan was the one she should be furious with, not Ella.
“I’m sorry,” she said, because it seemed like the right thing to say.
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”
“No, I do need to apologize because I just ruined a chance for our kids and us to behave as a family. And I’m torn up about it.”
“Well, maybe so. But if you want my opinion, I think Dylan is the one who bears the most responsibility for what happened today.”
She blinked. “But—”
He moved in and took her into his arms. “Dylan is a problem. He resents you. He might be thirty-one years old, but he’s clinging to the memory of his mother. Just the other day, he got upset because I was packing away a casserole dish that I’ve had since I was a college student. He insisted that it was his mother’s favorite pot. It’s not. Julianne was not much of a cook, but that’s not the way Dylan remembers things.
“I’m afraid he’s behaving like a child. And pushing your daughter around is his way of acting out. And poor Ella is only trying to please you. And me. And we both failed her today.”
Brenda’s eyes welled up again. “I know. When she was little, she always tried to please me. We used to play music together all the time. When she became a teen, things went south. I need to remember she’s not that out-of-control girl she once was.”
“No, she’s not. And in my opinion, she’s treading very carefully and trying a little too hard to make everyone happy. And you know what? Dylan has always been more concerned about my happiness than his own. I wish he’d stop, to tell you the truth. But it’s hard not to love him despite his misguided concerns.”
Brenda gave Jim a skeptical look.
“I’m sorry,” Jim said. “It’s got to be hard when my son is so determined to break us up. I’m going to talk to him again. I think we’ll have to give it some time. I’m sure he’s going to come around. I know you can’t see it right now, but he’s a sensitive kid.”
She rested her head against Jim’s shoulder and refrained from telling him that his son was the antithesis of sensitive. Jim already understood how she
felt. Complaining about Dylan wouldn’t get her what she wanted, but she gave voice to that dream, anyway. “I so wanted us to become one happy family. And bad on me for taking my frustrations and stress out on Ella. Do you think I’ll ever learn?”
“Yes.”
She looked up at him. He seemed so sure.
“You’re always so even-keeled. But you know, the thing is…” She hesitated.
“What? Spit it out. You can’t hurt me by telling me what’s on your mind.” He gave her a sober look out of those bright eyes of his.
“Well, I guess I’m not even-keeled. And when Ella told me a few days ago that you and Dylan were insisting on having the engagement party at the yacht club, it stressed me out. That and Dylan’s behavior has made me a little crazy. That’s not an excuse, of course. Maybe an explanation. And I know this sounds stupid and immature or something, but…” She hesitated again.
“What? You don’t want it at the yacht club?”
“Mom never was a member there, you know? And…”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you?”
“Brenda, I’ve lived in this town for a long time. I get it. You think the members are snobs.” His mouth twitched.
“Not you. I overlook your club membership.”
He laughed out loud. “Well, that’s settled. We aren’t having the party at the yacht club.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I mean, I’m the one who’s—”
He pressed his fingers across her lips. “I don’t give a damn where we have this party, or if we have it at all. But you want to have a celebration, and I agree with the idea that we should have the kids plan it. Besides, throwing the kids a curve might induce them to work together to find a solution.”
“But I don’t want to be—”
“Difficult?” His eyebrow arched.
She nodded.
“Honey, you can’t please everyone all the time. That’s what Ella has been trying to do, and I think she demonstrated to both of us how stressful that can be. You’re the bride. You should get what you want. That’s the way it works, you know. And I don’t think you’re difficult at all.”