She blinked, dozens of questions fizzing to the top of her head like a carbonated soda someone had dropped before opening. Before she had a chance to articulate any of them—he didn’t mean as a date, did he? With Faith or just the two of them? Did his willingness to spend time with her mean he’d forgiven her? She heard the front door open and shut.
“Hello? Dad? I saw the truck outside.”
Nick and Pam exchanged glances. Showtime. As of this moment, they were a parental team, not to be taken lightly or easily divided and conquered.
“We’re in here,” Nick called. Would Faith notice the subtle way he’d stressed we? Would she have recognized Pam’s car in the driveway?
Faith clacked into the kitchen in a pair of stylishly heeled boots. She looked startled but excited when she spotted Pam. “Hi! What are you doing here?”
“I invited her,” Nick said in his Grim Father voice. Pam knew instinctively that Faith would be hearing that tone again the first time she ever broke curfew or got a ding in the family car. “Because I think the three of us need to talk.”
“I agree,” Pam added quickly, not wanting Nick to come out of this looking like the bad guy.
“Oookay. Can I, like, get a soda first and sit down, or do we have to all stand here being weird about it?”
Nick jerked his thumb toward the living room. “In there. Now.”
By unspoken consent, Nick and Pam took the larger sofa, leaving Faith the matching love seat on the facing wall. As she studied them, Faith raised a hand next to her face—looked confused for a second—then dropped it. The longer Pam watched her, the more she agreed with Nick’s assessment from last night: she does look more like me now. The biggest differences between them were age and Pam’s hair being far lighter.
Nick steepled his fingers under his chin, affecting a look that suggested his ancestors might have been Inquisitors. Pam bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a highly inappropriate giggle. This stern disciplinarian was a guy who’d once been in on the plot to “borrow” a rival team’s mascot.
“When I came home early yesterday,” Nick began, “and found you here alone with a boy, which you know is completely against the rules—”
“He’s nineteen,” Faith interrupted. “More man than boy. And I told you, he’s a teacher. It’s not like I’m dating him, Dad.”
From the way Nick’s jaw clenched, it was easy to tell Faith wasn’t helping her case. “We’ll get back to the advisability of you being alone in the house with a nineteen-year-old later,” he promised. “But the part where you hired him, without talking to me about it first, as a teacher? Whose idea did you say that was again?”
Faith squirmed but glared at Pam, not ready to back down just yet. “I told you at the salon that my friend knew a guy, and you said it was a great idea. You said I should go for it.”
“Ah,” Nick said. “So it was your idea initially, not Pam’s. And how about the way you made it sound as if the two of you had been regularly corresponding? How many times have you actually seen or talked to her?”
“Three.”
“Not counting today or that day you met for milk shakes,” Nick added.
The girl’s gaze dropped. “Once.” Her mumble was barely audible.
“And that’s when you ambushed her at work?” he persisted.
In lieu of an actual answer, Faith crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out an aggrieved sigh.
Pam decided it was time for her to wade into the conversation. “Faith, you’ve made it seem like you want us to be … friends. But friends don’t screw each other over. Why did you try to get your dad angry with me?”
“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d taught me to play guitar like I asked,” Faith accused her. “But you told me to get a regular teacher, one who wouldn’t ditch me at the first opportunity.”
As it turned out, working with Nancy Warner was fantastic practice for dealing with an angry young woman. “I did tell you to find a regular teacher,” Pam agreed mildly, “but you’re an intelligent girl and you know full well that I didn’t mean you should find someone your father disapproved of behind his back.”
“You never even mentioned wanting guitar lessons,” Nick pointed out. “Yesterday was the first I’ve heard of it.”
“You know I write my own songs,” Faith said, picking at one of her cuticles. “I love music. Guess I inherited that from her.”
The way she said it made Pam think it was a deliberate attempt to pit the two of them against Nick. Reflexively she reached out and put her hand atop his, making sure he knew they were in this together. “Your dad’s a reasonable man, and you are his pride and joy. I’m sure that if you’d discussed this with him in a rational manner, letting him know guitar was important to you, he would have been open to the idea. But did you also know he has a helluva temper? You should have heard him when he called last night.”
Faith had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t mean for him to take it out on you. Not really.”
Pam waved her free hand dismissively. “That wasn’t my point. I’m a big girl, and your father has already apologized. My point was that if you mess up and antagonize him and generally act like a bratty prima donna, you’re going to lose your chance to do things you really want. And you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
Nick nodded. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Next week, you and I can talk about the guitar thing again. But I promise that if you do get lessons, it will be through an adult teacher I help select. Not some rocker bad-boy wanna-be your friend Morgan knows. In the meantime, you’re grounded.”
“Again?” Faith wailed. “I just got ungrounded.”
“Make better choices,” Nick advised calmly, “and maybe you’ll stay ungrounded. As for Pam, don’t stalk her. She has a right to go about her daily life without worrying about you showing up and making trouble.”
“She’s my mom,” Faith argued. “I’m not allowed to go anywhere near her? Do you two even know how freakishly unfair that is? Other kids don’t have to make hair appointments just to say hi to their mothers.”
Pam’s heart caught. Faith might be acting like a melodramatic tween, but nothing she said was untrue. I need to get out of Mimosa as soon as possible. It seemed that her staying here was having a negative impact on Faith. “I’m sorry this is hard on you—”
“Those are just words!” Faith said, eyes blazing. “If you were truly sorry, you’d see me. Talk to me, teach me guitar, take me shopping, ask about my homework. If you really felt bad about any of this, you’d be a mother!” With that, she raced out of the room.
Tears in her eyes, Pam sat rooted to the sofa. She didn’t even realize she was still holding Nick’s hand until he squeezed it. She was half-afraid to look at him, aware that she might find everything Faith had just said echoed in his gaze. Instead, when she chanced a glimpse at him, it was to find him watching her with a sad smile.
“Well,” he said, “I guess we can agree she got my temper.”
FAITH KNEW THAT BEING grounded meant no phone, too, but she couldn’t help herself. She called Morgan anyway. She figured her dad would be too busy talking to Pam for a while—they’d looked pretty cozy down there together—to check up on Faith.
“Yo, Shepard,” Morgan said as soon as she picked up the phone.
“My father is so unfair!” Faith announced. “I’m grounded again.”
“What class did you skip this time? And why wasn’t I invited?”
“It’s not funny, Morg. This is because of him finding me here with Rock yesterday. He went completely off the rails. He even called and yelled at Pam. She came over today so that they could both lecture me.”
“Sucks,” Morgan commiserated. For a girl who’d tested into advanced English, she was often a person of few words. “Sounds like the convos I used to have with my parents, back when they’d consent to be in the same room with each other.”
“You think?” Faith hadn’t really thought of it that way. She’d bee
n so put out over the colossal injustice that her father could go see Pam without even telling his daughter that her mom was in town and that, judging by the two glasses at the counter and the dishes in the sink, it was okay for the two of them to have lunch together, but Faith was supposed to stay away from her mother.
The way Morgan put it was better. It almost made what happened this afternoon sound like a family moment.
Faith chewed on her lower lip. If she got herself in more trouble, would the three of them spend even more time together? Maybe they could even do some kind of family counseling. Would it be enough to keep Pam in town longer?
Bad idea. Faith shook herself out of the fantasy. If she wasn’t careful, she could chase Pam out of town. After all, Pam had been quick to leave her behind before, and that time Faith hadn’t even done anything—other than cry and poop or whatever, but all babies did that. If Faith was a brat, she might cause her mother to bolt.
Besides, she was sick of being grounded. Especially if there was a chance Bryce Watkins was going to ask her to the middle school’s big fall dance. Homecoming might officially be for the high school, but all of Mimosa celebrated.
Maybe she should switch tactics, be the model daughter and student. If she did that, her dad and Pam might agree to let Pam take her dress shopping for the dance.
Assuming she’s even still around. Her mother had always been very clear that she wasn’t moving back to Mimosa. Why would she? She’d lived in far more exciting places—heck, she’d been on television! If her family hadn’t been enough to keep her here when she’d actually been married to Nick, it was insane to think she’d choose Mimosa now. Part of Faith wanted to plead the case for Pam to stay, but her stomach roiled at the thought of being rejected. It was one thing to grow up without a mom and accept that as your norm. It would be far worse to be told you’re unwanted.
“Thanks for letting me vent,” Faith told her friend. “I should go before he catches me on the phone.”
“Sure, anytime. You know I’m here for you, girl.”
“I know.” And she appreciated it. But calling to bitch to Morg wasn’t the same as having a bona fide family.
Chapter Eleven
Since Pam had the day off from the salon, she’d planned to go to the house and work on renovations after leaving Nick’s. She headed to Aunt Julia’s to change her clothes, but ended up sitting on the foot of her bed, lacking the motivation to get moving. Even though she knew rationally that part of what she’d witnessed from Faith was over-the-top drama, a sign of the girl’s age, some of the pain she’d seen had been real. And I caused it. Either by leaving in the first place or by coming back.
“Well, hello there,” Julia said from the doorway. “I didn’t realize you were home.”
“I swung by to change clothes, with plans to work on the house tonight.” Pam spread her hands. “You can see how far I got.”
Julia clucked her tongue. “You’ve been out there so much that we hardly see you. Why not take the afternoon off? I was going to run into town. We could make it a girls’ trip—hit the craft store and stop for high tea.”
Pam grinned. “High tea in Mimosa?” The local cafés sold more fried pickles than scones.
“You just have to know where to look. Come with me?”
What had Nick said earlier? You sound like you regret the missed opportunities with your mother. So maybe keep your eyes open for future opportunities with other people. “I’m in.”
Her aunt clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Let me go put my face on.” That consisted of penciling in darker eyebrows and applying lipstick. Then she announced that she was ready.
Pam got into the passenger seat of her aunt’s car, grateful not to be driving. She lacked the mental energy.
“Are you all right, dear?” Julia asked. “I don’t mean to sound insulting, but, well, you’ve looked better.”
“I’ve felt better.” Pam studied her fingers on her lap, wondering where she should start. “You know that Nick came by your house once to see me? Faith, our …”
“I know who she is,” Julia said quietly.
But Pam was determined to get the word out, to acknowledge her own child, even if the person who needed that acknowledgement most wasn’t around to hear it. “Our daughter. My daughter. She wanted to meet me. We had what I thought was a very nice conversation over milk shakes one day, but it got more complicated after that. Nick asked me to come over today and talk to her. She’s been having some discipline problems.”
“Anything serious?” Julia asked, looking worried.
“Not yet. She’s a good kid, just confused. And ticked off. I guess not having a mother will do that to you.”
Julia mashed the brake harder than necessary at a stop sign and turned pointedly to her niece. “Some kids with mothers have it pretty rough, too, as I’m sure you recall.” She didn’t speak again until the car started rolling, her tone calmer and sounding more like herself. “Beating yourself up does neither you nor Faith any good.”
Pam stared out the window, watching Mimosa pass by, noticing all the tiny, paradoxical ways that the town had both changed and stayed the same. “I know you’re right, but there are times when it’s hard not to beat myself up. This afternoon was draining, but it was only a couple of hours in my life. Nick goes through that every day. I wish things had been different for him, I wish I’d told him no when he asked me to marry him. If I’d had any sense at all, instead of torpedoing his college plans, I would have begged you and Uncle Ed to consider adopting Faith.” She seemed to recall that her aunt and uncle had long ago tried to have children.
“We wanted to adopt you.” Julia’s words were so quiet that Pam thought she must have misheard them.
“What?”
Julia swallowed, keeping her gaze straight ahead, glued to the road. A rosy flush climbed her cheeks. “I’ve never been sure whether to tell you this. There’s a chance you’ll think I sound like a jealous, bitter shrew. But I think what scared me is that there’s an equal chance you’ll be mad at us for giving in and not trying harder.”
“Aunt Julia, you and Ed have been wonderful to me since I came back to Mimosa. Nothing you say is going to change how thankful I am for both of you.”
Sniffing, Julia turned onto a side road Pam didn’t recognize. “Ed and I tried to have children of our own. I got pregnant twice over the course of six years, and miscarried both times. And for her to …”
“Her, who? My mother?”
“I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. I don’t want to tarnish whatever good memories you might have of her.”
“All two of them?” Pam asked wryly. “I don’t harbor any illusions that Mae was a saint. There were some times over the years when we laughed together or that she told me I was beautiful or that she surprised me with a home-cooked feast, but those weren’t the norm. Whatever you have to say, go ahead and get it off your chest. Maybe we’ll both feel better afterward.”
“All right.” Julia took a shaky breath. “Your mother didn’t want you, at least not at first. She saw being pregnant as a burden. And I was incensed with rage that she would be so cavalier about the gift of life, especially knowing that I’d already lost one baby—the second miscarriage came later. Mae was always the life of the party, but the hard drinking and sleeping with other women’s husbands didn’t start until after your father left. She fell through a stained-glass window at a Christmas Eve celebration when you were four. It was then that I truly started to worry. Ed and I tried to help her, but it never worked.”
“You can’t help someone until they’re ready,” Pam said. “That’s something I know personally.”
“We reached the same conclusion, that we couldn’t help her if she didn’t want our help. But we thought maybe we could help you. When you were eight, you stayed after school for a special choir rehearsal and she forgot to pick you up. Nobody could find her, and the music teacher called me to come and get you. When Mae finally thought to come looking for you h
ours later, I was furious, even threatened not to give you over to her and she laughed! ‘Why, Julia Lynn, that’s kidnapping.’ Ed and I scraped together money and consulted with a lawyer, but this was right after my second miscarriage. The legal advice was that we didn’t have strong enough grounds for the state of Mississippi to separate a girl who hadn’t been harmed from her rightful mother. We were also told that, in court, Mae’s attorney would paint me as a grief-ridden, hormone-addled woman out to steal someone else’s child because I couldn’t have one of my own.”
“Oh, Julia. That’s awful.” Pam heart squeezed as she thought of what her aunt had been through. And then, after everything else the woman had endured, her teenage niece accidentally got pregnant. Insult to injury—like mother, like daughter. No wonder Julia had so often seemed bitter; she’d had cause to be.
“I should have fought harder,” Julia lamented, “instead of leaving you with her. I was angry and ashamed. On some level, I was afraid the lawyer was right about me.”
“He wasn’t. You were trying to look out for me. The same way you’re always trying to look out for Uncle Ed with that awful tea and the bacon that isn’t really bacon,” Pam teased gently.
Julia gave her a watery smile. “Thank you for understanding. I promise the place we’re going has excellent tea and real clotted cream.”
Considering Julia’s confession in the car and Pam’s draining encounter with Faith, tea could have been a dreary affair. Instead, it was charming. The Royal Cup was fanciful in its setup, as if the entire café was a little girl’s dress-up tea party. Stuffed animals lined the shelves of one wall, and the china dishes were of high quality but all mismatched. Julia and Pam were offered a feathered boa and a sequined scarf upon arrival.
“Don’t tell me you have a silly side,” Pam muttered to her aunt.
“Nonsense. I only come here because of the antioxidants in the tea. Don’t let’s mention this to your uncle.”
They had tea with actual cubed sugar and scones with cream and fruit. Considering what a wonderful time Pam was having, it was strange that her thoughts went in the direction they did.
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