“Well if you weren’t out making whoopie with someone else,” Kyrie asked, “what did you mean?”
“I mean, I was overwhelmed and dog-tired and not much of a wife or a partner in those days.”
“Well, duh.” Margie swayed from side to side with all the grace of a hula dancer in an earthquake. “Four little kids all in a row? Who wouldn’t be?”
“I loved you girls with everything I had. I want you to remember that, okay? But there were times in those years when I wasn’t the happiest of mothers. Or wives. So many days, I felt like I was just going through the motions, barely keeping up with everything you all needed. The only time I got a break was when I had to attend events with your father, and as I’m sure you can imagine, those weren’t what anyone would call relaxing.”
“No shit,” Jenna said emphatically.
Neenee nodded. “I should have asked for more help, but your father was already doing everything he could, and there wasn’t money for extra child care. So it was me and the four of you, all day, every day.”
“That sounds incredibly not fun,” Annie said.
“That sounds incredibly like you were dealing with clinical depression,” Bree said quietly.
“I probably was. I had no energy, no strength . . . everything was so hard and overwhelming. It was like I walked around each day in a gray bubble. Nothing could reach me. Even though I really did love you all so much.”
“We know, Mom.” Jenna patted her hand. “You don’t need to worry.”
“The only way I got through the days, especially when Kyrie and Paige were so small, was by . . . well . . .” Neenee took a deep breath. “Planning my escape.”
“Really?” If Kyrie was trying to sound calm and understanding, it wasn’t working.
“Really.” Neenee laughed uncomfortably. “I . . . well, I tucked away some money. Not a lot, not enough that it would have made any difference in the hospital bills, but, you know. Twenty dollars here and there. And I started carrying my passport in my purse. I looked up train schedules. I even packed a little suitcase and hid it in the corner of the closet.” This time, her laugh seemed tinged with tears. “You have no idea how much I enjoyed packing for just myself. I think that was the most fun I’d had in a month.”
“Oh, Mom.” Annie rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around Neenee’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“The thing is,” Neenee continued, “I can understand what your father did, in a way, because I was so tempted to do the same.”
“Okay, Mom. That’s all good and commendable, and empathy is a great trait to possess.” Bree said. “However, there’s a buttload of difference between imagining you’re going to do something and actually doing it. And the fact is that you didn’t do it.”
Neenee’s silence seemed far too loaded.
“Mom?” Jenna glanced at Bree, then at their mother. “Um . . . you’re not saying anything.”
“You girls are giving me too much credit.”
Bree’s stomach cramped up. This was way too much information, way too many foundations being yanked out from beneath her way too fast.
“This isn’t going to turn out like the Santa Claus talk, is it, Mom?” asked Kyrie.
“Shhh,” Margie muttered. “Annie still believes.”
“The truth is,” Neenee said, “I did kind of make a plane reservation.”
Holy . . .
“I told myself I wouldn’t leave for long. Just a weekend. Maybe a week. Just long enough to get some sleep and maybe remember who I was.”
“You were going to run away?” Jenna seemed torn between disbelief and admiration.
“I never thought of it that way. More like, you know. A little vacation.” Neenee shook her head, seeming to notice their dazed expressions for the first time. “Oh, not to worry. I had a sitter all lined up, you know? I would never have walked out without knowing you were all in good hands.”
Bree bit back the comment she wanted to make, that Neenee should have taken the money she tucked away and used it to buy herself some of the help she had so obviously needed. She had never been in her mother’s situation and she prayed she never would be.
“So what happened?” Jenna asked. “Did you go?”
“No.” Neenee sighed. “And before you attribute all kinds of virtue to me, no, it wasn’t because I came to my senses. Or because the sitter canceled.”
Bree did some fast mental math. “Dad,” she said grimly. “That was when they first came after him. Wasn’t it?”
It all fit. She wished to hell it didn’t, because everything in her curled into a tight ball of irrational hurt at the thought that the only thing that had kept her mother from abandoning them was the fact that their father was being charged with crimes.
“No.” Neenee’s voice was hollow. “That happened about a week later.”
“So what stopped you?” Kyrie asked.
Neenee’s eyes turned to Annie.
“You’re kidding.” Jenna’s voice was flat. “You stayed because you found out you were pregnant again?”
“The whole point of running away was to be alone and, you know, have fun. Neither of which is really possible when you’re pregnant.”
Holy God, their mother had been planning to go on a weeklong bender.
“And,” Neenee continued, “it turns out that the timing was actually fine. If I had been hiding out in a hotel in Vegas when they came for your father—”
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Kyrie said. “You were going to go to Vegas?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Kyrie, it was the most practical destination. More hotel rooms than anyplace else, cheap flights, cheap food, and tons of entertainment.” Neenee squared her shoulders. “I mean, if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.”
Bree couldn’t decide if she was stunned or proud.
“The point is,” Neenee continued, “I was exceptionally close to pulling my own disappearing act. So I can’t act too superior when it comes to your father.”
“But you wouldn’t have made us think you were dead,” Bree reminded her. “There’s a big difference between taking a week to save your sanity and putting everyone who loves you through the worst kind of hell.”
“That’s for damned sure,” Margie said in a low growl.
“I know that. But I . . . Oh, what was I trying to say?” She ran her fingers through her blond bob, suddenly looking tired, as if the trip down memory lane had been a difficult one. “Bree. Sometimes, when emotions are high and everything seems to be spinning out of control, people will grab onto something they can manage. They’ll see one little piece of the hurricane around them and latch onto it.”
“Like packing a suitcase for Vegas as a way to cope with the insanity of little kids?” Annie asked.
“Precisely. It was a stupid-ass thing to do, to be blunt, and if I had actually gone through with it, it would only have led to more problems. Just like your father’s solution.”
“And you think that’s what I’ve done?” Bree tried but couldn’t grasp the similarities. “Mom, I know you mean well, and this has been really, um, illuminating, but I don’t see—”
“Of course you don’t. Nobody ever thinks that they’re doing the wrong thing at the time. Or if they do, they rationalize it away. It’s just a week, you tell yourself. It’s just a little bit of money and I’ll pay it back right away.” She slid her hand across the table to grab Bree’s. “Or maybe, when one relationship has been turned on its head, it might feel too scary to have to deal with another relationship that has taken off in ways you didn’t expect.”
“Wait. What?” Bree was glad she was sitting down, because the twists and turns of this logic were making her dizzy. “You think I’m so rattled by the whole Dad thing that it left me . . . what . . . scared to stay with Spence? So I basically made him choose between . . . wh
at, between me and—”
“Between you and his family.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“Well,” Annie said, “I wouldn’t exactly say it makes no sense.”
Oh no.
Bree looked from one sister to another. She saw compassion and understanding in their faces, but it was the kind that usually accompanied telling someone that their pet goldfish had gone to the great bowl in the sky.
“You have got to be kidding.” Maybe if she said it loud enough, she could convince them. “I am not scared of . . . of any of this. I told you, Spence and I were never supposed to be more than . . . than . . .”
“I believe the term you’re searching for is fuck buddies,” Neenee said, eliciting smothered gasps and hoots from around the table.
“Oh my God, Mom. I really, really love you,” Jenna said between snickers.
Neenee waved it away.
“Come on, Bree. Be honest.” Kyrie wiped the grin from her face and focused on Bree. “Even if it was never supposed to be more than two old rivals finally putting that energy to good use—”
“Fuck buddies,” Annie whispered as she collapsed in giggles. Kyrie waved a finger at her.
“Stop, you. Bree. Can you honestly say that you didn’t feel anything else for him?”
No, she thought. She didn’t want to be honest. Or insightful. Or admit that everything her mother and sisters were saying was ringing a bell deep inside her. A very tiny, high-pitched bell that was as easy to ignore as the whine of a mosquito in a darkened bedroom.
“Whatever happened to the rule that we don’t interfere in each other’s love lives?”
“Misdirection.” Annie shook her head. “A classic defense mechanism.”
And there was the thanks Bree got for tutoring her baby sister in psych.
“Way I see it, nobody’s interfered with anything.” The slight wobble to Margie’s words was a testament to the diminishing levels in the Scotch bottle at her side. “They’re just laying out some facts.” She shrugged. “What happens next is up to you, I’d say.”
Jenna simulated a mic drop. “And . . . boom.”
Bree was pretty sure that was her cue to leave.
* * *
Spence suspected that Carl’s birthday was going to be rough for Livvy, so he told her that after she dropped off the kids, she was to come straight to his place for dinner. She didn’t even put up a token protest.
When she arrived, she gave him a perfunctory hug and pointed toward the back of the house. He got the message.
“Meet you in a few,” he said, and let her head off to the greenhouse to have a cry in peace.
After a few minutes spent adding orange slices to the chicken and setting up the rice in the cooker, he dove into the fridge and grabbed the carton of juice in the back. Two tumblers with ice cubes and oj, a splash of peach schnapps in each, and voilà. An instant trip in the Wayback Machine for him and Livvy. They could probably use it tonight.
“Stay,” he said to Furgus, who followed him to the greenhouse. “Bark if the chicken starts to burn, okay?”
The dog sat up straighter, ears cocked, and all but saluted.
Spence kicked off his shoes and walked into the evening shadows of the greenhouse. He wasn’t surprised that Livvy hadn’t bothered with the lights.
He found her over by the lettuce, methodically plucking leaves and shoving them into her mouth.
“You know,” he said gently, “I’ve always heard that the appropriate food for stress eating is usually found in the freezer section. In blue pint containers. With a picture of two aging hippies on the side.”
Livvy scowled and popped another leaf into her mouth. “No offence to Ben and Jerry, but I don’t feel like being a stereotype tonight. I’ve done enough of that the past few years.” She chewed and swallowed. “Also, unless you’ve stocked up, the only ice cream you had here the other day was that nasty spumoni shit. There is no way I’m wasting a binge on that.”
“What can I say? A friend brought it over one night. Maybe three months ago.” He handed her the glass. “And that right there should tell you that I totally agree with your assessment.”
“It’s taking up valuable freezer space. You need room for the good stuff. Feed it to the dog.”
“Excuse me, I happen to be very fond of Furgie. Also, I just paid a shitload of money to the vet for the last time he ate something bad. I think it was a candle. I can’t afford another visit.”
Livvy stared down at her glass. “Is this really a Fuzzy Navel?”
“You bet your bootie.”
“Oh my God, I feel like I’m nineteen all over again.” She slugged down about half the glass. “That was a damned good year.”
“Agreed.”
Livvy brushed soil off the small bench and seated herself, staring into her glass.
They sat in silence, sipping their drinks.
“I hope the kids are okay,” she said softly.
“They’re strong, Liv. They’ll be okay.”
“Thanks.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “They don’t know it yet, but I’ve set up some counseling for them. Just in case.”
“Good call.”
Green, dark silence settled around them. Another month or so and it would be too hot to sit in the greenhouse, even at night, but now, in late April, it was a perfect place to hide out from the world.
“Thanks again for helping with the cake, Spence. And . . . I don’t know what you said to them, not all of it, anyway, but they seemed a bit different when they came home that day. A little bit more willing to at least tolerate their father.”
“Glad to be of assistance.” He gave a short laugh of relief. “Really glad I didn’t make things worse.”
“And when have you ever done that?”
He couldn’t help it. His thoughts flew straight to Bree, to the plans, to the choice. And any hopes he’d ever had that he might be as unflappable as James Bond were immediately dashed when Livvy reared back, eyes wide.
“Whoa, what was that?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Which was the stupidest answer in the world, he knew, practically guaranteed to make her start digging. But it was out there before he could stop himself.
Someday he would learn to wait before he spoke.
“Uh-uh. Don’t give me that. I know problems when I see them.” She squinted over the rim of her glass. “Besides, you have not only seen me at the lowest point of my life lately, you also keep swearing you’ll do whatever I need. Well, right now, I need a distraction. So come on, baby brother. Spill.”
Shit. There was no wriggling out of this one.
“It’s not going to make anything better. Including your mood.”
“So we get all the misery out of the way at once and keep it from messing up another day.” She took his glass from his hand. “Out with it.”
“Fine.” As unemotionally and as quickly as possible, he laid it all out. By the time he finished, Livvy’s glass was empty, she’d polished off half of his, and she was giving him the same look she had given way back when he told her that, yeah, he knew exactly what people in town were saying about him, because he was the one who had started the rumors.
“You do know that as boneheaded moves go, this is one of your best yet.”
“You’re conveniently skipping over Bree’s part in all of this.”
“Seriously, Spencer? Do I have to— Look. What is the most important thing in the world to you?”
“Easy. You guys. Family.”
“And from everything you know about Bree, wouldn’t you say that’s on the top of her list, too?”
“Right. But that means her sisters, her mother, her nutty aunt. Not Rob. I mean, she said that she—”
“Oh Jesus Christ on a cracker, Spence, do you hear yourself?”
“Listen, you bonehead. You spent years telling me to leave Carl. Same with my friends. You all listened to me when I cried on your shoulders, and you were wonderful, and took my side, and I am so grateful. But it was only okay when I was the one doing the bitching. If you or any of my friends said something, no matter how true it was, I defended him. Because I still loved the idiot. It’s like, if you call Furgus a lazy mutt, it’s fine, but if somebody else says it, you snarl at them.”
“Not always,” he said, fighting to catch his breath despite the wave of oh shit breaking over his head.
“True. As long as it’s obvious we don’t mean it, you’re fine.”
He took both glasses from her. Livvy had all but licked them clean. “She said she asked him about Dad,” he said to the ground.
Livvy sucked in a fast breath. “And?”
“He gave her some cock-and-bull story about it being just a case of bad timing and Dad not keeping good records.”
“I take it you don’t believe him. Her. Whoever.”
“Would you?”
She leaned forward, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand. “I can’t say I’ve talked to him since he moved back,” she said slowly. “But from what I’ve heard, he hasn’t been walking around denying anything he did.”
“Of course not. He was convicted.”
“Come on, Spence. Every person in prison was convicted, and almost every one of them would claim to be innocent. Besides,” she added, “does he have any idea that you and Bree were—”
If she said boinking, he was going to have to leave.
“Involved?”
Thank God for small mercies. “I don’t know how he would, unless she told him.” Honesty compelled him to say, “And even though she figured out she still cares about him, I don’t think she’s happy about that. So I can’t believe she would start telling him . . . things.”
“So what would he gain by lying?”
“He might have suspected something. Bree wouldn’t be likely to ask that out of the blue.”
Romancing the Rival Page 25