Bitter Truth

by C. J. Carmichael

  Argh! She disconnected, feeling like a fool.

  Would he return her call? Did she even want him to? God, she had no idea. All she knew was that she couldn’t go back to Seattle without letting him know.

  There was so much she needed to do. Find a job. An apartment.

  Tiff pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She rarely got headaches, but thinking about January was bringing one on. She tried to distract herself by wrapping the gifts she’d purchased in Missoula on the weekend.

  She’d hoped to bring her mother along on the shopping excursion. But when it came time to get in the car, her mother had come up with a list of reasons she couldn’t leave the house.

  Marsha had tried to convince her to go, as well. “It’ll be fun. You haven’t gone shopping in ages.”

  But Tiff’s mother hadn’t changed her mind.

  More proof that Tiff’s presence wasn’t helpful, wasn’t even wanted.

  Tiff gave the ribbon on the final gift a twist, then tied the strands tightly around a miniature candy cane. Pretty. She stacked her gifts in her arms and carried them to the family room where she arranged them under the tree, within the circle created by Casey’s train track. There were already gifts here for her, two from her aunt and two from her mother.

  “What a pretty scene.”

  Tiff turned, surprised at seeing her mother. She was dressed in lounging pajamas and slippers, her hair tied up in a messy bun.

  “I didn’t hear you come in the room, Mom.”

  “Remember the year you and Casey insisted on spending the night by the Christmas tree in your sleeping bags?”

  “Yeah.” Yet more proof that her aunt was right about her mother being happier living in the past. Gently Tiff said, “We drank cocoa and ate cookies. You didn’t make us brush our teeth again after.” She and her mom exchanged a smile.

  Her mother took a step closer. “Your aunt told me you’re moving back to Seattle.”

  In a flash Tiff’s nostalgia turned to guilt. “Sorry, Mom. I meant to talk to you about this sooner.”

  “That’s okay. You’ll be happier in Seattle. In the long run.” Her mom’s gaze lowered to her hands, which she was twisting compulsively.

  “Nothing’s set in stone, Mom. If you need me—”

  “I’ll be fine. Lately I haven’t had my usual energy. But after the holidays are over, I’m sure I’ll bounce back to normal.”

  The unspoken message was clear. Once Tiff was gone her mother would feel better. Tiff pushed back her sadness, blinked away her tears.

  “We still have Christmas to look forward to,” her mother said. “Which reminds me. A romantic holiday movie is about to start and Marsha put a pizza in the oven. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  Craig returned Tiff’s call about an hour later. Tiff excused herself from the family room, so she wouldn’t disrupt the movie. Out in the hall she pressed her back against the wall and sank to the floor. “Thanks for calling back.”

  “No problem. I just got off work. How are you doing?”

  His familiar tenor voice was like a warm blanket on a cold day. He’d been a good boyfriend. He’d deserved so much better than what she’d put him through. But she couldn’t apologize again without opening a door she was certain they both wanted to leave closed.

  “Okay. Dealing with family drama.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No. But it’s only for a short time. I’m coming back to Seattle in January.”

  “Yeah, that’s great.”

  Something about his answer felt off. “You already knew?”

  “Sure. Your aunt told me. Oh hell. I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

  “Hang on. You talked to my aunt?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “How did you... Did you call the farm on our landline?”

  “I didn’t call her. She called me.”

  What the hell...? How was this even possible? “But—how did she reach you?”

  “Through Facebook. She sent me a message and asked if she could call. At the time I said okay because, to be honest, she made it sound like you were in a really bad place.”

  “And she told you I was moving?”

  “Back to Seattle, yeah. She said you were having a hard time getting over me.”

  Tiff could hear in his voice that he wanted this to be true. “Did she say anything else?”

  “That you felt too guilty to contact me and if I was open to renewing our relationship the first move would have to come from me.”

  “And so you sent that message. Given what I did...that was really sweet of you.”

  “I was kind of a jerk at the end, too. I never gave you the chance to explain. So if you need to talk. For closure or anything. I’m willing. That’s all I wanted to say.”

  “I appreciate that. A lot. I’m just—wow, I can’t believe my aunt actually reached out to you.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part.”

  “She wanted you to pretend getting in touch with me was all your idea?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Don’t get mad at her for interfering okay? She sounded genuinely worried about you.”

  “Right.” Tiff took a deep breath. She needed to get rid of Craig. Needed to think. “One day I would like to try and explain why I did what I did. I think it would help with closure, for both of us. Can I call you again after Christmas?”

  “I guess so...”

  He sounded uncertain, as if he hadn’t expected their conversation to end this way. Poor guy.

  “Thanks, Craig. And merry Christmas.”

  Tiff glanced down the hall toward the family room. She could tell by the music that they’d reached a tense moment in the story. The confusion she’d felt during the call was lifting. Anger took its place.

  Even if her aunt’s behavior was motivated by genuine concern, there was no excuse for Marsha to contact Craig and manipulate him into reaching out to Tiff. Tiff couldn’t remember ever telling her mother or her aunt that she was having trouble getting over Craig. So why would Marsha tell Craig that?

  Only one reason made sense...Marsha was apparently so determined to convince Tiff to leave that she was willing to manipulate innocent people, go behind Tiff’s back and tell outright lies.

  Kenny’s words about her aunt from the other night came back to Tiff. She doesn’t have your best interests at heart.

  And then an even uglier suspicion popped into Tiff’s mind. Before she could lose her nerve, she called Derick, who answered right away.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  “I need you to be honest with me. Why did you turn down my business proposal? Did someone warn you off?” Tiff’s pulse throbbed in her throat. Her hands were shaking. She couldn’t believe she’d put such a ridiculous idea into words and she waited for Derick to shoot her down.

  It took Derick a few seconds to answer. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but your aunt Marsha called me. She said you were only staying in Lost Trail out of a sense of duty. If everyone in Lost Trail refused to give you work you’d be free to move back to Seattle with a clear conscience.”

  And there it was. Confirmation that Kenny had been correct about her aunt, while she had been totally wrong.

  “What if she hadn’t called you?”

  “I wanted to hire you. Hell, I still do. But I know what it’s like to feel trapped by family obligations. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”

  “I’m sure my aunt meant well.” Maybe. Not likely. “But she’s wrong about me. I don’t want to live in Seattle. If you’re serious about needing my services, I’m totally up for it. You won’t be sorry. How about we talk after Christmas?”

  “Good idea.”

  “Thanks, Derick.” Tiff turned off her phone. She wondered how many more “helpful” calls her aunt had placed to the business owners around town. She wasn’t going to do any more checking, though. It was time to talk to her aunt.

  Justin recognized fear in his father’s eyes. He
felt it too. And somehow he knew...whatever happened in the next hour, the relationship between the two of them would never be the same.

  “You’ve lied to me. I have a sister. Tiff Masterson is my sister.”

  His father seemed to shrink a few inches. For once Justin felt no compassion for him. His father’s reaction was telling him there was no simple solution to this, no clever answer he hadn’t managed to think of on his own that would explain everything and make it all normal and good.

  “You didn’t learn that in my bedroom.”

  “I had an appointment with Dr. Zimmermann this morning. He had the results of the donor drive expedited.”

  His father bowed his head and nodded. “Come to the living room. Let’s sit down and I’ll explain.”

  As they walked past the kitchen, Justin’s father noticed the open box on the table. He touched the edge of one of the photos Justin had lined up to prove to himself he’d been the baby Franny was holding in her arms in her delivery bed.

  “You were a beautiful baby. Such a happy little boy.”

  Stop it! Cut the loving father act already!

  Justin wanted to shout, to demand, to accuse. But he didn’t.

  His role of perfect son was so engrained Justin couldn’t lose it, not even as dark rage possessed him, swamping out all the love he’d had for this man.

  In the living room Justin tried to sit, but couldn’t. His nerves were too jumpy. He paced to the front window and back, while the man who claimed to be his father fussed at cleaning his glasses with a cotton handkerchief.

  Who used a cotton handkerchief these days? It was one of those idiosyncrasies that had once made Justin smile. Now he wanted to snarl.

  “Is she a match?”

  Justin stared at him for several seconds. This was where he chose to begin? “Yes.”

  “Ah.” A small smile appeared briefly. “That’s so good. Your chances of a successful transplant are so much better with a biological sibling.”

  “Assuming Tiff agrees to go through with the procedure. By the way, does she have any idea we’re...related?”

  “No.”

  Justin jammed his hands into his pockets. Outside the world was growing darker. He thought briefly of Geneva, and her fondness for her grandfather. He closed his eyes for a second. Oh, God, the world could be such a cruel place.

  “Why have you lied to me all these years?”

  “That is a very good question. At first it was for your mother. After she died, I admit, I acted out of pure selfishness.” He hesitated, then added, “And weakness. That’s why I arranged for the donor clinic. I let science give you the answer I wasn’t strong enough to admit.”

  Blood pounded in Justin’s head as he tried to follow the tangled conversation, to unravel truth from fantasy. “Maybe you think I know more than I do. Can you explain to me how Tiffany Masterson could possibly be my sister? Who is our real mother? Our father?”

  Clark Pittman—that was the moment Justin started thinking of him that way, as a man, not a father—looked down at the handkerchief he was twisting in his hands. Then he lifted his head and faced Justin directly.

  “You and Tiff have the same birth parents. Irving Masterson and his wife, Rosemary.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After her conversation with Derick, Tiff went to the washroom and stared at her reflection for a long time. Then she returned to the family room.

  “That call took a long time,” Marsha commented.

  “It was several calls actually.”

  Both her mother and Marsha must have heard the frost in her voice because they turned to look at her. Her mother’s expression was confused. Her aunt’s, guarded.

  “May I speak to you a minute, Aunt Marsha?”

  “But we’re getting to the good part,” Tiff’s mom objected. “They’ve had their big fight, now it’s time to come together. Can’t you talk after the movie?”

  “It has to be now.” She waited while Marsha uncrossed her legs and stood up from the sofa. For a second Rosemary looked concerned, then she turned back to the TV screen.

  Tiff led her aunt through the kitchen to the dining room. She wanted more than one wall between them and her mother.

  “Can you explain why you’ve been leading a campaign to get me to leave Lost Trail?” As soon as she asked the question, tears welled. She tightened her jaw and blinked away the tears.

  “How can you accuse me of such a thing? Tiff, honey, I’ve always been on your side.”

  “I once thought so. But contacting my ex-boyfriend behind my back and telling him lies. Coercing all the business owners in Lost Trail not to hire me. How could you do that?”

  Her aunt passed her hand over her forehead and down one side of her face. “I went to extreme measures. It’s true. I was just so certain you were making a mistake.”

  “No. You don’t care about me. You just want me gone. What I can’t work out is why? Isn’t this house big enough for the three of us? Why could you possibly object to me moving home and spending more time with my mother?”

  “Of course I don’t object. You’re getting distraught. If you’d only listen to me—” The chiming of her aunt’s cell phone cut off her words. Marsha glanced toward the kitchen where her phone sat charging on the counter.

  Then she focused back on Tiff. “You and your mother are all the family I have. I’d do anything for you. Yes, I probably went too far. But I was trying to help you.”

  Part of Tiff longed to believe her aunt. But there was a glint in Marsha’s eye she’d never noticed before, and it made her wary.

  The phone had gone quiet for a few moments. Now it began ringing again.

  “Oh heck,” her aunt said. “I’d better get that. Don’t go anywhere. We need to settle this tonight.” She hurried to the kitchen and snatched up her phone. She took a quick look at the display then pressed the button to talk.

  “Clark, this isn’t a good time.”

  He said something to convince her otherwise, because she brought her other hand to the phone and began listening intently.

  Tiff watched as lines dug into her aunt’s forehead and color swamped her face. Her nostrils flared, and she flashed a glance, a hot, angry glance, at Tiff.

  “Enough, Clark. I’ll call you right back.” Marsha turned off the phone and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. Anger practically radiated in waves from her aunt as she faced Tiff. Slowly she took one step forward, then another. Raising her hand she pointed a stiff finger at Tiff’s heart.

  “You went to the donor drive. You gave them a sample of your DNA.”

  Tiff raised her chin and nodded. “Of course I did. It was the right thing to do.”

  Her aunt’s gaze shifted from one side of the room to the other. She shook her head, and closed her eyes briefly. “That was a big mistake. A big mistake.”

  “I had to do it. I had a duty.”

  Marsha focused on Tiff again. “What about your duty to me?” Her mouth twisted with anger. “After all I’ve done for you and your mother. All these years and I’ve never asked for anything. Except that. Don’t go to the donor drive. A simple request. But you didn’t listen. Damn you, Tiff. Damn you to hell and back.”

  Tiff pressed her back to the dining room wall as her aunt stormed past her. Despite what she’d learned about her aunt today, she was shocked to be spoken to that way.

  A moment later she heard the front door open and slam shut. She raced to the window and watched as Marsha drove off into the night.

  It had begun to snow again, Tiff noticed inanely. Her emotions bruised, her body suddenly exhausted, she simply stood there, unable to make sense of any of it.

  A rustling sound came from behind, and then her mother stepped up, put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you all right, honey?”

  “Something’s wrong with Aunt Marsha. She’s acting crazy.”

  Her mother hugged her. “I know the feeling.”

  If he didn’t have Geneva to worry about,
Justin might have packed his bags and left Lost Trail for good. But he didn’t have that luxury.

  After his life-altering conversation at the home where he’d grown up, he drove to Debbie-Ann’s to get his daughter, hoping he didn’t look as depleted as he felt.

  One look at him and Debbie-Ann’s eyes widened with concern. “Was it bad news?”

  He almost nodded yes, until he realized, of course, she was asking about his cancer. “The opposite. They’ve found a donor.”

  “That’s wonderful—isn’t it?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some other time.” He couldn’t wait to be alone. To have some time to absorb all he’d learned. He still couldn’t believe the magnitude of the deception. The nerve. The maliciousness.

  “Daddy, Daddy!” Geneva came running out of Ashley’s bedroom. She threw her arms around him.

  A chunk of ice fell off his heart as she squeezed him with her little girl arms. He wasn’t her biological father, but she knew that. He’d never lied to her about anything. He promised himself he never would.

  Tiff sat with her mother for a long time that evening, as she explained how Marsha had worked behind the scenes to convince her to leave Lost Trail. “Why do you think she wants me gone so badly?”

  Rosemary took her hand and squeezed it. “When we were girls Marsha was very jealous of me. She always had to have the biggest slice of apple pie, the best doll, the prettiest dress...”

  “Really?” She’d never heard her mother speak unkindly about anyone, let alone her sister.

  “Maybe Marsha is jealous that I have such a wonderful daughter. I don’t know why else she would try to send you away.”

  “She told me that it was painful for you to have me around. That I reminded you too much of the past.”

  “Not true. That is absolutely not true.” Rosemary gazed into the distance a moment, then added in a soft voice, “She was just trying to hurt you. And me.”