by Pratt, Lulu
“Holly! Oh my God!” Jessie called from the top of the stairs.
Taking them two at a time, she ran barefoot down the steps into Holly’s open arms. The two hugged for so long I worried they might be crying, but when Jessie finally lifted her head up, she was laughing. Holly smiled back, her head falling back as she giggled along.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Nothing, I just wanted to see my new sister,” Jessie teased, smiling brightly.
“Don’t be weird,” I warned her, as I always had to tell my little sister, who could easily revert to her annoyingly immature ways.
“I’m not! She knows what I mean! I’ve dreamed of this day since we were kids,” Jessie gusted before hugging Holly again. “You have to bring Chris over. My mom says he looks like me.”
“He does!” Holly giggled. “I didn’t even see it until your brother pointed it out to me,” she turned to me, the love evident in her eyes. My heart stopped, caught in my stomach as I watched her smile.
“Promise me you’ll bring him over!” Jessie pleaded.
“I promise!” Holly smiled, hugging my little sister. Jessie was dressed in a powder pink gown, looking like an older version of the princess she’d dress up as every Halloween.
“This is incredible,” Holly whispered in my ear as we stood to the side, watching the party after she met my aunt and uncle. As with everyone else, she had impressed my relatives, telling them stories of Chris and promising to bring him with her to the next family function.
“Can you handle this being our Christmas Eve tradition?” I asked, wrapped my arms around her as I pulled her soft body flush against mine.
“Hmm… sounds like a difficult job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” she joked, her bright smile releasing the tension in my stomach. “As long as your mother doesn’t expect me to do the cooking.”
“You’re perfect, you know that?” I asked, kissing her cheek as I caught my mother waving from across the room.
“I think your mom needs you. Go ahead, I need to use the restroom,” she warned me, nodding to my mother.
“Okay,” I watched her make her way down the hallway before moving to my mom.
The party had picked up majorly now that the night had set in. I could see the waiters readying themselves to distribute the Champagne, quickly pouring one glass after another while filling trays.
“Are you ready to gather around? I wanted to make a toast,” my mom pulled me into her arms.
“Sure. The party came out great, Mom,” I hugged her back, smelling her perfume that reminded me of church as a child.
“Where’d Holly go?” she asked, ignoring my compliment.
“She had to go to the restroom,” I said, trying to look away before she could see the secret in my eyes.
I knew the second she had figured out I was holding something back. Looking to the door, I avoided her like the plague until my eyes landed on Holly from across the room.
She was holding her index finger in one ear with her phone pressed to the other as she strained to hear someone. My face morphed watching her as I unconsciously replicated her emotion. Without being able to hear a word, I knew she was in need, the frustration evident on her face.
“I’ve got to go, Mom,” I tried to slide out of the conversation quickly, but she wasn’t having it.
“What do you mean? What’s going on?”
Unable to communicate, I stalked across the room until Holly was safe in my arms. Her body trembled as she held the phone to her ear.
“Fine. I’ll be there to get my son,” she spit the words out, so controlled I feared for the person on the other end of the line.
“Are you okay?” I asked, searching her eyes.
“Take me to my parents,” Holly’s words were ice cold as her eyes hardened before she walked out of the room without any further explanation.
“What’s going on, Jude?” my mom asked. I hadn’t even noticed she had followed me to Holly. Frustrated by her persistence and coupled with my frustration at what I knew was only more drama with Holly’s family, I let my words slip out.
“Barbara-Jean told Holly that you and Dad got Christina’s murderer off. Now she’s causing trouble because I’m Chris’ dad.”
I could see the hurt on my mother’s face before the words even finished rolling off my tongue. She hated when her children were penalized for her decisions.
“Sorry, Mom, I have to go,” I rushed to explain as Holly headed out the front door. Jogging to catch her, I could barely make out the words my mother called out as I left the party.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
HOLLY
“ARE YOU LOOKING for your car, ma’am?” a man dressed in a valet jacket asked.
“I’m leaving with Jude. I just need to go home,” I tried to explain, feeling dazed.
After the phone call with my mom, I was spinning out of control, feeling sick to my stomach with the need to purge everything. It was my fault. I’d decided against telling her where I was going, knowing she would not like to know I was spending the evening with Jude’s family.
In a way, I kind of thought she knew where I would be. Savannah wasn’t that big, and I wasn’t working. She knew my social life was nonexistent, so in my optimistic mind I hoped she was coming around to accepting Jude. From the tone in her voice, I was wrong.
My phone vibrated in my hand, and I saw my mother’s face smiling back at me. Closing my eyes, I answered the phone once more.
“I’m on my way now. I’m just waiting for the car,” I hurriedly answered.
“I just don’t get it, Holly. You really thought I would want to help you spend time with the enemy? Why can’t you and your brother understand they are not good people?” she yelled.
Again, I was trapped between my two lives. Forcing a smile, I stepped away from the valet stand, feeling helpless.
“Mom, I’m coming to get Chris now,” I replied.
“Holly, this is about more than that. You cannot let him be in Chris’ life!” she screamed so loudly I thought everyone nearby could hear her.
My patience was wearing thin. I felt myself unraveling as my fingers clenched tightly around the phone. Just as I opened my mouth to let my mother have a piece of my mind, Jude appeared out of nowhere. Taking me into his arms, he hugged me gently and took the phone from my hand. He glanced at the screen before putting the phone to his ear and spoke calmly.
“Mrs. Foster, I’m sorry for the inconvenience. We’re coming to you right now,” Jude said flatly before tapping the screen of my phone, gently ending the call.
Jude led me to the car that had just pulled up. Slowly, he placed the phone in a cup holder before turning over the ignition, shifting the car into drive and offering his hand to me.
Without a word, I placed my hand in his and we rode in silence, the tension too thick to cut through. There was so much that could be said, but neither of us had the energy left to say it.
The past two weeks were too much for me. From the moment Jude showed up at the spa, things had been overwhelming. Falling in love was a challenge of its own, but to do that with a new child — a secret child — was too much. Add to that the family feud and it made for a real soap opera of a life that I was tired of.
I craved the anonymity I’d enjoyed during my pregnancy when no one was the wiser. As the city passed by, I thought back to my brother’s question in my parents’ foyer. He’d asked why I didn’t tell him Jude was Chris’ father. As we sped through downtown, I shook my head, certain I’d made the right decision by avoiding this for as long as I could.
My childhood home looked darker than normal in the holiday night. There were no exterior Christmas decorations, my parents the only bare house on the block, as always.
My legs were cinder blocks as I made my way out of the car, slowly making my way to the front door I never wanted to reach. I hated conflict, but my mother was determined to bring out another side of me.
I wasn’t sure what she wanted from
me anymore, after watching her transgressions go from one extreme to the other in the blink of an eye. Unwilling to wait any longer, I didn’t bother ringing the doorbell. Instead, I walked right in the front door. My mother never locked her front door, something she’d gotten from growing up on a farm.
My mother’s bickering could be heard the second you crossed into the house. She was too far to make out words, but too loud to be ignored. With Jude close behind, our fingers interlocked, I led the way to the back of the house, where her words became razor sharp.
“And she thinks she’s going to parade him around here like this is okay? She’s got a lot of nerve!”
“Honey!” my father interrupted her as he saw us approaching.
Turning around, my mother blanched as if she’d seen a ghost when her eyes laid on us. It was the most awkward moment of my life as we all stood in silence. Jude and I were dressed in black tie as my parents stood in their pajamas.
“Where’s my son?” Jude’s words fired across the room like a missile.
Closing my eyes, I waited for the explosion, certain my mother would only be offended by his territorial stance. She didn’t disappoint. I knew she wouldn’t when her eyebrows rose in disbelief. Her hand rose to her chest, covering her heart, and she feigned utter horror for a few seconds before lashing out.
“You were the deadbeat dad of the year, Jude! I’ve raised your son! I don’t want to hear any puffing your chest out two weeks into the job!” Her tongue was venomous, and I knew it was a deep hurt she was pulling from.
My mom had hidden her feelings for so long, trying to be strong for everyone else.
One thing after another had become ways for her to hide the pain, but now as she was pouring her emotions out, I knew it was a breaking of a dam. Gently, I squeezed Jude’s hand, hoping to let him know what I knew without words. I needed him to feel me.
“You don’t know!” her voice broken.
“Honey, let’s go lie down,” my dad offered from the head of the table. Even with his large stature, it was easy to forget he was there.
“No! I’m sick of it! He has no idea who his family is!” she pointed so hard at Jude, her finger shook.
My mother was flailing, her emotions getting the best of her. I wanted to intervene and save her, but like my father, I knew she just had to get it out. Whatever it was she was feeling, it had become too much to bear and we had to let her vent.
“Anita testified! She was the reason he walked away! Your family let it happen!” my mother cried, her arms swinging in the air to emphasize her words.
“That’s not true,” Jude argued, his voice soft and caring. “I just want to be a part of Chris’ life, Mrs. Foster. I’ve never done anything to make you think I wouldn’t support your daughter. I love her, please just let us be in love,” Jude begged, his voice yearning with a need for acceptance.
Knowing how much I loved my mother, Jude had to imagine there was no way to my heart that didn’t include her. She was too much of my life to ever ignore, but there had never been a time when I had to decide in the way she was forcing me to choose.
“How isn’t it true?! You don’t know!” she screamed, stepping forward.
My father stood from the table, and I felt for a moment like life moved in slow motion. My natural instinct to protect Jude sent me in front of him, but then I felt a soft hand on my wrist.
Caught in the chaos of yelling over each other, we hadn’t heard the front door open. But someone else, who knew my mother well enough to remember she never locked her doors, had come right inside.
For the first time in years, Anita Hatch stood in my parents’ house, dressed in a formal gown as Jessie and Mr. Hatch stood at her back.
“You really thought we got that scumbag off? Barbara-Jean, you can’t be serious!” Mrs. Hatch said calmly, silencing the whole room.
We all turned, stunned as the severity of the situation hit us. My mom and Mrs. Hatch had been friends since elementary school, ending a bond so abruptly without so much as a conversation. No one had ever been able to convince my mother to hear Mrs. Hatch out, but she’d finally decided to make a case for herself then and there.
Taking Jude’s hand, I pulled him to the side, giving them space to talk it out.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
JUDE
THE ROOM WAS eerily silent as my mother took center stage. I hadn’t even heard her come in or expected her to follow us here. It was weird seeing her in the Foster family home after so many years.
“What is going on?” Dylan walked into the room.
“Come here,” Holly whispered, waving her finger to him.
No one seemed to want to pause the drama to catch Dylan up. My mother and Mrs. Foster were locked in a glare, and I began to question if this was a good idea.
Initially, I had wanted my mother to tell her side of the story. For some reason, I thought they could work it out, but now that I saw them together I realized there was probably a reason everyone decided it best to just keep them apart all these years.
Now, it was just the two mothers left alone in the middle of the room. My mom took the first step, and Barbara-Jean backed up against the counter. Everyone gasped as my mom reached out.
“Do you really think I would ever do anything to hurt Christina, Barbara-Jean?”
“Don’t do this here, Anita. You don’t want your kids to know the truth,” Mrs. Foster said, glancing at Jessie.
Everyone knew Jessie was best friends with Christina, so if anyone should be protected it was her. She had taken Christina’s death harder than all of us, and I felt an instinct to protect her as a big brother.
“No, they can hear,” my mother answered instead, stepping forward again. Looking over at Jessie, she spoke loudly. “Barbara-Jean thinks we played a role in the sentencing of Christina’s killer,” her voice cracked as she spoke the dead girl’s name.
Jessie’s face lost its color as she sat down on a nearby bar stool. Glancing up to me, Holly nodded at my sister, quietly telling me to be by her side. I kissed her cheek, grateful for our connection as I made my way to Jessie, resting my hand on her shoulder as my mother continued her explanation.
“Barbara-Jean,” my mom shook her head.
There was such a long connection between them, it was clear why everyone in the room wanted them to find a way back into each other’s lives. Everything had been uprooted because of their conflict, changing the outcome of our lives forever. As if losing Christina wasn’t devastating enough, I had to lose her parents too. We never went on another vacation together, or spent another holiday together after Christina passed away.
“I didn’t do anything to help him. I swear,” my mom held her hands up defenselessly.
“Anita, we read the transcripts. I saw everything you said. You vouched for him! Said he was a good employee! You spoke up for that monster when he did that to our little baby girl!” Holly’s mom shrieked as a tear ran down her face.
“You’ve got to be kidding! Barbara-Jean, no!” my mom said in disbelief as she turned to my dad, her voice cracking with emotion and pain. Her eyes watered up as she put the pieces to the puzzle together, realizing something no one else in the room appeared to know. My mom took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair as I did when I was frustrated.
Mr. Foster jumped to his feet, going to his wife as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. “Sweetie, what’s done is done,” he soothed her, rubbing her back.
“It was a deposition. It wasn’t like a courtroom. There was no way I couldn’t answer the questions how I did. They broke down his attendance and productivity reports and categorically defined him as a good employee, so we had to say that, legally. Up to the time we fired him for being drunk on the job, he had been a good employee. What happened afterwards was something we could not have foreseen. We suggested to him that he get professional help, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want help. You should see what was cut out! They had to strike so many things from th
e record because I wanted my truth told. I tried to make it clear that I wanted the harshest punishment, but it wasn’t like the courtrooms on TV shows,” my mother argued, taking a step closer to Holly’s mom.
“I loved Christina like a daughter. Her death killed a part of me. However, what hurt almost as much was losing you as a friend. I didn’t know what happened and you shut me out. Had I known what you believed, I would have moved heaven and earth,” my mother spoke so softly, I strained to hear her.
I watched as the two women closed in on each other. Holly’s mom softened a bit, almost like she wanted a reason to forgive my mom. It was a heavy burden to carry for so long, and it didn’t fit her well.
“I would have never done anything to hurt her, Barbara-Jean. I was in the hospital when you gave birth to Christina. Jessie was only two weeks old,” she glanced across the room at us. “Our boys were like brothers. When we babysat them both, we’d joke that we knew what it was like to have twins, because they were that close!”
“I used to make Jude take Dylan to teach him some discipline!” Mrs. Foster laughed.
“Oh, Barbara-Jean,” my mom shook her head as her voice cracked. “I’ve been heartbroken over this for so many years. It was only a conversation! I feel so silly. All this time,” she sighed as the tears rolled down her face.
“And now look at us,” Mrs. Foster rolled her eyes, always the dramatic one. My mom flung her arm around Mrs. Foster, pulling her close as they moved next to each other, giddy like two schoolgirls.
“You’re stuck with me. My boy knocked your daughter up!” she teased, and I felt myself reddening.
“All right, all right,” my father called, standing to his feet as he commanded everyone’s attention.
Like Holly’s dad, my father wasn’t one for many words. He was all about his business and family, so when he spoke you knew it was because he had something to say.