“It’s okay,” Deanna said, then sucked in a breath. “I got the point of what you were saying. As for the other thing, I guess I flashed back to what it had been like with my mom. How she monitored everything about me.”
Deanna stopped talking. Well, shit. She’d worked her whole life to be nothing like her mother, and here she was—exactly where she’d started.
“I’m definitely a bad witch,” she muttered.
“Acceptance is the first step in healing,” Boston told her smugly.
“If I had something other than a drink in my hand, I’d throw it at you.”
Andi leaned back and sighed. “I just love our girls’ nights. They’re not traditional, but they’re very satisfying.”
Deanna raised her glass. “To us.”
* * *
Boston walked into her house close to midnight. She and Andi had stayed with Deanna until her family had returned and everyone else had gone to bed. They’d decided it was safer for everyone that way. Deanna was still figuring out the problem, which meant finding a solution was a ways off. Confusion and margaritas didn’t make for a happy combination.
Now she walked through her dark living room, easily finding her way. She knew every inch of this house, knew every piece of furniture. Like Deanna, she’d lived here most of her life, had lost her parents early. They’d been so close physically, but had never become friends. Not until recently.
As a kid, she hadn’t bothered to wonder. As a recently married twentysomething, she’d assumed Deanna looked down on her. Boston wasn’t traditional enough, was too artistic, didn’t care about being perfect.
For her part, Boston had decided Deanna walked around with a stick up her ass, and who needed that? But they’d each had their pain, and they’d concealed it in the corners of their lives.
Boston and Zeke had put off having a family—loving their “just the two of us” lifestyle too much to share it with anyone. But every time Deanna got pregnant again, Boston had felt guilt. As if her neighbor were better than her. Then she and Zeke had decided it was time.
What she hadn’t told anyone was that when Liam was born, she’d been terrified of being punished for being selfish. Then his death had confirmed her fears. That she hadn’t wanted him enough so he’d been taken back. Not that she hadn’t loved him, but that she’d waited. She hadn’t proven herself worthy.
Boston intellectually understood the insanity in that line of thinking, but knowing and believing were two different things. Having Zeke blame her for the loss of their son had brought all those old worries to the surface.
The weight of her emotions caused her to stumble. Sadness surrounded her, pulling her down until she fell to her knees in the darkness. She welcomed the sensation, reached for it, wanting it to fill her until finally, finally, she could feel the pain, the ache, the missing pieces of her soul. She welcomed the battering to her heart, and the tears. Mostly she longed for them.
She huddled on the rug, hugging herself, waiting, hoping, eyes squeezed shut, breathing shallow. Longing for the first rip of agony.
Gradually the weight faded, as did the dread. Her breathing regulated and then there was nothing but the quiet rhythm of no emotion at all. Life was as it had been since Liam died. A kaleidoscope of gray. Empty and foolish. Only now she didn’t have Zeke to show her what it was like on the other side.
* * *
Deanna glanced at the clock. It was barely after six, which meant it was morning. Monday, she thought. Her brain was fuzzy from lack of sleep. She’d heard Colin leave a short time ago. He was gone again, back on the road, leaving her and the girls.
For the past couple of days, she’d tried to make sense of what Andi and Boston had shown her the night of the Fourth. That by hanging on too tight, she was losing the very thing she sought to keep. She had reached the point where the words were clear, although she still didn’t have anything close to a plan of action.
Colin was much harder, she realized. Mostly because she couldn’t believe he cared about her anymore. Why would he? Although she hadn’t stopped loving him, she’d acted as if he were the least important person in her world. She certainly never told him she loved him or wanted him. He’d been right—she’d seen him as little more than a paycheck to support her lifestyle.
Owning the house had made her feel secure when the truth was that without her family, the house had no value to her. Insights that would probably be more helpful if she could just get some sleep, she thought, and started downstairs.
She started coffee and got lunches ready for the girls. Although they were out of school and now in summer camp, she still had to provide them with lunch. As she sliced the loaf of bread she’d baked and frozen a couple of weeks ago, she thought about what Andi and Boston had said the other night. About having to control every detail of her children’s lives. Maybe she should practice letting go.
She finished making the sandwiches and refilled her cup of coffee. It was nearly time to wake up the girls. Before she could gather herself, Madison walked into the kitchen.
Her oldest was so beautiful, she thought wistfully. Long blond hair, big blue eyes. From what Deanna remembered, she had an amazing smile, although she hadn’t seen it in months. At least not on purpose.
On cue, her daughter glowered at her. “Is Daddy already gone?”
“Yes.”
Madison sighed heavily. “I wish he didn’t have to travel. Why do you make him? You could work more, you know. It’s not fair he’s the only one taking care of us.”
Deanna clutched her coffee cup. The unfairness of the statement jabbed her like dozens of tiny needles. “I suppose what I do around here doesn’t count?” She motioned to the kitchen. “All the cooking and cleaning, washing your clothes. That’s nothing, right? I work, as well. What do you do to contribute, Madison? You complain about your father being gone, but you’re the one who insists on having the latest style of clothing. Or should your sisters be the only ones who sacrifice?”
Madison flushed. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
Madison glared at her. “I don’t like that Daddy’s gone all the time.”
Deanna stared at her. “Neither do I,” she admitted, then walked out of the kitchen.
She was back thirty minutes later, the four younger girls in tow. The stars had aligned because she’d managed to get them all up and dressed without anyone having a meltdown. They trooped into the kitchen and took their seats at the breakfast bar. Madison already sat there, but she hadn’t bothered getting her own cereal.
Deanna thought about pointing out that kind of behavior was exactly what she’d been talking about, then shook her head. She’d taken on enough already that morning.
She got out two different cereal boxes, then stacked bowls. Audrey and Lucy started to pass them out.
“I don’t want this,” Madison told her. “I hate this cereal. Why can’t we have something good for breakfast?”
Deanna turned to her. What had happened to the sweet little girl she remembered? Where had she gone?
“In a few years, you’re going to look back on your behavior and you’re going to be really embarrassed by it,” Deanna said conversationally. “Eventually these memories are going to make you cringe and you’re going to wonder how any of us could stand to be around you.”
Her daughter flushed and jumped down from the stool. “I hate you!” she shouted.
“You’re not my favorite, either.”<
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Madison’s eyes widened. “You can’t say that to me.”
“Why not? It’s true. Would you want to be your mother? Would you want a kid like you in the house? What about you is pleasant or fun to be around?”
Madison’s mouth dropped open. She sputtered for a second, then ran out of the kitchen. Deanna didn’t bother watching her go. Instead she reached for a box of the cereal and looked at the picture on the front.
Healthy grains, the writing proclaimed. Honestly, it looked more like something raked off the forest floor after a big storm, she thought. Talk about disgusting.
She crossed to the refrigerator and pulled it open. Two pizza boxes claimed the middle shelf, leftovers from a dinner the previous night. A dinner Colin had walked in with. Not that he’d checked with her first. So the meal she’d prepared had mostly gone uneaten.
She pulled out the pizza boxes and set them on the counter, then grabbed several small plates.
Her four younger daughters stared at her.
Lucy spoke up first. “Mommy, are you giving us pizza for breakfast?”
“If you want it. There’s the cereal, too.”
Audrey was off her seat in a flash. She and Lucy put slices on the plates, then took turns heating them in the microwave. Deanna poured juice for everyone and then picked up her cup of coffee.
The smell of melting cheese mingled with pepperoni and mushrooms. For the first time in days, she actually felt hungry.
Lucy held out a plate. “Mommy, would you like a slice?”
Deanna smiled at her and took it. “Thank you, Lucy. That’s sweet of you.”
Her daughter beamed at her. “You’re welcome.”
Soon everyone was eating. For once there was plenty of chatter at the breakfast bar. The twins had everyone giggling over a series of knock-knock jokes. Deanna looked at the lone empty chair and wondered what Madison was thinking. No doubt Deanna would star as the villain of the piece.
She didn’t know how to reach her oldest, she admitted to herself. But the younger girls were still accessible. She would start small. Find a way to be the mother they deserved. And maybe the mother she deserved, as well.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“THANKS FOR TAKING me,” Carrie said, walking into the department store with Andi. “Boston’s not feeling good. She said it was her tummy.”
Andi privately wondered if Boston’s upset stomach had more to do with the fact that Zeke was still living with his brother than anything gastrointestinal, but wasn’t going to mention that to Carrie.
“I’m happy to help,” she said instead.
Carrie grinned as they took the escalator to the second floor. “Dad would have brought me, but seriously. That’s embarrassing.”
“Bra-shopping is much more a girl thing. He’d be uncomfortable, you’d be uncomfortable. Why go there?”
“Exactly.”
Carrie walked over to a rack of pretty bras especially designed for preteens. She fingered the various tags. “I’m pretty sure I’m an A cup now.” Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “Have you seen a triple-A bra? Why bother? But last year Boston brought me and said it was time. That I was going to be a woman.”
Carrie wrinkled her nose. “I told her I wasn’t ready.”
“The body has a mind of its own,” Andi said. “Although I was a triple-A until I was about fourteen. I’d nearly given up hope of ever getting breasts.”
“I’m not sure I want them,” Carrie confessed. “I’ve seen the way boys stare at them.”
“They are fascinated.”
“Why? Their moms have breasts.”
“They don’t think of it that way. It’s kind of a biological thing.”
“I know. Sex, right? We’ve had the classes at school. Dad tried to talk to me about it, and that was horrible. He’s really great and all, but it’s not a conversation I want to have with him.” She picked a couple of bras, then turned to Andi. “It’s more a mom conversation.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I don’t remember her very much.” Carrie’s smile faded. “I look at Madison and her mom. Madison is so mad all the time. I wonder if it would be like that with me and my mom. If I’d take her for granted.”
“You would if you hadn’t lost her. We all did it. You have a different perspective than most girls your age.”
Carrie nodded. “I know. But now it’s like I miss the idea of her rather than a real person.” She waved the bras. “Let me go try these on and I’ll be right back.”
Andi wandered around while Carrie went into the dressing room. Fifteen minutes later, she’d chosen three bras and Andi had used Wade’s credit card to pay for them. They went into the mall to find somewhere for lunch.
After they’d been seated, Andi looked at the pretty girl sitting across from her. “So boys are still stupid?”
Carrie laughed. “They’re a little less stupid than they were last year. One of my friends at school had a boy-girl party when she turned thirteen. It was at a bowling alley just across the bridge. It was kind of fun. Mark Evenson kissed her, if you can believe it.”
“On the mouth.”
Carrie shuddered. “Yes. I’m not sure about the kissing. Sometimes I think it would be nice, but other times I think it’s totally gross.”
“You’ll grow into it.”
“You kiss my dad.”
Andi did her best not to react physically. Flinching, squirming or shrieking would all be bad. “We’ve kissed, yes. It’s nice.”
Carrie held up both hands. “Don’t tell me any more, please. I don’t want to know.”
“Not a word.”
They looked at the menus and made their choices. When the server came, they placed their orders. Carrie wanted a burger and fries, while Andi chose a salad.
“I saw the mural,” Carrie said when the server left. “I love what Boston’s doing. The animals are awesome.”
“I love it, too.”
Over the past week, Boston had transitioned from sketching to painting. Every day there were more colors on the wall. The trees were nearly filled in, and two of the butterflies were done.
“I wish I could draw like her,” Carrie said. “I’ve tried and she’s shown me a few things, but I have no talent. I like knitting. I’ve taken a couple of classes at the store where Madison’s mom works. It’s fun. I made Dad a scarf for Christmas.”
“I’m sure he loved it.”
Carrie grinned. “I don’t know if he loved it, but he wore it. He’s that kind of dad.”
A casual statement made in conversation, Andi thought. Information and a funny story. Even so, they touched her in a way she would guess Carrie didn’t anticipate. Wade was a good guy. He’d proved it over and over again. He was funny and smart, generous and thoughtful. He’d done an amazing job with his daughter. All of which put her on alert. Given her history, it would be very easy to fall for someone like him.
She didn’t object to the whole “love” thing, but she wanted to be smart about it this time. Not assume things. Not sell herself short by waiting for a decade for a man who then humiliated her without a second thought. She also didn’t want to presume too much. Expect more than was right. Balance was a whole lot tougher than it should be, she thought.
“I think he likes you,” Carrie said.
Andi frowned. “Who?”
“My dad. He acts funny before your dates and he talks about you a lot.”
Andi sm
iled. “Thanks for telling me.” She wanted to say more, or at the very least, start asking questions, but knew she couldn’t say or do anything to make Carrie uncomfortable.
“I like him, too.”
“I hope it get serious,” Carrie admitted. “Although he’s being totally weird, like dads get.”
“What do you mean?”
Carrie shrugged. “You know, reminding me fifty times for thanking you for taking me shopping. You’ll tell him I thanked you, won’t you?”
“Promise,” Andi said with a laugh. “I’ll tell him you have very nice manners and he should be proud of you.”
“Good. After all that, he told me not to get too attached, if you can believe it. I’m not a kid. I don’t assume he’s going to marry everyone he dates. Although I think you’d be a good stepmom. But he won’t talk about that. He always tells me he’s not interested in getting married and that I should stay out of his life. Not that he does the same for me, right? He’s always asking about my day and my friends. Parents.”
“They can be frustrating,” Andi said, then smiled automatically as the server brought their drinks.
“Tell me about it.” Carrie sipped her soda. “Last week after he hung out with your parents, he was all like ‘we grew up pretty differently.’ That’s when I said you’d be a great stepmom, just so you know. I’m totally on your side.”
“Thank you,” Andi said, hoping her voice sounded stronger to Carrie than to her.
Carrie continued talking, saying something about a new movie that was opening Friday and how she and Madison wanted to see it. Andi hoped she answered appropriately, although it was hard to tell with the rushing sound she heard in her ears.
She’d accepted Wade’s explanation for keeping Carrie out of their relationship. She knew it made sense not to bring children into dating until things had moved along. She could list all the reasons and believed they were right. But she’d assumed the shopping trip today was a way for her to start to get to know Carrie. If it wasn’t that, then what was it? Free babysitting?
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