There was another good news/bad news moment to all this.
The good news: about two seconds after Julie broke the news he realized how much his sister meant to him.
The bad news: now he had to talk to her about the situation. Nothing to look forward to, but better to get it over with sooner rather than later.
Typically male, Zack preferred to avoid any situation where he had to admit he’d been wrong. Worse when he wasn’t sure what kind of reception that admission might get.
It was time to eat crow.
He parked in front of her place and sat in his car for a moment trying to work through the words he knew he needed to say. He owed his sister an apology, had for years now.
Sitting in the car wouldn’t get it done; so, much as he dreaded the next few minutes, he made his way toward the house. Zack lifted his hand to knock on the door just as it opened and a man he’d never met pulled it open and stalked out, nodding his head curtly and continuing down the walkway.
Out of curiosity, he turned and watched the man who made it to the sidewalk before he looked back and saw Zack watching him. He stopped and called back, “I’m Finn Kent.”
“Zack Roman,” was the response, “I’m her brother.” That last was said pointedly as he wondered who Finn was to his sister and what his intentions were.
Finn walked back and extended his hand. “Look, man. She’s some woman, but you already know that.” He started to walk away again, then turned back. “God, she gets under my skin. She makes me crazy.” Zack nodded solemnly while inside he was grinning from ear to ear.
If he wasn’t mistaken, his sister was either in a relationship or soon would be. The signs were crystal clear; the guy was in over his head. Straightening his shoulders, Finn nodded, then nodded again, turned and walked away. This time he kept going.
Allowing the grin to surface for a moment, then stifling it, Zack knocked on the door.
“You really need to leave, Finn,” Gustavia called through the door.
“It’s not Finn.” Seconds passed before the door swung open.
Zack could see bruises blossoming on his sister’s pale skin. At that moment he was torn between an equally strong desire to reach out and hold her, and another to track down the man who had put those marks on her and kill him. Not appropriate thinking for an officer of the law. He swallowed heavily. “Can I come in?”
“Sure, sorry. I was just surprised, my head’s a little fuddled and it’s been an incredibly long day.” She stepped back giving him space to come through the door while thinking he looked upset.
“Who’s the guy?”
“Finn? No one.”
He was someone, no mistake. But he let it go.
“Eloise.” She just stared at him until he gave in. “Gustavia, then. We need to talk.”
“Okay. Come. Sit down.” What was coming? It sounded ominous.
Gustavia led Zack to the living room. She chose her favorite chair and gestured toward the sofa.
After a moment he dropped his head into his hands. Now she was scared. “What is it? Is it mom or dad?”
“No, you fool. It’s you. You scared me half to death. When Julie called, I thought I’d lost you. Puts everything in perspective, you know? There are things I’ve never said, things I need to say.” He fell silent while he pulled his thoughts together. Gustavia merely waited. She was wary of what he might say and more than a little nervous.
Wishing she had a cup of tea to smooth out the anxiety, she let him begin.
“I’m sorry. I know it may be too little, too late; but I have to tell you. I let things happen because it was easier than standing up for myself—or for you. When they sent us away without warning, then took me back—well, I should have spoken up for you, for both of us, but I didn’t.”
“Oh, you were just a little boy. You shouldn’t have had to choose between your sister and your parents. No one should ever have to do that.”
“Parents shouldn’t send their children away and not tell them why; I realize that now that I’m an adult.”
“They never told you either—I didn’t know. Just assumed it was because I didn’t make the cut and you did. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Yes, it does; that’s what I came here to say. It all matters, and most especially, you matter. I’m sorry and I love you. I needed to say that.” Gustavia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was a surreal moment, yet the warmth that flooded through her was surprisingly welcome.
For the second time in an hour, she was in tears as she reached out to pull him close, then clung sobbing into his shoulder. All the walls between them fell and he held on just as tightly.
“I can’t really explain how it feels to always be on the outside, especially in my own family. Vivian was so rigid, unyielding. So cold. She never hugged me or held me. Not once. Never said she was proud of me for anything.”
Hugging her again, his heart broke for her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m here, now—for what it’s worth—and I hope someday you can forgive me.”
“I hope you can forgive me.”
“For what?”
“For blaming you, envying you all these years. Thinking you were the reason I was sent away.”
“Nothing to forgive. That was a natural response to the situation.” Psych class with Professor Bainbridge had helped hone what he considered a natural instinct for understanding people’s motivations. It made him a better cop and, now, he hoped it would make him a better brother. His performance in the past hadn’t been particularly stellar; but, if they could establish a firm footing today, he was sure their relationship would deepen. It was what he wanted, and he hoped it was what she wanted also.
“Think we can make a new start?” He asked hopefully.
“Yes, of course we can. I’d really like that.” She pulled him into the kitchen where he took a seat while she cleared up the remains of Finn’s dinner. It felt right to have him there, comfortable.
“Good. Now tell me about Finn.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing to tell. He’s just…” She trailed off. It only took thinking of the man to make her blood pressure spike. Zack watched the play of emotions on her face. Oh, Finn’s not the only one who’s falling; she’s got a case for him, too.
“I’ll tell you what he is—he’s a complication. One I should probably avoid.”
Zack only nodded; from what he’d seen, avoidance wasn’t her style. His sister, he proudly thought, was the type to face things head on. With no one to protect or stand for her, she’d had to become strong. Pride warred with shame for his part in it.
“He has a daughter. That’s the biggest complication.”
“Don’t you like kids? I mean, you write books for them. Makes sense you’d be, you know, kid friendly.”
“No, I love kids and I already love her. She’s just this amazing girl. Spunky, but sweet.” She sighed. “Poor man lost his wife a couple years ago and he thinks the best way to protect his kid is by not bringing another woman into her life. Keep her from getting hurt again.” Her tone revealed of a certain amount of skepticism.
“I see. And you don’t think that’s an appropriate response?”
“I think it’s an excuse. Not a flimsy one, mind you. I can understand his thinking and sympathize; but I think he’s protecting himself, not her. Otherwise, he would see how hungry she is to be around women.”
“Complicated,” he agreed.
“Didn’t I say that? He pushes me away, makes ambiguous comments about my clothes, then calls me at night and we talk about stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Yeah, stuff. Nothing earth-shattering, we just talk and laugh. Then, when I let my defenses down, he does something crazy like kiss me, then turn around and tell me he wishes he didn’t. What kind of idiot man would say that right to a woman’s face?”
Zack paused before answering what was probably a rhetorical question anyway. Blurting out his first thought—a man who is in love and isn’t r
eady to admit it—wouldn’t earn him any brother points.
He really needed those points.
“Sounds like he opens up on the phone because it gives him a sense of safety, anonymity, even though he knows full well it’s you on the other end of the conversation. Think past your emotions for a minute. What is your gut telling you about him? That he’s a good guy or not?”
“Between you and me, I think he’s a great guy, but I also think he’s a scared camper.” Zack frowned at her choice of words before making the connection— scared camper—happy camper? He let it pass. “Trouble is, every time he pulls the Jekyll and Hyde on me, it tugs on my own insecurities and leaves me feeling rejected. Again.”
“Is he worth it?”
She sighed again. “Yeah, I think so. Not so sure he feels the same, though.”
“Then, why does he keep calling?”
“I guess that’s something to think about.”
Changing topics, Zack validated Gustavia’s instincts by confirming the Maverick’s brake lines had been cut. He tried to cushion the blow by telling her his mechanic expected the repairs would only take a week or so.
The long day took its toll; her energy flagged. Zack noticed her increasing pallor and insisted on staying the night. Too used to being on her own, she would have refused; but one look at his set expression and she gave in, surprised at the unexpected feeling of safety washing over her.
It took three deep breaths before she began to feel less overwhelmed. I could get used to this, she thought. Feeling protected was a new experience, a good one. This brother-sister relationship could be promising.
After downing some painkillers, she showed him the little guest room and then let him bundle her off to bed. It had been one roller coaster of a day.
_,.-'~'-.,_
In the morning, Zack had taken delivery of her loaner car, left the keys and a note, but was gone by the time she got up so Gustavia tried to get back to her normal routine, have a quiet day.
The setting sun splashed the sky with orange shading through delicate pinks before deepening to purple as Gustavia typed feverishly on her laptop. The story was moving quickly now, so she’d buried herself in the work. At this rate, she was on track to finish well ahead of schedule.
Through the open patio door, she heard the chiming sound of her doorbell. Once, twice then three times. Whoever it was lacked patience. Out of habit, she hit the save button and went to answer the door. One look through the peephole and her heart sank. Standing on her front steps were the very last people in the world she wanted to see today. Her parents.
Closing her eyes for a moment as everything inside shot into battle mode, then, steeling herself for what was to come, she opened the door. Nothing good was likely to come of this. Nothing.
Nevertheless, she invited them in, offered them drinks and when they refused, got them seated.
“Eloise…” Her father started to speak.
“It’s Gustavia,” she interrupted firmly then watched the sour expression play across his face.
“Eloise is a family name, one you should be proud to carry.”
There was a time in her youth when she had been proud of the name. The idea that she was carrying on a family tradition had weight, made her feel special. After being sent away, the specialness was lost.
Here we go again, she thought, wonder which version of the you-don’t-measure-up diatribe it will be tonight. He was about due for a new verse.
Gustavia began life as Eloise Roman, daughter of prosecutor-turned-Senator Peter Roman and cardiologist Dr. Janine Roman. For some obscure reason, one they never bothered to share, they’d sent her to live with Vivian, her grandmother on her father’s side, a very proper and stern woman. Always disapproving, she’d made no effort to understand Eloise and treated her as an obligation.
Vivian’s autocratic attempts to restrain her granddaughter’s flamboyant nature had just the opposite effect causing clash after clash in their personalities. In her first year of college, Eloise Roman legally became Gustavia and used her childhood experiences to pen the first of a successful series of children’s books featuring a mean old witch who mistreated her sweet, innocent granddaughter.
Janine shot her husband a quelling look which he chose to ignore completely. Given the chance, Janine would have come alone; she was ready to make amends and her ideas of how to bridge the cavernous gap between she and her daughter were very different from Peter’s.
He continued to maintain that the family division had been a necessity while she was beginning to wonder exactly what could possibly have been behind the urgency.
Sending Eloise away had been necessary; not bringing her back had been Peter’s idea—or maybe Vivian’s, she’d never been completely sure.
From one minute to the next, her family had been divided and for no good reason she could discern.
Month after month, year after year, the connection between she and her daughter had been through Vivian, whose ever-present disapproval served as a wedge to drive the family even farther apart.
Vivian worked tirelessly to foster in Peter the opinion that Gustavia was little more than a wayward child. One who, he now thought, could not be trusted, even as an adult, to take care of herself. News of her accident had scared him and his reaction to fear was always finding a way to exert control.
What he’d done—sending her away—had only been done to protect her. Why couldn’t she see that?
Ignoring his wife’s pointed stare, he continued on. “Gustavia,” his use of her name sounded like a slur, “Zack told us you’d been in an accident, been hurt. Frankly, I’m disappointed in you.”
“For having an accident? You are familiar with the concept, I assume. It wasn’t planned. Or was it that I didn’t successfully complete the accident to your satisfaction?”
How did the man manage to push her buttons so easily?
“Don’t be ridiculous. You should have had the courtesy to inform us of the incident yourself.”
Janine broke in. “We were concerned. Are you sure you weren’t seriously injured? I could get you in to see one of my colleagues, run some tests. These provincial hospitals don’t always have the latest equipment.”
“I’m fine, Janine. Really.” Gustavia made it a point to use her parent’s given names; it helped maintain a certain amount of distance, distance she needed for protection from even the prospect of closeness. She’d been burned too many times before. “It was just a little bump on the head. Your concern is touching, really.” Her tone said the opposite.
“How long will it take you to pack your things? It’s time you came home.”
Mouth gaping like a landed fish, Gustavia was too shocked to answer. In a million years she couldn’t have predicted those words coming out of his mouth. Her father looked at her expectantly.
When she didn’t answer fast enough, his expression darkened.
Something in her snapped and she started to laugh. This was the funniest thing she’d heard in weeks. Before long, her eyes were brimming and she couldn’t breathe. Finally, she began to get control until, wiping the tears from her eyes, she caught a glimpse of the consternation on her father’s face and it set her off again.
Her mother just sat there looking uncomfortable while her father, flushed with anger, began to sputter.
Before he could get out whatever it was that he wanted to say, Gustavia’s laughter abruptly subsided. “Don’t say another word. I’m not a child to be ordered around, and you gave up that right over thirteen years ago.” She bit the words off angrily.
“Please…” Her mother began.
“Please what? Please co-operate? Please come home? I haven’t had a home with you since I was a child, since I became too big an inconvenience and you sent me away. And, now, you walk into my home—the home, mind you, that you’ve never before deigned to set foot in—not in all the time I’ve owned it—and order me to pack. Dream on.”
Janine had to try again. “We know we’ve made mi
stakes.”
“Mistakes? You abandoned me, I can only assume, because I didn’t measure up to your standards. Didn’t fall in line with your wishes. Didn’t live my life according to your plan. Or was there some other reason? I wouldn’t know since you never bothered to say; you just threw me away like trash. I was a child, just a child.” She paused, her breath coming heavily as she finally spoke the words that showed her pain.
“Mistakes? Everything you did was deliberate and manipulative.”
“Our intentions were…”
“Your intentions were paving the road to hell but I was the one who had to travel it.” Gustavia’s eyes fired with pain then filled again; this time the tears were not from laughter. In a choked voice she said, “You sent me to her because I wasn’t good enough for you. What kind of parents do that? What kind of people reject their own child? Let her be raised by someone who never hugged, never kissed, never approved of anything?”
“Is that what you really think happened?” Her mother asked in a hushed voice before her father spoke heatedly, “You will do as I ask or I will be forced to take action.”
Peter spoke the words, reverted to his worst nature, the part of him Vivian had fostered when he knew he should comfort, tell her the truth. In that moment he hated himself and yet was powerless to change.
“And just what action could you take? I’m an adult, there’s nothing more you can do to me.”
His condescension grated her nerves. “We could freeze your trust fund.”
Gustavia’s laugh was not mirthful. “Go ahead, no skin off my nose. I’ve never touched a cent of your precious money.” She could see by the widening of his eyes that he hadn’t known that little tidbit of information. Obviously his money people hadn’t kept him apprised.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” She paused, placing her hands on her hips and when he didn’t speak, “You’ve got nothing.”
She could see her father was winding up for another outburst, but she didn’t give him the chance to speak. “You need to leave. Now. Whatever you came here to do, it’s over. I have a family here. People who care about me, people who love me like you never did.” And with that, she went to the door and pointedly held it open.
Bells On Her Toes (Psychic Seasons Page 9