Another Piece of My Heart (7 page)

Peering through the window, trying to decipher Topher’s tone, Andi sees Drew in the passenger seat and, slumped in the rear seat, her mouth in a sulky frown, Emily.

Eight

“Emily?” Andi says with a sinking heart, trying desperately to sound bright and cheerful. “Aren’t you supposed to be at your mom’s this weekend?”

Emily shrugs. “I was bored so I came back to Dad’s.”

“And we found her there all by herself, so we threw her in the car and brought her with us.” Drew steps out the car and walks around to the trunk to get the cake. “Kids were starting to come over, and we were worried.”

“What do you mean,
kids
?”

“Just … cars pulling up. We sent everyone away and locked up the house. Don’t worry, but Emily refused to go back to her mom’s, and we thought this was the best thing.”

“It was. Thank you,” Andi says, squeezing his hand. “I just…”

“What?”

“I just needed one weekend to ourselves.” She turns her head and drops her voice to a whisper, ensuring Emily doesn’t hear. Tears fill her eyes as she shoots a look at the black-haired figure frowning in the backseat. “I needed a weekend without the filthy looks and the sarcastic comments and the rudeness. I just needed a break.”

“We’re here with you,” Drew says quietly. “We’ll look after you. Topher already told her she has to behave.”

“He did?”

“You know my husband. He’s pretty damn tough when he needs to be.”

“She didn’t throw a fit?”

“No. I think the kid is desperate for some boundaries.”

“Tell that to her father,” Andi says.

*   *   *

“Boundaries.” That loaded word is bandied about by people who think they know everything about parenting. It is the word that Andi uses more than any other when she and Ethan are talking, or
arguing
about what is wrong with Emily.

As a child, Andi was never aware of the word “boundary.” It wasn’t talked about; her parents did not sit with other parents and discuss how every child needed to know where the limits were in order to feel safe. Andi did not plead and whine and beg for something she wanted, long after her parents had said no, in the knowledge that if she created enough of a scene, in all likelihood she would get what she wanted.

She was the only child of older parents who had given up on the desire to have children. At forty-four, entirely unexpectedly, Judith and Oliver Fieldstone found themselves pregnant.

Andi was adored and revered from the beginning, but she knew her place. Her parents had her eat dinner with them every night, with a beautifully set table in the dining room, joining in the adult conversation. They talked about their days, and about museums they had gone to, books they had read, plays they had seen.

When they had finished eating, Andi would clear the table and dry the dishes her mother washed. If she misbehaved, or got “fresh,” a stern look would usually be all it took for remorse to flood her small body as she apologized.

“No” meant no. If ever Andi didn’t listen, her mother would start counting, the threat of “three” being so terrible, Andi always did whatever she was supposed to have been doing by “two.”

The boundaries were invisible, never talked about, but were absolutely there: lines she would never dare cross, too frightened of the consequences.

Despite this, Andi knew she was loved. At night, before bed, she would sit in her mother’s lap, their fingers intertwined as her mother read her a story. When Andi would look up and catch her mother gazing at her, there was infinite adoration in her eyes.

The family home, with all its invisible boundaries, was her mother’s haven, a place filled with quiet and calm. Andi knew she was loved, and in turn loved her parents, but she wished—oh how she wished—they were younger, like all the other parents.

She wanted them to be young, and hip, to be interested in pop music and parties, not opera and the ballet. She wanted brothers and sisters. She wanted her parents to be invited to the neighborhood barbecues that seemed to be a constant occurrence during the summer—a roving party at someone else’s house every night of the weekend.

She wanted to eat dinner at a stool at the counter, at five o’clock. She wanted PB & J for dinner, and macaroni and cheese, and green bean casserole made with Campbell’s Mushroom Soup, not the fresh, grilled steaks and salad, the Sôles Veroniques the coq au vins that they sat down to on a regular basis.

Andi wanted friends to come over and tear through the house as their mothers sat with her mother at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and smoking, and barely raising an eyebrow at the children.

Her parents were only in their forties when they had Andi, but back then, that made them ancient, at least one generation older than the other parents.

And when the parents of her class friends got together for impromptu barbecues and drinks, Andi’s parents were never included. When Andi’s friends came over, her parents didn’t gossip at the kitchen table over coffee but attempted to engage her friends in discussions about what books they loved, or what plays they had seen.

Andi was mortified. Why couldn’t her mother be like all the other moms? When Andi had a sleepover, her mother had packed them a midnight feast, but instead of dime-store candy and chocolate like all the other kids, she had made sandwiches, and given them apples. One time there was cottage cheese. Andi wanted to die.

When she grew up, she determined at a very young age, she was going to have a huge family. Tons of kids, and all their friends. She was going to have a freezer filled with pizza, and a pantry filled with Campbell’s Mushroom Soup and Lipton’s Onion Soup Dip. She was going to fill her house with people, and she would let her kids have the basement all to themselves, and once they were down there, she was never going to disturb them.

And she would never,
ever,
ask them their opinions on books or current affairs.

As an adult, Andi adored her parents. She used to tease them that she grew into them, but in part that was true. They were educated, sophisticated and, as she discovered when she was older, tremendous amounts of fun. None of which were qualities she was able to see, or appreciate, as a child.

When she was small, Andi decided she was going to have the life she couldn’t have when young. Even though she didn’t meet Ethan until her late thirties, even though he already had two daughters, even though one of the daughters hated her, and she is going through perimenopause, which means her moods are horrific, and she probably won’t ever have children, she still thinks there is some hope for them to be the happy family she has always wanted.

If Ethan would only set some boundaries. If Emily would only learn to accept her and be happy. If … if … if. There has to be a way. Andi is almost,
almost
sure of it.

*   *   *

“Emily, honey?” Andi, determining to make an effort, leans into the car. “Want to come with me and see Isabel’s dress? It’s so beautiful. She said she—”

“Where’s Dad?” Emily interrupts, sharply.

“I think he’s helping set up the bar,” Andi says as Emily climbs out, deliberately pushes past her, and walks off.

“See?” She turns to Drew. “See? I try my damnedest to be nice all the time, and she’s just a total bitch.” She inhales sharply. She may think the word, but she doesn’t ever say it out loud.

“She is,” Drew says, as Topher walks around the car. “I agree. You were being lovely, and she was awful.”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem,” Topher says slowly.

“What do you mean?”

“You try too hard. Emily knows she’s got you wrapped around her finger. She knows she has all the power because you give it to her.”

Andi shakes her head. “How? How do I give her the power?”

“
Emily, honey?
” Topher does a surprisingly good imitation of Andi, and Andi instantly hears the fearful, pleading tone in his voice.

“Oh, God,” she says. “Did I sound like that? I was just trying to be loving.”

“I heard fear, which means so did Emily, and that empowers her.”

“So what do I do? Ignore her?”

Topher shrugs. “That’s a good start, I’d say.”

“But … I was kidding. I can’t just ignore my stepdaughter.”

“Yes, you can. Right now, you’re giving her total control of your mood. Try detaching from her. She is who she is, which is nothing to do with you. You didn’t cause her mood, you can’t control it, and you certainly can’t cure it.”

“But I always think if I’m supernice she’ll love me.”

“I know,” Topher says kindly. “That’s the root of all codependency. You think it’s something to do with you, but it really isn’t. Detach with love. Let her do whatever she’s going to do and try not to focus on her. You’re here for Isabel and Greg, and you’re here to have a good time.”

“But look.” Andi gestures over to the far side of the field, where she can see Ethan talking to someone. Hanging off him, her arms around his neck, pulling him down, is Emily. “How can I ignore that? Now she’s going to spend all evening dragging him away from me. Not to mention the inappropriateness of a seventeen-year-old hanging off her father like he’s her lover.”

“It is a bit weird,” Drew interjects.

“No it’s not,” Topher says. “I mean, in our world it is, but Ethan feels constantly guilty about who Emily is, that the divorce might have caused this, and so he doesn’t say no. He doesn’t know whether this is appropriate or not, he just knows that this is what Emily does, and if he pushes her away, she’s going to think he doesn’t love her.”

“Can’t you say something to him?” Andi says.

“No.” Topher laughs. “I can’t triangulate. You could say something. Or … you could just let it go.”

*   *   *

“Hi, baby!” Ethan turns with delight as Andi walks over, Emily’s having wandered over to the fence to see the horses in the field. “What’s the matter?”

“I just … I need to wrap my head around Emily being here.”

“I get it,” he says. “But I’m so glad she’s here rather than at home. I just texted her mom. Brooke didn’t even know she wasn’t in the house. I worry about Sophia. I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “It makes me want to go back and change the custody agreement.”

“Sophia would tell us if things got bad,” Andi says. “Listen, I know we’ve talked about this before, but there were a couple of raised eyebrows about the way Emily was draping herself all over you just now.”

Ethan looks aghast. “
What?
From who? It’s my
daughter.
”

“Ethan, she was practically climbing on top of you.”

There is a silence during which a cloud passes over Ethan’s face. “Don’t start this again now,” he warns, his voice low and steady. “Just leave it alone.”

“Leave what alone?” Andi’s voice climbs. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate it is? She isn’t being your daughter when she hangs off your neck and nuzzles against you. She’s being your lover.”

“Oh, stop,” Ethan barks suddenly. “I’m fed up with hearing this. Frankly, I’m pretty disgusted that you would even think such a thing. She’s a kid. My kid. She’s just showing me affection.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Andi snorts. “You have no idea how in-appropriate her behavior is. When you sit down and she curls up on your lap, nuzzling your neck … you think that’s cute, but it’s not cute, it’s inappropriate because she’s trying to replace
me
.” Andi stops, shocked at the whine in her voice, and turns away as Emily appears, standing squeezed up against Ethan and taking his hand.

“Daddy,” she sings in a little-girl voice. “Will you come and see the ponies with me?” She rests her head on his shoulder as she glares at Andi.

“In a minute,” he says, removing his hand and stepping aside as Emily’s eyes brim with hurt. “Andi and I are just finishing a discussion.”

Emily stands there, waiting.

“Emily, we need a moment.”

“Why? There’s nothing you can’t say in front of me.”

“Yes there is,” he says. “Please. Just give us a moment.”

“It’s always her,” Emily sneers. “You always choose her.
Andi
needs a moment,
Andi
needs me,
Andi
wants me to do something with her. You’ve become a terrible father. I used to love you, I used to be proud to call you my dad, but now it’s clear you hate me and Sophia, and you know what? We hate you, too.” Emily turns on her heel and storms off.

Ethan looks at Andi, his lips pressed together in a thin line, shaking his head.

“Thanks,” he says. “Really. Thanks a lot.” And he turns to go after Emily.

“No.” Andi grabs his arm. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, but Ethan, please don’t go after her. Just leave her. This tantrum is for you, and if you go to her now, the evening is ruined.”

“I can’t just leave her,” he says.

“Why not? What’s the worst that can happen? She gets depressed and bored and comes back?”

Ethan shakes his head, torn. “I … I don’t know.”

Topher suddenly walks up, a cold beer in each hand, one of which he hands to Ethan.

“Hey, buddy,” he says. “What’s up?”

Ethan shrugs. “Not much.”

“Emily’s in a bad mood, and Ethan was just about to go after her,” Andi blurts out. “I was telling him to leave her.”

“Teenagers.” Topher rolls his eyes. “I’d leave her to it. She’ll get over it.”

Ethan hesitates as his shoulders sink in defeat. “Okay,” he says finally. “Cheers.” And he takes a long, cool sip, unable to look Andi in the eye.

*   *   *

One of Greg’s friends plays the guitar, and the air is suddenly filled with beautiful music, indicating that the guests should gather around the tree.

Another friend stands up and sings a Carole King song, then Isabel appears, gliding gracefully out of the barn, her chiffon dress gathered in one hand to keep it from draping on the floor, a huge smile on her face as she looks from one guest to another, her gaze ending on Greg, who is already wiping a tear from his eye.

They stand together, holding hands as Drew, who qualified as a minister in order to marry them, offers his words on marriage, commitment, and love. He quotes Kahlil Gibran, then speaks from his heart, offers lessons he has learned, talks about why the love between Isabel and Greg is so special.