Betrayal (2 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
Don cast a glance at Debbie. A flicker of a smile touched her lips. No doubt she was thinking of all the free time she would have without the girls underfoot.
With just a hint of churlishness, Debbie said, “I suppose I can call a truce. For now.”
Don shook his head in bewilderment. Later there would be hell to pay. At present it just didn't matter. Whatever it took to shut her mouth, he was willing to do. He wanted to arrive in Asheville without a murder rap against him. He'd never resorted to physical violence, but he could almost imagine the pleasure he would feel smacking Debbie right in her mouth. He smiled. She'd been nothing but a social-climbing bitch since they'd moved to their new home in Quail Lake. He heard rumors about her from the husbands of the wives she socialized with. Apparently they were laughing behind her back. No matter what, she would always be the girl from the Brooklyn deli with the New York accent. No matter how many elocution classes she took, she'd always sound rough and unsophisticated. Don suddenly realized he was disillusioned with life, especially his marriage. Where was all the fun and companionship he longed for? His marriage to Debbie was a mistake, nothing more than a sham. Once aboard the cruise ship, he was going to take a good, honest look at his situation. Nothing like sailing the Caribbean to contemplate one's life.
Don decided that changing the subject was in order. His thoughts were turning too bleak.
“Thanks, Deb. Now, who wants to go to Krystal for lunch?” Don loved the minihamburgers even though they gave him horrible indigestion.
“I do! I do! Can I have a dozen? Please, please!” Sara shouted from the backseat.
“Gross! You're getting bigger by the minute, and you want a dozen hamburgers,” Emily said in disgust.
“Emily, that's not a very nice thing to say to your sister. Sara is still a growing girl. She needs three meals a day, though I have to agree with Emily. A dozen hamburgers is too much. You can have six with some french fries and a vanilla shake if you want,” Debbie explained to Sara.
Sara looked at Emily and mouthed
bitch.
“Mom, I don't think that's the healthiest lunch for Sara. She needs some lettuce without salad dressing and a glass of water.” Emily laughed at the look of horror on Sara's pudgy face.
bitch.
“Mom, I don't think that's the healthiest lunch for Sara. She needs some lettuce without salad dressing and a glass of water.” Emily laughed at the look of horror on Sara's pudgy face.
“That's enough. Both of you. Sara, you might want to listen to your sister's advice. She's been there, she knows what it's like.” Don peeked in the rearview mirror and winked at Emily. Emily had never been overweight, but if a little white lie stopped an argument, what could it hurt, Don asked himself.
“Dad! That's just so not true!” Emily rebutted.
“You're just too young to remember. Now, let's look for a Krystal billboard. All this talk of food is really making me hungry.”
“Me too,” shouted Sara. She began to hop up and down in the backseat.
“Sit down, you brat! You act like a starved Ethiopian. Can't you be still for just one minute?” Emily wished they were at Uncle Alex's already. It was getting extremely hard to remain in such close quarters with Sara acting like a rabbit.
Sara gave Emily the finger.
Emily yanked her sister's middle finger, then pulled. “Ouch!” Sara screamed.
“Enough of you two!” Don yelled.
“She flipped me off!” Emily declared indignantly.
“Liar!” Sara screamed, then she began to howl at the top of her lungs. “She's a liar, she's a liar! Mommy, why does she always make up lies to tell on me?”
Emily jabbed her index finger in Sara's face hoping to make her point. “You are totally losing it, Sara. You're sick.”
“And now we have a shrink in the family. Emily, you need to keep your opinions to yourself. Sara doesn't have a clue what getting âflipped off' means.” Then Debbie added hatefully, “I can't wait to dump you off at your uncle's.”
Don shook his head in dismay. “Deb, I think that's enough. The Krystal's just ahead. Let's stop and grab a hamburger. I want you two girls to stop arguing with one another.”
“But, Daddy,” Sara interrupted, “I didn't do that.” Sara looked Emily straight in the eye. “She's just a big fat liar. I hate you!” Sara stuck her tongue out at Emily.
Emily replied dryly, “Yeah? Well, the feeling is mutual.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Sara wailed.
“If you'd pay attention in school, you'd know, dummy,” Emily added.
Debbie leaned over the front seat to peer at her oldest daughter. “I forbid you to speak another word to your baby sister. You'll have her corrupted. Now, not another word out of you.”
Emily turned white and chewed her bottom lip, something she only did when she was upset. Her mother had such a distorted view of Sara. It was obvious the kid needed help. She prayed Sara didn't act like a jerk once they arrived in Asheville. She would hate for Aunt Kate and Uncle Alex to see Sara at her worst. They'd never want her to visit again. They passed billboards advertising Café Risqué, a men's club whose girls didn't look much older than Emily. Signs for South of the Border must've cost the owner millions because they appeared before every exit. They'd stopped there on many occasions when the girls were small, but the place no longer amused them as it once had.
“There it is,” Sara shouted, pointing her pudgy finger at the sign.
Don took the next exit and pulled into the Krystal parking lot. “Let's go inside and see if we can act like a civilized family.” Don caught Debbie's gaze. If looks could kill, he'd be in a coffin. He couldn't stand the way she spoke to Emily. As soon as the girls were out of hearing distance, he was going to tell her a thing or two.
“Welcome to the land of fine dining,” Debbie said as she opened the car door.
Don ignored her comment. This wasn't fine dining, just something different. Did everything always have to be about making an impression with his wife? He wondered.
Sara flew out of the car and raced inside. Emily hung back until both of her parents were inside. Once inside, she slid into a booth and prayed Sara would behave. Sara was out of control, not just in her eating habits. She had a problem telling the truth. Emily couldn't understand why her parents babied Sara all the time. It wasn't healthy. No wonder the poor kid didn't have any friends her own age. She acted like a six-year-old, and her parents continued to encourage her.
The smell of fried onions and grease made her nauseous. She didn't see how Sara or her mom and dad could eat this crap. She'd have some fries and a Coke. That was all her stomach would allow. Emily couldn't wait to eat Aunt Kate's home-cooked meals. She was a professional chef. Sometimes her meals were gourmet, other times she would make something as simple as meat loaf with garlic mashed potatoes and gravy. It didn't matter what she made, it was always delicious.
Don carried a tray laden with the minihamburgers he loved. Fries and Cokes were passed around. Sara grabbed at her food like a starving animal.
“Where's my milk shake? Mommy said I could have one!” Sara's shrill cries drew curious glances from the other diners.
Emily prayed she'd be sucked up in a big black hole. Embarrassed, she took a drink of Coke, her eyes downcast.
Three more years,
she told herself. She would go to college. No more of these humiliating family outings. No more Sara. Part of her felt bad for her little sister and the bad thoughts she always seemed to have where Sara was concerned, then another part of her wanted to smack her square in the face every time she opened her mouth.
Three more years,
she told herself. She would go to college. No more of these humiliating family outings. No more Sara. Part of her felt bad for her little sister and the bad thoughts she always seemed to have where Sara was concerned, then another part of her wanted to smack her square in the face every time she opened her mouth.
“Shhh, Sara.” Debbie turned to her husband. “I told you to get her a milk shake. Is that so hard to do? Get her one,” Debbie demanded to Don.
Without saying another word, Don walked up to the counter, returning minutes later with Sara's large vanilla shake. She hurriedly crammed her straw in the shake, then started slurping like a cow.
Debbie placed a hand on Sara's belly. “Not so fast, honey. You'll get a stomachache.”
“Okay, Mommy. I was just so thirsty. Can I have dessert if I eat everything on my plate?” Sara glanced at Emily, then back at her mother. “Please?”
Briefly Emily wondered what the odds were against her sister
not
eating everything on her plate. Into the billions, no doubt.
not
eating everything on her plate. Into the billions, no doubt.
“Let's not go overboard,” Debbie said to Sara.
Emily couldn't believe her mother. One minute she was as wicked as the Witch of the West, and the next, she'd make Glinda the Good Witch seem like a bitch. She would talk hateful to her or her dad, and in the next breath she was as sweet as the dessert Sara was assured of.
As though on pins and needles, Sara anxiously asked, “Does that mean yes?”
“Of course, but we'll have to hurry. Your father wants to drive straight through to Asheville. We won't have time to stop for dinner.”
Don kicked Debbie in the shin under the table. “And Mommy wants to get there as soon as possible, too. She can't wait to rid herself of you two.” This was said with a smile, but Don was serious. He knew his wife, he'd had her number for a long time. He knew he was playing her games, but sometimes he couldn't help himself.
“C'mon, you said it yourself, let's not argue. Get Sara an apple pie and let's go,” Emily said as she eased out of the tiny booth and headed to the car. The bickering over Sara and her eating habits was unbearable. The kid would be lucky if she didn't have heart disease and high blood pressure before she was old enough to drive.
Don gathered the empty boxes and plates and tossed them in the large garbage can by the exit door.
“Emily's right. Get your dessert to go.” He looked at Debbie and Sara. “And both of you go to the restroom before we get back on the road. I don't want to stop at every other exit because one of you has to pee all the time.” After years of road trips Don had learned Debbie's tricks. For spite she'd tell him she had an upset stomach just so they would make numerous stops. She only did this to make them late, because she knew he was extremely punctual. Again, he questioned why he'd remained married to her for seventeen years.
Hesitantly, Sara got up from her seat, stopping briefly to snatch a french fry she'd missed. “I'll take a hot fudge sundae with double fudge and extra whipped cream.”
“Sweetie, Krystal doesn't have sundaes. Either an apple pie or a chocolate chip cookie. Which do you want?”
Sara took forever to decide.
Don persisted. “C'mon, Sara. We need to get back on the road before midnight.”
She placed a fat index finger against an equally fat cheek. “Would it be okay if I had one of each since it'll be a while before I get to eat again?”
Debbie turned to Don. “Sure, honey. Don, get the dessert while we use the restroom.”
“Let's make it quick,” Don said to their retreating backs.
Desserts in hand, Don made his way to the Explorer. Emily leaned over the front seat to open the driver's door for him.
“Is she still eating?” Emily asked.
“No, now it's the bathroom, but I bet you can't guess who this dessert is for.” He held up the box containing the apple pie and chocolate chip cookie. “One for the road.”
Emily smiled at her dad. “You mean two.”
“Yeah, I guess I do. Let's just try and keep the peace with your mom and sister. Once we arrive in Asheville, your mother will be nice to everyone. You know how she likes to make a good impression on Alex and Kate.”
Emily nodded. She knew, but she also knew her mother didn't impress them at all. Not that they'd ever said anything to her. It was just something she could sense. She felt ashamed of her mother sometimes and hated herself for feeling that way. Maybe she'd understand her mother when she was older. She hoped so.
Fifteen minutes passed, and her mother and Sara had yet to emerge from the restroom. Just as Emily got out of the car to go check on them, they materialized.
“What in the world were you two doing in there for so long?” Don asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Sara is constipated,” Debbie reported.
Emily had to bite the inside of her mouth just to keep from laughing out loud. If she couldn't go to the bathroom now, just wait a while. Once those miniburgers navigated their way through her sister's gut, she'd have the Hershey squirts for days. Just imagining this brought an even bigger smile to her face. Maybe she'd crap herself. It would serve the little brat right if she did. Maybe then she wouldn't be such a pig in the future.
“Mommy!” Sara shrieked
“It's all right, honey. You can't help it if you're sick. It's her nerves.” Debbie turned around to look at Emily, who was trying very hard not to laugh at the topic of conversation.
“Emily, badgering your sister has got to cease. She has a nervous stomach as it is. All the bickering has wreaked havoc on her bowels.”
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