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Authors: Holly Chamberlin

One Week In December (7 page)

BOOK: One Week In December
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9
Olivia and James arrived at the Rowan house at about four that afternoon. It was already quite dark and, being December in Maine, quite cold. Becca, in the front hall with the others, shivered when Julie opened the door, and stepped back farther into the house.
Immediately, and in spite of being absorbed with her own emotionally fraught situation, Becca noted an air of tension between her sister and brother-in-law. And she figured if she could sense it, then pretty much everyone else could, too. Well, maybe not David. David was always all about David. You could fall down in front of him and he'd walk right over your body, his attention caught by something more important to him, like a cinnamon roll or someone dropping garbage in the recycling bin.
James Moody was of middling height and build. While he'd put on a few pounds over the years, and while his hair had gone prematurely silver, he was, most people thought, still a handsome man. Part of his attractiveness, Becca thought now, watching him greet his in-laws, was his seemingly complete lack of pretension or guile.
Becca shifted her attention to her older sister, Olivia Rowan-Moody. At the moment, she was giving her mother a hug while simultaneously ordering James to do something with her bag. Olivia didn't have the long and lean frame shared by Steve, Becca, Rain, and to a lesser extent, David. Like her mother and youngest sister, Olivia was of medium height and middling weight. Her hair was a light shade of brown; Becca couldn't help but note that it was now streaked quite liberally with gray. Where Olivia had gotten her dark blue eyes was anyone's guess. They weren't the “Rowan eyes,” but neither were they the cow brown Julie and Lily shared. Becca tried to remember if her grandfather had had blue eyes, but she couldn't summon a clear enough picture in her mind. That, she realized, was something she wouldn't like to admit to her family. They already thought her self-centered enough.
James came over to Becca now and they shared a brief hug. “You're looking well, Becca,” he said.
Becca smiled at him. “You, too, James,” she lied. In fact, she'd never seen him look so unhappy.
Somehow, Olivia managed to avoid an official greeting with her younger sister. Becca wasn't sure how she pulled it off but she had, and Becca didn't feel in the least slighted.
Julie ushered Olivia and James off to the Queen Anne's Lace Room while Nora, with Lily's and Naomi's help, finished preparing dinner. Aware that she, too, should be helping in the kitchen, but not feeling overly guilty about her dereliction of duty, Becca chose instead to join Rain in the living room, where she was entertaining her brothers by gustily singing the theme song from SpongeBob SquarePants. Becca had caught the show once, by accident. She'd liked it but would never admit that to her family.
Dinner was at seven that evening. The Rowans gathered at the big table, complete now since the arrival of Olivia and James. Becca had little appetite, but to excuse herself from dinner would be disastrous for her plan. She wanted to catch her family off guard. She wanted them to feel as bad as she felt. So she sat at the table and pretended that all was well.
Julie came to the table, carrying a massive platter on which sat a large roast surrounded by sliced potatoes, carrots, and parsnips.
“Ah, the perfect roast beef!” David rubbed his hands in a gesture of appreciation and anticipation.
Nora brought in a large bowl of mashed potatoes; Becca spied several large squares of butter melting on top. Red meat, slabs of butter. She was sure she'd have cholesterol poisoning, if there were such a thing, by the time she got back to Boston. She'd call her trainer first thing in the morning and schedule a few additional sessions with him. And she'd go on a strict diet of low-fat foods for a few weeks. The last thing she wanted was to have to rely on medication to manage a situation a little self-control and willpower could handle.
“May I have the gravy?” Olivia asked.
Julie passed a large, silver-plated gravy boat to her daughter. Olivia stared at the object, then looked at her mother, puzzled. “I don't remember this gravy boat. Whose was it? Where did it come from?”
“You know, I don't quite remember,” Julie said. “I haven't used it in ages. It might have belonged to my mother's sister, Agnes. Or maybe it was her aunt Clara's. No—”
“How can you not know for sure?” Olivia demanded. “Didn't you make a note when it came to you? Mom, I've told you it's irresponsible not to keep records of the family heirlooms. Do you even remember when you got it?”
“Well,” Julie said, unruffled, “I'm not sure I'd call it an heirloom, Liv. I certainly don't think it's worth any money.”
Rain shrugged. “I wouldn't buy it. I think it's kind of ugly.”
“God, Mom,” Olivia went on, “it's not about the money, it's about the sentimental value. It's about honoring all the people who've used that gravy boat down through the years. It's about family and the meals they've shared.”
Under his breath David said, “
The Chronicles of the Gravy Boat
, coming soon to a theatre near you.” Becca forced herself not to smile.
“Well, I'm sorry, dear, but I just don't remember where it came from.”
Olivia flushed. Becca hoped her sister wasn't going to have a stroke at the dinner table. Her rabid interest in a tarnished piece of junk didn't seem like a sign of good health and well-being. Becca could understand getting riled up about politics or religion. But to have a heart attack over antiques seemed a complete waste of time.
“It's only a gravy boat, Liv,” David said aloud. “Not the crown jewels.”
James put his hand gently on Olivia's arm, as if to calm or comfort her, but she shook it off.
Steve had been silent during this heated exchange. Well, heated on Olivia's side. His wife had remained unperturbed. It was Steve's policy not to get involved in disputes between his wife and their children. Julie knew how to handle herself. He felt he'd only be in the way.
Nora now changed the subject. She was talking about an ordinance that had passed in the summer, something having to do with the garbage dump. And about a new restaurant that had opened in the next town over, a classic diner type of place. Her friend Emily had gone there with her daughter and had told Nora they served the best chicken salad sandwich in the state. Or maybe it was tuna salad. Nora laughed and admitted that her short-term memory wasn't what it used to be.
Becca only half listened. She was trying to “act normal,” but the enormity of what she needed to discuss with her family weighed heavily on her. She picked at her food, strangely repulsed by the sight of it, and realized she had already drunk a bit too much wine. Casually, she slid her wineglass out of easy reach.
Finally, the interminable dinner was over. Naomi went off to coax the twins to bed; she was back within half an hour with the news that a day playing in the snow had knocked the boys right out.
Becca listened with relief as Rain announced that she and Lily were going upstairs to watch a DVD. She didn't care if Lily missed the family meeting she was about to call, but she had been concerned about getting—and keeping—Rain safely away.
“What are you going to watch?” Naomi asked.
“
Juno
,” Rain replied.
And if that wasn't a coincidence, Becca thought, then what was?
David raised his eyebrows. “Again? How many times have you seen that movie?”
“Three. This will be the fourth. Come on, Lily.”
The two young women went upstairs to Lily's room. When she was sure they were out of earshot—she heard a bedroom door slam—Becca seized her moment.
“I'd like to talk to everyone,” she blurted.
Julie added a final dirty plate to the stack at the end of the table. “Is anything the matter, honey?” she asked.
Yes. Everything. “No, nothing's the matter. I just need to talk to everyone about something very important.”
Becca saw her father blanch. Good, she thought. He should be afraid. He should be made to acknowledge the pain that he caused.
“Can it wait until I clean up a bit?” Julie asked, lifting the empty bowl that had once been full of mashed potatoes.
“No. I'd prefer to do it now. In the living room.”
Julie put the bowl back on the dining room table.
“Well, then,” Nora said briskly, “let's get to it.”
10
“So,” Becca concluded, “the sooner I tell her that I'm her birth mother, the better things will be.” Becca sat with her back straight, hands firmly planted on her knees. There. She had said it. She had announced her intentions.
The Rowans were in the living room, Nora in her favorite armchair and the others ranged around on the couch and in various chairs. Becca had moved hers a bit apart from the others in an unconscious gesture of avoidance, or maybe even of fear.
Her brother, predictably, was the first to speak. “Excuse me,” he said, loudly and with a rough laugh, “but I don't see it that way at all!”
Becca was ready for her opponent, which was how she viewed every member of the family in that room. “I'm sorry,” she said, “that you don't agree with me. But I've given this a lot of thought, David.”
“I don't think you have,” he retorted. “This is crazy.”
Olivia's expression was cold and hard. “You're out of your mind, Becca.”
Julie frowned at her oldest child, then she turned to Becca. “Becca, dear, we agreed that when Rain turns twenty-one we'd discuss whether or not to tell her the truth about her birth. We agreed to talk about her level of emotional and mental maturity. We agreed to assess the risks. But not before then. Certainly, not when she's only sixteen. She's still so young.”
“Sixteen is not so young, Mom,” Becca argued. “Not these days. The popular culture in which kids are raised today—”
David cut her off. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded. “Are you sick or something? No, seriously, are you dying? Is this your crazy dying wish? Because if it is, I need the name of your shrink right away.”
“Of course I'm not dying. I'm perfectly fine. I'm in excellent health, physical and mental. I'm in perfect condition to take care of my child.”
Finally, her father spoke. “But as your mother said, we had an agreement.” To Becca, he sounded utterly bewildered. Well, she would attempt to make things perfectly clear.
“Not a legally binding agreement,” she pointed out. “And we all know that even insignificant things like rules and regulations and promises can always be ignored when necessary.” Becca looked pointedly at her father. “Right, Dad? You were the chief architect of the plan to pass off Rain as David and Naomi's daughter. You know all about breaking things. And you know all about lying.”
Steve didn't answer. Maybe he couldn't. His wife took his hand.
“Becca,” Nora murmured, “that's unfair.”
“Is it? Look, I want to be more to Rain than her aunt. I deserve to be more to her.”
David shot to his feet. Becca couldn't help but flinch. “I'm not sure you deserve anything other than a good thrashing. I'm totally shocked that you would even consider disrupting Rain's life in such a—in such a brutal way. Your own daughter.”
“David,” Naomi murmured.
He sat down again heavily, reluctantly.
“The only reason you're all so upset is that you just want to maintain the status quo,” Becca argued, somewhat lamely, even to her ears. “You don't want things to change. You want the world to continue to see us as a perfectly happy family.”
“A perfectly screwed-up family.” Olivia's words were almost inaudible, but the bitterness in her voice was loud and clear.
Becca looked to James. His expression was pained. “James, you haven't said anything. What do you think about my telling Rain now the truth about her birth?”
Olivia shot him a warning look—nobody could miss it—and James dutifully responded.
“Becca,” he said, “to be fair, I wasn't involved in the decision all those years ago. I've no right to get involved now. I hadn't even met Olivia when—when Rain was born.”
“But you were brought into the conspiracy—”
“Conspiracy?” David barked.
“Still,” James argued, “I don't feel that I have a right to voice an opinion.”
Well
, Becca thought,
so much for my brother-in-law's support
. Not that she had expected much independent thinking from James. Olivia had him pretty well in hand.
“Look,” she said, “I told you all, I've thought this through very carefully and—”
“Again, I don't think that you have,” David interrupted. “I don't know what brought on this—this insanity—but it stops right here. Right now. You are not going to tell my daughter—”
“She's
my
daughter.”
“You are not going to tell Rain anything.”
“You're not the boss of this family, David.” Becca looked at each of her family in turn. It took some effort to do so. She was painfully aware that her cheeks were flushed. “The truth is,” she said, “that I'd like everyone's consent to tell Rain the truth soon, but I don't need it.”
“I was afraid this would happen someday.” Naomi's voice was thin. Becca was alarmed. Her sister-in-law looked terribly pale. Becca hoped that she wouldn't faint. Naomi lying on the floor in a heap would not help her cause. “Things have been too good,” Naomi said. “Life has been too kind. I knew it would never last. I've been scared of some—some disaster like this ever since . . .”
“Ever since you took my daughter away from me.” Becca hadn't meant to sound so rough, but the words were out. If Naomi fainted, well, then so be it.
There was a plea for understanding in her sister-in-law's eyes—a plea for real communication. “Becca, you know that's not what really happened! Why are you distorting the truth like this? What have we done to you to deserve this now?”
“What did I do to deserve my family ganging up against me?” Becca retorted.
“Ganging . . .” Again, David shot to his feet. “What the hell does that mean!”
Julie stood now as well. “Enough,” she commanded. “We'll resume this conversation tomorrow, when we've all had some time to calm down and to think clearly.”
As far as Becca was concerned, no further discussion was necessary, but she nodded her agreement. Emotions were riding too high at the moment for any hope of success.
“Becca.” Julie looked closely at her daughter. “Promise me, promise us all that you won't say anything to Rain until the family has talked again. Promise.”
“Of course. I promise.”
“How can we trust her promise? She's already decided to break one vow. Her word means nothing!”
“David!” Steve's tone was unusual enough to command the attention he intended it to. “Enough, now. You're not making this any easier.”
Chastened for the moment, David took Naomi's arm and they left the room without another word. Olivia and James followed; James offered a quiet “good night” to those remaining.
Becca suddenly felt horribly exposed, alone with her parents and grandmother, the authority figures of the Rowan family. Annoyed by her own lack of courage, she mumbled something that she thought was “thanks” and fled.
Well
, Becca thought as she left the living room, aware of the accusing eyes behind her,
this is certainly not turning out to be a Hallmark Channel Christmas
.
BOOK: One Week In December
11.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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