Season of Sisters (39 page)

"Dictatorial?" Grace offered with a smile.

"Domineering," Holly suggested dryly.

"Oh, you girls." Maggie grabbed a tissue from the box on Grace's bedside table and dabbed at her eyes. "Mean. I was mean."

"No," Grace said, shaking her head. "You weren't mean."

Maggie's and Holly's gazes met and held. Silently they acknowledged that a few moments of mean had occurred, but those had happened after Grace left. They'd also been reciprocal.

Maggie sighed heavily. "I've done a lot of thinking since St. Louis. I've been trying to work up the nerve to call you both and apologize. To you, Grace, for barging ahead with my plans when I knew you'd rather me leave it alone. And to you, too, Holly. I said some awful things. Friends don't speak that way to one another and I'm very sorry. I've missed you two."

"You're wrong, Maggie." Holly drummed her fingers on her knee as the other two women sent her a look of shocked surprise. "Friends do speak that way to one another. True friends do, because they're honest with one another. Now, they might manage it with less snarkiness than we indulged in, but they tell the truth. That's what we did. Seems to me, it did us each good to hear what the other had to say. I know without a doubt my life has been emptier since St. Louis. I'm so very sorry for hurting you both, and I dearly hope you'll forgive me. But for my part, I'm glad you said what you said. I know I can trust you to be honest. That's important to me, especially now when I have such a big decision to make."

"About Justin?" Maggie asked.

Holly nodded. Grace let out a snort of disgust. "You'd better be careful, girl, or Justin just might make the decision for you." She looked at Maggie. "Holly was in the middle of one of her panic attacks earlier when Justin arrived to hear her declare that she couldn't marry him."

"Oh, Holly." Maggie rolled her eyes. "Men do not have unlimited patience. Believe me. I know. You shouldn't string the poor man along any longer, sugar. It's not fair to either of you."

Holly opened her mouth to defend herself, to explain how her fears for Grace had awakened her own, but then she realized she had no defense at all. Maggie and Grace were right. "When it comes to allowing fear to run our lives, I figure I win hands down. I intend to settle things with Justin once and for all. I've been waiting until after tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"She gets her genetic test results tomorrow."

"Oh. Wow." Maggie leaped up, circling the bed to hug Holly. "Who's going with you? Justin?"

"No. He doesn't know I've been tested. I'm going alone."

"Oh, you can't do that. I'll come with you. What time is your appointment? We could go in my car if you—Oh, wait. I'm doing it again, aren't I? Well, shoot. I'm sorry. Um... would you like some company tomorrow, sugar?"

Holly laughed and gave Maggie a quick hug. "Thank you, but this is something I need to do by myself. I had to argue with the counselor to get her to okay it. They ordinarily want you to have someone with you."

"For a reason," Grace scolded.

"Don't ask me why I must do it this way because I can't explain it. I just know it. Deep in my bones, I know it. Support me on this?"

Grace reached up and maternally tucked a stray curl behind Holly's ears. "Of course we will, won't we, Maggie?"

"Sure." Maggie pursed her lips as she eyed the rash on Grace's arm. "What new fragrance did your granddaughter put in her lotion, Grace?"

"Oh, you'll like this. She heard me telling Sally about the floral arrangements for the party. When she heard me prattle on about how much I adore the fragrance, she special-ordered the essential oil in order to make the lotion."

It took Holly a moment to put it together, but when she did, she started to laugh. "Magnolia? Magnolia-scented lotion gave you hives?"

Grace nodded and held out her reddened hands with a flourish. "Guess that makes me a charter member of the club now, hmm?"

"Sugar," Maggie said. "That makes you president!"

Chapter 17

S
aturday morning, Holly arrived at her dad's house to find him out front watering the lawn. "Hey, handsome. Wanna go for a Saturday-Sunday drive?"

Twenty minutes later, they drove off in the Gray Swan, the top down, the picnic basket Holly had prepared sitting on the backseat. "This is the nicest surprise, honey. When I called yesterday, you sounded like a drive with your old man was the last thing you wanted."

"I'm sorry. Yesterday was a bit of challenge and it took me a little while to figure out that a Saturday-Sunday drive with my dad was exactly what I need to cheer myself up."

"Is something wrong, baby?"

They rode for two more blocks before she answered. "Daddy, do you still miss Mama?"

"Every day of my life."

His answer made her next question even more difficult. "Do you ever think you'd have been better off if you'd never married her?"

"Holly Elizabeth Weeks. What sort of question is that?"

"A fair one, I think. You've been widowed thirteen years, Dad, and as far as I know, you've never been involved with another woman."

He grimaced, glancing in the side mirror. "Well, you don't know everything."

Holly arched her brows.

"I've seen a few women since your mother died, Holly."

"You have? You never mentioned it to me."

"I'm entitled to some privacy, aren't I?"

Holly was intrigued. "This from the man who passed out a questionnaire to every boy I dated?" She quoted. "'In fifty words or less, what does DO NOT TOUCH MY DAUGHTER mean to you?'"

He scowled. "That's different."

Holly didn't think so, but that wasn't the conversation she wanted to pursue right now. "So who were these ladies? Anyone I know? Where did you meet them? Did marriage ever come up?"

He braked the car to a stop at a red light, then turned to her. "Why the third degree? You have something to tell me? Something about you and Justin, maybe?"

"No. Well, sort of. Maybe. I'm trying to get something straight in my mind. Dad, why didn't you remarry?"

His brow furrowed. "Maybe I should pull off the road if we're going to have a conversation like this."

Softly, Holly said, "It's important to me, Daddy."

Jim Weeks sighed. "The answer is simple. I haven't remarried because I haven't fallen in love again."

"Why?"

"Why? I don't know. I just haven't. I haven't found the right person."

"Do you think you haven't found her because you're not really looking? Maybe you were so wounded when you lost Mama that you unconsciously built walls around your heart to protect it. Maybe it's better to live alone than to risk love and lose again."

Her dad scratched his Saturday stubble. "Nope, you're definitely wrong there. Losing your mom was the worst thing that ever happened to me, true. But loving her was the best. The joy of loving her has the pain of losing her outdistanced by a West Texas mile. Not only did I get you out of the bargain, I had fourteen years of true happiness, fourteen years' worth of precious memories I'll carry with me until the day I die."

"Memories, not regrets," Holly murmured, thinking of Ben Hardeman.

Her dad took her hand and squeezed it. "That's right. I could go on for hours, but I'm not certain what you're looking for from me. I don't know what's going on in your mind, Sunshine. I gave up that exercise the day you came home from the mall with a nose ring."

"That was a joke, Dad. It was a clip-on."

"Whatever. Holly, what's this about?"

"I want you to take me somewhere, Daddy. I need you to show me the way."

"All right. Where we going?"

"The cemetery. I haven't been there since the funeral. I want to visit Mama's grave and I need you to show me the way."

A pleased smile bloomed slowly across her father's face. "I'll be happy to show you, Sunshine. Very happy."

Twenty minutes later he parked the car in a tree-shaded lane in Riverside Cemetery. His car door squeaked as he opened it and prepared to get out. "She's just down this row. Near the rose bushes. Remember how she liked roses?"

Holly remained in her seat looking straight ahead, staring not at the emerald grass and bed of pink begonias, but into the past. Back to the days before her mother fell ill. Back to the days of laughter. Her father opened the passenger door. "Holly?"

She took his hand and left the car. They walked past three graves before she stopped. "Dad? Could I... would you mind... I think I'd like to do this by myself."

Surprise flashed across his expression. "Sure, honey. Whatever you need. I'll listen to the car radio. The Rangers are playing a day game."

Holly kissed him on the cheek, then continued past the small bronze rectangles until she reached the one that read
Elizabeth
M.
Weeks, Beloved wife and mother.

Holly twirled the yellow rose her dad had purchased in the cemetery's flower shop and swallowed hard against a knot of emotion threatening to block her throat. She bent down and slipped the flower into the brass urn built into the grave marker, then drew a deep breath and exhaled in a rush.

"Hi, Mama."

Minutes dragged past. The summer sun beat down upon Holly and perspiration beaded on her skin, trickled down between her breasts. She plucked at her shirt. "I hate wearing a bra in summer. They're so hot. I can't go without, though. I'm not flat-chested anymore. Took me a long time to get boobs, but once I got them... well... I'm stacked, Mama. Just like you were. I have Daddy's eyes and his hair color, but I have your boobs. Lucky me, huh?"

The slightest of breezes whispered through the leaves of a giant old pecan tree standing nearby. From somewhere off to her left, Holly heard the slam of a car door. A woman about Maggie's age helped an elderly woman make her way toward a section of graves bordered by a hedge of Indian hawthorn.

"What am I babbling about? This is the very first time I visit this place and I spend my time whining about my boobs and the heat. If my friend Maggie were here with me now, she'd tell me I'm being insensitive, complaining about boobs here, under these circumstances. She's a good woman, Mama, and she means well, but she doesn't understand. I hope she never does."

A monarch butterfly fluttered in dips and loops before coming to rest on the E on the grave marker. Watching its black and gold wings open, then close, Holly took it as a sign.

The butterfly was a symbol of resurrection, of new life emerging from the darkness.
Appropriate,
Holly thought,
under the circumstances.

"It's different with my friend Grace. She probably would understand how I'm feeling. You'd like her, Mama. You'd like both Grace and Maggie. They've been good friends to me. Like mothers, after a fashion." Holly slipped her backpack-purse off her shoulder, dropped it on the ground, then sat cross-legged beside it.

Holly gazed around, breathed in the peace. Funny, but she'd expected a cemetery to be an uneasy place. "Daddy picked a nice spot here. I guess I'm an awful daughter for never having visited before now. I've been afraid, Mama. Not of the cemetery, but of facing you. Facing... life. Funny place to come to face life, isn't it? I'm just as contrary as always. Daddy says I get that from you. I have your contrariness, your cleavage."

She closed her eyes and said it. "Your mutant gene."

Holly had tested positive for the BRCA2 gene mutation.

"I haven't told anyone. I won't tell Dad. He's already lost one of us. I don't want him to worry himself sick that he'll lose the other, too. You see, I'm not entirely pessimistic. Even with the altered gene, it's still not a sure thing I'll get breast cancer, Mama. It's not a hundred percent. Like the counselor told me, everybody has damaged genes. I just know what mine is. I may not be able to beat the Big C entirely, but I can sure as heck beat it back with a stick."

"I’ve been such an idiot about the whole thing. I let fear be the guiding force in my life. Well, I’m done with that. I'm glad I had the test done. Now I know that I'm a candidate for all the high-tech stuff—special screening, clinical trials, chemoprevention. Surgery if I want it. Medical science has come so far in the years you've been gone. They've learned tons since the mid-nineties when the BRCA gene mutations were identified in the research lab. I think I've finally realized that I don't have to die. What I have to do now is try and figure out how to live."

Holly unbuckled the flap of her backpack, reached into its depths, and fished out her smooth leather wallet. Opening it, she reached into that special spot between her driver's license and her Discover card and removed the rectangle of paper. "This is my Life List, Mama. I began it the day of your funeral, and I refined it over the years. It has thirty-two items on it, because that's how old you were when you died."

Again, she extended her hand into her backpack. This time she pulled out her special gold pen. Unfolding the paper, she perused her list. "I've done okay. Checked off quite a few items. Could probably mark through a few more right now. Take number one, for instance. I'm always kind to telemarketers. Everyone has a job to do and they are people, too."