The Family You Choose (4 page)

She was in the bathroom and had just grabbed
some cotton balls when she felt a shadow pass over her. She looked
up and saw Tom looking at her.

"What happened?" he said, not moving from the
doorway.

"I fell," Miranda said simply. She suddenly
had no desire to get Michael in trouble.

He stood there as she wiped her knee with
alcohol, and didn't move to help her get the bandages. Miranda
tried to move slowly, afraid of having to speak to him when she was
done.

She took a deep breath and turned off the
water. "Josie isn't here," she said, making herself look at
him.

Tom almost smiled. "I know. I'm here to see
Alex."

"I think he'll be home soon." Now she just
wanted to leave, but he was blocking her way.

"I know." Now he wasn't smiling. Miranda felt
the tiny hairs on her cheek stand up. She wanted to run—she could
probably push past him—but she wasn't going to move first.

"Tom." Miranda let out a sigh as Tom turned
around to see Richard. He was now almost full grown, but his uncle
was still taller. Richard looked at Miranda. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Miranda said, working hard to use her
normal volume. "I just needed a bandage."

"Okay, good." Miranda could tell that he was
thinking. "I couldn't find you, and then I asked Keith, and we've
both been looking for you for the last five minutes."

"What a conscientious young man you are." Tom
curled his lip. "But we've got it all taken care of, don't we,
sweetie?"

Miranda felt a little sick. "Yes, sir. Thank
you."

"Good," Richard said, and held out his hand
to Miranda. She clasped it quickly and said, "Excuse me," as she
went past Tom. Richard half-dragged her down the stairs in
silence.

"I’m going to tell Alex," she said quietly
once they were outside again.

Richard shook his head. "Don’t."

"Why?" Miranda asked angrily.

"Because you might make things worse."

She was shocked. "What things?"

"Grown up things," he said quietly. Miranda
didn’t understand, but she trusted Richard and didn’t say
anything.

Soon enough though, it didn’t matter. Tom
Bartolome had passed away too. Oddly, Miranda noticed that Josie
was much more nervous than she had been before Tom’s death. She
still brought Jessie over to play, but now Richard had to be there
as well, and while Josie would still sit for tea with the dolls,
she never played the same way again.

The next year Josie was gone too. Alex had
told her that Jessie’s mother had passed away, but he never
answered any questions about how or why. Richard had also refused
to answer any questions. Miranda could usually get anything she
wanted if she persisted, but she thought she shouldn’t.

"Will you help me take care of Jessie?"
Richard asked.

"Of course. She’s my sister."

Richard patted her on the head. "You’re a
good girl. I hope Jessie’s a good girl like you too."

"Jessie’s always good. And isn’t your mother
gonna help take care of her?"

Richard, already so tall, looked down on
Miranda. His eyes were red. "It’s just that...my mother isn’t very
good at taking care of things sometimes."

"So who takes care of you?"

"Josie used to, and sometimes even Alex."

Miranda felt so bad for Richard all of a
sudden. She threw her arms around his waist and buried her head in
his chest. "But Alex is still here! You can come and stay with
us."

"Thanks, but my mom would never let me do
that."

Miranda was starting to panic. "So who’s
going to take care of you? And what about Jessie?"

"I can take care of myself now, okay? I’m a
big boy now. Sometimes when Michael comes over I even take care of
him too, and we don’t get into too much trouble. Usually." Miranda
laughed through her tears. "But sometimes...I may need a little
help with Jessie. She really misses her mom. Do you think you can
help me?"

"Okay," Miranda nodded solemnly. "But it
would be much easier if you came to live here."

"Sometimes we just have to make do with what
we have. Think we can?"

"I think so."

So Miranda was with Jessie and Richard almost
every day, sometimes at her house, sometimes at theirs. Very rarely
did she see Lucy, but there was a cook to make sure the two ate and
a housekeeper to make sure that the house was tidy.

Jessie was the cutest thing Miranda had ever
seen. She was pretty like her mother, but with Richard’s smart
eyes. She was funny too.

"Knock-knock," she said one day to Richard
and Miranda. They both looked at each other and laughed to
themselves.

"Who’s there?" Richard said.

"Kanga."

"Kanga-who?" Miranda asked.

"No, but I have a pocket!" And then she
laughed. Miranda and Richard laughed too, half at the joke, which
was pretty sophisticated for such a little girl, and half at
Jessie.

"That’s the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard."
Richard and Miranda hadn’t heard Michael come in, but apparently
he’d been standing there long enough for the punch line. "It’s only
funny if you have a lisp. Jessie, do you have a lisp?"

Jessie bit her lip, shaking her head. Despite
her best efforts, a little tear rolled down her cheek.

Miranda stood up. It was one thing to bully
her; it was entirely different to bully a little girl. "Shut up,
Michael," she said quietly. "You wouldn’t know how to tell a joke
at all, because you’re not funny. You never laugh and you never
make anyone else laugh. You just know how to make people miserable,
and no one has ever done anything to you."

Richard was shushing Jessie. Miranda was
glad, but she wondered why he never did anything to shut Michael up
when things like this happened. Michael stepped toward Miranda.
She’d thought, when they were younger, how cute Michael was, with
his dark, wavy hair and his deep brown eyes. But as he’d gotten
bigger and his voice got deeper, he’d gotten meaner. She didn’t
think there was anything cute about him anymore. "But I think
you’re pretty funny. Does that count?" Michael said.

Miranda put her hands on her hips. "I don’t
care if it counts or not, because I don’t care what you think.
You’re nothing but a bully, Michael Abbot."

He wasn’t as tall as Richard, but he still
towered over Miranda. She wasn’t afraid. "And you," he said, "are
just a piece of charity trash Alex picked up off of the side of the
road one day. That’s okay, because someday he’ll put you back where
you came from."

"No, Alex likes me. No one likes you."

"I bet he does," Michael hissed.

"Michael, sit down!" Richard yelled, and they
all jumped. Richard never yelled. Before Michael could move, he
suddenly bent over in pain. "Ow!" he screamed.

Jessie had kicked him in the shins, and then
she kicked him again. Michael cursed and tried to push her away,
but when she saw his hand, she bit it. He screamed even more.
Miranda pulled Jessie away, just before Alex came in.

"What’s going on in here?!"

"Michael was being mean!" Jessie cried,
pointing in his direction. Michael, bent over, alternately howling
and sucking his hand, looking ridiculous. Alex walked over and
looked at his hand, then at Jessie, then at Richard.

"What happened?"

"Michael didn’t realize," Richard said
slowly, "that Jessie might not appreciate his sense of humor
yet."

Alex shook his head a little bit, and led
Michael out of the room. "And stay out!" Jessie screamed when the
door shut. Miranda and Richard both laughed. After that, Michael
left Jessie alone.

That same spring, Alex finally tracked down
Miranda's relatives in Israel. It was a dream come true. She knew
her grandmother had asked Alex to track them down, but she knew
that he had very little information to build upon. Alex had gotten
a hold of her parents’ marriage certificates, and to this day, it
remained one of Miranda’s most treasured possessions. Husband:
Asher Harel. Wife: Tatiana Hamilton. Daughter, she thought when
she’d looked at it, Miranda Harel. He had also managed to find one
single picture of them together, perhaps on their wedding day. He
was young and skinny, with quite a lot of curly dark hair. He was
holding her mother very closely, and she had her cheek pressed up
against him, staring out like a beautiful, fragile fairy into the
camera, protected by their love. Miranda had often stared at their
photo; the one piece of tangible proof that she came from
somewhere.

The Harels had been difficult to track down.
Judah, her great-grandfather, had died just a few days after her
father’s funeral. Tatiana had sent the Harels a letter announcing
Miranda’s arrival, but it hadn’t gotten to them for years due to an
error of the postal service. By the time they had gotten word of
Miranda’s birth, Miranda had already left her first home. The
family had spent fruitless years trying to find her.

The Harels were overjoyed, Alex told her,
when he contacted them. So much so that they insisted that she come
for a visit that summer. Miranda had cried at first, unwilling to
leave Richard and Jessie, but once Alex had promised her that
Michael would get a trip of his own so he wouldn’t torment them
while she was gone, she reluctantly agreed.

Once she got to her grandparents home in
Israel, it was as if she were coming home for the first time. Her
grandfather Dov and her grandmother Sarah cried when they saw her,
telling her how much she reminded them so much of their son.
Miranda cried tears of joy too.

Her days in Israel were filled with trips to
the beach with aunts, uncles and cousins and then huge family
dinners almost every night. She had been nervous about not speaking
Hebrew, but her cousins, most of them with the same dark curly hair
she had, used her to practice their English, which she thought was
already very good. It was amazing to be with these people who
looked so much like her and who welcomed her immediately as a
member of the family. She couldn’t believe such things could happen
so easily.

She left Israel two weeks later with a heavy
heart. She promised to return the next year, hoping to be able to
speak Hebrew at that time. Her grandfather had already told
Alex—not asked—that Miranda needed to begin Hebrew school
immediately. Even Alex wasn’t able to negotiate his way out of her
grandfather’s obligation.

Richard had welcomed Miranda when she
returned, but Jessie was almost as sulky as Michael usually was.
"Didn’t you miss me?" Miranda asked at last.

"No, and I don’t love you anymore."

"But I had to go," Miranda said gently. "My
grandparents really wanted to see me. They miss my father, and they
wanted to see me because...I’m all that’s left of him."

Jessie’s eyes filled with tears. "But you
didn’t take me."

"I’m sorry sweetie." Miranda hugged her. "I
couldn’t take you with me—you’re too little. But when you’re older
you can come with me."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Miranda started Hebrew school that same fall.
She found, much to her surprise, how much she liked the religion
and asked Alex to take her to temple for the High Holidays. Alex
had smiled when she asked and patted her head. "That would have
made your parents very happy...both of them." Miranda hugged Alex,
thinking about him with her parents. He must have known them both.
Then she giggled a little bit. What would they have thought if they
had known that this was the man their daughter was someday going to
marry?

Miranda had been inconsolable when Alex told
her the next year that she was going away for school. She refused
to go until he promised to bring her home every other weekend to
see Jessie and Richard. Sometimes she made it home on her off
weekends and would surprise Alex, or sometimes she’d make it home
and just visit her friends. It was lonely without them, but she
took solace that they’d be there when she got back.

Her friends at home were her only constant
friends, and she was even more grateful for them as other people
and friends came into her life. She could make other friends
easily, but she was never sure how long she’d be able to keep them.
Michael took great pleasure in making his presence known to them,
and Miranda could never predict when he would be around. How long
would he last at his latest school? How long until he was banished
by Lucy, again? It was always home to Miranda and Alex, no matter
what havoc he might bring.

Sometimes it was teasing or hair pulling;
sometimes it was a pretend shove down the stairs. Always, always,
it ended with one more friendship gone awry.

Sophie Gorman had been the friend she’d held
onto the longest. Sophie, not too tall, but with pretty, dark,
reddish brown hair and big brown eyes, came to her bat mitzvah. She
visited her on the weekends that Miranda was in town for almost two
years. Miranda introduced her to Richard and Jessie. Sophie liked
them both, but particularly approved of Richard. He seemed to feel
the same way.

"So you don’t have a crush on Richard?"
Sophie had asked one day, sprawled out on Miranda’s bed while they
ate chocolate chip cookies.

"Richard? Eww—gross! He’s practically my
brother!"

"He’s really cute, and he’s so nice and
smart."

"Well, if you keep talking him up-"

"No, that’s okay. I think you’re all wrong
for him, anyway."

"If you say so..."

For a while, Richard was scarce around the
house, and Jessie got used to seeing just Miranda. "Do you like
Sophie?" Miranda asked one day after they’d gone ice skating.

Jessie shrugged. "She’s okay. She’s pretty,
and she’s always really nice to me, but I wish she didn’t need to
be alone with Richard all the time."

Miranda smiled. "Well, sometimes boys and
girls like to be alone with each other. I bet you’ll feel the same
when you’re older."