The Guest List (6 page)

Carol turned back to the stove. Donovan stared at the stiff set of her shoulders. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

“You two better hurry or you’ll miss the bus,” Carol said, holding out two lunch boxes. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Have a good day.”

Mallory stomped from the room without looking back. Abby hugged both Donovan and Carol. “See ya,” she called.

The moment the door closed, Donovan said, “Okay, let’s hear it. The whole enchilada. I knew the minute I walked in the door last night that something was bothering you, but you didn’t seem to want to talk about it so I didn’t ask. Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

She slumped down in Mallory’s chair. “You’re right. I was going to tell you last night. I drank almost a whole bottle of wine to screw up my courage. There’s no other way to say this except to say it. It’s Mallory.” She pushed Mallory’s unfinished pancakes aside. “I detest that little girl. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be saying this to you. Before you came home last night she threatened me the way she did you that day back in Edison. She said she would tell her teacher that I’m mean to her and that I do
bad things
to her. School officials don’t take stuff like that lightly, Donovan, and neither do I. Do you have any idea what could happen if she did say those things to her teacher? She could destroy our lives, everything you’ve been working so hard for.” She steepled her hands in front of her face. “I don’t care what that shrink thinks, and I don’t care what you think. She’s not normal.”

Carol grabbed an unused paper napkin and blew her nose. “There’s a problem here neither you nor I are qualified to handle. I’m going to lose it, Donovan. This morning before you came down, I had to hold myself in check or I would have throttled her. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself next time.”

“Jesus. Why didn’t you say something before this, Carol?”

“I thought I could handle it. I was wrong. I should have told you, but you’ve been working so many hours and then when you do come home you’re exhausted. I didn’t want to burden you. I love you, and I love Abby. I do not love Mallory. Hell, I don’t even like her. She’s sneaky, she’s nasty, she’s obnoxious, and she’s cruel. I will never love her.”

“What … what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. This is one time I don’t have the answer.” Carol burst into tears. “And don’t even suggest that
I
go for therapy. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s her. All I know is that I can’t live like this any longer. I
won’t
live like this. I’m on the edge. I’ll crack if you don’t get her out of here.”

“You should have told me how bad it was. I would have punished her. When I don’t know something, I can’t act on it.”

“Don’t you see, Donovan? Punishing her isn’t the answer. She’s beyond punishment. It has absolutely no effect on her. Last night I made her stand in the corner with her face to the wall. Then, the first chance she got, she attacked Abby.”

“So, what’s the answer?”

“You have to make a decision,” she said with surprising calm. “Her or me.”

“Carol, listen to me. I’ll take some time off, and we’ll find help. Maybe we can send her to one of those schools that deal with troubled kids.”

Carol shook her head. “No, Donovan. She needs to be institutionalized.”

Donovan’s face fell. “Institutionalized? Don’t you think
that’s a little drastic?” The look in his wife’s eyes told him she wouldn’t settle for anything less. “Okay, I’ll make some inquiries.”

“Today,” she pushed.

“Yes, today. I’ll call in and tell Steve I’m taking the day off.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish you’d alerted me to the problems earlier.”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “I wanted to, but I kept thinking that with a little love and discipline, she’d be fine.”

Donovan shook his head. “I asked too much of you, Carol, when I asked you to marry me and take on John’s children.”

“My heart was with you. I wanted to help you, and I truly, truly wanted to help the girls.” She pulled her hand away and stared out the kitchen window. She shook herself. “Listen, you’d better go call Steve.”

“Carol, are you sure you’re all right? I mean—You look sort of frazzled.”

“No, Donovan, I’m not all right, and I won’t be all right until something is done about Mallory.”

It was eleven o’clock when Carol gathered up her coat and purse to head for downtown Charleston. The phone rang just as she was about to lock the front door. She debated a moment before she returned to the kitchen to answer it, but when you have children, you have to answer the phone. As she listened to the principal’s voice on the other end of the phone, her face registered horror. “I’ll be right there.”

An hour later, Carol left the school principal’s office and walked toward her car, where she immediately paged Donovan. Her breathing was ragged as she waited for him to call her. She was bordering on hysteria when the car phone finally rang. “Don’t ask questions, Donovan. Whatever you’re doing, stop and go home. You won’t believe what I have to tell you.”

Forty-five minutes later, Donovan careened into the driveway
and parked his pickup truck next to Carol’s Ford Mustang. “What the hell happened? Did one of the girls get hurt?” he bellowed.

“I’ll tell you what happened, Donovan,” Carol said between clenched teeth. “Our little Miss Mallory sits outside our bedroom door at night and listens to us. She told her teacher— Oh, God. What she said was … that last night I drank a whole bottle of wine and that when you came home we took off our clothes, rolled on the floor, and swung from the chandelier. She also told the teacher I was mean to her and that you and I did
bad things
to her.”

“Good God, no!”

Carol buried her face in her hands. “The principal warned me that such implications could be dangerous if the wrong people heard them.”

“Calm down, Carol. You’re going to have a coronary.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m going to have a coronary.” She flopped down on the sofa. “That’s it, Donovan. I can’t take another day of Mallory. Not another day. Do you hear me?”

“If you’ll just be patient, I’ll take care of it. But I’m not a magician. I can’t pull a rabbit out of my hat or make Mallory disappear.” He knelt in front of her. “I got the name of a special school in Atlanta. I was on my way home to give them a call when you paged me. Now, get your wits together and get that awful look off your face. We didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay for you to drink wine, and it’s okay for us to take our clothes off and roll on the floor. For that matter, it’s okay if we want to swing from the chandelier—if we had one. We’re married for Christ’s sake.”

“Call that school right now, Donovan, and make an appointment to see whomever you need to see.”

Donovan reached across the coffee table for the phone.

Carol leaned back and closed her eyes. She was so physically drained she didn’t hear the conversation or realize he’d hung up until Donovan took her hand in his.

“We can take Mallory to Atlanta the day after New Year’s. They have one opening. We’ll get the tour, check things out and … and …”

“Walk away,” Carol said flatly.

“Why do I feel like we’re doing something evil and wrong?” Donovan asked, his eyes searching hers.

“Because we’re decent human beings. Things like this only happen to other people, not people like us.”

“I’ll take the next two weeks off so I can stay home with you and the girls. So I’ll be here, Carol, day and night. You won’t have to deal with Mallory alone.”

1993

Abby raced up the stairs to her room, bellowing at the top of her lungs. “Carol! I’m home!”

Carol came out of her room and looked at the exuberant girl in front of her. “Do you have a date for the prom? I can hardly wait to pick out a dress for you.”

“Yes, I have a date, but that’s not the only reason I’m so excited. I got a letter today from Mallory. She sent it to the school. Do you believe that?”

Carol’s happiness faded, and she leaned against the wall for support. “No, I don’t believe it,” she said in a grudging voice. The nerve that girl had. The absolute nerve! “Has she sent you other letters at your school?”

“No. This is the first. She said she didn’t want to dredge up any old hard feelings.” Abby looked down at the letter in her hand. “It was a nice letter, Carol. Sorta newsy and upbeat. I admit I was surprised. That’s not how I remember her.” She
paused to gather her thoughts. “She graduates from her school this month. She wanted to know if you would let me go to her graduation.”

Carol shook her head. “Oh, Abby—I don’t think—” She put her arm around Abby’s shoulders. “I want to say no, but you’re an adult now; it’s your decision, not mine. I guess the big question is, do you want to go?”

Abby sat down on the top step and hugged her knees. “I’m not sure. I’d like to, but this is a busy time for me. I have exams coming up. I’m working on our school yearbook, and I’m on the prom committee. And if that’s not enough, I have to get ready for my own graduation.” She rested her chin on her knees and wondered how she was going to manage it all as it was. “God, I haven’t seen Mallory in five years.” She turned her head and glanced up at Carol. “It seems like
somebody
should be there to see her graduate. I know this is going to hurt your feelings, but she doesn’t want you or Donovan there.”

Carol made a sound of disgust. “We’re good enough to pay forty thousand dollars a year for her education, but we’re not good enough to be invited to her graduation. I think that’s pure Mallory.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Don’t let her letter manipulate you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

“Manipulate me? You told me her counselor said she’s well adjusted now, that she could have left there a couple of years ago if she’d wanted.”

“That’s true. She could have left, but I’m glad she didn’t. I hate to admit this, but I didn’t want her coming back here, and neither did Donovan. We offered to continue to pay for her schooling if she stayed where she was.” Carol saw Abby staring at Mallory’s letter. “You surprise me, Abby, that you would even consider going to her graduation after all the hurt she caused you.” She ruffled her ponytail. “Maybe I’m not so surprised. You always did have a big heart. I think it’s wonderful
that you can forgive her. I wish I could, but I can’t.” Carol crossed her arms and rubbed herself as if she’d felt a chill.

Abby stood up. “Hey, where’s that brother of mine?”

“Bobby went to one of those roller-skating birthday parties. I have to pick him up at four.”

Abby was on her way up to her room when Carol stopped her. “Oh, wait a minute! I almost forgot,” she said, reaching into her pocket. She handed Abby an envelope. “Isn’t that from that teen magazine you sent your short story to?”

Abby gasped, then froze, her eyes fixed on the imprint on the return address. “The envelope is too small for them to have sent back my manuscript with a rejection,” she said as she slid her index finger under the back flap. “Maybe I forgot to put in an SASE or … Look at this!” She pulled out a contract and scanned what appeared to be an acceptance letter. “
American Teenager
is going to publish my short story! For two hundred dollars! And they want to know what else I have. Here, read their letter!”

Carol reached for the letter and quickly read it. “Abby, this is so wonderful. If I remember correctly, you sent that story out at least a year ago. I all but forgot about it.” She threw her arms around the girl and hugged her. “We have to celebrate. I’m going to call Donovan right now! Where do you want to go for dinner?”

“Magnolias. I want those fried chicken livers!”

Carol laughed. “Magnolias it is. You’re probably the only kid in the world who likes chicken livers. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

Abby’s voice turned shy. “Someday when Bobby is older, I want him to read my story so he’ll know what you and Donovan went through to adopt him, and how excited I was to get a baby brother.”

“I’m sure he’d love to read it but give him a few more years. Ten-year-olds are kinda … well, you know.”

“I know,” Abby said as she rolled her eyes.

“Bobby adores you, Abby. He’ll be as proud of you as I am. And Donovan is just going to bust wide open.”

Abby hugged Carol, her eyes full of tears. “You have been so good to me, Aunt Carol. I couldn’t love you more if you were my real mother. Sometimes I think I should have called you mom. Why didn’t I?”

Carol hugged Abby back. “Because that title is reserved for your real mother. No one else. I know how you feel about me. That’s all that is important.”

“My mother, she—She didn’t even like me,” Abby said, remembering the hurtful things her mother had said to her— things Mallory had taken delight in repeating. “I know it was because of my face. She used to call me a freak.”

“She was a shallow, selfish woman, Abby. And she didn’t deserve to have a daughter like you. But that’s all in the past now. Don’t go dredging it all up unless you’re sure it’s a place you want to visit emotionally.”

“I suppose you’re right …”

“I’m troubled about Mallory,” Carol said, changing the subject. She stood back and stared at the wall.

Abby wished now she hadn’t mentioned Mallory’s letter, at least not until she’d decided what she wanted to do. For almost as long as she could remember, the mere mention of Mallory’s name had sent Carol into a tailspin. She wasn’t sure what Mallory had done that made Carol and Donovan send her away, but it must have been bad. Neither of them ever did anything without a good reason. “You know what? Now that I’ve thought about it, I think I’ll just send Mallory a card and a graduation gift. She’ll understand.”

A look of relief washed over Carol’s face. “I want you to do whatever feels right to you. Mallory is your sister, your only living blood relative. Maybe she’s changed. For her sake, I hope so.”

“Me too,” Abby said, nodding.

The two stood in thoughtful silence for a few moments,
before Carol said, “Let’s do something wonderful with our hair and makeup tonight.”

“I say we pile it on top of our heads and use those new little butterfly clips that I got. Hair jewelry, it’s called. Then we’ll do our eyes—liner pencil, mascara, eye shadow—the works. And I’ll wear my pancake makeup. With that on, and at night, no one will even notice my birthmark.” Abby twirled around, giggling, “Look out Charleston, here we come!”

“I’ll call Donovan and pick up Bobby. I have to stop at the grocery store for cold cuts. I should be back in about an hour or so. Take some time to reread Mallory’s letter and to bask in your good fortune.” She gave Abby a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you, honey. This is just a wild guess on my part, but I bet someday you are going to be a famous writer. Donovan and I will be able to say we knew her when.”

Abby flushed, the port-wine stain turning a deep, purplish color.

Carol fought off the tears at the sight of the ugly birthmark.

“You’re right as usual,” Abby replied, her mind already someplace else. “That’s exactly what I want to do. When you see me next, I’ll be one-half of the ravishing Mitchell team.”

Abby headed for her bedroom and closed the door behind her. The sudden silence was so startling, she looked around to see why. Normally Bobby was in the next room, whooping and hollering or had his television blaring. The silence unnerved her. Or was it Mallory’s letter?
Why did it have to come today of all days? Why not tomorrow or the day after?
“You always had a knack for spoiling everything for me, Mallory,” Abby muttered as she sat down at her desk.

If only Mallory hadn’t been so mean-spirited and difficult, Abby thought. She would have liked growing up with her, would have loved sharing this room with her. They could have had pillow fights, fought over the shower and the blow-dryer, worn each other’s clothes, whispered about boys in the dark, shared secrets, and been friends.

It was a perfect room for two sisters. Extra large—Donovan had seen to that when he had the house built five years ago. There were twin beds with deep rose quilted spreads that matched the drapes and thick, pale pink carpeting. The furniture was a girlish pristine white; even the extra-long desk to hold her computer and printer were white. She had her own television and VCR and her own private phone. Special heavy-duty bookshelves were full of bright-jacketed books. Books that she’d read, not books for looks or show. There was a walk-in closet full of skis, roller skates, a hockey stick, ice skates, and her Flexible Flyer, whose runners she waxed every year when they went to the mountains in North Carolina. A comfortable room. Her own private sanctuary.

The house had been under construction during Mallory’s last visit. Donovan had given them all a tour, pointing out whose room was whose. When he’d come to the extra room, he’d called it the “spare bedroom.” Until this moment, Abby had forgotten that day. She wondered if Mallory had.

Abby squared her shoulders as she marched her way to the closet to take down a box Bobby had made for her in his kindergarten class, five years ago. She smiled as she looked at the shoe box covered with faded red construction paper. Goldsprayed macaroni dotted the top to spell out her name. She carried it to the desk and set it down next to the two letters.

The letter from Mallory was exquisite, her penmanship beautiful, the stationery expensive and regal-looking. Abby turned the letter over, half-expecting to see a royal seal on the back. At the very least, a glob of red wax on the envelope.

Dear Abby,

I imagine this letter is going to be a bit of a shock. I apologize for that. I also apologize for sending it to you in care of the school. I thought it best so that Carol and Donovan don’t have to deal with old memories. Of course, it’s up to you if you share this letter with them or not.

I’m writing to invite you to my graduation. I know you must be up to your chin in activities of your own, as you are graduating, too. Yes, Donovan wrote and told me that you would be graduating a year ahead of schedule and that you’re valedictorian of your class. I am, too. I think it’s weird—you and me class valedictorians! He also said you were admitted to the University of Wisconsin. Congratulations! I got accepted at Georgia Tech. I’m not going, though. College doesn’t interest me in the least. I want to see the world, and I want to live. I can do that with my inheritance. I’m tired of locked doors, curfews, rules, regulations, doctors, shrinks, and wardens. I know I could have left a couple of years ago, but I was afraid. Of what, I’m not sure. I believe these last years have given me the confidence I need to face the world.

You probably won’t understand this, but I don’t want Donovan and Carol to come to my graduation. It’s just better for all of us. This way none of us will have to pretend things are normal. Most of the graduates here are in the same position I’m in. We talk about it in counseling sessions. If you don’t want to come or if you’re too busy, I understand. I’ll be in touch.

Your sister,
Mallory

P.S. I’m taking back our old name of Evans as soon as I can.

Abby folded the letter and slid it into its envelope. She lifted the top off the shoe box to stare down at the contents. Souvenirs, mementos, snapshots, movie stubs, a tarnished silver bracelet Mallory had left behind, and
the picture.
She wished she knew how many times she’d stared at
the picture.
It was a cruel picture, a caricature of her with half her face colored in purple
and the word
UGLY
printed in big block letters and underneath in even bigger letters, the words,
I HATE YOU.

Abby pinched herself so she wouldn’t cry. It would never do to have red eyes when she was going to a celebration dinner. She carried the box back to the shelf in her closet.

Did she want to go to Mallory’s graduation? Did she want to see her sister? No and no. Should she turn the other cheek, be more forgiving? To what end? Donovan and Carol would probably consider it a personal betrayal.

Abby reached for her pen and tore a sheet of paper from her marble notebook. She scribbled furiously.

Dear Mallory,

I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to come to your graduation. As it is, I don’t know where I’m going to get the time to do all that I have to do before I leave for college. I wish you would change your mind about Georgia Tech. Education is critical these days. Whatever you decide to do I know you will be successful. I wish you well.

I have some exciting news! I just sold a short story to
American Teenager
magazine. I might turn out to be a writer after all!

One other thing, Mallory. I don’t know too much about financial matters, but it would seem to me that you should invest your inheritance. Please don’t fritter it away on a good time. I’m not jealous, Mallory. Mama wanted you to have her insurance money, and that’s okay with me. I just urge you to spend it wisely.

Enjoy your graduation.

Abby

Abby addressed the envelope and slid it to the side of her desk. A wide grin split her features when she reopened the second letter she’d received that day. She rolled her eyes as
she hugged her chest. “This is so wonderful! So very wonderful! Thank You, God! Thank You very much.”

“I can’t believe that you’re actually going off to college,” Carol said tearfully as she sat down between the boxes she’d been helping Abby pack. “I’m going to miss you so much, honey. I swore I wasn’t going to cry and what am I doing? I just want someone to tell me where these last three months went.”