Ties That Bind (17 page)

“What about the girl who may be our daughter?” Lovina crouched in front of him. “What if she's never been told about God or the life and death of Jesus? Would you withhold protection from her in order to guard one who's had every good thing we could give her throughout her life?”

Quill's head roared with voices and fears. He remembered experiencing much the same reaction when he learned of the awful things that led to his Daed's heart attack.

As he stewed in his determination not to be a part of this, a question hit him—who would they turn to if he refused them?

They could get someone who would come to the wrong conclusion or someone who would make the situation worse for Ariana. Perhaps someone who would sell the story to the newspapers. But if he helped, he could keep all of it private, and he would make sure to triple-check all facts, eliminating any bungling that would make the situation harder for Ari.

“Okay.” He lifted his head, looking up at them. “Go home and say nothing to anyone.”

U
nder the glow of the street lamps, Skylar drove through her subdivision. She pulled into her driveway and parked in her designated spot. The dread of owning up to her mom pounded inside her chest. How had a whole week passed already? It'd taken days to admit the finality of defeat to herself. Wasn't there some way around having to tell her mom?

She turned off the engine and grabbed her backpack. After opening the car door, she stared at the beige brick home, trying to muster the courage to go inside and disappoint her mom…again. A life on center stage was in Skylar's blood, much as it had been in her grandfather's and great-grandfather's. And her mother was the one who had made the necessary sacrifices over the years, doing all she could so Skylar at least had a chance to make it.

She drew a deep breath and got out of her car. Each step across the brick sidewalk and into the house echoed with the sounds of her mom's disappointment. The familiar hum of the sewing machine told Skylar where to find her mom. When Mom went to the college tomorrow for the play, she would see Patrick. It would then take her about three seconds to pick up on the man's demeanor. If Skylar didn't wish for him to spill the beans, she had to come clean.

Voices from the television grabbed her attention, and she walked down the long hall, passing several rooms before she entered the living room. Her stepdad and stepsister were laughing at
America's Funniest Home Videos.
It was their favorite show, and they had a ton of them recorded on the DVR.

Until three years ago, when Skylar was seventeen, she and her stepsister got along. Then Cameron posted information about Skylar on Facebook, telling the world that she had pot stashed in her car. That's how Skylar's mom learned that bit of unpleasant news about her only child.

Skylar came unglued at Cameron over it. Cameron lied, saying it'd been an accident to post that on Facebook. They had barely spoken since. Maybe the stash of pot in Skylar's car was something Cameron needed to talk about, but she shouldn't have ratted her out, especially not on Facebook. That was the act of someone who hated her. Up to that point, she had thought Cameron liked her.

Neither of her parents seemed to care that the pot and paraphernalia belonged to her boyfriend. Maybe they instinctually knew she was heading down a path that led to far worse things—at least worse according to them and US laws.

Gabe looked her way. “Hey, Sky Blue. What's shaking?” As nice as her stepdad's welcomes were, their relationship went no deeper than warm hellos and good-byes, and it made loneliness curl up inside her like a living, breathing thing. Evidently the romanticized portrayal of family life often seen in movies and commercials didn't exist any more than the fairy tales played out on school stages.

“Not much.” She shrugged.

Gabe had been divorced with sole custody of Cameron for three years when he met Skylar's mom. They began dating when Skylar was nine and Cameron was four. They married a year later. Life got a lot easier for Mom after that. Gabe said that's when his life got easier too, but Skylar didn't really understand that part. It seemed to her as if he had it made whether he stayed single or got married. But there was a lot about the tangled web of family life and human needs that Skylar didn't get. All she knew for sure was that life was an ugly mess at best.

Gabe didn't move his eyes from hers, and she saw a hint of concern. She hoped he stayed inside the unspoken boundaries and didn't ask any probing questions. There were a lot of things worse than the ball of loneliness inside her, and number one on the list was being vulnerable…with anyone.

Cameron punched his arm. “You missed it, Dad. Back it up and pay attention.”

He hit Pause. “Care to join us?”

Her stepsister turned her head, looking squarely at Skylar with indifference. There were five years between them, and apparently Cameron felt no love for her. But Gabe was pretty cool. He was about fifteen years younger than Skylar's dad and around a lot more.

Then again, in her dad's defense, he never wanted Skylar to be born in the first place. That wasn't a surprise to her. She'd figured that out by the time she was ten. What she hadn't known was that he was married when her mom became pregnant with her.

She learned that on her sixteenth birthday when her dad took her out to dinner. After he had several drinks, he started talking. She would never forget sitting in a public place learning those things.

A taxi driver had taken Skylar home that night, and she was in tears as she asked her mom about the stuff her dad had said. That's when her mom confirmed that she'd had an affair with Skylar's dad while he was married. Her mom was nineteen when the affair began and twenty when Skylar was born. Her mom had thought he was in a failed marriage and was going to divorce his wife. Apparently that wasn't the case.

The next day after the birthday dinner, her dad came to the house and apologized. He backtracked, saying that Skylar was the best thing to ever happen to him and that even though the timing of her birth wasn't ideal, he was grateful she'd been born. But it was too late. He'd told the truth the night before while drunk, and they both knew it. The hurt of what she'd learned had run deep for months, almost paralyzing her. At the same time, it had explained a lot of things about her life. Her dad's first marriage had eventually failed, probably due to the affair with her mom. He was now married to a woman named Lynn, and he had two stepsons through her. Whatever. Gabe was a lot nicer than her own dad anyway, but Cameron was the easy child, and Skylar was the black sheep.

Gabe patted the seat next to him.

“Nah. I'm going up to see Mom.”

Cameron looked pleased with that answer and settled against the couch with her bowl of popcorn. Gabe pushed buttons on the control, backing up the screen so he could see what Cameron said he'd missed. They were laughing as Skylar made her way to the kitchen.

Butterflies filled her stomach and chest much as they did just before she stepped on stage, only this time there would be no applause at the end. She opened the drawer on the stainless-steel french-door fridge and grabbed two wine coolers before heading up the carpeted stairs and into the sewing room. Dropping her backpack on the floor, she sank into her favorite chair.

“Hey, sweet thing.” Mom released the pedal of her machine, making it stop. “I didn't hear you come in. I saved dinner for you.”

“Thanks. We had pizza during practice, so I'm not hungry.”

Mom pressed the pedal and began threading material under the presser foot. “Let me get to a stopping place, and we'll chat, okay?”

A kitchen scrubby seemed to run across Skylar's skin as her nerves did a tap dance. She nodded and opened one of the wine coolers. As she took a long sip, dozens of memories of her mom's faithfulness flooded her. One defining moment stood out. She'd been a third grader, sobbing into her pillow as her mom tried to console her. Skylar had lost the only solo in the school play to a girl who sang every note off key. After asking Skylar questions that seemed unimportant, her mom said the loss was her fault because the girl who'd won had two parents who were helping the teacher. The girl's mom was making costumes, and the dad was building props. Skylar's mother apologized to her, saying teachers needed help, and they tended to favor students whose parents lent a hand. That's when her mom made a promise. If Skylar would dedicate herself to voice lessons and acting classes, Mom would sew costumes and make props for the school as well as the community theater group.

Skylar had met her mother's promise with skepticism. Mom didn't own a machine, nor did she know how to sew. Besides, as a single parent, she barely had time to cook a meal or sleep. But the following weekend her mom had a yard sale, selling important pieces of furniture, including her bed, as well as almost everything in her closet. With that money she purchased a sewing machine. Skylar had sold some old toys and clothes that no longer fit.

How long would Skylar keep being this person—the one who sacrificed very little while her mom gave her all? After that yard sale, her mom slept on the sofa. When she wasn't at work, she was in front of a sewing machine, determined to learn how to create specific outfits from flat pieces of fabric.

By the time Skylar turned ten, she was the lead child actor in the local theater company.

The motor of the sewing machine quieted, and Mom took her pincushion to a table that had a new pattern lying over denim cloth. “So what's new?”

If her mom really had time for that answer, she wouldn't have moved from the noisier machine to work on something quieter so they could chat. She would have come to the couch and tried to snuggle with her, which Skylar could use about now, but she always protested such overt shows of affection.

“Not much.”

All types of fabrics from organdy and tulle to burlap and tweed were on bolts stacked in every corner. Her mom sewed for the college and the local theater. Yards of a silky gold material lay across the thick beige carpet. Costumes of all kinds were in various stages of completion and were hanging on hooks and clothes racks. Her mom was making outfits for the community Christmas play, a musical rendition of
A Christmas Carol.
Skylar wasn't in it. Those practices would have conflicted with the practices for the college play, so she hadn't tried out.

Man, she did not want to tell her mom about her grades. Her mother trusted her to take care of that. Skylar took another long swallow.

Her mom eyed the drink, probably thinking the same thing she'd said on numerous occasions—Skylar wasn't of drinking age. “So you're in for the night, huh?”

“Yeah.” That was the rule. If Skylar chose to drink, even a few sips, she couldn't leave the house. At least her mom gave her some breathing room about a little alcohol. Her mother not abiding by an arbitrary law about the drinking age had actually helped Skylar not to be as drawn to prescription drugs.

Mom put two pins in her mouth and used one to attach the pattern to the fabric. “Something seems to be nagging you. Care to enlighten your old mom?”

Her mom wasn't old, not even close, and she looked a decade younger than she was, which meant the boys at college thought she was Skylar's older, gorgeous sister. When Skylar didn't answer, her mom studied her.

“Those bangles look nice with the bling in your shirt, Sky.”

Skylar glanced down. “Thanks. I bought both a few weeks ago using your card.”

“You made good choices,” Mom said around the straight pin clenched between her teeth.

Skylar held out the unopened wine cooler, but her mom shook her head. “I'm good. Thanks.”

“You won't be.” Skylar pushed it toward her again. “Just take a drink and a deep breath and remember that you love me.”

Her mom took the pin from her mouth and jabbed it into a pincushion, and then she moved to the armless love seat and sat next to Skylar. “Speeding ticket?”

She shook her head. “You wish.”

Her mother nudged her shoulder against Skylar's. “You seem sad, so my next guess is you're having trouble with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Again, you wish.”

Her mother nodded. “That's because I can see what you can't.”

“Mom!” Skylar got up, ready to end the conversation immediately. No amount of guilt was going to make her listen to her mom put down Cody. He smoked a little pot and drank some, but he wasn't a loser. He was kind to her and he didn't cheat. What else did her mom expect of a twenty-one-year-old guy?

“I'm sorry.” She grabbed the back pocket on Skylar's jeans and tugged her onto the chair. “My bad.” She raised her fists in the air like an excited cheerleader. “Go, Cody.” She smiled and put her arms around Skylar. “So before I get in trouble again, tell me what you did wrong.” Her mother raised an eyebrow. “You didn't get your tickets sold for the play, did you? Is that what this is about? You need me to take off from work to sell tickets?”