I’m confused. “Your invitation said you’re marrying a James?”
“We wanted to keep the invitations official so went with his real name, but everyone around here knows him as Riker.” Freya’s tone is clipped but she’s looking up at Riker with open adoration and I’m thankful she’s believed our lie.
“Okay,” I say, though I have the distinct feeling it’s not.
Freya never liked to share anything with me growing up and she coveted everything I had. If she ever finds out the truth about how Riker and I know each other she’ll never forgive me. If Freya hated accepting clothing hand-me-downs from me, she’d freak if she thought Riker was sloppy seconds. Any chance I have of being assimilated back into the family I miss so much will be gone.
“Hope you’re hungry,” she says, slipping out of Riker’s grip but not before placing a proprietorial kiss on his mouth. “I’ve made our favorites.”
I’m touched she’s remembered I loved Pad Thai noodles and a cheesy casserole bake.
“Great. Can I help?”
She shakes her head. “No, you sit, Riker will give me a hand.”
I do as I’m told and take a seat at the table, trying to eavesdrop on the hushed exchange in the kitchen. I can’t hear if Freya’s questioning Riker but they’re quiet for a few moments before re-entering the dining room, their hands laden with casserole dishes, shooting conspiratorial smiles at each other like a couple in sync, and I’m relieved the tenseness of the last few minutes has resolved.
I inhale, confused by the meaty aromas. Freya hasn’t cooked our favorites, she’s made hers—beef enchiladas, paella and fried chicken—things I never ate back then because I became a vegetarian at sixteen.
It saddens me that she’s become so wrapped up in her life she’s forgotten the past we shared. But as she and Riker place the dishes on the table in front of me and he pulls out her chair I glance up. Our eyes meet and my confusion increases. There’s a glint in her eyes I can’t fathom. Does she know she’s chosen reminders of her childhood, not mine? Has she done this deliberately, a way of staking a claim on this home we once shared?
Freya’s not that vindictive so when she looks at me expectantly, like she’s waiting for my approval, I realize she’s forgotten and I feel bad for doubting her motives. Besides, these days, I’m not vegetarian. I rarely eat meat as a health preference but I do eat it so I smile, demure and grateful, before saying, “This all looks wonderful. Thanks, Freya.” My sister has welcomed me back into her life and I feel guilty for my suspicious thoughts. I hope she can hear my sincerity. “I can’t wait to try everything.”
“Great.” Freya sticks a serving spoon into the enchiladas. “Remember that time I accidentally substituted sugar for salt in the chicken pasta?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I still can’t believe Aunt Alice pretended to like the first spoonful so she wouldn’t hurt your feelings.”
Freya’s eyes are soft with remembrance. “She’s amazing.”
“Will she be joining us for dinner? Lizzie?”
Freya shakes her head. “She gets too disoriented if she leaves her room so Lizzie often eats with her in there.”
The thought of my vibrant aunt’s deterioration saddens me, but before I can ask more questions, Freya says, “Are you dating anyone?”
I’m thrown by her abrupt change of topic, but I shake my head. “No. I’ve been focusing on work and not much else lately.”
She’s studying me with obvious curiosity, like she wants to know more, when Riker clears his throat.
“I hate to interrupt, ladies, but I’m starving and I need to eat before I faint.” Freya smiles and bumps him gently with her shoulder as he pats his stomach, drawing my attention there, and a little frisson of illicit excitement shoots through me as I remember touching him, skimming my palm over his abs, lower.
My cheeks heat and I reach for the wine at the same time he does, our fingers brushing, before I jerk away.
If he notices my reaction he doesn’t say, his gaze calm as he lifts the bottle. “Wine for both of you?”
“Please,” I say, at the same time Freya mutters, “Yes.”
I hope she doesn’t think I deliberately touched her fiancé. They’re about to get married in four weeks and I’d never mess with that. I may have made some monstrous mistakes in the past but living in a hut in the middle of nowhere, helping locals, gave me back some self-respect and I have no intention of reverting to the broken teen I’d been over a decade earlier.
“So how are the wedding preparations coming along and what can I do?” I ask, but before Freya can respond a young girl about ten, with freckles, a messy brown ponytail and big hazel eyes appears in the doorway, and my sister blanches.
“Mom, Lizzie sent me over to grab some sodas…” The girl trails off as she catches sight of me and another bomb detonates. First Riker, now this.
I gape, shock rendering me speechless.
Freya is a mother.
I’m an aunt.
In that moment, the reality of all I’ve missed out on hits home. I haven’t seen my family for ten long years because I’ve been wrapped up in my grief, my loss, and my anger that everyone’s life continued long after mine spiraled out of control. I deliberately stayed away because I didn’t want reminders of a past I’d rather forget.
But I have a niece and I could’ve been a part of her life, I could’ve watched her grow and lavished her with the love of an aunt, like Alice had with me.
Why didn’t Freya tell me?
Five
Alice
THEN
I never got to tell Cam how I feel.
How could I, when he’d stared at Diana like she hung the moon for the entire party, before sneaking off with her toward the end? I wanted to hate Diana but I couldn’t. With her tucked into the crook of Cam’s arm, and the two of them staring at each other like they were the only people in the world, they fit. I didn’t believe in love at first sight until that night. I cried more tears after the party than I ever had before.
And then Dad died.
I mourned him but I didn’t miss his loud brashness and the way he dominated us. The house seemed larger without his overbearing presence. Diana didn’t seem particularly affected by his death. Besides, she had Cam to comfort her. They’d started dating of sorts. Nothing overt, because that would be crass so soon after Dad’s death, but I knew she snuck out some nights to meet up with him. On the few times he dropped by the house, I’d make myself scarce because it hurt too much seeing them together.
Eight weeks later when Mom stood her ground and made Diana go to college, some fancy place in Long Island that sounded more like a posh finishing school than an actual place of learning, I was relieved. I thought it would help me, not seeing Diana with Cam. But being alone in the house with Mom was even more painful.
Mom drifted around the house at night, a bourbon in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She chain-smoked all day and I hated coming home after work, the pall of smoke draping every room as bad as her moroseness.
I wanted to shake her. From the fights she’d had with Dad they’d hated each other most of the time; when they weren’t all over each other, that is. I loathed their overt passion, whether it be in arguments or making up. It made me want to be the opposite, to demonstrate calm control at all costs. I was nothing like my short-tempered parents, something I was grateful for when I had to be privy to Diana’s infatuation with Cam. If I’d been like my folks, I would’ve yelled at her, would’ve screamed at the injustice of her snaring the guy I loved. Instead, I’d hidden my pain beneath a veneer of indifference, lamenting that I didn’t make a move sooner.
I hated Diana for abandoning me, even though I could barely look at her in the two months after the party. She’d withdrawn from me as much as I had from her, too self-absorbed with her new romance to care about anyone else. I’d been glad. I had my own sorrow to deal with.
Now, three weeks later, the only good thing to come out of Dad dying and Diana lea
ving is having Cam comforting me.
“Want a drink?” He holds out a chilled bottle of vodka taken straight from the freezer and I take it, gulp a generous swig, before handing it back.
“Thanks.” I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand, not caring how uncouth it looks. Cam’s been a good friend and despite me hoping for more he seems to be moping too, which means he’s missing Diana.
He asked me about her once, where she was, and I lied. When he asked for her number, I lied again, saying Di had been heartbroken over losing Dad and wanted a clean break at college.
“Can I ask you something, Al?”
“Anything.”
My stupid impressionable heart beats faster. Crazy, because he’s not going to ask me any of the questions I wish he would.
“Do you ever wish you could walk away from all this?” He sweeps his arm wide, encompassing his backyard. “Leave this town? Go somewhere more exciting? Be someone different?”
I can give him the trite answer, the one he wants to hear, but I settle for the truth.
“No. I like stability.”
He stares at me, his eyes wide in surprise, as if he’s never contemplated anyone could be happy living in Verdant, so I feel obliged to validate my answer.
“My parents had a volatile marriage so without Dad around it’s more peaceful.” I shrug. “I have thought about leaving at times, but Mom’s struggling and I can’t abandon her.”
“She’s not coping?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. She drifts through the house like a zombie, chain-smoking. I’ve tried to make comfort meals, like mac and cheese and pot roast and tomato soup, but she barely eats. I make sure there’s never silence by choosing songs from her playlist to shuffle all day, but it’s like she doesn’t hear them…”
I don’t want to reveal too much to Cam or exactly how hard it’s been caring for Mom. I don’t want anyone to think less of her. She’d fed us, clothed us and supported our decisions. My parents’ mutual obsession had ensured I ended up taking care of Di a lot growing up, and while I resented it I still loved Mom. With Dad gone I thought she might flourish, become her own person. Instead, she’s withdrawn into herself to the point of being comatose, and I have no idea how to snap her out of it.
“Anything I can do?”
My heart melts at his generous offer. “Thanks, but I think it’s going to take time. I need to be patient, help her through it.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” His gaze is filled with admiration and I feel heat surging to my cheeks.
“So you were saying something about wanting to escape?”
“Itchy feet, I guess,” he says. “I get sick of working for the family company now and then, and even though my folks gifted me this house and I’m lucky to have savings, I often wonder if there’s more out there, you know?”
I do know because Diana always talked about wanting more, about leaving town and not looking back. Like everything else in her golden life, she’s lucky enough to have it now, and I wonder if missing her is the reason behind Cam’s sudden wanderlust.
Thoughts of my sister sour my mood and before I can second-guess my impulse, I reach out and rest my hand over Cam’s, where it rests on his thigh. “There’s something to be said for dependability.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to withdraw his hand, and when he doesn’t I’m happy for the first time in forever.
Six
Freya
I should know better than anyone that the best laid plans go astray.
I hadn’t wanted Hope and Brooke to meet until tomorrow and certainly not like the awkward run-in before dinner. Thankfully I’ve raised a polite, obedient kid—most of the time—and after introductions Hope had grabbed the sodas and headed back to Lizzie’s.
We all live on the same property, though I’m in the main house now where Alice raised Lizzie, Brooke and me. Alice is still here, despite Lizzie insisting she should be looking after her mom full-time. But with Alice’s dementia worsening almost daily, I’m the one with the training to deal with her health needs so I convinced Lizzie to let Alice stay in the main house. Riker converted a small wing with a lockable door so Alice can’t wander and we all spend time with her. It’s the least I can do considering I don’t remember my mom and Alice has been it for me all these years.
There are two smaller bungalows on the property; Lizzie lives in one, Riker in the other. It’s convenient, because I’d rather Hope didn’t see Riker and me living together until we marry, but the proximity gives us all a chance to intertwine our lives as much as we want.
After Hope’s appearance, dinner became a stilted affair, not that it hadn’t been before. Realizing Brooke and Riker had met in the past set my teeth on edge. I’d caught her glancing at him several times, curious glances that made me anxious. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt insecure; it’s a feeling only Brooke can elicit. Besides, I’ll ask Riker to give me the details of their meeting later.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Hope?”
I knew this would be the first question Brooke asked as we settle on the back porch with our coffees, the wind from the cliffs at the end of the property whipping our hair off from our faces. We used to do this in the past; sit outside with hot cocoa after we’d finished our homework for the evening and chat about school and boys. I’d been envious of my sister back then; she’d had her pick of boys while most of them barely noticed me. But I loved hearing about her dating tales, even if Aunt Alice didn’t know most of them. She’d been a great stand-in mom because she’d given us the freedom to make our own mistakes. Pity some of us made more than others.
I’m prepared for Brooke’s curiosity but I still choose my words carefully. No point alienating her when we’re trying to reconnect and that’s exactly how she’s going to feel if I don’t give a logical explanation for why I haven’t mentioned my daughter.
“I’d planned on telling you after dinner but then Hope appeared and… There’s a lot you’ve missed out on while you’ve been away.” I shrug, offhand, when I’m feeling anything but. I feel guilty for not reaching out to my sister earlier, for waiting over a decade. I blamed her at the start; for abandoning me, for spreading her wings when I was stuck in Martino Bay. But as the years passed and I had Hope to raise, I released the resentment consuming me and left the ball in Brooke’s court.
Even now, I wonder if she would’ve ever returned if I hadn’t invited her to my wedding. I know Lizzie told her Aunt Alice’s health is worsening. Would Brooke have accepted the invitation if she hadn’t learnt that too? She’d gone through a lot back then but I could never understand why she let it define her. People changed, moved on, forgot. I suppose I should be thankful we finally had this opportunity to bond again.
“It’s like we’re strangers,” she murmurs, her gaze stricken as it fixes on mine, and a lump forms in my throat. “I can’t believe I have a niece and I never knew.”
I take a sip of coffee to ease the tightness in my throat. “I found out I was pregnant not long after you left and I wanted to keep the baby.”
She pales and her bottom lip wobbles before she hides it by lifting her mug to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed out on so much staying away.”
“Yeah, you have, but we all do what we have to do.” Feeling sorry for her, I reach across and squeeze her arm. “We can’t change the past, Brooke, but you’re back now so let’s look forward, okay?”
She bites down on her bottom lip and nods, and in that moment I realize how far we’ve come.
“I could tell you everything about Hope but how would you like to spend some time with her tomorrow and find out what a great kid she is for yourself?”
“Sure, I’d like that,” she says, but her voice is tight and a tiny groove dents her brow. “But I should see Aunt Alice in the morning first?”
I nod, knowing this confrontation was coming, wishing I could protect her from the shock. “You need to be prepared. She probably won’t know you. And she ramb
les, a lot.”
“Lizzie mentioned it.” She winces, before taking a sip of her coffee. “I hate to think of her suffering.”
“It’s tough but I’m doing the best I can.”
Brooke’s eyebrows rise at my defensiveness and I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Having medical knowledge isn’t always a good thing. I know how fast she’s going to deteriorate, it isn’t going to be pretty.”
She stares at me for a long time, appraising, before she speaks. “You’ve done well, Sis. I never pictured you nursing or being a carer or being a young mom, yet here you are knocking it out of the park. I’m proud of you.”
I don’t need her praise but I accept it nonetheless. Part of me wonders if I want Brooke to feel jealous of me for once, but that’s childish. Maybe more than a decade apart has been good for us and our relationship has benefited from Brooke’s absence?
“Do I know Hope’s father?”
“No.” I drain half my coffee before continuing. “He drifted through town and I met him not long after you left. I guess I was floundering a bit, missing you a lot, so I gave him my virginity and Hope was the result. Aunt Alice badgered me to know but she stopped asking when she saw how much it upset me.”
Sadness clouds Brooke’s eyes. “I’m sorry you went through that and I wasn’t around. Does the father know?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t even know his name. He had this dumb nickname, Boots.” I screw up my nose. “Besides, Hope has done fine with just me, Alice and Lizzie.”
“What do you say to Hope when she asks about her dad?”
Brooke has unwittingly touched a nerve because I’ve hated having to lie to Hope all these years. Before Riker, my beautiful daughter used to ask me often where her dad was and I’d say I’d tried to find him but he’d vanished. The fib was better than the truth—that I didn’t even know his name—but the result was always the same. Hope’s disappointment made me feel like I’d failed her.
My Sister's Husband Page 3
