After everyone lavished the essential amount of love and affection on Bob, who was convinced they'd gathered just for him, they found their places around the dining room table in the warm kitchen, armed with Juliette's scones and Gia's coffee.
"Do you want to read the letters?" Juliette got straight down to business, laying a manila folder on the table in front of her.
"Actually, before you go any farther with this, I have something to say." Phoebe held a paint-speckled hand up. Renata suddenly noticed that the girl wasn't wearing fresh lipstick. Her long dark curls, usually at least contained in a semblance of a style, looked hurriedly swept back, as though little attention had been given to how her hair looked. Even her clothes seemed subdued this evening; no extra scarves or belts, no bangles on the wrist. In fact, a closer look confirmed that Phoebe wasn't even wearing earrings. Something was definitely wrong.
"I've thought a lot about this whole situation for the last week, and as much as I love you, Jules, and as much as I can understand your need to deal with this, I've decided that I'm not ready, and I don't really want to have anything to do with it." Phoebe shook her head fiercely when Renata started to interrupt. "Let me finish, please!" Her words were firm, almost a reprimand, and Renata clamped her mouth shut in surprise. "Jules, I have no problem if you and Angela want to be pen-pals, nor do I take issue with either or both of you joining in," she added, waving her hand at them all collectively. "But not me. I didn't know her at all and I barely knew her brother. I think he was in your class, right?" She shot a questioning glance at Renata.
"Oh my goodness. I completely forgot there was a brother." Juliette's face grew pale for a moment and Renata nodded.
"Yes. Sean. I had him in several classes the first semester of eleventh grade. He tried to talk to me but I just couldn't." All three of her sisters turned to look at her.
"I don't ever remember you telling us this."
"It was all too weird, Juliette. You were trying to hold it together for the trial, Phoebe was too busy…being busy, and I didn't really want to think about him, no less talk about him, to anyone." She smiled at Gia. "And you were too young."
"Ren, I'm so sorry." Juliette's heartfelt apology settled on her shoulders like a warm blanket. She knew Juliette meant her words.
"It's all right, Juliette. Things are different now." Several months ago, the two of them had talked for the first time about the period after their parents' death. Juliette had been the only one of the sisters old enough to be in court every day and she'd been like the walking dead for all those months. Renata had stepped up and kept things operating as smoothly as possible, helping out the grandparents with Gia, with Phoebe, and covering for Juliette when she struggled to get out of bed each morning.
Grandpa and Granny G had taken in the four orphans with open arms, but it couldn't have been an easy transition for the elderly couple. The senior Gustafsons had been enjoying their retirement, touring much of the US in a refurbished Airstream RV before the girls—aged 18, 16, 14, and 4—moved in. The camper was put on blocks that year. And the next. And the next. It wasn't until after Phoebe graduated that Grandpa had the camper towed to his mechanic's place who gave it a bumper-to-bumper tune-up, and stowing Gia at John and Renata's home for a summer, they'd taken the first of many road trips since then.
But while it was on blocks in the large side yard, the girls had claimed it, and held their G-FOURce meetings in the Airstream, even after John and Renata married, after Juliette bought her condo, and after Phoebe landed her flat in the huge monstrosity of a house she shared with several other artists. They often took off for the weekend to a cheap motel by the beach, or up to Granny G and Grandpa's mountain cabin near Lake Arrowhead, just to get away from the world and remember what it was like simply to be Gustafson Girls.
Once Reuben was born, however, the trips became shorter, and fewer and farther between. Renata kept promising she'd make their outings a priority again once the kids were a little older, but she kept having more children. Since Judah, though, everyone's schedules had seemed more difficult to work around, so that even G-FOURce meetings were sometimes hard to schedule. The last time the Gustafson sisters had gotten away for a long weekend was to celebrate Gia's 16th birthday two years ago.
John was suggesting she take a trip with her sisters again, like old times. But what John failed to realize is that people change. Lives move in different directions, with different priorities, and different motivating factors. As much as she loved her sisters, she knew they had very little in common with her. None of them were married, for starters. They didn't understand the first thing about what it meant to live with someone else, to compromise on every aspect of daily life, to take into consideration another human being's feelings every time you loaded the toilet paper roll or folded the laundry. And even though they babysat regularly and loved her boys to a fault, none of them were actually mothers. None of them could relate to that hollow place that opened up when she was away from her children.
And now, Angela Clinton was threatening to divide them even further. Why, oh why, did Juliette act on her own? She should have known that this whole thing would need kid gloves and patience and understanding.
On the other hand, Phoebe was drawing a pretty hard line, and Renata felt her hackles rising in defense of Juliette. It was Juliette who had to endure sitting in the courtroom while lawyers dehumanized their parents, turning their devastating loss into statistics and sterile labels: victims, perpetrators, deceased, survivors, alcohol consumption, margin of error, intoxication level, legal, illegal, crime, manslaughter, guilty, not guilty, sentence, ruling.
It was Renata who climbed in bed next to Juliette and held her at night when she didn't even know she cried in her sleep. Phoebe had been too busy avoiding her own pain to comfort anyone, hiding behind her black eyeliner and black book of boyfriends. Nothing had changed, at least not where Phoebe was concerned. Run and hide, play hard to get, and even harder to hold down. Phoebe was selfish, self-centered, and self-serving.
Juliette didn't see Phoebe the way Renata did. Shortly after their parents died, they used to argue about Phoebe because Renata worried for her, while Juliette thought the girl would be fine.
"She's just dealing with stuff her own way, Ren. She seems okay to me. Just because she wants to wear stuff you and I wouldn't be caught dead in, who cares?"
"But she won't talk to me about anything. Not seriously, anyway. She turns every conversation into a sarcastic joke. How will we know she's okay?"
"Maybe she doesn't talk seriously to us, but who's to say she isn't talking to someone else? I don't know that I'd want to unload on my big sisters if I was her. In fact, you don't really share much about your life with me, Rennie."
"But you already know everything about me, because I have nothing to hide. I'm a productive member of society. I'm a senior who actually studies, I bought my own car with money I made from my own job, I have a plan for college and a career. I've got things pretty much figured out, and if I talk about my life, you guys will just accuse me of bragging."
Juliette would just shrug off Renata's concerns. "Well, maybe that's why she doesn't talk to you, Ren. Maybe she knows she can't measure up."
Juliette spoke softly in those days, but her words had been a double-edged sword in Renata's heart. Why couldn't her sisters be proud of her, of all that she'd accomplished before she even graduated from high school? No, instead, they distanced themselves from her because they couldn't compete with her. She wasn't trying to compete, though. She was trying to move forward, grow up, and take charge of life.
"I just want the best for her, Juliette," she said, her young voice ringing with idealism. But Phoebe continued to challenge the boundaries and push the limits, and Renata knew the day would come when Phoebe went too far, when she would be too wild, and she would end up devastated.
Never in a million years did Renata guess that it would be she who was so badly wounded by Phoebe's games, no
t Phoebe. The memory of those dark days had her narrowing her eyes at the woman across the table from her now.
"Well, perhaps, Phoebe, you should set aside your own feelings for once and consider Juliette's. I know it's a tall order, but have you thought for even a moment how important closure like this might be for the rest of the family? You're not the only one who lost her parents, you know." She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and she instinctively reached over her shoulder to draw her long hair around. Instead her fingers only brushed the spiky tips of her new identity, and she felt inexplicably vulnerable.
"Like I said, Renata, I have been thinking of almost nothing else since our last meeting. I am considering Juliette's feelings—all of your feelings—by giving you my blessing to go ahead with this. But I'm also asking you to consider my feelings by letting me not participate. How on earth is that not allowing for closure here?" Phoebe didn't raise her voice. She didn't squirm, she didn't frown. In fact, if anything, Phoebe looked like a sleepy jungle cat right now; cool, calm, languidly toying with a long tendril of thick, black hair. She gazed unflinchingly as she spoke, and Renata knew Phoebe's relaxed posture was more menacing than any other stance she might take.
But she doggedly pressed harder. "This is a family, Phoebe. You're a part of this family whether you like it or not. And that makes you a part of this next step in healing the wounds. Don't you think it's time to grow up?"
"Hold up, Ren. It's okay. I should have—" Juliette put a hand out to stop her, but Phoebe spoke too, her voice a dangerous purr.
"Listen to me, Pixie-cut. I am not your child. I am not your project. I am not your enemy, either. But I am tired of you thinking you're so much wiser and more mature than anyone else in this family. You are so full of your own hot air that you can't even hear how pathetic you sound, flapping your little gums at us. 'I'm married and you're not. I have children and you don't. I have a life and you have nothing. I'm perfect and you're a sinner bound for hell.'" Phoebe's purr had turned into a snarl. "You wanna know something, Renata Gustafson? I would sell my soul to the devil rather than be like you."
"Phoebe!" Gia gasped, her amber cat-eyes wide and bright with shock. Juliette just closed her own, shoulders sagging.
"Dixon. My name is Renata Dixon. Like you said, I'm married." Renata's voice trembled as she responded with the only thing she could mentally grab out of the mushroom cloud in her head.
"No! Not Dixon, Renata." Phoebe stood abruptly, startling them all, her chair falling backwards and crashing loudly against the tile floor. Bob yipped and scurried to Juliette's side. "How dare you accuse me of not wanting to be a part of this family!" She lifted a finger and jabbed it in Renata's direction, her gray eyes dark as thunderclouds. "You are the only one of us who balks at being called by the Gustafson name. The only one."
Renata sat in stunned silence as Phoebe's words flew at her like buckshot from one of John's guns. She hadn't seen her like this since high school, since the night of that terrible Homecoming dance, Renata's senior year. These days, Phoebe teased and toyed, poked and jabbed, but she didn't lash out, not like this.
Not like she used to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fifteen years earlier….
Halfway through her junior year, about five months after her parents died, Brad Haley sought Renata out. Brad wasn't the biggest jock, or the coolest guy in school, but he had this certain charm that made him popular, and Renata had the same crush on him that every other girl in her class did.
She'd just come out of her Literature class and was making her way through the crowded hallways when a hand was suddenly on her shoulder. She spun around in surprise, and he plowed into her, caught off guard himself, not expecting her to stop so abruptly. In an effort to keep them both from tumbling to the floor, he snaked one arm around her waist and planted the other hand against the locker-lined wall. Renata's school binder was jostled out of her arms and fell, one corner landing on her big toe. She grunted in pain.
"Sorry, sorry!" Brad exclaimed, steadying them both. "I didn't mean for that to happen!" He grinned down at her, holding her against the wall while people skirted around them as though their collision was a common occurrence in the school passages. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
"No. I mean, yes." Completely flustered, Renata stammered over her words. She'd never been pressed up against a young man's body before. Brad was not like her tall, burly father, nor was he anything like Grandpa, who hugged the girls regularly, but with old-fashioned reserve, always keeping his much leaner body angled away. Brad, on the other hand, had no such reservations, confidently thrusting himself against her, using his body to keep her upright. Renata, senses coming alive, felt every inch of the connection between them. In fact, if he hadn't had his legs firmly planted on either side of hers, she probably wouldn't be standing. His close proximity was doing something odd to her equilibrium.
Brad waited, the knowing smile not leaving his face, his chocolate eyes studying her freely, making her blush.
"I mean, yes, I'm okay, and no, you didn't hurt me." She tried to straighten and pull away a little. He released her slowly, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he liked the way her body had felt up against his, as well. "I'm sorry, too. For stopping right in front of you."
Brad shook his head and abruptly grew serious, as though suddenly remembering something, and stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's no problem. Hey. I just wanted you to know that I heard about your folks. I'm really sorry, Renata. I can't even imagine."
If she'd been stunned by his attention, she was even more surprised by his sentiment. Surprised he knew who she was, no less that he knew enough about her to have heard about her parents. Maybe he was a friend of Sean's? But she didn't remember him and Sean hanging out more than in passing.
Maybe, just maybe, he'd been noticing her, too.
The rest of their junior year, Brad had made a game of sneaking up behind her, until she no longer jumped, squealed, spun around, or dropped anything. "Hey, Brad," she'd calmly say, as her heart swelled under his attention. They walked the halls together, he teasing her, she blushing. Why he didn't have a girlfriend was beyond her. He was handsome, gregarious, self-possessed, and he never seemed to lack for friends. One day, as he walked her to her car where she waited for Phoebe, he asked her why she wasn't dating anyone.
"I guess I can be a little stand-offish. My grades are pretty important and I'm not a cheerleader or anything," she replied, after thinking things through a little. "I suppose I'm just not that easy to get close to."
Without warning, Brad grabbed her around the waist with both arms and pushed her gently up against the side of her little Sentra. "I don't know about that. I don't seem to have any trouble getting close to you." Then he lowered his head slowly, while she held her breath, and he kissed her.
His lips on hers were sweet, tender, startlingly warm. Her first kiss. He must have sensed it, because he didn't push her. He didn't try to make her open her mouth, he didn't grope at her backside or squeeze her too tightly. He just kissed her. Three times. Then he stepped back, that grin still eating up his face.
"Ahem." Phoebe stood at the back of the car, a smirk on her sticky-glossed lips. "You call that a kiss?"
What had been so intimate and lovely only a moment ago, became tainted. Renata felt like a voyeur, like she'd done something wrong, but not only that, she also felt like she'd done it badly. She knew Phoebe was no novice kisser; she'd caught the girl lip-locked more often than she cared to think about. But to have her own first—and possibly not so great—kiss witnessed and judged by her younger sister made her angry. The possibility that Brad might agree with Phoebe's assessment made Renata sick to her stomach, and she yanked open her car door and climbed in.
Brad and Phoebe exchanged a few quick words that Renata couldn't make out, then Phoebe was pulling open the passenger side door and lowering her scantily-clad backside into the seat beside Renata.
&nbs
p; "Rennie, I'm so sorry. That was stupid of me to say. I didn't mean it. I was just teasing you two, okay?" Phoebe's apology was obviously heart-felt and sincere, but Renata bristled.
"Whatever. Just sit there and be quiet." She couldn't look at her.
"I mean it. I feel terrible. I could tell you were hurt by what I said. I'm really sorry. I should have just kept my big mouth shut."
"Yes, you should have. Now you can make it up to me by keeping it shut the rest of the ride home. Buckle up." Phoebe buckled her seatbelt, turned to stare out the window, and didn't say another word to Renata the rest of the day.
Over the next two weeks, Renata walked around on pins and needles. Brad treated her as though nothing had changed between them, but she felt like the earth had shifted on its axis and was holding its breath with her.
A week before school was out for the summer, Brad told her he really liked her, and that he wanted to go out with her. Just as her heart stopped, he continued. "It's only that I'm going to spend the summer in Washington with my Dad. He really wants me to move up there with him, but I'm hoping if I spend the whole summer up there, he'll be okay with letting me come back here and finish my senior year."
"Oh. I see." She couldn't tell if he was asking her out or not.
"It wouldn't be fair to you, Renata. I don't even know for sure that I'll be back. And what if you meet someone else and fall in love over the summer?" They walked slowly to her car, an almost daily occurrence. "I don't want to feel like a ball and chain around your ankle. I want you to be free to follow your heart. If it leads you back to me, and you're not seeing anyone when, and if, I come back, well…." he shrugged, his voice trailing off, his hands deep in his pockets.
Renata maintained her composure until she was in the car. Phoebe took one look at her face when she arrived, climbed quietly into her own seat, and the two of them drove away, Renata's silent tears like a wall between them.
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