“And just so we’re clear, I didn’t set out to be with Grant. Honestly, I’m still confused by it. I’m the exact opposite of you. But actually … that’s what it comes down to … honesty. He wanted you to confide in him when your whole world was falling apart, and you wouldn’t.”
Lily opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off, “I’m not judging. And it has nothing to do with me, so I’ll let you two work that out. But when you saw us together for the first time at the Fourth of July party, that’s when you realized you’d really lost him, so you needed to blame someone. And undeniably, I can be a bitch, but I wish you hadn’t destroyed the room. Especially after all the work you’d put into it.”
Lily sits up and plucks a tissue from her bedside table to blot her eyes.
“And I know Grant’s been ignoring you lately, so of course, you think it was because of me. I mean, that’s usually what happens, right? The new girl forces the guy to choose, cutting off exes and girl friendships because she’s insecure. Well, I’m not that girl. He can be friends with whoever he wants. He cares about you. Although the way he’s handled the past week has sucked. Again, that’s between you and Grant.
“But what really sucks is that I thought we were friends.”
Lily looks down. “I wanted to be. But … my mother kept going on about this other woman destroying our family. That my father would never have left if not for her. Then she told me who it was, that her daughter would be attending Blackwood and I’d better watch my back.
“I was so angry. How could you flaunt his ring right in front of me and never even acknowledge me? And then go after the guy I love like it’s so easy for you.” She practically spits the words at me while shredding the tissue in her hands. “I made it my mission to make you feel like you belonged while reminding you that you didn’t. That you were a trashy whore just like your mother.”
I raise my brows at the vehemence laced in her tone. She’s definitely not over being angry.
“I’m sorry.” Lily takes a breath to collect herself. “I’m really sorry. I got it wrong. I got you wrong. And I should’ve come to you instead of leaving the messages and destroying your room. But according to my mother, I was supposed to be above that. That to acknowledge you had a side in this would be like giving you power. And I believed her. But what I did … was beneath me.”
Lily wipes at the tears that have begun to flow again with a fresh tissue, setting the mangled one on the table. “It’s been so hard watching her self-destruct. I thought that if I could be on her side, support her, she’d get better. But it’s only made her bitterness worse. She and I used to be so close. I don’t know what to do.” Her chin trembles as she bows her head in attempt to conceal her shame. “I miss my dad.”
“You can talk to me. I mean, not about your dad. But I get it. I have an emotionally unstable mother too. Oh, and talking about Grant will never happen. But maybe I can introduce you to a punching bag instead of you taking your anger out on defenseless stuffed zebras.”
Lily releases a broken laugh. “I know; it’s weird, being in love with the same guy. But maybe … we can try this again. Being friends?”
“Maybe,” I answer reluctantly, not sure I can be friends with her now that I know she hopes she and Grant will get back together.
There’s a reason I have my rule about not touching guys my friends have been with. People do the craziest things in the misuse of love.
A knock draws our attention, and Grant pokes his head in. “Oh, good. No one’s bleeding.”
I roll my eyes. “We can be civilized, if we want to be.”
Lily releases a broken laugh.
“Can I talk to you?” Grant asks Lily gently, stepping into the room.
Lily blots her face and nods.
“I’ll, um … be far away from everyone whenever you’re done.”
When I come downstairs, I find my mother seated on the couch. She looks up when she hears me. I smile softly.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier,” I say, sitting beside her. “I know you didn’t realize Nick was married. I shouldn’t have accused you like that.”
“You also didn’t know this was his house—well, not technically. But I didn’t warn you, and I should have when I found out. I’m sorry.” She looks down at her hands and then back to me. “We’ve never been good with letting each other in, have we? It’s like we’ve lived such different lives. I barely know you anymore. It’s my fault … letting your grandmother raise you. But she was so much stronger than I ever was, I thought … anyway, I never felt like you needed me. And now … all you do is try to take care of me. Protect me. While that’s what I should be doing for you. You’ve grown up so fast, Lana. I don’t want you to stop needing me.”
I peer out the glass door that leads to the deck and watch as dinner is served. It looks like some sort of steak dish. The guys are at the far end, talking and laughing like the storm has passed. While the adults are still under its cloud with Niall, Olivia and Isaac holding a serious conversation. And Cassandra continues to get wasted with another martini.
Maybe my mother’s right. That I’ve spent so much time taking care of her that I’ve outgrown the need for her mothering. And it’s not like she ever asked me to defend and protect her from the world. But it’s what was needed. She seemed too delicate to be exposed to the harsh elements of reality once out from under my grandmother’s formidable shadow. She wasn’t bold or assertive enough to fill my grandmother’s shoes. So I did.
But this isn’t the time to discuss the dynamics of our reversed relationship. And it certainly doesn’t explain why we’re here.
“How do you know the Harrisons?” I ask, my attention still on the activity at the dinner table. “Why did you lose touch?”
There’s a moment of silence before she responds. I can feel the sadness seeping from her. I didn’t respond to her attempt to connect with me. Maybe it is too late for us to have that kind of mother-daughter bond. Right now, I need answers.
“I used to nanny for Olivia and Niall when I was in high school. Started out caring for Parker after school while Olivia studied for her master’s. Then they took me with them on family trips. Mostly to Nantucket, where they have a family estate. They were always so kind to me.”
I turn toward her. “Then what happened? It’s obvious Olivia cares about you.”
Tears well in her eyes. “I did what I thought was best … for you.”
“Me?” I confirm, aghast.
“That’s not what I meant exactly.” She bites her lip, reaching for that chain again.
“Then explain it,” I plead, wide-eyed, my blood pumping. “I don’t understand any of this. Does it have something to do with my father?”
She blinks hard, warring with her emotions, unable to answer. I’ve reached the end of the inquiry and doubt she’ll tell me more. But I promised Brendan I’d try.
I remove the picture from the deep pocket of my sundress and present it to my mother.
She gasps and covers her mouth, then takes it from me with shaking hands. “Where did you get this?”
“Do you see the guy at the end of the table with the blond hair?”
She scans the table, and her mouth gapes in shock.
“That’s Brendan, her son.”
My mother’s breaths start coming out in short pants. She puts a hand to her chest.
“Mom, are you okay?” I move closer to get a better look at her.
“Faye?” Olivia calls out, having just entered the house.
My mother bends forward, fighting to catch her breath.
“Niall!” Olivia shouts to him.
They rush to her side, Olivia kneeling in front of her. The picture of Maggie and my mother slips to the floor.
“Take deep breaths, love,” Olivia instructs. “Slow, deep breaths.”
Niall sits on the other side, ready to take whatever action he’s instructed to by his wife.
“Easy. Focus on breathing.”
&nbs
p; I pick the photo up and conceal it in my pocket, knowing it caused this reaction.
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, watching helplessly.
“Breathe in, nice and slow,” Olivia continues, solely focused on my mother. “Now breathe out until you can’t.”
I step away, feeling useless now that someone more competent is here to care for her. I watch until she’s breathing properly, slumped against the couch. A few minutes later, Niall carries her limp form toward the guest bedroom.
“She had a panic attack,” Olivia explains, rubbing my arm affectionately. “She’ll be okay after she gets some rest. Today … was a lot.” She shoots an accusatory look toward her sister who hasn’t moved from the table.
Everyone else has gathered around the door and spilled into the kitchen, unsure how to be of use … or to get a better view of my mother’s breakdown.
“I’m trying to help her find her way back, Lana. Please be patient with her.” Olivia reaches for me but lets her hand drop before she touches me. Her face is twisted with sorrow, similar to my mother’s the times I catch her staring at me. Like I’m the epitome of heartache.
I open my mouth to beg her to explain, but she cuts me off, “I need to go check on her.” And she walks off toward the guest room.
Brendan approaches. I have no idea why he thinks he should be the one to talk to me first, but here he is, in front of me with questions in his eyes.
“What happened?”
Well, maybe it is appropriate that it’s him. I remove the photo from my pocket and shove it against his chest. “This.”
Even after he reached for you. Bitterness kept you apart when I cut away the ties.
She completely lost it when she saw the picture and realized who Brendan was. It was like Maggie’s ghost came back for revenge or something,” I fill Grant in on the details regarding my mother and Nick since he only witnessed the reactive version at the dinner table. And I share the conversation I had with my mother in pursuit of Brendan’s question. We sit with our feet in the water at the end of the dock. “My mother’s always been overly sensitive, but this was a lot, even for her. Which means … something happened.”
“Or she was heartbroken at the loss of her friend. And from the sounds of it, a friend who drifted away, so maybe she hasn’t fully gotten over losing her.”
I know his explanation is possible, but my brain is already wired for conspiracy, and I’m convinced it’s more than grief that incited my mother’s panic attack. It was guilt.
The car is quiet when Niall drives me and Brendan back to Blackwood. Olivia chose to stay with my mother, who was asleep when I left. As was Cassandra, but I think that’s technically called passed out.
“I’ll bring Faye by in the morning to say good-bye,” Niall tells me when he checks us into the administration building. “She’ll be okay, Lana. Tonight brought up memories she’d been trying to forget.”
“And what would those be, exactly?” I ask, fed up with the double-talk. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know. You’ve been protecting her secrets since I was born. Don’t you think it’s time you let me in on them since I’m pretty sure they concern me?”
I can feel Brendan lingering, hoping to overhear Niall’s answer.
“They’re not my secrets to tell. I’m sorry. Be patient with her. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “Patience isn’t my thing, if you haven’t noticed. Neither is subtlety. So if you or my mother aren’t going to tell me why she cut herself off from you and Olivia and why she’s beyond devastated by the loss of Brendan’s mother, then I’ll have to find out on my own. And I doubt that’s the way you or she want me to discover whatever it is you’re hiding.”
“Lana, don’t do this,” Niall demands with his authoritative voice.
But my back is to him, and I’m already pushing the door open, striding into the Court.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone stand up to Niall Harrison like that before, not even his sons.” Brendan steps in line beside me as we walk in the direction of the dorms.
We weave through the dimly lit maze as the sun’s getting ready to set.
“Lana, I’m sorry.”
My feet stop moving. Never expected to hear those words from Brendan’s mouth. “What?”
“I never would’ve pushed you to show your mother the picture if I’d known—”
“Stop. I love her. I do. But enough with the secrets. She needs to own up to whatever happened. She’s an adult. Like she said, I don’t have to protect her anymore.”
Just saying that makes my chest tighten—even if it is what she asked of me. Protecting my mother has always been second nature to me—maybe because my aunts tiptoed around her my entire life. My grandmother didn’t. She was never tolerant of weaknesses. But she rarely engaged with Mom either. So my grandmother focused her attention on me, raising me to become the exact opposite of the broken daughter she couldn’t heal.
I’m trying to connect with my mother. I want to know what happened. Why her heart is so vulnerable. Why she doesn’t stand up for herself. And just the mention of my father brings her such grief that she can’t function. Does she love him that much? Because he sure in hell doesn’t love her. And maybe that’s the problem.
I think back to Squirrel’s brownie-induced explanation of what love is. He said it’s not something that’s given or received; it’s part of who we are. Then she obviously doesn’t know what she’s made of. That he didn’t take anything away from her.
It’s time she found out. She is my mother, after all, and my grandmother’s daughter. She must have some of our fire flowing through her. I hope she’s able to figure out how to ignite the spark on her own. Maybe Olivia is better for her in that way, to make her stronger. I fear all I did was enable her damsel in distress syndrome.
I confront Brendan when we reach the rose trellis leading to the girls’ dorm. “Can we blow off this five-questions bullshit and just be real with each other?”
He narrows his eyes, not buying it.
“Seriously!” I say adamantly. “If we want answers, we need to do this together.” I huff before uttering the most devastating truth I’ve ever had to divulge out loud, “I know you’re my fucking brother, okay. I’ve admitted it. Happy now? So let’s figure out who our asshole of a father is, so we can kick his ass for breaking our mothers!”
Brendan inspects me for a second, his head tilted like I may be crazy. At this point, I wouldn’t object to a few of Sophia’s happy pills. And then he starts laughing. Loudly. It’s … disturbing.
“See you in the morning, Princess.” He turns and walks away, still chuckling.
I growl in frustration.
“Was that a yes?” I yell after him.
“Yes!” he hollers back.
I may hate myself later. But for now, it’s a relief to have the stalker on my side.
I’m woken even earlier than Mr. Garner’s tortuous wake-up call by what sounds like the wall collapsing beside me. I bolt upright with my heart pounding, prepared to run for my life.
“No, not there,” a man bellows. “It’s off center. Move it over two inches to the right.”
The mayhem is coming from next door. The sound of a drill and what may be a jackhammer gets louder when I enter the bathroom. I open the door on the other side to find the room filled with men carrying boards and sheets of glass. There’s a man in an eggplant-purple suit with a lime-green shirt standing in the middle of the room, pointing and directing the chaos. He spots me and frowns.
“Where did you come from?” He almost sounds angry to find me in the doorway of my bathroom.
“I’m staying next door.”
“We were told no one was here.” He huffs in annoyance like I’m the one who misled him. “We must finish before Miss Liu arrives this afternoon.” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand. “Leave us.”
I close the door with a groan. Looks like my neighbor’s arriving today. An
d there’s no way I’m getting any sleep in this room. So I throw on a sweatshirt and trudge down the hall to Ashton’s. It takes several hard knocks before she answers, and she’s not happy about it.
“What?!” Then she sees my sleep-deprived face. “Did something happen? Are you okay?” She opens her door wider for me to enter.
“They’re tearing down the room next door to mine,” I say, collapsing on her couch. “I need sleep.”
“Oh! The social committee’s returning this week!” Ashton exclaims excitedly, suddenly way too awake. “I wonder who’s next door to you. You should totally get on her good side. Social committee members get all sorts of perks.”
“Sleep,” I mutter into the pillow.
“Yeah, we’ll talk about it later,” she agrees, climbing up the ladder to her bed.
I wake a few hours later to the beeping of my phone, which I was somehow cognizant enough to bring with me after being forced to vacate my room.
Niall sent a message. “Be there in a half hour. Meet us in the room inside the administration building.”
I roll onto my back, stretching awake.
Ashton walks in a few minutes later as I’m folding the blanket on her couch. “You’re up! I brought you breakfast in bed.”
She sets the tray filled with cut fruit, muffins and pancakes on the black lacquer coffee table. I pick up the to-go cup of coffee and sip, sighing in appreciation.
“Thank you. But I have to get dressed before my mom gets here.” I pluck the muffin from the tray. “I’ll take this though. I’ll come find you after.”
“Most of this was for me anyway,” Ashton says, drizzling syrup over the pancakes. “You hardly eat in the mornings. Figured you’d have some fruit and the muffin.”
“You know me so well,” I reply, tearing off a piece of muffin and throwing it at her. “I’ll text you.”
The construction noises become louder the closer I get to my room. Men wheel wrapped furniture on flatbeds, and women carry packages and push racks of clothes into the room. The more I see, the more concerned I am that a member of the royal court is moving in next door. I cannot handle sharing a bathroom with a diva. One of us will not survive the term.
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 14
