“So you expect me to believe that you’ve been sitting around for the past decade, reflecting back upon sepia tinged moments of their childhood? That all this time, you’ve kept a proverbial candle burning, hoping that its light would be enough to lead them back home? Only you got tired of waiting so you decided to see if I could speed things along a bit?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Don’t be so sure. I know that I would give anything to have just another day with my mother. And here you sit, fully alive and fully judgmental, doing nothing but ignoring your own kids. They both needed you a long time ago. Where was your support and devotion then? Where was your breathless concern about their well-being when they needed it? Conveniently forgotten until you realize that they’ve both turned out okay.”
“It’s not like that. They weren’t alone. They had each other. And Chris. They both had Chris, too.”
“Blake didn’t have Chris.”
Patricia’s brow furrowed. “But I saw the listing for the marriage license in the newspaper.”
“That was a very recent development. Blake and Chris didn’t speak for almost as long as you’ve been out of the picture.”
“Whatever for? I know that Alan never thought Chris was good enough for her, but you could practically see the devotion that boy had to our daughter written all over his face. Frankly, I’m surprised it took so long for him to work up the nerve to make it official.”
“It’s not my place to say. Let’s leave it at this: Matthew wasn’t the only one with demons to contend with. Blake had her own that needed sorting, too.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, revealing a shadow job that screamed professionally done. I was certain that she was attempting to show emotion, but her frozen features wouldn’t allow it.
“They could have used you in their corner, Patricia,” I said softly.
Eyes still closed, she nodded. She swallowed visibly, forcing down the lump in her throat that my words had placed there. A pang of guilt reverberated through me, breaking through the façade that I’d masterfully built.
“So you have a hankering to make up for lost time. Because you’ve realized that your children aren’t monsters after all. They aren’t the lost causes their father proclaimed them to be.”
She flinched, but didn’t dispute my accusation.
“Now that you know they won’t be back on your doorstep, asking for a handout, you figure that there’s no time like the present to make amends. Yes, they’re both married off now. Both gainfully employed. Matthew’s in management. Blake has her own company. But you probably already knew that. Because you’ve been watching from afar, scared to pull the trigger because you’re worried they might reject you. Which is a very real possibility, I’m afraid.”
“Look, Lauren, I know that I have no right to expect them to welcome me into the fold no questions asked. But you have to understand where I’m coming from. It’s worth a shot, is it not?”
I shifted my weight uncomfortably as I debated my response. “If I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t have waited so long. But in the same vein, it’s better late than never.”
My heart ached as I watched her digest the small glimmer of hope I’d provided her, grasping onto it like a lifeline that could save her from drowning. As much as it pained me to admit it, she was right. I understood her desire to try to make amends.
“Do you have a picture of them?” she asked.
From her vantage point, she could easily see that I had framed photos on my desk, though they were all facing me. I plucked the one of Matthew, Blake and me at Thanksgiving from the arrangement and passed it over for her to inspect.
“That was taken a few years back,” I said in explanation, “when Blake and I were roommates and I was still with my ex-boyfriend. Matthew and I were friends at that point, nothing more.”
Her fingers traveled over the glass, rubbing what I assumed to be the images of her children as though she could make up for her trespasses with a simple touch. As if she could wipe away years of animosity by osmosis and bring them together as a family again.
“They look like you,” I admitted.
It made sense, all of a sudden, the modifications that Blake had made to herself. Perhaps they weren’t entirely borne of her counterculture leanings. Perhaps the inspiration for the changes in her appearance had been a coping mechanism to distance herself from her mother. A way to declare her independence without losing her total identity.
She bit her bottom lip, considering. “They both look so happy.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
I remembered back to the day in question. How Matthew had worked himself into a tizzy over his first meeting with the people that I held dear. How he’d intimated to me that he’d felt like throwing up at the thought of being on display in front of my father, my best friend, and my boyfriend. The shame that he’d held in his heart for a past he couldn’t change. The attraction that we’d both been fighting, now clearly evident to the naked eye. And then there was Blake. Put together flawlessly on the outside, but an emotional wreck of epic proportions on the inside. Of course, at that juncture I’d been too involved in my own drama to even consider the potential of hers.
She handed me back the frame, stealing another look at it as it crossed the distance between us. With a tilt of her head, she motioned to the other pictures on display, silently questioning if I would permit her to look at those, too.
I gave her the wedding picture next. By far my favorite of the collage, it was obviously a pose of Matthew and me, but the focal point was definitely my baby bump. I recalled the photographer leading us out onto the patio of the hotel for some candid shots, suggesting this one after he’d captured the more traditional fare. We’d eagerly agreed, the jovial spirit of the day infectious. Matthew had knelt down on the concrete, placed his hands delicately over my abdomen, and flashed me one of his million dollar grins. I, in turn, had laced my fingers through his so we both cradled our unborn Sadie, my head bent reverently toward the both of them. Late afternoon sunlight glinted off the diamond in my engagement ring, causing my already glowing face to be even more highlighted, reflecting the bliss that was written all over both of our faces. When I had viewed the proof, I’d actually teared up. I couldn’t blame that all on the pregnancy hormones.
“We didn’t exactly do things in the conventional order,” I admitted, a slight blush creeping over my cheeks. It felt stupid to apologize to my mother-in-law for waiting until I was already knocked up to marry him way after the fact, but I couldn’t help myself.
A small smile flitted across her lips. “Now here, he looks happy.”
“It was a beautiful day.”
That picture returned, I handed the final one over. This was of Blake holding Sadie, which was a common occurrence when the two of them got together. To say Aunt Blake was enamored with her niece would be putting it mildly.
“And that’s my daughter, Sadie,” I announced. I assumed she would figure it out herself, but didn’t want her to jump to the wrong conclusion. There was enough of a family resemblance there - and considering that Chris had darker brown hair like I did - it would have been possible for Patricia to think that the child belonged to Blake instead. The thought made my stomach knot for an entirely different reason, and not one that I felt ready to explain to this woman I’d just met.
“She’s a natural,” I continued upon being greeted only with the elder Snyder’s silence. Patricia seemed transfixed by the moment captured on film, captivated to a far further extent by this particular snapshot than she had been of any that contained her son. Whether that had to do with it featuring her daughter or her only grandchild, I had no clue.
“As much as Blake might argue with my take on things, I always saw the potential for a maternal side there. Looking at her here, I know I was right. She looks like she’s totally in love with that baby, and it’s just her niece. Not to discount your daughter, but I’m hoping you understand what I mean. Honestly, I’m
surprised she and Chris didn’t start a family a long time ago.”
Since she was still focused on the frame in her hands, she didn’t notice that I winced. And I masked the choking her statement elicited with a cough and a quick grab for my coffee cup.
“Blake was busy mothering Matthew,” I informed her once I’d recovered. “I’m sure you can imagine how full that kept her dance card for quite some time.”
“You have a beautiful family,” Patricia declared as she passed me over the picture. I replaced it on the desktop, the true meaning behind her words hitting home.
Matthew, Sadie and Blake were my family. Not hers. Even though she was related by blood to all of them, trumping me by two, she laid no claim to them any more. They’d washed their hands of her long ago. If their mother had done the same was up for debate, but with her sitting across from me, in that moment I was able to give her the benefit of the doubt.
I wanted to believe that the estrangement was a matter of circumstance. That Patricia had been hoping for her husband to come to his senses. While I didn’t blame Alan Snyder for being upset at their actions, I despised his handling of the consequences. Perhaps Patricia had always thought cooler heads would eventually prevail, and that their father would welcome them home at one point in time. Which point had obviously not yet come, unless it was his plan to have her wave the olive branch, figuring an apology from her would be less difficult to swallow.
“Why are you here, Patricia?” I’d asked a version of this question many times this morning, but this time she seemed prepared to answer. Maybe because it was now voiced with curiosity instead of contempt.
Her lips parted, hovering uncertainly upon the words she wished to form. She turned her head to the side, her eyes focused on the purse filled chair beside her when she finally spoke.
“I never gave up on them,” she said in a whisper.
I wanted to lean over my desk to hear her better, but the fact was I didn’t need to. I’d heard her loud and clear. And I knew she wasn’t putting on a show.
“Sometimes I wonder how they would have turned out if we’d coddled them even more than we already had,” she continued. She wrung her hands in her lap as she contemplated aloud. “I’m not talking about the cars or the vacations or any of the other extravagances. In the end, they probably only contributed to the problem. The money, the popularity, the attractiveness got Matthew into enough trouble as it was. Their father and I enabled as much as anyone else.
“But we could have helped, you know? When Matthew got into his legal problems, Alan could have taken care of it.”
“Neither Matthew nor Blake expected him to,” I interjected. “They didn’t think he would get off with just a slap on the wrist. No special treatment was necessary.”
“But don’t you see, Lauren? We didn’t give them any treatment. Alan showed Matthew the door and Blake followed him right out.”
Truthfully, I didn’t know the whole story. Nor did I want to. But I had a feeling that she was wrong.
“That’s not exactly true,” I hedged. “Matthew had moved out before the second arrest. Blake wanted to as well, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to finish school - with your blessing - before she ruined her own life because of him.”
A long, deep sigh emerged from her body. “There was never any love lost between Matthew and his father.”
“That was made pretty evident to me, too.”
“And neither Alan or I are responsible for the horrific choices Matthew made.”
“Understood.”
“But we could have done more. Let him go to jail, pay the piper for what he’d done - not once, but twice - fine. But I never visited him while he was incarcerated. And I bet Blake was there every chance she got.”
“That sounds about right.”
Except for the moments that Blake couldn’t face her brother for fear of exposing her own secrets. Except for the times that she’d been too overcome with her own depression to get out of bed and trudge downtown to see him. Every time other than that, when there were visiting hours, Matthew had had a visitor in Blake.
“If I had done what a mother is supposed to do, would the two of them be as close as they are right now? Would Matthew have tried as hard as he did to get a respectable job despite his convictions if he knew we were always available for a handout? Would Blake have had the courage to start her own company, to do what she really loved, if her father had had his way and molded her into a society lady like me?”
I shrugged, simply because I wasn’t sure how else to respond. Until it came to me.
“It’s too late to sit and wonder what if. That was years ago, Patricia. You can’t go back in time. You can’t change the past. You can only decide how you want to move forward. And I think that deep down, you’ve always known what you needed to do. That’s why you ended up here in my office.”
“I still feel like it’s a futile effort. I feel like if I open the lines of communication after all this time, they’ll both slam them shut before I have a chance to know what happened.”
I folded my arms over my chest, reclining back in my seat with a sigh of my own.
“One thing that I know about the both of them,” I considered, “is that they have an immense ability to forgive. I walked away from both of them and they both let me back in. Don’t discount that. Maybe that same consideration would also extend to you.”
Even as I said it, I knew it might not be true. But the way her face lit up as much as it could filled me with hope and consternation all at the same time.
“Would you-”
I raised my palm to stop her questioning, not needing her to finish. Would I help her? Her plea was unspoken, but evident just the same. Her averted eyes convinced me that I was right. What I wasn’t so certain of was my answer. Would I?
“Is your husband on board?” I asked; a stalling tactic. That, and I also really wanted to know. Though I suspected if Alan Snyder was behind this, the man himself would have come to play his own personal brand of hardball.
Patricia responded to her purse. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
Perfect. How many Snyders could we potentially piss off with my response? I was currently banking on all of them. Even Sadie would likely reject me when I picked her up from Regina’s after work if I said the wrong thing.
“Look,” she said abruptly, grabbing her prized handbag like a life preserver, “I knew this was a long shot. I knew when I walked in here that the likelihood of you sympathizing with me was slim to none. And you’ve given me the best gift that you could possibly have already. The pictures, the look on your face; I know you’ve given them the kind of love that I was incapable of providing myself. That’s enough. It’s more than I ever expected having - the knowledge that things turned out okay despite what I helped put into place.”
She rose from her chair, prompting me to follow suit. Years of business acumen led to the trained response, though I pinned my arms behind my back to prevent myself from extending my hand for the reflexive shake. Instead, I trained my focus on her face, watching her countenance turn almost frantic, as though she couldn’t leave fast enough.
“Thank you for your time, Lauren,” she mumbled as an afterthought, still not looking at me. The purse was slung over her shoulder, her back turned to me as she headed for the closed door. Just as she brushed the doorknob with her fingertips, I made my move, my words forever changing the course of several people’s lives - including my own.
“Patricia,” I called, my calm voice not betraying my inner turmoil, “I’ll help you.”
Chapter Four
Blake
I whipped Gracie’s Lexus into the alley behind the design studio, cursing under my breath at the sight of the Civic already parked in my spot. Damn. I’d bet on the fact that she’d take her time rolling into work this morning and I’d clearly lost. Taking the hint, I slid her car into her usual position and killed the engine.
The lawyer’s office had taken longer than
I’d anticipated. The fact that he’d kept me waiting for twenty-five minutes past our scheduled time didn’t help matters either. Knowing they’d be included on the invoice as part of my billable hours only made my distaste against the profession that much greater. But this particular one wasn’t my father and didn’t deserve the misplaced wrath. He was simply a necessary evil, considering.
My reverie almost resulted in me leaving the folder containing the details of my meeting firmly on Gracie’s passenger seat. That would have been an epic mistake. Fortunately, I realized this before I’d made it around the front of the building, so she wouldn’t notice that I had to double back to her car to remove it. Not as good for me was that since we’d traded keys, I didn’t have access to Chris’s car and like a responsible person, Gracie had it locked up like Fort Knox.
I tucked the contraband under my arm and shrugged. Gracie probably wouldn’t even notice I had it with me. I’d make a beeline back to the workroom and stash it away in the bottom of my desk, securely under my purse. She wouldn’t pry and I wouldn’t draw attention to it.
We were both skilled in keeping secrets. Lord knows I’d kept my lips sealed about a number of things in my adult life. And Gracie wasn’t immune from deception, either. Eventually, I’d clue her in, but not yet. I wasn’t ready and neither was she.
Being as late as it was, I didn’t need to use Gracie’s key to enter my shop. If at least one of us was in, once the clock struck nine, we dutifully flipped open the lock and allowed the outside world in. Not that an interior design firm garnered many unexpected walk in clients, but it just didn’t feel right to seal ourselves off. More often than not, the bell positioned over the door to announce a visitor jingled only for the usual suspects: either Gracie or me returning back to the office, Chris, Matthew, Lauren, the mailman.
And now, potentially at least, Will. I wondered if he’d be a hanger-on or not. Since Gracie had played her cards close to her vest on that whole thing, I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t know if he did random drive-by visits for lunch or to breeze in with a bouquet of flowers, or if he was the type to show his affection only behind closed doors.
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