Sisters Like Us

by Susan Mallery

  Her mother smiled at her. “Thank you, Harper. I appreciate that.”

  Harper waited to see if there was more. When her mother added, “Now, go get my granddaughter so we can eat breakfast,” the last of her concern faded. All was forgiven. Nothing was resolved, of course, but hey, with every family came a bit of dysfunction. Normal was so last year.

  A half hour later, breakfast was finished. Everyone had celebrated, even Jazz, who’d been given two strips of bacon. Bunny had tucked a check for five hundred dollars into a card. Harper had appreciated the generosity more than any present. Right now paying her bills was a lot more fun than going to the mall.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They shared a smile. Harper picked up the small package her daughter had put at her plate and briefly wondered when Terence had taken his daughter shopping. When she pulled back the wrapping paper, she realized he hadn’t, but that was perfectly fine.

  The gift was a small booklet, created by hand and bound at one end. Inside were a dozen coupons, all made by Becca. Her daughter watched anxiously as she flipped through them.

  Good for one: Send me to my room when I’m pouting.

  Good for one: No, we’re not having this discussion again.

  Good for one: Clean up my room.

  The coupons were all variations on a theme—silly things she and Becca fought about in the course of their lives. The thoughtfulness of the gift touched her nearly as much as how much time her daughter had put into making it. Harper felt unexpected tears fill her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling at Becca. “This is so wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  Harper reached for her and hung on to her child. She had the brief thought that they never hugged anymore, never touched. Everything was moving so fast that she barely had time to breathe, but still. Was she losing touch with her daughter? When Becca had been little, they’d always hung out together. How had she let that slip away?

  Before she could figure out an answer, Becca grinned and stood. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m stuffed,” Harper said with a laugh, “but yes.”

  Because in the Szymanski household, every birthday breakfast ended with cake.

  Becca brought it out from the pantry and set it on the table. The small cake was frosted in white and decorated with only a few ribbons of pink. A single deep pink candle in the shape of a lotus flower sat in one corner.

  “I found the candle online,” Becca said, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Grandma watched the video with me.” She smiled at Bunny. “You light it, Grandma.”

  “No, dear. You do the honors.”

  While Harper watched, her daughter pulled matches out of the junk drawer. She lit the candle and stepped back.

  For a second nothing happened, then the flame grew thicker and higher. Jazz gave a low growl in her throat as if warning of impending danger.

  “It’s okay,” Becca told her as she scratched her ears. “You’ll see. It’s like magic.”

  The flames were steady, then suddenly died. The flower fell open and morphed into nearly a dozen tiny lit candles spinning slowly in the morning light.

  “How did they do that?” Harper asked, as she stared in wonder. “I love it. I want a candle like that at breakfast every morning.”

  Bunny and Becca shared a high five, then her mother started to cut the cake. “The internet is a magical place, Harper. Everybody knows that.”

  * * *

  Full on breakfast and cake, Harper got down to the reality of keeping her business afloat. By ten she’d made serious inroads on her to-do list and had set up an appointment to meet with Dean, Kit’s stay-at-home dad friend, about him working for her. A couple of minutes past the hour, she was interrupted by someone ringing her doorbell. It was too early for Dwayne, she thought, walking to the front of the house, an alert Jazz at her side. She opened the door to find three women holding buckets, mops, large tote bags and a vacuum.

  “Harper Szymanski?” the shortest of the three asked.

  “Yes.”

  She handed Harper a card that read,

  Happy birthday, Harper. I know this will make you crazy, but just go with it.

  There was a scrawled signature underneath she recognized as Lucas’s.

  “I don’t understand,” she said faintly, even though she understood fully. Understanding wasn’t the problem. Her issue was grasping.

  “We’re here to clean your house.”

  “But I...” Someone else cleaning her place? Her mother would have a heart attack. You weren’t supposed to farm out work like that. A woman took care of her house herself. It was... It was...

  What was wrong with her? Someone had bought her housecleaning for her birthday. Next to Becca’s coupon book, it was the best gift she’d received in the last five years.

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “Come on in!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “YOU’RE A VERY good girl,” Stacey told Bay as she clipped the dog’s nails. The Doberman lay on the floor, patiently enduring what Stacey suspected was less than professional level grooming.

  She’d never considered herself much of a pet person before, but Bay made it easy. The dog was attentive, smart and had excellent communication skills. She spent a couple of days a week over at Harper’s house, hanging out with her friends. Stacey wasn’t sure how that would change when the puppies were born.

  “You’ll be busy with your own family,” she told the dog. “Then when I have Joule, Kit will be home with you all day and I think you’ll like that.”

  Bay’s brown eyes locked on her face, as if the dog didn’t want to miss a word.

  “The vet says you’re doing really well with your pregnancy,” Stacey continued. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were alone in the family room, then lowered her voice. “I’m expecting to learn a lot from you on the baby front. Not so much the actual giving birth part, but after. How you take care of them. I’m still not feeling any kind of connection with Joule and I don’t know when that’s supposed to happen.”

  She had more to discuss with the dog, but stopped talking when she heard footsteps in the hall. Ashton walked into the family room and sat on the large sectional. He was pale and looked uneasy.

  “Do you have a second?” he asked, avoiding her gaze.

  “Of course. What’s wrong?”

  “I heard from my mom. They let her call me, which means she’s doing better in rehab.” He laced his fingers together, then pulled them apart and jumped to his feet. He paced to the window, then turned back.

  “She wants me to ask Kit for money, and then send it to her. I’m not supposed to tell him it’s going to her because he would never send her any. Not after all those other times, but she says he won’t refuse me.”

  He was right, Stacey thought. Kit had been dealing with his sister’s drug problem for decades. He’d spoken to drug counselors enough to know that he couldn’t participate in her cycle of destruction. But while he wouldn’t give his sister a penny, he would definitely give Ashton whatever he needed. Hence the problem.

  Stacey finished with Bay and carefully collected all the clippings on a paper towel before moving to the sectional. What was she supposed to say? She didn’t know Ashton’s mother or what he wanted to do. She felt as if there were hidden questions or concerns in what he was saying. Should she ask? Make assumptions, although that never went well. Not when it came to interpersonal situations. If only Harper were here. She would know what to say.

  But Harper wasn’t here, and Stacey knew she couldn’t ask Ashton to put his feelings on hold until someone better equipped was around to help him deal.

  “You know the situation with your mother isn’t your fault,” she began.

  He nodded. “I know. Whateve
r makes her do drugs happened long before I was born.” He joined her on the sofa and angled toward her. “But it’s still hard, you know? She’s my mom.”

  “Because while you can say it’s not your fault you still feel guilty?” she asked, hoping she was going in the right direction.

  His mouth twisted. “Something like that.”

  She touched her stomach. “I get that. I’m the one who’s pregnant but in my heart, I think of this baby as Kit’s.”

  The words came out with no warning. She blinked several times, not able to believe she’d said that out loud.

  Ashton gave her a slight smile. “Not surprising, Stacey. You can’t even tell your mom you’re pregnant. You should really get on that.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Okay, so we’ve established we’re both bad at this. How can I help?”

  He hesitated. “Just listening helps.”

  A total lie, she thought. If he was comfortable making a decision on his own, he wouldn’t have come to her. He wanted her to make the decision for him. But which one?

  “All right,” she said slowly. “How about this? You can’t have the money. I’m going to tell Kit what’s going on, so he won’t give it to you and I won’t give it to you, either.”

  Ashton shocked her by completely relaxing. All the worry and tension left his body and he sagged against the back of the sofa.

  “Thanks, Stacey. I really appreciate that.”

  She’d guessed right? She was still trying to absorb that when he upped the shock factor by adding, “I shouldn’t be surprised. You always know what to say to me.”

  “I do?”

  “Sure.” He grinned. “Kit was lucky to find you. I remember when we first met. He told me who you were before I came to visit. I looked you up online and read a couple of your papers.” He chuckled. “Okay, I tried to read them but couldn’t. Still, I was really interested in what you were doing. I started thinking about studying science in college, which is how I found my way to engineering.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she admitted, not sure what else to say. She hadn’t thought she could influence someone in her family. Mostly everyone didn’t have a clue as to what she was doing, and if they did, they weren’t very interested. Not Kit, of course, but he was different.

  Ashton leaned toward her, his hands loosely laced between his open knees. “Thanks again for letting me stay here with you. Mischief Bay is great. I like my job, and you and Kit are easy to be with.” He grinned. “And there’s Becca, of course.”

  “Of course,” she echoed automatically, before the truth of that statement settled in her brain. “Oh my God, you’re dating!”

  “What?” He straightened. “No, we’re hanging out. Just friends.” He hesitated, then flushed. “I mean I like her and all, but we’re...”

  Stacey waited.

  His lips moved, but he didn’t speak. Finally, he drew in a breath and looked at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I tried to keep that from you. Habit, I guess. It’s always easier if my foster family or my mom don’t know anything about my personal life. It’s different here and sometimes I forget. Yes, Becca and I are dating.”

  Stacey wanted to bolt, or scream, or both. “Does Harper know?”

  “I have no idea. We haven’t been keeping it a secret or anything.”

  Stacey tried to work the problem. Becca was sixteen, nearly seventeen. She would be a senior in high school next year. Having a boyfriend was completely normal, and Ashton was a conscientious, age-appropriate teenage boy.

  “I’m comfortable with you dating my niece,” she said. “But I do have expectations I need you to meet.”

  Ashton looked more curious than concerned. “Sure. What?”

  “You need to be sexually responsible.”

  He stood so abruptly, Bay got on her feet and began looking for danger. Stacey wondered if he would be the one bolting now. He glanced at the door, then sank back on the sofa. Stacey called the Doberman over and had her snuggle with her on the couch.

  “We’re not having sex,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “Jeez, Stacey, I thought you were going to say to call when I said I was going to or something.”

  “That, too, but the sexual component can have lasting consequences for both of you. I expect you to use a condom when you have sexual intercourse with Becca.”

  “We’re not having sex,” he repeated.

  “Not yet, but you’re young and healthy and hormones are very powerful. We’ve actually looked at them in my work, but they didn’t help with...” She sighed. “Not the point. As I was saying, I expect you to—”

  She looked at him. “Has anyone ever talked to you about sex?”

  He groaned. “I know what goes where.”

  Which was the least of it. Who would have explained things to him? Not his mother. She doubted any of the foster families got close enough to have any kind of discussion with him. If he and Kit had ever discussed sex, Kit would have mentioned it to her.

  “All right,” she began slowly as she organized her thoughts. “I will mention a few key points, and then we’ll be done. First, use a condom every time. If you give me the name of your preferred brand, I’ll make sure they are always available in your bathroom. If you don’t want to choose, I’ll do some research and pick for you.”

  He buried his face in his hands. “Is there more?”

  “Yes, there is. Don’t push. It’s more than no means no. If the girl is reluctant, then stop. Go home and masturbate. It’s not like you don’t know how. Studies have shown that sexual release can be very therapeutic.”

  Ashton made a strangled sound deep in his throat, but otherwise didn’t speak.

  “Girls are not whores or there for your amusement. I can’t see you participating in some gang rape, but even a girl who’s drunk and saying yes shouldn’t be considered an available partner.” She softened her tone. “Be a good guy, Ashton. Like your uncle. Always aim for the decision that makes you proud of yourself.”

  She paused, wondering what else she should mention. “Are you familiar with the female clitoris and how to stimulate it so that your partner has an orgasm? Oral sex can be very helpful with this. I can direct you to a few articles if you want to—”

  He stood and glared at her. “Are we done?”

  “You don’t want to discuss how to please a woman sexually?”

  “Not with you.”

  “All right. Then I guess we’re done. You can ask your uncle any follow-up questions if that would be easier.”

  “It would.”

  “Then thank you for listening.”

  Ashton shook his head, started to speak, threw up his hands, then stalked away. Stacey watched him go before turning back to Bay.

  “I think that went very well. What do you think?”

  Bay gave her a low yip of approval.

  * * *

  Harper carefully stirred the mixture. Kettle corn could be difficult and if she had the heat even a couple of degrees too high, then the sugar would burn and she would have to start over. Because life was nothing if not exciting.

  Stacey walked into the kitchen.

  “You must be excited,” her sister said.

  “I am. Misty’s always been a fun client and it’s great to see her get a break like this, and on HBO.” Harper poured the kettle corn into three large serving bowls and started to hand one to her sister, only to set it down.

  “Jeez, Stacey, you’re seriously starting to show. You’ve got to tell Mom.”

  Her sister flushed. “I know. I was going to do it tonight, but Becca said she’s not coming.”

  “She’s out with her friends. Marg just announced she’s moving into a retirement community and Bunny wants to talk her out of it.” Because her mother was always very free with her opinion.

  “That sounds like our mother.” S
tacey leaned against the counter. “I don’t know how to ask this, so I’m just going to say it. Do you know that Becca and Ashton are seeing each other?”

  What? Of course she knew. They were right outside in her living room, waiting for the HBO special to start. They were friends, nothing more. Becca was too young to—Okay, not too young, but she wasn’t going to—

  “No,” she admitted in a whisper. “Are you sure?”

  “Ashton told me.”

  Her daughter had a boyfriend and she hadn’t said anything to her?

  Her chest tightened as her throat seemed to swell shut. She felt the telltale burning in her eyes and knew she was seconds from an emotional meltdown.

  “She never said anything. Not a word. He’s been over a few times, but I thought it was like a family thing.”

  “You know they’re not related, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Harper snapped, then held up a hand. “Sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad. It’s just...” How could Becca not have said anything? A boyfriend? A first boyfriend? Had they really stopped talking that much?

  She thrust two of the popcorn bowls at her sister. “Take those out. I need a second, okay?”

  Stacey hesitated, then nodded.

  Harper waited until she was alone to sink into one of the kitchen chairs. She told herself she would cry for one minute, and then she would get over it. Whatever was wrong with her relationship with Becca could be fixed. Look at the great birthday present her daughter had given her.

  Words that should have made her happy but didn’t. She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d lost her little girl.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked up and saw Lucas standing in the entrance to the kitchen. She quickly wiped her face and faked a smile. “Nothing. I’m good. Is Misty on yet?”

  “No. There’s some guy who isn’t that funny.” He crossed to the table and sat down. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Silly things. Too bad Pomegranate couldn’t make it tonight.”

  “Her name is Persimmon, which you know, and I’m not seeing her anymore. Harper, tell me.”