Nobody's Fool

by Sarah Hegger

  “He told me I should go home.” Portia sniffed and reached for a Kleenex. “He wasn’t unkind, but he wanted me to go home, and I got sad. I got so, so sad.”

  “And you lied?” Holly barely hung on to the rage. It simmered and spat beneath her skin. Portia had fed them one lie after another and let them grow and grow until the pile toppled over and crushed her and Josh.

  “Yes.” Portia blew her nose. “And now Holly and Josh are mad at each other and it’s my fault.”

  “You’re right.” Her voice sounded totally alien. Josh loved her. This amazing, beautiful man loved her and now he was gone. The pain lanced through her. Gone.

  Grace gripped Portia’s hand. “Part of it is your fault—a big part, and you’re going to have to fix that part—but Holly did her share.”

  Another sucker punch. Grace’s betrayal added a fresh sharp pain to the constant ache. Holly opened her mouth and shut it again.

  Grace’s gaze didn’t waver. “You had choices, Holly.”

  “What should I do?” Portia asked from behind her.

  Holly dragged her eyes from Grace.

  Portia’s eyes were huge and childlike.

  Holly wanted to lean over and slap the look off her face. The anger rose up, swift and fierce. She’d been getting the look for years. What should I do, Holly? Help me, Holly, Make the bad thing go away, Holly. It was crazy and bizarre and sickeningly familiar. It was like listening to Melissa. It didn’t make any sense unless you were sitting right in the eye of the storm and feeling what they were feeling.

  “Somewhere your baby has a real father,” Grace said.

  “Yes.” Portia nodded and blew her nose.

  “He needs to know, Portia,” Grace said. “And he has a right to know. This is his child you’re carrying. We’re going to need the help financially.” Grace pressed her. “And maybe he even wants to be involved.”

  Portia’s bottom lip quivered and she sank her teeth into it. “Maybe.”

  “No, Portia,” Grace said. “There is no maybe about it. The guy needs to know and he deserves to know.” Grace frowned. “Portia, do you know who the father is?”

  “Yeees.”

  Grace swore softly.

  Holly gave a sharp bark of laughter. It beat the alternative of having a screaming shit fit.

  Portia cried, and Grace handed over another Kleenex, and another, before she spoke again. “You tell me what you can remember and I’ll see what I can do about finding him.”

  Holly could barely hear the conversation past the buzzing in her ears.

  “I’m scared,” Portia whispered. “Gracie, I’m scared.”

  “Really?” Holly wanted to start laughing again.

  Portia was scared?

  Holly exploded off the couch. “That’s not good enough.”

  Portia and Grace stared at her.

  Holly didn’t give a crap. “You’re scared and I’m supposed to tell you not to be scared, everything is all right?” Once she opened her mouth, the words wouldn’t stop. “Well, it’s not all right. You’re sick, Portia, and it’s not your fault, but you have to quit using your condition as an excuse to do whatever the fuck you want.”

  “I can’t help it.” Portia turned huge, pleading eyes on her.

  “Yes, you can.” Holly was so fucking tired of this. “You can take your medication and you can take responsibility for your condition, instead of waiting for me or Grace or even Emma, for that matter, to do it for you.”

  “Why is Holly yelling?” Emma’s voice reached her, but Holly raged on.

  “You had unprotected sex.” Holly took a step back before she shook Portia. “You had unprotected sex with some man who you either don’t know or won’t say. Never mind getting pregnant. What about STDs? The average sixteen-year-old knows better, and you did know better, Portia. You did.”

  Holly clenched her fists together so hard her fingers ached. “Christ. Even Emma the nun knows better than that.”

  “Hey.” Emma’s protest was weak.

  Holly swung toward her. “And you?” Some part of her brain tried to tell her to get it together, but the anger roared on and swept caution with it. “You thought it would be a good idea to let her go on some asinine fucking pilgrimage to find Melissa. You have your head stuck so far up your ass it’s a wonder you can breathe.”

  “Holly?” Grace got to her feet. “You need to calm down.”

  “I need to calm down?” Holly’s head reeled. “Is that your opinion? From all the way across the country? You think I should calm down? Tell me.” Grace and her self-righteous opinions made Holly sick. “What other words of wisdom do you have to offer from behind those walls you’ve put up?”

  Grace’s eyes went hard as steel. “Now you’re being a bitch.”

  “Yes, I’m being a bitch.” Holly reveled in the newfound feeling. “And I like it. You,” she turned back to Emma, “need to get a life, and not one I make for you. And you,” back to Grace again, “you need to decide, are you in this family or not, because I’m done with this pussyfooting around the outside. And as for you.” Holly had to pause as she ran out of air. “You are going to be a mother. Not me, not Emma, and not Grace, but you. You are going to have to step up and take responsibility. I have already raised another woman’s children and I’m not doing it again.”

  All three sisters stared at her with a mixture of shock and resentment.

  Grace’s nostrils flared like she was ready to wade right in.

  Good. Holly welcomed the fight. Disappointingly, Grace got it under control again.

  “Man up,” Holly snarled at them. “All of you can fucking man up, because I’m done.”

  Grace wasn’t sure whether she wanted to slap Holly silly or applaud her. As tantrums went, it had been rather spectacular.

  Absolute silence reigned as Holly stalked away. She stomped up the stairs, and a door slammed and reverberated through the house.

  Beside her, Portia jumped.

  “Wow.” Emma sighed and settled between her and Portia. “That sucked.”

  It struck a chord through Grace that rang right to the core of her being. And she laughed.

  Emma and Portia stared at her with wide eyes, and it made Grace laugh even harder.

  “Stop it.” Emma glared at her.

  “I can’t.” Man, this was it. She had finally lost her mind. Grace Burrows née Partridge had lost the plot.

  “What are we going to do?” Portia wailed.

  Grace, barely, managed to get it together again. “We’re going to man up.”

  Wasn’t she the one who had been telling Holly that for years?

  Portia’s eyes were huge in her pale, tearstained face.

  Shit. Portia was pathetically childlike, and a fierce wave of protectiveness swept through her. Grace wrapped her arm around Portia’s shoulder.

  “What if I can’t do it?” Portia hiccuped. It was as if a dam had opened, and she cried in earnest now, great big racking sobs that shook her entire frame.

  Grace held on tight, handing over the Kleenex and waiting for the storm to pass. Holly had been doing this for years. Respect.

  “What if I can’t do any of it? Have this baby, be a mother, stay stable enough not to fuck this baby up?”

  “Hey.” Grace shook Portia’s shoulder gently. “There’s no need going down that road because you’re pretty much past that point.” She took a pause and gave Portia a look laden with meaning. “And as soon as this baby is born, you’re going back on your medication. You’re going to do it for this baby. You’re going to take your medication because you know what growing up with Melissa was like and you can do better.”

  “Okay.” Portia shredded her Kleenex and scattered them over the floor.

  “Look at these.” Grace gently clasped Portia’s arms and waggled them in front of her. “Look what I have here. Do you know what I have?”

  “My arms?” Tears spiked Portia’s lashes together and made her cheeks blotchy. She stared at Grace as if one of
them had lost her mind and she wasn’t sure which one it was.

  “Yes, your arms.” Grace nodded and gave them another waggle. She was totally winging it. “Your two strong arms.” She wrapped Portia’s arms over each other in her lap. “And that is how you’re going to do this. With your two strong arms.”

  Portia blinked her sodden lashes at her, frowned, and turned to study her arms. Then she shook her head, and her hair crowded over her face, clinging to her damp cheeks. “What if they aren’t strong enough?”

  Grace wiped the hair off her face tenderly. “What if they are?”

  Portia drew a shuddering breath.

  “And if there are times when they’re not, then know there are times when everyone’s arms are weak. And look what I have here.” Grace waved her own arms in front of Portia’s face. “I have another set of arms to help.”

  “Oh, come on, Grace.” Portia managed a small laugh. “I’m not a child anymore.”

  “No, you’re not, and you’re in a very adult predicament.” This shit was so serious it hurt Grace’s head to even think about it. “But these arms will still help you when yours fail, just like when you were a kid. And,” she pressed her forehead against her sister’s, “I know for a fact Emma has a pair just like them. And when Holly gets over her mad, she isn’t going to toss you to the wolves.”

  “You’re such a dope.” Portia sniffed.

  You have no idea. Grace held back a sigh. “I was thinking—” she kept it calm and controlled—“we might give Holly’s arms a rest for a while.”

  Portia sniffed. “So she can be with Josh?”

  “There you go.” Grace kept it positive. This was for all of them. “You catch on fast.”

  “Is Josh completely gone?” Portia asked eventually.

  “I don’t think so.” Grace unwrapped her arms from around her sister. “We might need to give Holly a good shove in his direction, though.”

  “I don’t get it,” Emma said.

  “Which particular part don’t you get?” Grace tried to keep it pleasant, but it came out sounding pissy. She was going to have to do better if she was going to take this challenge on.

  “Why Josh left.”

  “Why do you care?” Grace rolled her eyes. Emma had done everything but push the man out the door. She would be running for her life if she were Josh. “You had a shit fit about Holly and Josh.”

  “That isn’t what we’re talking about.” Emma gave a regal wave. “And it does nothing to explain why Holly let him go.”

  “Holly needs to figure that one out.” And she would, with a little help from a kick-ass sister.

  Emma snorted. “Gee, thanks, Yoda.”

  Grace shut her mouth and counted to ten. One day at a time. That was how they were going to do this.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Holly must have dropped off to sleep because she woke to find it growing dark outside. She’d spent a good part of the day locked in this room, and ping-ponging between righteous indignation and guilt. Nobody had disturbed her, and she liked it that way.

  Outside, the long, slow meander into night of a Willow Park twilight lit the sky. Warm air ruffled the drapes in bursts of enthusiasm.

  Holly rolled to her feet. She couldn’t hide in here forever.

  Downstairs, her sisters were preparing supper. They looked up briefly when she came in.

  Portia handed her a knife and Holly took over chopping.

  They worked in complete silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just cautious.

  “So,” Grace said from the oven, “we were talking.”

  The smell of roast chicken filled the kitchen, but Holly wasn’t hungry.

  “Oh?” she feigned polite interest. It was the best she could do; she was wrung out. She’d dreamed of Josh. Only in her dreams, he was still with her, smiling at her and teasing her out of a mood.

  “Yes.” Grace turned from the oven. “About the manning-up thing.”

  Holly’s throat jammed up and she kept her eyes on her chopping board. She’d been such a bitch, but she didn’t totally regret it. It had been kind of liberating.

  Grace pushed a glass of wine in front of her. “I thought I might move to Ontario.”

  “Really?” Holly’s hands shook as she reached for the glass. All of her sisters in one place made her want to run in the other direction.

  Grace put the chicken on the counter and took off her oven mitts. “Greg and I are splitting up. There’s no reason for me to stay in Boston.”

  “What about your job?”

  “I can get another one.” Grace picked up her wine and took a sip. “It’s not like I loved it in the first place.”

  “Yes, you did.” Only a small part of Holly was engaged in the conversation. There was nothing but a big black hole where her feelings should be.

  “No, I didn’t.” Grace pulled a face. “It was part of a lifestyle I thought I wanted. Anyway, I have enough saved up, even after Greg and I are … over. I can wait to find something else.”

  “Oh.” Holly had sliced an entire cucumber, and they didn’t need that much for a salad. She reached for a tomato. “What will you do in Ontario?”

  “The first thing is to get Crystal Clear turning a profit.” Grace snorted.

  “We do fine,” Emma said.

  “You do not.” Grace jammed her hands on her hips. “You piss around and play at being a shopkeeper. Well, you can be sure that’s going to change.”

  “Nobody asked you to interfere.” Emma tossed the lettuce she was washing into the sink.

  “They didn’t need to,” Grace said. “We discussed this, remember?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think it would mean—”

  Grace glared at her.

  “Fine, but don’t think you’re going to start jackboot-ing all over me.” Emma tore the lettuce into shreds.

  “Grace won’t bully you.” Holly didn’t know why she bothered. Why didn’t she let them have at each other? In future, she would. She stared at the tomato and belatedly started to quarter it.

  “Portia can stay with me until the baby is born,” Grace said. “And then she’s going back on her meds.”

  “And she’ll stay on them,” Emma said. “Once the baby comes, we know she’s going to have the baby blues, but even once we get through that, she needs to stay on her meds. For the baby.”

  “Emma and Grace said they’d help me. I’m having an episode right now, but I’ll come through this,” Portia said. “One day at a time.”

  “That’s great, Portia.” What the hell was wrong with her? Portia was voluntarily offering to go back on her medication and stay that way. She was showing signs of being able to take care of her own baby. Holly should be dancing for joy, not sullenly chopping vegetables.

  “Portia and the baby can live with me,” Emma said from the other side of the table. “Grace and I will never be able to share a house, but Portia and I will be fine.”

  Grace and Emma in a house together meant blood on the walls.

  “And I’ll be living nearby,” Grace said.

  “Carrots.” It popped into Holly’s head and out her mouth.

  All three sisters gaped at her.

  “We need carrots.” She bent her head to her chopping. Her eyes grew foggy and she couldn’t see the board clearly. She’d lose a finger at this rate and she blinked to clear her vision. Something plopped onto the chopping board beside her knife. Where was the water coming from? Another drop hit the chopping board. What the hell was that? She touched the wet spot with the tip of her finger.

  The board and knife blurred before her eyes. She tried to blink, but it made it worse. Other droplets joined the first two.

  Someone is crying.

  Portia took the knife out of her hand and laid it on the chopping board.

  “There, there, Holly.” She put an arm around Holly’s shoulders.

  It was her. She was crying, which was impossible because Holly Partridge never cried. That’s what she’d told Josh; she ne
ver cried. The tears increased their flow down her cheeks. She tried to remember the last time she’d cried and came up blank.

  Then the anguish hit her in a roaring, gusting storm of hurt that flooded through her. It swept her up in its path and tossed her along in its current.

  Grace joined Portia and Emma stood on her other side.

  Holly surrendered. The tears came from a place she’d long since forgotten about. She’d stored them for years, crying on the inside and forcing them back. The dam broke and there was no stopping the flood.

  She cried for the lost years and the little girl who grew up too fast. She cried for the days of misery and fear and uncertainty. She cried for the youth gone and the opportunities wasted. Holly cried for the missed chances and the wasted guilt. She cried for the beautiful man who’d said he loved her. Holly cried and then she cried some more.

  Clustered around her, Holly’s sisters clung to her and kept her afloat as Holly cried her river. They were her life preserver.

  When it was done, she was still breathing, wrung out and depleted but standing, and her sisters were standing with her. The one person she wanted wasn’t there, however, and it was now her move.

  “I think …” She gave a huge sniff. Her nose was blocked and her eyes puffy. “I think it doesn’t matter what you do.”

  “Nice.” Grace snorted.

  It drew a sodden laugh from Holly.

  “What I mean is, I think I’ve been hiding as much as the rest of you, and it’s time to stop.” She blew her nose on a Kleenex Emma handed her.

  “Really? You don’t say?” Grace rubbed her back.

  “And?” Portia’s eyes were hard to meet in their quiet intensity.

  “And I think I have a man to go to get.”

  Emma sniffed. “We’re back to that man again, aren’t we?”

  “You’re not back to any man,” Grace said over Holly’s head. “You need to meet one first.”

  Through her tears, Holly began to laugh.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Holly used a key she’d found at the house and let herself into the still apartment. Through the windows the glitter of the city lights reflected off Lake Michigan. She crept through the dark like a thief. She’d die if Donna woke up and caught her sneaking around.